Reality in the Twilight Zone

She declined, thinking "I'd rather explore what's here first."

She had the freedom of his home. A quick round of the grounds, then a rather more leisurely round inside.

But that was not to be. The first room she entered was his library, and that was that.

Like the man himself, the room was a study in contrasts. Sparse yet elegant and luxurious. Comfortable as a workplace yet stately.

It was a large room, full of double backed open faced bookshelves, most of them full of volumes neatly arranged and organized.

The shelves lined three walls, and a dozen units stood free on the floor, arranged in rows of three each, with narrow aisles between them. The arrangement was such that a part of the free wall and a corner of the room had become a segregated alcove furnished simply with a small round table and a computer workstation.

It was what she found on the table that kept her ensconced in one of the three deep and comfortable leather upholstered library chairs around the table, Neshe's diary.

At first she only picked it up to examine it's construction, and flipped through observing changes in its rhythm, both flow and tension showing in the handwriting. She read the last entry first...and the power of his confidence in making the statement that he made to himself there literally shocked her. At that moment the somewhat heavy, leather bound diary did slip from her hand to the floor.

Just as she reached to retrieve it, the servant appeared to inquire her pleasure for lunch. She picked up the diary, and replacing it on the table she said once again, she'd have what Neshe usually has.

She was served, in the library, at her request. And what came up made her forget the mental note she had filed away in her mind regarding Neshe's diet.

It was a medium sized bowl of simple, tossed up salad, consisting of carrot, cucumber, and apple cubes, with salted, boiled beans thrown in.

Of course, accompanied by rich, aromatic coffee afterwards.

Once the servant had gone, she read the newspapers Neshe had so thoughtfully provided, and caught up with the issues in the media.

After some time her gaze wandered to the clock.

She decided to take a little nap before getting dressed to greet Neshe, who, the servant had volunteered, would come home around six.

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The lilting trill of the cell phone caught her right in the middle of pulling on her petticoat.

Stretching herself halfway on the bed, she scooped the phone and brought it to her ear in one fluid movement, and was surprised at the breathlessness of her whispered hello.

"How's the lovely one?"

"As usual" she chose to answer as he was wont to do.

He laughed.

"Rested?"

"Aanh. Yes."

"The brands? Any problem?"

She felt a thrill course through her body.

"None at all. They seem as if they've been there forever."

"Aaah"

She could feel his smile.

"And, you, in my home?"

"At home . . ." she couldn't say more, nor any less. Then asked,

"How long will you be?"

"I'm just about on my way." He replied. "Actually there's a Hindi passion play running at one of the theaters here. A depiction of the ordeal of Lord Rama and his wife Sita. I have had a box reserved for us, if you'd care to go?"

"Isn't that question a bit belated, since you've already had the box reserved?" She couldn't refrain from asking.

He laughed.

"Point scored!"

Then . . .

"I'll be home in a while. We'll dine out, and then we'll go see the play."

"You'll find me ready." She said.

She distinctly felt as if he had kissed his phone before signing off.

"Incorrigible romantic" his own description of himself echoed in her thoughts.

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Part 12. . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

At the airport, Neshe had not been surprised to see her in a sari. He had somehow anticipated, known, she would be in one.

Today, he was surprised, and Snama's dazzling smile acknowledged the surprise silently.

Like yesterday, when he had received her, he touched her between her thighs when she took her place beside him in the limo.

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The dinner was simple. Neshe had asked Snama what she would prefer. She had replied she would love to sample more of local fare. So he had taken her to a cozy little eatery going by the unlikely name of "Mama Mia". They had both had a good laugh at the incongruity of an Italian restaurant serving Indian cuisine. Neshe had explained that fancy European business names were an ageless fashion with Indians.

Long grained aromatic white rice, lentils, grilled chicken and a vegetable Thalee made up the meal. Snama was particularly enchanted by the Thalee, a large circular tray of burnished copper, in which sat eight little bowls of different fried and steamed vegetables, with a set of seven smaller bowls of various chutneys and condiments making up a smaller circle within. Neshe told her Thalee literally means plate in Hindi and Punjabi.

The service was excellent, responsive yet unobtrusive. The decor, neither Italian nor Indian, was purely functional, but aesthetically so. Whoever had done it had an eye for detail and knew his business well. The ambiance exuded a warmth and hospitality, and this made the time spent there quite pleasant.

The theater was a total contrast. Red and Gold dominated the place, to the point of being gaudy. The box was a cozy little affair, for four but reserved for two. The play, depicted an episode in the Ramayana. Snama was enchanted by the colorful, quaint costumes. The dialogue was delivered in rather loud tones. The make up, usually gauche, almost obscured the expressions of the performers, who made up in enthusiasm what they lacked in finesse. The music, the choreography and some of the songs, however, were unabashedly artistic, conveying moods and emotions beautifully. Snama became totally engrossed in the unfolding spectacle before her, oblivious even of the man sitting beside her.

While she watched the play, he watched her.

So immersed was she in what was unfolding before her that she did not even notice Neshe getting up from her side, and sitting down the low wall of the box, from where he could observe her entire visage, as it continued to present a kaleidoscope of changing emotions.

When the climax arrived, the ordeal of Sita by fire, Snama was almost transfixed, her breathing imperceptible, her face composed, only the pupils of her sapphire eyes betraying what was going on in her heart. The rise and ebb of the tide of molten blue fire told Neshe everything.

He was enchanted anew.

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Manger

manger: to eat

Snama ate hungrily that night. She had a voracious appetite for the unknown. She had hunger too for the deeper, the known and the unknown beyond that. Layers.

Neshe had a talent for feeding her, whetting her appetite with tastes of him. She watched his lips, a mouth he had once said had been described as cruel, and yet all she could think of was kissing the cruelty from his lips with her own soft mouth.

The foods Neshe had ordered for their meal delighted her palate. His charms while they dined delighted her too, revealing themselves more and more.

He seemed to have a penchant for taking innocent commentary and finding in it a sexual metaphor . . . enough to make her blush and softly laugh over and over again. At times she would parry, with wicked eyes and a quick quip, in an attempt to shock his senses as he had hers.

At other times she could only blush and smile, involuntarily lowering her head and looking down first, then raising her eyelids to connect in knowledge with his sultry dark eyes.

What a pleasure it was to be with him. She likened it in her mind to a dance, he leading with grace, elegance and confident moves, she following smoothly with a confidence all her own.

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The confidence, his and hers, somehow conjugated, to produce a trust that Snama had never before experienced.

A trust so implicit, that when, after the play, on their way back home in the limo, Neshe mussed up her sari and petticoat to have her legs bare, and then parted them wide, moving from the seat to be between them, she did not demur at all.

Her legs, long, slender and silken, were open and welcoming. Neshe ran his hands along them from her calves upward, to the inside of her thighs sending a shiver through her insides. She watched him, watched his face as he touched her.

"Hungry still Neshe?" she asked, baiting him.

"I'm just checking the spread" was his response, serious and yet witty and well humored.

She knew he had yet to find the note she'd had attached to his mirror. Her petticoat and sari were pushed up about her hips, hiding the skin and the message she'd had painted on it.

"Would you care to hear about the piece de resistance?" she teased.

"Certainly" he smiled, enjoying the way she was toying with him.

Snama parted her legs even more and then reached for Neshe's hand. She folded his fingers into a fist, then pulled straight his index finger.

She brought this finger to the arch between her legs, and dragged it along the slit, making his finger tip wet. She then sat up and drew his wet finger along the lips of her mouth, moistening them with sex.

"The special is a taste sensation" she said. She was not smiling.

She locked her eyes on him and dragged her own finger through the wetness of her sex, and then painted his lips with her dew.

"Aaah!" His lips parted and he took her entire finger into his mouth, then holding her hand, drew it slowly back out as he sucked it and squeezed his teeth gently about it.

She moved closer, leaning in and kissing his lips, licking them. He kissed her back with animal response. The passion was as if they had been long starved.

Snama broke away from the kiss as quickly as she had delivered it and pulled her clothes back in order, sitting up straight again.

She was not ready yet for him to find her hips. She wished to hold her gift private until they were home, and they would have the rest of the night in which to uncover, discover and explore.

"That Sir, is one of our specials tonight" she spoke with a straight face.

"There are more?" he asked, staring into her eyes.

Those penetrating eyes of his....were stealing away her control.

She braced. "If you look hard enough, yes."

He continued to stare into her eyes, then just smiled.

She reached out and held his warm hand, and the drive home continued. He played his tongue in the center of her palm, teasing her now. When she least expected it, he sunk his teeth into her and it was her turn to cry out. He shocked her senses yet again, and in his own way, let her know that he had his own specials to offer.

"Manger Neshe" Snama spoke in soft French. "Manger moi et je mange tu. Comprendre?"

"Je sais. Je comprendre." He understood.

Snama and Neshe both salaciously anticipated: the feast would continue into the wee hours of the morning.

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Part 13 . . .Reality in the Twilight Zone

Snama's hand in his own was a thing alive pulsing, throbbing, just like her heart would have under his hand.

A few moments beat by, and then, unable to contain himself, Neshe raised her hand to his mouth, his lips settling in the center of her palm.

It was as if Snama's hand had become her entire being, the way he kissed and kissed.

His lips, hot and hungry, traced infinite patterns all over her palm, often straying onto and between the fingers, kissing, licking, nipping, as the miles were eaten up by the car.

As the limo turned into the driveway, he viciously bit into her luscious mount of Venus.

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Disembarking from the limo, Snama had excused herself for a few minutes, leaving Neshe to his own devices.

When she came down, he was in the living room, waiting for her, a purple silken robe having replaced the suit he had been wearing all day. On a table sat a chilled jug of the same sherbet that he had mixed them last night.

Snama had just removed her jewelry, except for her tiny gold initialed ring on her right baby finger, and the heavy ring he had given and branded her with on her left heart finger.

She had walked down barefoot finding the cool floors underfoot strangely soothing. By contrast, Neshe's smile was warm, his eyes alight with the same fire she had noticed at times last night too. His question was simple, direct.

"Where do I unwrap you?"

"Wherever you will . . ." she replied with a throaty laugh, accepting the glass of sherbet he held up for her.

"The evening's been wonderful Neshe ..." she said in a serious tone, "This Ram Leela . . . it was an exquisite experience I'll never forget."

"Its something purely India." He said ...

" And so beautiful"

"Well . . . most of that is your eyes"

She just smiled.

"You were completely absorbed . . ."

"Oh yes ... it had an effect ..." and then, as if to elaborate "Just like you have on me"

He smiled.

"It's mutual Madame,"

"Is it?" she asked, half serious, half cajoling ..

"You can ascertain for yourself, Madame .." he responded by pulling undone the knot of the belt that tied his robe at his waist, which fell open, causing Snama to gasp.

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Though she wasn't exactly a stranger to the sight of Neshe's rampant and powerful need, the way he had imperiously bared it for her totally overwhelmed Snama.

Having done that, Neshe did not move from where he was standing, neither did he say anything, his eyes locked into hers as he saw her flush a deep red, the sapphire blue of her eyes darken to almost a night sky.

Suddenly Snama felt an urge to escape from the captivity of his gaze, to somehow break free.

With a swift uncoiling of herself from the loveseat she'd been sitting on, she closed the gap between them, both her hands rising to his shoulders and in one fluid movement, divesting him of the robe completely.

"Now, now, who's unwrapping whom?" he laughed as he felt her hand, soft and cool, slide down his hard belly, and hold him.

Pressing herself to him, she sought his mouth, lips just touching his, her fingers sending a million electric messages to him silently.

"May I, Neshe?" she asked " May I?" She punctuated her whispers with tiny kisses on his mouth.

He gently guided her to kneel between his legs.

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On her knees, Snama was in a position of worship, and she did so worship him. Through her, he shall feel as a God, omnipotent, when in fact she knew it was she who was to be omnipotent now.

"Neshe" she said, with her hands running up and down the sides of his hips "place your hands behind your back and clasp your hands. Do not, under any circumstances let them go."

He looked down to her eyes with amusement but he did consent.

"Snama, you vixen . . .what is this?" he asked as he placed his hands behind himself and held them together.

She placed one hand around his smoothly bare testicles, and the other held his lingam. "This is my indulgence." she replied, looking up to him with temptation.

"Any objections?"

"None. Do indulge"

She smiled. "Please stand with your legs apart for me." He did so and she smiled approvingly into his eyes.

Bowing, she kissed and licked the tops of his feet completely, running the tip of her tongue in the eight grooves between his toes. Her hands ran along the back of his hard calves and her tongue ran up each of his shins one at a time, from his ankles to his knees.

Neshe could only look down in wonder, aroused so by her actions and her certainty. Once she had reached his knees with her mouth at the front and her hands at the back, she stopped and rose to her feet.

She left him standing in this position, and helped herself to a mouthful of sherbet. She returned to Neshe with the ice cold sweetness in her mouth and kissed his lips, parting them with her tongue, draining the sherbet into his mouth. Without thought his hands reached out to hold her in the kiss.

Snama pulled back, grabbed him by the wrists, and commanded

"Behind your back Neshe . . . do not let go."

He growled but did move his hands back and clasped them together again.

"Good Neshe, now please, remain in this position as I have asked."

She leaned down to his chest with cold lips, and sucked first at the right then the left, making his nipples stiffen.

Walking now behind him, Snama returned to her knees. Her hands ran this time up the front of his thighs and she licked with her tongue up the backs of them, one at a time, from the back of the knees to his buttocks.

Her hands came around his hips, to his asse and held hard the muscles of each cheek. In a soft whisper she breathed

She softened her tongue and licked from the bottom to the top of the cleft between his firm muscular behind. She placed the four fingers of each hand between the cleft, parting his tight bottom, and licked again . . . from the bottom to the top of his cleavage, her tongue reaching deep . . . but not yet deep enough.

With prying fingers, she pulled him yet further apart, and he was exposed, the dark closed hole of his anus appearing to her eyes. Here she tongued him, not to penetrate, but to tease, to soften and make wet.

She could hear his breathing, controlled yet heavy.

With a sharp nip to each hard buttock cheek, she caused Neshe to cry out in surprise.

Once again, she rose to her feet, drank more sherbet into her mouth, and kissed it into his mouth. As she did, she held his stiff shaft in her hand and stroked it, her fingers pressing lightly along the vein that filled his penis with red hot blood. His tongue cold, icy, ran across her mouth.

She pulled away, and lowered her mouth to his hard brown nipples and sucked and bit gently.

She bent down, lifted the hem of her sari to her thighs and knelt again with her bare knees on the floor. She delved two of the fingers of her right hand into the wetness of her kuss, plunging deep and coating her fingers with slick moist woman lubrication.

With these moistened fingers she reached into the crevice of his asse and toyed with and wet his back entrance. With her left hand she stroked his lingam in smooth rhythm. She could feel him tensing, building in excitement.

Her fingers probed, pushed, and she poked her middle finger deep into the recess of his asse, feeling the hot tight velvet texture of his insides. At the same time she took the dark hot head of his penis to her lips and spit a tiny splash of saliva onto it. She smoothed the tip of his cock across her lips, making them wet.

Snama ran her tongue from the base of his manroot to the underside of its tip, and played around here, then toyed with the moistening hole of emission. Neshe moaned.

Now, with one finger buried deep in his asse, she took his cock deep into her mouth and enveloped him in it, sinking him deep toward her throat.

His hips began to push and thrust, fucking himself into her mouth. She kept time with his rhythm, feeling him slide in and out between her lips on the bed of her tongue. Her finger inside his asse curled and tickled his walls, and finding his prostate, she pressed and released, and pressed, and released. She continued this teasing of his inner gland as she sucked with love and to draw his love from him.

Neshe, with his hands held behind his back, was captive . . . pinned by her finger, caged in her mouth. He began to lunge his hips forward harder and harder into her and she steadily worked her finger on his prostate.

He could not hold back . . . he reached forward, pulled the pins from her hair and it fell loose about her shoulders, still slightly damp having been tightly rolled partially wet.