Originally posted by: indi52
desire was flung in abandon. longing raged and stoked. arousal broke limits and raced up the raizada mansion stairs in full view of anyone who had the nerve to watch this seduction. passion became a fabulous play, and did the players ignite the game. the dori snapped. deal? sauda.
khushi's hard to get play. breathtaking. yes, priya, i am delighted with her today. she is all woman, all instinct now. no confusion, no girl there. saw how she pursed her lips to seemingly refuse the kiss? the woman in her knows that's exactly what will make him want more, come after her more. and when she could have walked away, she chose to stay back and whirl tea at him instead. unfetter yourself, let it go, begin the sparring, enter the fray. this is real life, and you're a real woman. don't be afraid of your dream.
khushi, please don't get lost again. there's no need to deny yourself all the time. that is not a sign of wisdom or true morality. nor is thinking only others' happiness matters, not yours.
time to bring a woman's sexuality out of the closet, treat it with respect and dignity. time, star plus, for this soch nayi especially in the rishta wohis. and done as tastefully as this too please. left the man i live with smiling at me losing my equilibrium but not wanting to kill me off.
that barun would, however, kill me in these sequences i had no doubt. had not known the extent of my death, that's all. i mean that slightest ever even was it there hint of a glint of a smile, looking at her, before he said, "theek hai toh ab manwa lete hain." did you see it? i didn't, but i could sense it everywhere, even on the words. just below the lick of passion.
from an earlier crooner, neruda calls:
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
as they play with each other, instinctive, impish, but really fun creatives play with us."iss war ko kya naam doon?" well, the one in which you guys win every time i guess. sublime dialogues full of subliminal whisperings, you've gone both above and below the limen with your words and tone and form and everything this time. that reference to the taj was no doubt meant for us, but how to hear when we can't even breathe? hope you are pleased.
tonight is 302. are you adding a dafa to it?
nk is sakha, sounding board, cupid, sometimes the voice of the creatives, sometimes the voice of the viewer. forget hp, nk is the true ichhadhari. a dense, carefully articulated and embellished character, reminds me of the greatest fools and jesters ever created. there was falstaff, must admit don't know him that well, but in my grandmother's tales there was gopal bhar or even birbal, they all come to mind. and he is so damn cute. my second love from now on.
dear people of the production house, take me to your leader. i give in, no need to manwao me anymore. just don't flip flop please, go for the fake hermes instead, after all you bring a message from the gods.
hope akash and payal got to see a bit of that passion play out in the living room. might add some tea and coffee to their decaff life.
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