The Raw Deal

She coughed softly as she entered his office. "Gimme a moment," he said, without looking up from the desk. But her heels, black and high, caught his eye. The long, shapely legs above them, a brown tweed skirt and a prim white blouse waited patiently. The expensive clothes seemed alien to her, as she fidgeted with her hemline. Maybe she was trying too hard. But it got his attention alright!
   "Come in," he said. She wobbled in her heels, giving away the fact that she was unused to them. Yet, in all her clumsiness, her honesty was graceful. "Maybe we could sit on the couch," he said. He didn't want to lose sight of parts of her, behind that huge mahogany desk. Unsure, demure and achingly beautiful, she mumbled a "Yessir" and walked up to the couch, holding on to her file for dear life.
   "Coffee?" he asked, as he sat directly across from her. 'God! She had long legs!' he noticed.
   "Actually, I'd like a smoke, if that's OK. I'm terribly nervous," she said.
   If he was taken aback, he didn't show it.
   "Sure," he said, fishing for the Zippo in his coat pocket. She knew she had thrown him off gear. She opened her bag and extracted a pack of cheap cigarettes. Sticking one into her scarlet lips, she leaned forward. Life never ceases to remind you that appearances can be deceptive. She took the lighter from him, lit her cigarette and sparked off his desires.
   "So, may I see your... " he hesitated, as she looked him straight in the eye.
   "Yes? My...?" she teased.
   "Um...uh... resume. Resume, of course," he fumbled with words, his tailored gray suit growing oppressively warm and uncomfortable. There was so much of her outside her clothes. Those slender calves were like highway to his destiny.          "Get to the point," he said, standing up, trying hopelessly, to get to business.
   "I'm here for your job," she said point blank. "The cowards at the HO didn't want to fire you upfront. So they sent me. I'm here for the dirty work."
   He sat back on the couch. Before he could utter a word, the peon walked in with a tray, two steaming mugs on it.
   "Coffee's here," he said. "That may just provide us the stimulation this situation demands."
   "Here's to new beginnings," she said lifting her mug and settling down on the couch; her skirt a little higher, her blouse a little lower.
   "Was just six billion that I took," he said. "Didn't think they'd ever notice. Well, they did, and all they could do is hire you to fire me." 
   She shot a cold glance at him.
  "But since you are here to make sure I'm fucked, why don't we get down to it?" he continued.
   "You are a brave man," she remarked, "Big steals are not for little boys. Let's do this exit interview properly," she said, unzipping her skirt.
   'Red and lace! Every dark cloud has a red, lacy lining,' he thought and smiled. It was starting to get really warm in the room. He turned the AC to a full blast, before leading her to the mahogany desk. He would use it for the last and the first time today.
   Even as they made this strange passionate love, her mind was thick with calculation. Six billion dollars was a lot of money.
   "I've a proposition for you," he said panting, as she dug her nails into his back. "I know," she moaned. "Run away?" they asked each other.
   The cold glass top of his desk was making her head spin, or was it his tongue? She didn't care. There was a decision to be made.
   "Yes, yes, oh yes!" she screamed. It was too good a deal to refuse.
   'Ah, I can have my cake, and eat it too,' he thought, as he fell back, wasted.
   They sat, that night, at the jazziest bar in town drinking the finest champagne, celebrating the fool each had made of the other.

(Co-authored with Urmi Chanda Vaz @P0eticLicence ) 

Another time for love

It's been a hell of a long while,' he thought, as he lay under the cooling shade of the tree. 'How much longer?' It felt like hours. Maybe it was hours. Maybe minutes. The cool shade didn't feel so cool now. The waiting was burning his insides. Yet he could not leave. She had a promise to keep.
   A promise that she had made back when they had planted this very tree. Not exactly planted it. Spat out the seeds rather. They had been feasting on sweet tangerines that day, under an orange sky. It seemed like yesterday... As a matter of fact, it WAS yesterday. 'This tree has grown rather fast... in a day. A few more hours for the tree to start bearing fruit,' chugged his train of thought. 

   His reverie broke with a flash of something. WHAT WAS THAT? A torch? A strong, almost cruel white ray shone into his eyes. She was here. Again, after years. Again, after yesterday. Time seemed warped.

   'I hope she's brought sandwiches,' he thought to himself, as she switched off what seemed like fog lights. 'Why would she use them in the day?' he wondered. Actually he didn't. She was never like the other women he knew. "What's life without a little drama?" she'd say. Even now, as she walked toward him with the picnic basket, she seemed to be performing. A surreal stage; her feet one, perhaps two feet above the ground.

   She hadn't aged a day since yesterday, or from a few years ago. With her quick, light steps she walked over to him, and held out the basket. He could see the Chardonnay wrapped in a towel. Wine there had to be. They needed it to lose themselves, to find each other. The real world wasn't for them. He whipped out his Burmese army knife and expertly popped the cork. Some birds took wing, protesting loudly at the sudden sound. She could hear music even in the angry chirping of the birds. His presence made everything beautiful. They raised a toast, drank and nibbled at the sandwiches. It would be a lovely day...

   They sat content for a while, then she leaned over and kissed his cheek. The smell of his sweat mildly intoxicating her. A kiss, a touch, a caress, an embrace. The summer morning would ripen their bodies again with heat and lust. Love would have to wait. A gentle breeze blew, tousling strands of his long, raven black hair across his face. "The markets open in an hour" she said. The urgency hit him in the gut. She had these gentle-cruel reminders of forevers that end.

   They made fast, furious love, squeezing in a million pleasures every moment. Time was little. Tomorrow might come years later. Bodies entwined in a slow serpentine dance under the double suns. Sweat poured as they rolled in the throes of manic ecstasy. Time stood still. Time flew. The clock tower in the market warned them ten times. The lovers would have to go. Wait for interminable centuries... until tomorrow.

   "Reports say Earth will be habitable again in a less than a year," she said, as she slipped into her little, lacy red panties. Then she dissolved into the light, as dramatically as she had arrived. They weren't fog lights. He walked to the market, basket in hand; the leftover Chardonnay still cold. He reached the market, sat in his little curio shop - the quaint little spaceship model always by his side. 'Wonder if she'll bring sandwiches tomorrow,' he thought, as he slipped back into a patient slumber.

(Co-authored with Urmi Chanda Vaz - @ P0eticLicence )

Snatches of a dream

She probably sounded a little too happy.
"I'd like a shot of whatever it is you are drinking," he says, mischievously. "I'm drinking joy," she says equally playfully and passes him the cup.
He accepts it, and takes a deep gulp of the viscous fluid. It runs down his throat, engulfing it in its warm embrace, and despite himself, he begins to feel 'nice'. The warmth of the liquid spreads its tentacles around his body...a gentle tingling at first. The tingle soon spread to his extremities. Hands, feet, then brain. Pushing him towards who knew where.

The window... a gentle breeze enticing him towards it. He stepped up, leaned forth and drew draughts of air that seemed intoxicating in their freshness. Suddenly something caught his eye...
"It couldn't be!" Could it??? After nearly 2 decades... "Could it be her?" he says to himself. His heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. Her hair was the same, if a little thinner. Her gait was the same, if a little heavier. Then he noticed that derrière... Oh! That derrière... He could never forget it. It HAD to be her!
The headiness of the liquid was now being replaced by another. Of a distant time. Of passionate memories. Should he turn back time?
But here he was with the woman, who had given him the drink, the one person he would be slave to, in the entire world.
The woman in the room smiled; blushed. She was still holding the cup. She let it drop. It was time to break the dream.
Shattering into a 1000 pieces, the earthen cup spilled its contents on the floor. He looked up at the face of the woman...
The woman started to fade; an apparition all along. Her lips curled in a smile, disappeared slowly. His heart felt heavy and light.

But the shattered earthen pot on the floor... the fluid splashed across his Guccis.
Evidences of a parallel universe, perhaps. Today had been a confluence of her world and his. Something had opened the portal...
He could still smell her around him. That strange odour, that he could only explain as HER! He smiled to himself, thinking how strange it would be if someone walked into the room and saw him buck naked in just his Guccis.
He had chased his dream indeed. He missed her already. But there were important things to get done.

(A dream sequence co-authored by @P0eticLicence)

MY FAVOURITE THINGS

MY FAVOURITE THINGS (OST. The Sound of Money)
(Sung to the tune of My Favourite Things. With apologies to Julie Andrews-Sound of Music)

Boundaries & sixers & everyday matches,
bouncers & run outs & sky diving catches.
Gilly & Haydos & Harbhajan Singh
These are a few of my favourite things!!!

Sponsors & logos & bouncy green wickets
Four ugly jokers who talk about cricket
A dj on hand, who will make you sing.
These are a few of my favourite things.

Yusuf and Irfan & Uthappa's batting
Bring back the Botham and bring back the Gatting.
Tommy is moody so is Yuvraj Singh,
These are a few of my favourite things.

When I cast a glance, as the blondes dance
& am feeling sad
I simple remember the easy dropped chance
and I don't feel so sad.

We’re batsmen, we’re bowlers, so what are your offers
We're all up for sale, just fill up our coffers
After match parties, with wine and song
Oh! do check out that, babe in the thong.

Business & politics & a wee bit of cricket
done in three hours, what a wonderful racket
Power & money & human greed.
You just have to love this new Indian breed!

So when the tourney is over & dusted,
awards are given & some people busted.
Just think of how much pleasure this brings.
cause these are some of our favourite things!

So, cast a glance, as the blondes dance
& you're feeling sad
Simply remember the easy dropped chance
and you won't feel so sad.

-Satish