Shobhas Kiss

With a weary sigh and a faint glimmer of hope, Shobha once more sat down at her desk at home and powered up her computer. It had been another long day of work dealing with other peoples' concerns and demands. So often it fell to her to mollify those so-called emergencies and disasters. She was good at her job, perhaps too good, since she always seemed to be in demand. But that was work, not her private life. That was another story.

Shobha was still a young woman, at least in her own mind, though she often felt so very tired. Tired of all the senseless drama at work and in other people's lives, things that really didn't matter to her. She longed for more, however. Not more drama, just more... life... for herself. It wasn't selfishness, it was more loneliness. She knew that she was loved, at least by her daughter, the light of her life.

Her daughter was indeed her greatest treasure, but she was also a constant reminder of the love that she once felt from the man of her life. Her daughter's father. He was taken too soon from this life and left Shobha... alone. Well, except for her daughter. Too soon, and dearly missed more than anyone realized. There was left an aching void where love used to fill her very soul. The memory of that love was a small consolation but it was also cause of melancholy.

Shobha envied her daughter in some ways. The girl was just beginning her life as an adult. Everything was new and fresh and exciting. Shobha longed for those days, or at least the feelings. She missed so much of her past. She felt as though she were simply waiting now, waiting to feel that spark, that excitement from days gone by. To be... to be happy again.

She clicked on her computer link to Literotica.com. The site was one of her favorite places to go to find reading material. Stories to read to escape the day-to-day monotony. A means to imagine or dream of those things she missed so dearly. And, as she discovered, Lit had chat rooms where she could actually talk with other people who like her, were looking for something other than their own day-to-day lives. She smiled as the connection was made and saw the long list of members' names scroll down her screen.

"Perhaps today I will meet someone new. Someone to..." She shook her head to dismiss the thought. Wishful thinking had only made it worse in the past when hopes hadn't panned out. So many people online, so many looking for instant gratification, or into very strange things. Oh, there were good people online as well, and indeed, it was a pleasure to meet them and chat. It's what kept drawing Shobha back to these chat rooms. Hope.

Leaving the lobby, far too chaotic and hard to follow any conversations there, Shobha clicked on the Join Chat Room list. She scrolled down the seemingly endless list of inane and sometimes bizarre room names. She shuddered to think of what went on in some of those rather graphically named rooms. It seemed there was a room for anyone's tastes and interests, most not interesting her in the least. Then she paused at Playful Questions, almost clicking to join the room, but then saw the Truth or Dare room. "Perhaps this might be fun." Shobha thought, as she clicked to join the room.

There weren't many people in there today. Seeing some that she had spoken with before and remembering that while it was only afternoon for her, the people online might be somewhere else on this world, a different time zone. Her afternoon could very well be late in the evening for some. As was the case for someone that she remembered from another visit to this site.

Something inside of her swelled and she felt... lighter... as if some weight had been lifted from her shoulders that she wasn't even aware of before. She liked that feeling. Shobha was greeted by others in the room and she immediately felt welcomed. There was a game in progress and she watched the interactions and silly chat of the others for a while. But that longing, that need, even if she weren't aware of it, drove her to request a private message room with him... that friend from a previous visit here to Lit.

Shobha smiled and her heart skipped a beat when he joined her in the private message room she created. She shyly thanked him for joining her and they chatted about nothing really other than to just kind of catch up with one another. It had been a couple of weeks since they had last chatted here. He seemed so open and friendly, and there was just something... something that touched her in a way that she so dearly missed. But how did she express that, to let him know without making it awkward? It made her almost giddy with nerves, which also fueled that very desire for more.

< Same session, the other side of the world>

Floyd sat down at his desk in front of his computer. The big monitor screen blossoming to life as it woke up from being powered down when not in use. The light reflecting of his tired face and eyes. It had been another long day at work. The long shifts were nothing new, but after three decades, thoughts of retirement loomed closer every day. Perhaps then he could finally devote more time to his favorite pass time, writing. As it was, he only had sporadic opportunities to write, on days off, when there were no other obligations of his time. Yes, time. It was precious indeed, and it seemed that everyone wanted some of it, for their purposes.

Not that other people needing his time was a bad thing. Floyd had always been a giver, someone who would help out if he could. Anything from physical labor, to simply sitting with someone and listening to their own problems, troubles or even dreams. Sometimes that was a gift, something that others wouldn't give to those in need. It was something that Floyd had become aware of long ago. It was something that is only partially learned, some is part of our nature, at least it was of his anyway.

Floyd had been a shy child, exceedingly shy, bashful, almost painfully shy. He slowly grew out of it as he grew older of course, but not nearly as fast as most people did. Even as a young man, he was still very shy and introverted. But somehow, perhaps by natural compensation, he was a keen observer of others. A people watcher, more, a student of human interactions. While he might not be able to be outgoing and extroverted as others, he learned to see clues and read between the lines. He could almost feel the emotions of other people, especially those in distress or who were troubled.

It's not always a gift, however. Being able to sense what others are feeling. No, sensing was only part of it... the curse was also feeling those emotions and feelings as if they were his very own. Some say that is empathy. Or that he was an "old soul". Honestly Floyd didn't know what to think of all that but he did rather enjoy making others happy, bringing a little light and joy into their lives even if only for a moment.

Writing was just an extension of that pursuit. The pursuit of happiness, both his own and that of others. He had been writing for a long time, decades. He had always had a creative streak, but it had not been recognized fully until a young woman that he had dated long ago had asked him to write her a story. Not just any story, but one of an adult nature, erotica. Being who and what he was, Floyd took up the request and did just that. He wrote a story for her. She liked it so much that he wrote another.

All good things come to an end, however. When Floyd and his erotica loving girl parted ways, he let his writing slip into nothingness. He didn't continue to write, for a long, long time. Life makes demands of our time, gives us other priorities. It wasn't until many, many years late that he once more picked up the pen and began writing again. And, again, it was on a challenge.

Health issues and lots of time off, as well as other unrequited desires, led Floyd to explore the internet. Looking for, excitement, for escape. But as vast as the internet is, we all can become quickly jaded by the material offered. Porn is porn, and after a while it all seems to be quite the same. Frustration is a very real predicament when you are facing it. And then Floyd stumbled across a site that offered more than just pictures or videos. They also offered erotica. Remembering his own writings decades ago, it intrigued him. So, he ventured in and read some of the offered stories.

Disappointment indeed. Maybe it wasn't the material, maybe it was his own tastes or preconceptions, either way it was awful. The stories were vulgar and crude at best. He had told a friend about it and was laughed at. She asked him if he could do better. Floyd laughed and told her that "Hell, a blind monkey could write better!" So, she challenged him to write something, thinking that he wouldn't.

At first, Floyd thought he would simply dig up one of the stories he had written so many years ago, and give that to his friend to read. But then, he thought otherwise. He figured that a good writer writes about what they know, what they are passionate about. And what did he know? Well, his own life, really. His own adventures as an adult in this crazy world we live in. So, he set about writing about one of his "adventures".

Of course, Floyd changed the names of some of the characters in the story, and some minor details. This being so as to ensure the anonymity and privacy of those he wrote about, as well as his own. The rest was simply from memory, what actually happened, with his own feelings expressed of course. When finished, he gave it to his friend to read.

After reading the story, Floyd's friend told him that it was amazing and that he should post it to that web site that he had complained about. To see what others might think of his story. Not having thought of that before, Floyd was a little reluctant at first, but did post it eventually. And forgot about it.

A few weeks later, he remembered posting the story and went to the site to check on it. It was amazing. The number of people who had read his story simply blew his mind, and those who bothered to comment were asking for and even demanding more from him. They liked it! This was something new to Floyd. It felt good. So, he did write more. Several stories written and posted before someone messaged him and suggested that he post his work on Literotica.com. They thought his work would be a better fit there and would be better appreciated by most readers.

And that was how Floyd began frequenting Literotica.com. First to post his own works, and then to read those of others. He was a member for almost two years before he ever ventured into the chat rooms. It was a pleasant revelation. It made him think of a site online many years ago where he had actually met his wife along with many other friends that he still had to this day. Lit became his go to site, for entertainment and socializing online.

Floyd, signed on that evening and after glancing at his home page, clicked into the chat rooms. Playful questions was a favorite, but it seemed kind of slow that evening, maybe a lot of folks in Private Message rooms. He also opened up the Truth or Dare room. The game could be quite entertaining. Being something of a regular, he was greeted upon entering the room.

A few minutes into the game, Floyd noticed Shobha had entered the room and said hello and welcome back. She thanked him and greeted other players as well. But soon after, Floyd got a private message request from Shobha. Curious, and remembering a lengthy conversation with her a few weeks ago, he happily joined her in private chat.

The two caught up for a while, verifying memory of each other. Sometimes it's easy to get confused with other users as we all talk to so many people here on Lit. Thankfully Floyd had a pretty good memory for details of individuals. All part of his past and personal make up and observation skills learned throughout life. Or perhaps it was that empathy playing with his mind. Whatever it was, he was happy to talk with this quiet and also somewhat shy woman.

Tonight was different somehow. Shobha seemed, I don't know, different. As if she were pushing herself to try more to be bolder. In Floyd's mind it felt as if she were, not quite desperate but still longing for something. Interaction with someone that "got her". That understood how she felt and what she missed. She wanted or rather needed a connection on so many levels that she had been doing without for far too long.

Floyd knew from past conversations that Shobha was a widow. Sadly, her late husband was taken from her far too soon. She had been a single mother raising their only child, a daughter for nearly a decade. Friends and family can fill some of the void, but there are things that they can't help with. Someone else who had suffered a loss like that can understand. Floyd understood all too well, that void that ache, that need. Empathy might very well be real.

Comparing notes on what they liked, in something as simple as a look, a touch... and a kiss. It soon felt like, to both, that this friendship could be... more. Perhaps relegated to just here on Lit, in the chat rooms, online, but more. An intimacy shared by two people who had needs and understood one another on a very special level. It was, exciting.

Floyd recognized this, and taking a risk, expressed his thoughts to Shobha about it. He told her that he was not looking to replace his loving wife with anyone else. His heart was spoken for and even though he had love to give and share, he couldn't be swayed. Shobha seemed to understand and reassured him that anything more between the two of them would only be on Lit. Their special place. She was not looking to take me away from anyone. Only to feel... more. To experience what she had been missing for so long. Joy and happiness and excitement. They both agreed that that could be explored further... with eyes wide open.

And so, it began.

Reality faded away with each successive heartbeat. Each word on the screen blending to form a new tableau. The lights dimmed and from somewhere soft music began to play. The smell of sandalwood and incense was carried on a soft breeze. A breeze that fluttered the linen table cloth and the gauzy silken scarf that went from ear to ear across Shobha's lovely face, covering her nose and face below, revealing only soft brown eyes. Those deep pools of intense study and intrigue. They were truly windows of the soul but they were also searching.

Floyd was struck by the delicate nature of the garment. Shobha's sari was silk in a dark green color with silver threads interspersed within, causing it to nearly glow with each movement no matter how subtle. She was nervous, he observed and noted almost automatically somewhere in his subconscious mind. Her hands while resting one atop the other flat on the table in front of her, seemed to fidget and flutter with each breath. Her soft inquisitive eyes darted about as if to take in everything around her but always coming back to his, again... seeking, searching.

Shobha's breath seemed to catch every other breath in or out, as if she were resisting the urge to bolt, to flee. But desire was winning out and she remained seated, tense but excited as well. It was a feeling that Floyd understood all too well. He too felt tense and excited. This was something outside of his own experience, at least recently anyway. He had not felt like this for many, many years, back when he was first dating his wife.

A pang of guilt momentarily blurred the vision of the woman sitting at the small café table in front of him. The feelings were there, they were real in this context, but they were still overpowered by those of real life. There would never be a complete disconnect from the real world but that's not a bad thing really. It was an anchor, a grounding. Reality made this all the more special, didn't it? Letting the mind go to explore and consider. Letting the heart express desires and longings and needs and perhaps fulfilling those of another in similar need and want. Eyes wide open and hearts and minds open as well.

Shobha closed her eyes in reality, for a moment, and whispered a prayer of forgiveness to her late husband. Professing her undying love for him. She missed him so very much. Perhaps... maybe... this friend could ease that pain and loneliness, even just a little. He seemed so kind and understanding. He wasn't pushy or suggestive like so many others have been. She truly wanted to know more about him, to be his friend... and perhaps more.

She understood that he was as devoted to his wife as she had been to her late husband. She knew that he would remain faithful and true. But to share some joy and happiness, perhaps some love, in a way, wasn't beyond hope. She found herself in that dimly lit room at the small café table. Her arms seemed all the darker as they lay on the stark white table cloth clasping her hands in front of herself. A light breeze flowed through the room moving the edges of the hanging tablecloth and fluttering her veil and sari.

The breeze felt good on the exposed skin of her arms, and legs, under the table. Opening her eyes and looking up from her hands, Shobha looked across the table and into the gentle face of this stranger, this friend from online. His face was weathered by life and experience, not in a negative way though. His smile was soft and almost timid, mouth closed and not showing any teeth. It was his eyes though, that drew her in and captured her attention. Those deep, soft brown eyes... they seemed to radiate... peace and... what? Some sadness, yes, but understanding, and... love. Perhaps not a romantic love, but one of acceptance and endearment all the same.

His broad shoulders where rounded, his arms, like her own, were resting on the table top, one hand atop the other. Strong hands of someone who obviously worked with his hands. Shobha had the sense that he was almost hugging himself, maybe internally. She had the almost overwhelming desire to be inside of that hug. Those eyes and that smile and his arms all looked so inviting and... safe. She felt herself relaxing a bit more. Just his very presence was calming for some reason.

They had been talking of how much little things meant like eye contact... gazing into the eyes of someone special. And here they were, delving into the depths of one another's eyes, it was hard to break her gaze away from his kind eyes. There was something there that drew her in deeper and deeper. Shobha didn't exactly know why, but she unconsciously raised her left hand to her right ear and lifted the veil from behind her ear, drawing the veil away revealing her face. Her full sensuous lips almost pouting, her smile almost faltering with embarrassment or uncertainty.

It was a surprise then, when after returning her hand to the tabletop that she felt one of Floyd's hands come to rest atop of her two hands. His touch was light, comforting. His skin was warm and surprisingly soft and gentle. Her eyes widened in surprise, further, when he took his other hand and brought it to her face. Floyd gently brushed a few strands of loose hair from her cheek, back behind her ear. His fingers lightly touching her skin, then tracing down the back of her ear to her neck before returning to the table top and her hands.

She could almost feel an electric surge rush through her body as her very skin tingled at his touch. So delicate and lovingly gentle. She missed that so much from her late husband. For a moment she closed her eyes and swooned, if only in her mind.

Floyd felt the warmth and softness of Shobha's skin on her forearms and hands. And the tremble that radiated through her at first contact. It reminded him of someone from his own past, that tactile response of pure excitement and anticipation. He shuddered slightly himself with the flash of that oh so fond memory from long ago. That look in her eyes could have been the same as well, but through different colored eyes. Yet the gleam and the excitement and uncertainty were the same.