Theres a slight afternoon breeze blowing in the hot summer of the Carnatic, she can see the curtains blue, green and yellow doing their slow erotic dance in the distant yonder..her raven hair spills all over the floor, A red bindi adorns her forehead..splashing past its prime.. and her white bare nothings that cover her modesty bloom in their sweet desire..she s full..full of desire of wanting someone so badly, so madly that she wants to run across the many people..the many boundaries and make that clarion call of come away..and yet as her mist laden eyes turn hither and tither..she knows she won't..she is after all pregnant with the burden of society..the wind mocks at her come away, fly will you? Tell him of your desire...of the longing nights..of the champa by your bedside fueling your want...she picks up the phone and stares at it for long..making love on the phone? but wheres the touch..the maddening touch that seals him to her..the burning skin that proclaims you are mine for whatever time you wish..if only she sighs..there was a day..when she would have him to her ..alone.. fluttering away from the world, from the burden of those who frown..from the paraphernalia called society, family and all...in songs of Jasmine she would decorate him and in the musk of his manliness she would yearn..her hair covering their modesty in the chimes of orgasmic bells..the lord would declare them wed!
© 2011 Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury
( Image courtesy Google)