Free The First Time (Love in No Time #1) by Bitsi Shar

can go back to my idling. But I also know that after this call there will be no idling.
    “Okay then. I think my work is done here. I hope you had a good day and will have another one tomorrow. And, Ms. Sharma I will be thinking of you and I look forward to our date. Have a good night, Ms. Sharma.”
    And I don’t know why I blurt, “I am alone at home tonight.”
    Did I just say that?! I slap my palm to my forehead. Of all the things to finally say after all that heavy silence on my end. Absolute silence except maybe for a small static. Maybe he hung up before I hung myself from a virtual ceiling with that inappropriate sentence. I begin to sag with relief. I am safe. My confession has no takers. But then I hear him. He is breathing in long and slow.
    And then he says, “Are you?” “Why Ms. Sharma how would you like me to process that?”
    He continues, “I could ask—is that an invite? But then you just shut me down so I doubt it was one.”
    He stops as if still considering my statement and then with a touch of concern in his voice, he asks, “Are you scared to be alone in that apartment? Are you? You will tell me if you are, right?”
    Oh dear! How did we get to this conversation from that one!
    “No, I am not scared. Sorry, I don’t know why that shot out of my mouth. It was a mere statement of fact. There is no need for interpretation of sorts here. Let it be.”
    I plod on.
    “So I hope you have a good trip.” My good manners show up now that I have committed a boo-boo.
    “Ok, Ms. Sharma. If you say so, if you say so. Though I might have to torture the truth out of you on Friday. Till then, sweet dreams, baby.” With that he hangs up.
    I am left stupidly looking at the phone. “Baby?” Wow! My whole body is starting to sing. Every muscle, every sinew is alive. God! This man is making my body betray the hell out of me. It is reacting to everything he says, does, sends, insinuates, calls out to, demands—oh! The list is getting longer. I groan and cover my eyes to shift my frames of reference and return to an existential state. But that state doesn’t exist anymore. It has been shot into oblivion. I agitatedly pace the room. Ok! Time to shower and maybe go to bed. Sleep is what I need, desire—really? My inner devil mocks me. I ignore the she-devil. I grab a clean towel from the clothesline on the verandah and head to my final destination for the day. A cold shower on this balmy evening made hot by a certain someone is not what I want but it is what I need.

Chapter Thirteen
     
    And Friday is here, again. But this Friday feels different than any other. My entire day at work is torqueing around the anticipation this Friday is carrying on its delicious back. And on this day, I realize how jumpy I can get. It is frankly beyond irritating to anyone, especially me! Every time some one speaks or asks me something I jump half an inch on the chair if I am sitting or from the floor if I am standing. My heart too is jumping out of my body and I literally have to clutch it back in before it can decide to leave my body for good. At this rate, I am going to be dead before I even hear his voice again. Calm down, Ms. Sharma! I instruct myself but I know it is futile. But I realize that I am using his way of reference to me as my way of reference to me! Even though I prefer his way. My last name sounds sexier when he says it. He makes my last name sound special, like its something to cherish. Wow! I am really into this shit, aren’t I? I know the man doesn’t do any kind of cherishing and he certain doesn’t like possessing anything that is not Boss or Armani and comes in a glossy shopping bag.
    I have seen him with his family—his mother, his sister, and his younger brother. He is very brisk with them, even rude. He seems exasperated, maybe even embarrassed by them. His dad passed away when he was twenty so he became a patriarch as a matter of fate than conscious choice. And maybe it is this lack of choice in