Free Silver Screen Dream by Victoria Blisse

feel it all, really feel it.”
    “Yes,” I gasped and gradually regained my hip swinging momentum.
    “That’s it,” he moaned.
    I could see he was straining to keep his eyes open, to keep looking at me through the pleasure. My arousal grew as I saw the strain written in his neck muscles and the desire painted as dark as the sky before a thunderstorm in his eyes.
    “Oh, Rahul.” His name rasped between my dry lips. “Fuck, Rahul.” I couldn’t find the words or place them in the right order to express how perfect the moment was, to tell him how lucky I felt, how turned on I was. I just couldn’t articulate the need that bubbled up inside me. I needed him to fill me, I wanted to feel his final thrust, hear his expression of ecstasy. I wanted to know that my body had brought him to the ultimate expression of passion.
    Maybe he glimpsed some of that in my eyes, because after just a few more thrusts he roared loudly like a proud Bengal tiger and held himself deep within me. His eyes slammed shut, but I understood why and enjoyed watching the bliss pass over his face. It darkened, tightened then relaxed. His mouth slowly closed, but his lips lolled slightly apart as he panted.
    “Wow,” he gasped and looked up at me. “Wow, Laura, just wow.”
    “Thank you,” I smiled, “but just wait and see what I do for an encore.” I gave a bawdy wink, and he chuckled loudly.
    “You’ll have to give me five minutes to recover first.” He squeezed his arms around my waist. “Then we can go for take two if you like.”
    “That seems fair.” I nodded, then as he loosened his grip I rolled to the bed beside him. “I can be a patient woman.”
    He pulled me close to him, and I laid my head in the crook of his shoulder and chest and wrapped my arm across his flat and oh so wonderfully rippled lower torso.
    My eyelids fluttered closed. I wasn’t so much tired as content, but the melodic thump of his heart lulled me to that warm, cuddly stage just before sleep.
    “Laura, tell me something about you,” Rahul said, rousing me from my stupor.
    “Okay, let’s see. You know I work at the cinema, but I’m working to make money to go back to college and finish getting my language degree. I’m learning Hindi and Urdu, and one day I want to be a translator.”
    “So if I slip into my native tongue you’ll understand?”
    “Well, quite a bit, I suppose, yes.” I’d learned an amazing amount of Hindi already from my Nani and her family and from watching so many Bollywood movies.
    “I’d better be careful then.” He stroked my hair lazily. “If I blurt something out during my moment of ecstasy, you’ll know just what I’m saying.”
    “Yep, so you better watch it, pal.” I laughed and he kissed my forehead.
    “Tell me more, I want to know you.”
    “Damn, what to tell you? Jeez, well, you know I love Bollywood and that my Nani introduced me to it. She was my babysitter. She died last year, she was eighty. I felt closer to her than any other person in the world. We used to watch Bollywood movies all the time together. Even when I was grown up, I’d go to Nani ’s once a week, pop a video in her ancient machine and munch on popcorn I would take her from work.”
    “You must have loved her very much.” Rahul squeezed my shoulder.
    “Yeah, I did. She was like a grandmother and my best friend.”
    We lay quietly for a while.
    “I wish I’d had a Nani in my life,” he said. “My maa died when I was small, before I really knew her. I have not got grandparents, and my pita died when I was eighteen. He was a good enough man but not a very warm father. I could never imagine watching a film with him. He wouldn’t have liked that.”
    “I’m sorry,” I said. “It must have been pretty tough on, you losing both parents so early on in life. I always had my mum, though, bless her, she worked every hour God sent to keep us. I still have her, though we don’t see much of each other anymore.”
    “Why?” Rahul asked,