(For every encouraging comment on Part 1, thanks a load!)
I sat watching The GoodFellas at PVR with Jai, unable to keep my mind off what happened. One moment I was myself, another I was lost. I didn't know I had it in me to touch my best buddy's wife, let alone seriously entertain the thought of taking her. I mean, I have fantasized about her, but that was in my private world of fantasies only, strictly for the purpose of a pleasant self-pleasuring session. I never considered acting out these fantasies, given the chance. Hell, I never thought I'll be given the chance. I had, since I was a teenager, separated my fantasies from my realities. For instance, when I was a kid, I had the hots for a few of my aunts, the young ones, you know, the young cousins of the mother of a horny boy in his early teens. That, however, never resulted in my looking at my aunts as objects of sexual desire in the daytime. They were in my fantasies, doing dirty little things to me, only when I was in bed, touching myself, trying to make sense of the changes my body was going through and trying hard to keep it a secret. I was convinced I'd go to hell for fantasizing about my aunts touching my weeny, which is what it was at best, at the time. But all that fear and guilt faded away eventually. I learnt to accept touching myself as a 'normal' need of my body, and more importantly, I learnt to accept, without guilt, my fantasies as a 'normal' part of my private, very private, world of thoughts. Thoughts are things, say leadership gurus, but philosophers say that thoughts are neither more beautiful nor more harmful than mist.
"I'm glad you pushed me to the movie, man! Hell, I could have gladly paid for my ticket if I knew it would be this good," beamed Jai as we were being pushed out of the theater by the thick crowds moving robotically through the narrow exit.
I managed to warmly tell him I could happily pay for both us even next time. Something in the guilt I was carrying made me feel as if I should, immediately, do amazing things for Jai. Then I could tell him. No, wait, I could never tell him. What would I say? 'Hey buddy, your wife and I are getting along well now. In fact, I touched her lovely bosom and kissed her soft temple just his afternoon!'
Ridiculous. I had told Nikki to keep this between us. She didn't look as certain as I was. She seemed to want to tell him. 'Nothing happened between us, Vicky. There's nothing to hide, and certainly nothing to feel so bad about' she had told me as I was leaving her apartment. Their apartment. It seemed unbelievable to me how I could forget, for the moment, that Jai even existed. I'm glad she remembered.
She didn't have to slap me though. I had only lightly run my fingers along her soft mounds. She was breathing heavily until I reached the nipple of her right breast, and then when I pressed against it from under her tank top, simply with the fingertips of two of my fingers.
Smack!
I was thrown back more by shock than by the intensity of her slap. She hit me, right in my face, and it caught my absolutely by surprise. Before I could even say anything, I saw tears welling up in her eyes, as she sat up erect, covering her mouth with both of her small hands. Those small hands!
My ex had hands this small. While we were dating, I never cared much. But ever since my break-up, I was reminded of her hands every time I looked at Nikki's hands. The slender fingers, the cute little hands that could hardly wrap around my 'tiger', as she liked to call it, and the thrill of it all every time she gave me a handjob while I was driving. Incidentally, she parted with me just the summer Nikki and Jai got married, two years ago. This made me fantasize about Nikki's little fingers wrapped around my tiger, and I'd wonder if she would call it tiger too.
I lay in my bed that Friday night, junior in hand, trying to think of screwing a girl, any girl, but I couldn't do it. I was gripped by the guilt and the thrill of what happened. I kept going back, involuntarily, to her apology.
'I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Vicky I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hit you! I just panicked, please don't hit me Vicky I'm sorry, I really am,' her words flooded my shock, anger, guilt, and as much they calmed me down, they calmed my hard-on too. I was no more lusting for her. In fact, I realized I hated her no more, which is surprising. Is that all it takes, I asked myself as I lay wondering. Is a profuse apology and a tear in the eye all it takes for one to stop despising, stop hating, stop looking down upon a person who had failed to make a decent impression in years?
'Yes,' I said to myself, a little aloud, that's all it takes, because in that moment I saw who she really was. As much as she made herself heard every time I was around, as much as she would put her foot down on every little argument of whether to go for pizza or curry, movie or long drive, as much as she was arrogant and stubborn and hot and smart and clever and manipulating, she was a child, a person capable of crying, capable of making mistakes and admitting to them. She was human, and I seem to realize that for the first time as she came near me, touched my cheek lightly, and asked if it hurt too much.
'It does, but here,' I said pointing to my chest.
'Oh Vicky! I'm really sorry,' she said, breaking down, and as I moved my hands to hold her face in them, she jerked back. 'Please don't hit me Vicky,' she shrieked. Every wall I had built against her broke down in this moment, and I looked into her eyes, trying my best to give her a warm smile. I had never given her a warm smile.
'I don't hit women Nikki, and I have no reason to hit you. Thanks for slapping me,' I managed to say, my voice sounding distant to me, as if coming from a neighbor who left the window open.
Not much was said between us, but we sat there, looking at each other for what seemed like an hour. It was half that time, but even that much was a lot since we really didn't talk much. Exchanging smiles that spoke of shame, guilt, acceptance, and a little bit of love, we kept looking at each other.
Which is why, before leaving, I asked her to keep the silly incident between us. She looked puzzled. 'Why?' she asked.
Why? I couldn't make sense of what happened, what sensible explanation could I possibly offer to my friend who trusted me enough to leave me alone with his wife in a cozy apartment?
Sleep escaped me for much of the night, but I made up for it by sleeping through Saturday morning. For some elusive reason, the first thought I had as I woke up was the memory of
Jai telling me sometime last year that he and Nikki had decided to close her fallopian tubes, so that he wouldn't have to wear protection or pull out. 'Tubal Ligation,' is what he had said, the name of the process, more simply called female sterilization.
Why did this come to my mind, the first thing in the morning? Realizing that morning was giving way to noon, I went about my business, meeting Jai and Nikki for dinner and drinks on Saturday and Sunday night both. Although I was uncomfortable, Nikki seemed to behave as if nothing ever happened, except that she wasn't mad-by-default at me. Jai was pleased to know I had dropped by at his place before the movie, and had a chat with his wife, resulting in a promise to behave better with each other.
"Why didn't you tell me, man? We went for a movie together, but he didn't tell me about it," he informed his wife, looking happy, surprised, confused.
I didn't have much to say through any of the dinners that weekend. I tried not to argue with Nikki every time she said something she didn't know about, with confidence that could only mean she's lying or had somebody lie to her. But where I used to be quick to dismiss her tidbits as rubbish, I now saw a girl just trying to fit in, trying to talk about current affairs as she had no female company and me and Jai would rather drown in a dirty river than talk about her jewelry.
My job, as a writer for Harper's Bazaar Bride, India edition, was the worst part of my life. I hated it, as much as I loved writing. I never accepted it as journalism. 'Gossip in print,' I would call it, and Jai would laugh it off. 'Be glad you have a job when veteran writers are being laid off, buddy,' he would tell me.
Still, I hated it. Every time I met a scribe, I'd ask if there's any vacancy in reporting current affairs. 'Nothing yet, but hang in there.' I hated hanging in there.
Sunday night passed off with two sessions of touching myself before drifting off to sleep. The first session, I imagined buying a new car, a small but zippy one, and taking out Nikki for a ride, and as we reach the outskirts of the city, she'd naughtily reach into my pants and wrap her cute little fingers around my junior.
'I want this tiger,' she'd tell me, and I'd promise to do her good as soon as we reach my tiny apartment.
For the second session though, I simply imagined myself as Ross doing his sister Monica in an episode of Friends, where Monica is just too desperate and drunk and I, Ross, lose my intellectual abilities to make a good decision.
Monday morning I was surprised to read a text from Nikki as I tried to open my eyes fully. I checked the time, it was received at 2.40 am.
2.40 am? 'Could you pls take half the day off from work today? Need to talk. Come over to my place?'
It made no sense. I couldn't concentrate on work, and asked for a post-lunch relief by lying that I had completed the day's work already. I'd finish the task on my notebook once I get back home, no harm there. But what was up with Nikki?
'Hey, Vicky, I wasn't expecting you!' she exclaimed in mock surprise as I stepped inside of her apartment. Their apartment.
'Very funny, Nikki. Everything OK?'
'Yes, you're forgiven, that's what I had to tell you.'
'What?'
'You touching my breasts, Vicky. You trying to seduce me. Trying to fuck me. You're forgiven by your friend, I had a nice little chat with him last night!'
'What? Nikki, are you kidding me? What did you tell him? Why did you tell him?'
'I knew you'd freak out, which is why I didn't tell you over text or call. Will you relax? Make yourself comfortable, will you?'
'Comf...Nikki! Tell me what happened!'
'Ugghh! You stubborn bum! OK, I told him that we were playing a game of let's-see-who-backs-out-first, and you lightly touched my breast. I didn't tell him you tried to seduce me, alright? Now relax, sit down. Let's have a drink.'
'Ah! Nikki! You had to tell him? What did he say? How did he look? Was he hurt?'
'It was worth the effort! I told him after we made love once. He instantly became red. And hard.'
'Huh?'
'He kept pestering me, asking me if we did anything more, if we planned to do anything, if we wanted to do anything. He kept pestering me...'
'Nikki! What?'
'He kept pestering me to fuck you.'
