Chapter 12: Natsukashii

natsukashii: Japanese word meaning something that brings back nostalgic memories or, takes you back in time. Sort of like the murky relationships that the characters share between themselves.


She didn’t know what was happening to her, no… she knew, but she couldn’t concentrate. It was explosive, it was magical… it was sheer overwhelming madness. Light and stars danced in her vision. Her breath sawed between her parted lips, as her heart beat a frantic and drugged tattoo against her ribcage. Her nails scratched down his spine, drew blood she feared, and moved to her sides, gripping the sheets- crumpling them in her bid to anchor herself to the Earth. Her head twisted, the soft tendrils of her hair tickling and dancing around her jaw in a sensuous dance.
The hands that skimmed lightly over her skin were rough, a part of her noted. Rough, in that skilled artist way. Long fingered, that small observant part of her brain whispered, even as the rest of her twisted in pure madness at what those long fingers were doing to her.  Promising her, but not giving… not quite yet sweetheart, they seemed to say. She writhed, literally, as they joyously danced over every inch of her… learning- memorizing- every dip and valley, every line and curve… sometimes slow, just a brush of the rough pad of the thumb, sometimes a gentle scratch of a fingernail, and sometimes a press of a palm. Torturous. Delicious. And then… her breath hitched, as she felt the lips join the torture. She could feel the sinuous smile on them even as they drew involuntary gasps from her, tugging, licking, tasting… moving- always moving.

She wouldn’t cry out… not yet , she decided. And it was as if she had spoken her decision out loud. Because now, it was as if  it had become imperative to hear her scream. She twisted, she writhed, she arched… and she tried to hold them in, by God, she tried. But it was just that impossible. Her hands unclenched from around the sheets and ran up the length of his solidly muscled back, enjoying the sensations as the muscles bunched and jumped under her touch, and then they sunk into that beautifully silky mane of hair. Tugging, as she longed to taste those lips back on hers.  And her lips parted on the first of her cries, her demand for more… the  first of many more to come, she realized.

She felt the sharp, satisfied nip of teeth on that sensitive part just beneath her collarbone, and opened her mouth in yet another gasp, only for it to be swallowed by those beautifully, dangerously sexy lips. Full, sensuous, soft and yet, firm. What a girl wouldn’t do to feel them again, she sighed, then gasped again as those talented fingers upped the ante another notch.

Neck arching she felt one part satisfaction and three parts desire shoot through her… would she ever get enough? Drugged, her lashes fluttered, helpless against the magic that was taking hold of her. Her neck twisted again, a low moan escaped her throat as her lips desperately sought his. Her fingers clutched at whatever they could find of him- hair, arms... him. And then those lips were on hers again, taking, giving… it was like sipping at lightning, she thought, amid gasps and half strangled screams. It jumped through her, boiling and raising her blood till it was right there beneath the surface, bubbling, simmering… that lightning raced through all her nerve endings, sparking them, as if electric charge running amuck throughout.  The mad desire now burned away the satisfaction as she felt his weight settle on her. Naked skin on naked skin. And tiny sparks of electricity seemed to go  off wherever they touched. Making her arch against him yet again, in her yearning for more. Always more.

Skin slicked with sweat, she lowered her head and nipped, tasted… salty,  she smiled as she heard that hitch in breath that was not hers. Those fingers returned, lifting her chin as his lips exacted revenge for that small victory. Leaving her breathless, even as her blood turned heavy inside of her veins, burning, slowing… as the core of her clenched and pounded… wanting, needing  fulfillment. Her heavy lids dropped in anticipation of it and she climbed… higher and higher still. And then… those lips skimmed over her closed lids.  Look at me sweetheart.

Her eyes flashed open, colliding, battling, holding  the pair of brilliant, antique golden ones that fascinated her so. And in that moment, she felt him fill her where she ached most for him. And she shattered.  Gloriously, Blindingly, Beautifully… Shattered.

Limbs feeling deliciously weighed down, eyelids fluttering with every lazy glide of his inside of her, Payal was surprised as the sensation of her nerves zinging to life again registered.  What was he doing to her? Her breath hitched as a low chuckle shook through him… making her shiver. Her eyes opened wide again, clashing with amused molten gold ones, with a sharp twist of hips that she felt all the way to her toes.
His nose glided along hers, a smile shining in those fathomless eyes of his, as he whispered of her beauty to her. His tongue danced around the shell of one ear, as his thumb swiped at her most sensitive place, and she arched into him, seating him deeper inside her. She shuddered as his almost feral growl reverberated through her,  his tempo picked up- and she thrilled at the shiver that raced through him as her nails scored his back.
The slap of slick skin on hers, his lips whispering her name over and over again at her ear, his teeth nipping, his fingers biting at her hips… a whimper rose in her throat, and again she felt his lips brush over hers.
“Sshh. Payal. Let go, sweetheart.”

And it was then she felt that half smile on her lips as it swallowed yet another of her screams, as she heard a matching groan vibrate through hers… unaware of that dangerous little tug around her heart that could only spell trouble.


“What, did you grow a velcro strap to the Amazon’s side now?” was the latest snipe and he shrugged it off. “What can I say, she’s hot,” the bullshitting didn’t work often enough with Khushi. It worked with most people, but with her, it was a rare, rare thing. When it did, he knew he had to be worried. “That is disgusting!  To talk about a woman’s sexuality like that at your age!” she stomped off. Fuming. NK grinned. She came back again. Teeth were bared and he thought better of patting her on the head. Gentle approach would work better right about now. Gentleness and humility, or bust. NK swallowed a chuckle before wisely draping an arm around her shoulder. “What is it Manzar mazhi? What’s got you down?”
She turned back towards him. Huffing. A little red in the face. Look at her, he thought affectionately. All dolled up in a watermelon and cream structured silk top with… wait, were those parasols printed on the fabric? She had paired it with a subtly shimmering sand colored wide legged pants. She had on a watermelon and grey sparkly wedges to match. There were gold and pink tourmaline studs in her ears, and a large gold cuff on her wrist.  No one ever told her that this wasn’t the apparel one wore to an Indian police station. Hell, you didn’t even dress like this in a cop shop in LA and he had seen some during his school years. Ms. Gupta there looked like she had stepped out of a cops and robbers show right out of the television. The fashion plate. It was funny, looking back, when he remembered the first time he had met her, at 10, wearing somewhat tattered clothes. Still, didn’t it make sense she would dress to keep the past out of her head? He did the same thing after all - just in different ways. Who was he to judge?
“It’s… you think that that hanging out around the glamazon so much is a good thing NK?” she wrung her watermelon tipped fingers agitatedly.
He had veered her off in a different direction. Misdirection. Distracting her with things that already clouded her mind. It had to be enough for her to wander off, in a different direction. NK knew only of one such thing that would work. Well, two, really but Arnav Singh Raizada was a bullet he had been saving for another time.  Today he needed something lighter and he had just the thing. Two birds with one stone. NK could kiss his father at this point for sending over the very thing that would make Khushi forget everything for a little while. 

“Aajkal Tere Mere Pyar Ke Charche Har Zubaan Par
Sab Ko Maloom Hai Aur Sabko Khabar Ho Gayi”

She wasn’t happy, he could see that. His jitterbug was worthy of Shammiji himself but that didn't even bring a hint of a smile to her usually mobile lips. That disdainful look was worthy of Mumtaz herself, and it was intense enough to strip paint. He wasn’t deterred and continued to sing the ditty until she sat down beside him, with a mighty huff. “Well? What is it?” Aha! He smiled to himself even when presenting the deep teal edged, discreet cream colored invitation to her. “What?” she snapped, until her eyes widened.
“Holy shit! Another auction! An Old Bollywood Clothing auction!!” Khushi goggled while NK smiled, almost paternally. “I hear that orange saree worn by Mumtaz in Brahmachari will be in it Manzar mazhi. Are we going?”
Khushi was usually self possessed. Very much so. She could lie without flinching, steal without her pulse rate going up and smile while ripping a person off, of millions. Maybe that was why it still amazed him how a film collectible auction could turn her into a blathering mush still. He wouldn’t question his fate, as long as she didn’t question his role in the police station at that point. Something told him that she was too busy plotting a win from her imagined competition to care at that point.
“Payal and I’ll pick you up around 8, okay? Its being held at the Jaigarh Hall” She must have heard, he knew it. She nodded, muttering before walking off in another direction, no doubt outlining her strategies. Nobody would outbid her on that saree. She was humming what sounded like O Haseena Zulfon Wali, to him. He sighed when her hips discreetly popped while walking into Aman’s office, no doubt to let him know that she would be leaving early today. NK shook his head somewhat baffled before he walked off to find Payal.

Why were all the women in his life cinephiles?