Both didn't move to break the silence that had followed. He had come back to his original spot in the couch and settled with 'The New York Times' newspaper and she had pulled up a magazine from the coffee table. Just like that, as if their short-lived moments of shared intimacy had not been a time of their recent past, they had gone back to their sour, grumpy moods. Even Maan had given up and distracted himself with the Wall Street section of the newspaper, but she couldn't help staring him from the corner of her eyes, watching for any sign of hope.
Babaji! She cried as the anguish in her built up. It was growing into an obsessive need to have him to do something...anything about the distance between them. Of course, she wanted it all, including his plans to cajole her and god forbid, she would not let them take flight. Unless he was going to stop bulldozing her with his ruthless ego and in exchange seek out for any peace offering with an apology included. Since when had she developed such complex wants? she wondered. But the indifference was only rubbing salt over her wounds and a closure (Hell with him...like she didn't want one) to their night appeared far than near. All until she noticed him wiggling his toes and observed his feet shake away as if he was thrumming with a similar anxiety. Unable to put up with the silent torcher, that they were generously treating themselves to, she gave in biting back on her ego.
"Is something the matter with your toes?" She asked furrowing her head, only wanting to come across inquisitive and nothing more; definitely not desperate to strike a conversation with him.
"Why? Do you have a problem with that too?"
When she glowered back at him, he feared losing the opportunity that was perhaps drawing its doors to a close again, and so he quickly made amends for his last remark.
"I think it's just stiff...Had Daadi been here, I would have asked her to crack my knuckles" He said wondering where he had come up with that, while he fixed his gaze to the paper in his hand. Lord! Now he was turning into a glib liar too? To add to the mix, he couldn't help maintain the serious tone of his voice, like that was his need of the hour and it quite well did its job of making her fall for the trap.
Trap or not, she was convincing herself to believe that he was in a state of discomfort. It didn't matter to which degree of pain he was complaining about, but for now, it was enough that it was helping as an ice-breaker.
"Oh!" she exclaimed almost sounding sorry for him and bent to shift one of his feet into her lap. He followed willingly with an initial protest, although when he felt her ruffling sari underneath his ankle, he hid behind the newspaper and gave out a silly grin. Running her palm underneath his ankle, she gently wiggled his toe and in a very swift but tender tug, she pulled it between her index and thumb finger. He thought he was slipping in a mire of mushiness, but the feeling that rose in him when he heard his toe pop, was sending a tingle up his spine. Literally too and the latter was definitely superseding the former as he came to rest from the jerk of her pull. She moved from one finger to the other leading him with a false notion of intimacy. And she didn't even why the not-so-selfless act was showering her with an illusion of bliss, but apparently it was and she couldn't shrug off the feeling either.
He realized he would have to turn further into the sofa for his other leg to come into the exact favorable position. At that same moment, he couldn't brush aside the thought of lying down on her lap. Just as the last time, he wanted to push his luck once more.
Without words to keep her company, she was making do with whatever she could get that instance. In a despairing silence, she bent once more, to reach out to his other feet. Right on cue he gave out a low cry of pain, holding his forehead and their eyes met.
"You know what would help" he drawled and quickly pivoted about his sitting position and drew himself closer to fall back into her lap. She had not the least but expected it, but when he kept up his straight face and continued to maintain his facade of being interested in the sordid financial news, she couldn't hold back the betraying stiff smile. "May be you can press here" He said pointing to his temples. The thrill of wanting to see her reaction and her actions in response to his then bold act was making him go bonkers.
Well,
what he did he know, it actually worked and without so much as another word,
she rubbed her palms, raising the warmth of her hand and pressed her palm
against his forehead. His eyes closed the same instant as his raised hand with
the newspaper, came to rest on his torso. Perhaps there was nothing fake about
the moment at all, he considered for the shortest time. His doubts only lasted until she leaned in to brush a kiss on his forehead.
"You still do know that I'm not going to bed with you right?" She was rather stating with the same mischief as last time.
Nevertheless she had
clearly indicated that it had all been nothing but returned favors. And only she knew, for now, that it had a personal motive too...
To be continued...
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