Free Close Too Close by Meenu, Shruti

was so much easier than dealing with her brimming sexuality.
    PERSON 2
    I thought that I had her there, that moment when she bent towards me. But, there was nothing – all she did was ask for more ice. We were in the midst of a typical Bombay October – a hellishly humid vestige of the monsoon gone by. It was fucking hot, especially with her lounging around in my house, playing very hard to get or just plain disinterested. It was hard to believe that she wasn’t attracted to me all of a sudden – the recent vociferous sex and palpable chemistry could attest to that. Well, two can play that game. As I handed back her glass packed with ice, I said ‘Need to get into something more comfortable, it’s extremely hot and muggy. I’ll be right back.’ My one and only sexy tank-top, err, camisole, was going to come into play. Silky-soft grey, delicate spaghetti straps, sedate lace along the chest and a cut that left nothing to the imagination. My breasts practically brimmed over the neckline. I left my jeans on, the thought of her unbuckling my belt, popping the button, easing my hips out and undressing me really turned me on.
    I walked out towards her with my best poker face and waited for a reaction. A long, indolent stare was thrown my way and then she was back to sipping her drink. Not a word, smile or any indication in her body language. I started to mix another round as her glass was nearing the end. It was too bad, I yearned for her – but it didn’t seem like there would be any action tonight. The feeling of sexiness in my own skin, evoked by recent memories, ruminative fantasies and her tangible presence, was waning rapidly. My need, my wetness and my horniness remained unaffected.
    Sitting down opposite her, stiff drink in hand, I had decided that after multiple rebuffs, I should let the night take its course. Our conversation verged on the mind-numbingly mundane – from different factions in the Bombay queer scene to talking about the best shacks in Goa. I was getting a pleasant buzz despite the setbacks in the sex department. I couldn’t complain about the view either – the glorious mass of hair cut spunky short, the way that cigarettes dangled in those hands with the severely-cut nails, the outline of her nipples through that snug collared t-shirt, those dykey outdoor laced-up boots. And how could I forget the way that husky drawl prowled around my ears. So, I kept the alcohol flowing.
    We were sinking our teeth into a discussion on the best place to get food after 3 a.m. in Bombay – be it egg-bhurji outside Cooper Hospital or pav-bhaji in Dadar, when she stood up abruptly. Before I could fully grasp what was happening, her knees were on my chair and sandwiched my legs tight. Her lips fell on mine as her body tilted into mine. Lips teased each other into submission as mouths made way for tongues that felt like waves lapping up against each other. Soon however, it became a roiling jumble of teeth, lips and tongue. Her knees were like pincers holding my waist in, as my thighs were spread apart.
    PERSON 1
    I wasn’t thinking about it anymore. I just did it – Dutch courage, not to mention the sight of her in that top, showing off very hard, delectably big, round nipples. All of a sudden, my mind didn’t seem to know what my body was doing, but she didn’t seem to be bothered by my rushing her as she twisted her face up towards me the moment I braced my hands on the back of the chair. I adored kissing that mouth, those lips that moved in delicious ways and that expert tongue. The slow slide of my hands from her neck to her shoulders was halted by the straps of the tank-top. They felt so fragile; I wondered how they held everything in as I hooked a thumb under each side. Her hands were in my hair, tousling, ruffling and entangling. My thumbs moved downward to the sweeping curve of the breasts I’d been eyeing all night.
    She moaned soft and short as I brushed her nipples with my index fingers. I let my