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The Date: Short Story
I typed: “Very short stories on adults”
About 81,30,00,000 results (0.58 seconds). Amazing. Yo man I can now steal and write. I tried humming a song. It didn’t come the same way when writing didn’t come to me.
The writing world is a whirlpool of words. No, how about vortex? Does whirlpool and vortex mean the same? I googled.
That was what I am good at – googling. I picked up the unusual one “maelstrom”. The editor will be happy now. He want difficult words.
Gosh, how boring. For heaven’s sake I am not a writer. I am a plagiarist. I have managed a very good luck that no one could actually figure out from where I stole my writes.
Did I mention anywhere, I am now twenty two? Too old for these pranks. Who cares? No, I cared. Today I cared. The article just won’t leave my mind. It was too tempting. I have two choices tonight, I mean this Friday night – Write a plagiarized article or choose a super-rich man and I vouch I won’t remain a virgin tonight.
Friday night. I hum a song “darling you look perfect tonight”. Tonight I will catch a man errrr I am just being horny not desperate. I am not needy either. By all means why should only a man have all the pleasure? Desperados.
I took a quick peep at the mirror. I am good looking and there is no doubt in it. Tonight I will let lose my ruby red hair. The extra sugary strawberry lipstick will add luster to my blossom soft lips. With a wasp waisted glossy skin I no longer looked less than a model on a vogue cover. I personally do not entertain these models. They have no breasts. I look at mine. I have a good number. I have a bubbly personality a cherry on top.
Hey look, am I a freak? I am ay, I mean ya, I mean umm, I mean a wwrriitteerr and also had a dazzling beauty. Let me tell you men have fallen for me but I was the one in charge of being a chaste woman.
8 PM IST:
“Mum I am off”
“And where to?”
“Not Just Jazz By The Bay”
“Shall we keep your dinner?”
I have never spoken to my mother in this way before. But today it’s a special treat to me from me or a rich aristocrat, an intellectual, I mean in all ways a perfect man who would sing for me “darling you look perfect tonight”.
“Can I ask where you are really heading to? Not Just Jazz By The Bay, right?” my mother sounded serious.
I need to stay normal. She should not get a whiff in what am I to tonight.
“Mum have I ever lied to you? I want to enjoy my company tonight.”
“That by any means you are at liberty in this house”.
“Mum, I am twenty two and I don’t have a boyfriend yet. Let alone losing virginity.” I wanted to say but instead kissed her goodbye and rushed with the car keys to the parking bay.
8.30 PM IST – Not Just Jazz By The Bay
“Remember Rappin’ Duke? Duh-ha, duh-ha
You never thought that hip-hop would take it this far
Now I’m in the limelight ’cause I rhyme tight
Time to get paid, blow up like the World Trade
Born sinner, the opposite of a winner
Remember when I used to eat sardines for dinner
Peace to Ron G, Brucie B, Kid Capri
Funkmaster Flex, Lovebug Starski
I’m blowin’ up like you thought I would
Call the crib, same number, same hood
It’s all good (it’s all good)
And if you don’t know, now you know, nigga…….”
Oh mind blowing song. The ambience just suited me. Everything is perfect this evening.
“I am waiting for my beau” I faked.
“Can I get you something?”
I have to be very very careful. No intoxication.
An hour passed by. Nothing happened. In the meantime I have gorged a large pizza flushed it down my throat with a Pepsi. I was starving.
“Lady, wanna dance?”
I turn towards the voice. Spade shade devil’s fork. Gleaming eyes. River – silver – salt and pepper. He had a friendly smile. I almost jumped.
“Don’t let ’em hold you down
Reach for the stars
You had a goal
But not that many
‘Cause you’re the only one
I’ll give you good and plenty…..”
I am bad in guessing age but this chap should be in his late forties. The older the better. The married the merrier. No strings attached.
I was about to get up for the dance but he decided to settle down next to me. And that’s when I noticed the pot belly.
“That’s negligible, no one is perfect”, my brain whispered “Start with your Job, come on”, it continued.
“May be we can rest in some hotel”, the invitation came from him and I winked.
It’s no joke I never knew I could wink so well.
We strolled for some time at Marine Drive, spoke nothing when I decided to check in some five star.
“Well, I know other rooms” he sounded assuring.
I raised my guards. What is this man upto?
“Either Oberoi or I am off” I stormed.
“Cool, it your night mademoiselle”
12 AM IST, The Oberoi Grand, Suite Number 9
“Do I really have to do this?” the brain murmured.
I turned around.
He was in his underwear. The paunch clearly visible. He was fighting with the waiter on some rates. I couldn’t believe what I saw.
“Stop, stop. Be private not public”, I yelled.
He listened. Shutting the door he slowly inched towards me. He tried to dance and…….
2.00 AM home, my room
Crying miserably I am puddle of tears. The kohl, lipstick everything is smudged. I had even forgotten my sandals in the hotel.
That smelly onion garlic fart.
Good Lord how could I be such an asshole? Pray we didn’t exchange name and numbers. Did he confuse me with a slut? Never mind who cares.
Rimli Bhattacharya is a First class gold medalist in Mechanical Engineering from National Institute of Technology, an MBA in supply chain management and is engaged with a corporate sector. Her essay in the anthology “Book read more...
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