The Fault In Your Chromosomes

It was a bright sunny day at Carter Road, and the general vacation mood had brought beautiful pairs of soft shapely legs sticking out from fluorescent hot shorts out in the open.

Yes, I am, what most women would call,  a sick lecher, but I couldn't care less for what they thought of me as I sat there with my noisy gang of friends. Sunday evenings just had one agenda – some would call it bird watching, some, eve teasing. But for me, hey, I was just out to admire an artist’s work! Beautiful, fair, newly waxed legs had thronged to the place quite generously today, and every now and then I’d see the ‘cherries’ on the cake wobbling conspicuously in their low neck t-shirts as the legs jogged by. Oh it was pure paradise here – any real man would agree to that!

To those of you, who actually call this act of admiration, a crime; to those, who give this a term as heinous as molestation, I’ll ask a simple question: Since when did looking become a crime? Since when did staring become offensive? I mean, as long as I’m just looking, you have no reason to turn around and swear! What I do to you’ll in my mind, is frankly, none of your business.

You would, as a matter of fact, have the right to complain, if my hand touched you. But of course, you wouldn't think of this as an “innocent” error on my part, and as I’d turn around to look at you, I’d see your angry eyes staring back at me. Little do you know, that this fiery rage in your beautiful eyes is what turns me on even more. Yes, watching your cheeks go red, watching your bosom thump up due to the violation of your security gives me a bigger kick and my lips can’t help but give you the most coy and sadistic smile you've ever seen.

So as I sat there daydreaming and fantasizing in the evening sun, a pair of supple and sleek legs caught my eye.  As I looked at them with bated breath, the soft, spherical and shapely artwork adorned in hot pink shorts made my heart skip a beat. How could I not pay my respect to her? She was so irresistible! So I got up, and walked carefully behind her. I let my hand feel her, and then, with a gentle push, I casually walked past her. I turned around, prepared to see those feisty eyes glaring at me, but instead, I saw something very different. I saw devastation; I saw her eyes get hurt and surprised at the same time, and it is then when I saw her face.  Her face was not an unfamiliar one.

A rush of memories followed. Tears gathered in my eyes and guilt enveloped my heart as my mind took me 15 years back into time, when the nurse had placed her small fragile body in my innocent arms, and my heart had sworn to protect her until it stopped beating.

As I lay down on my bed at night I felt ashamed, guilty and mistaken. Yes, I was wrong. How could I look eye to eye with her ever again? I know that she knew that it was me, but what do I even say to her? As memories of my baby sister clouded my brain, I finally drifted off to sleep.

The next day as I walked out of my house, I was greeted by the deliciously low neck blouse of my neighbor. My heart rejoiced and I was back to being myself again.

Secrets Of The Dark

As her lips murmured on, the rapidity and aggression increasing as time passed, his anxiety built up, and his nervousness increased. He had to do something – now! This was getting way out of control.

She had been asleep by his side for quite some time, but she was not really sleeping. Her brow was pulled together, her face seemed to be in pain and her eyes were tightly shut. Her lips were constantly saying something inaudible – almost like a chant, and her legs kicked at something invisible to Aryan’s eyes. Yes, she was not entirely asleep; she had been having nightmares every time she tried to relieve her tired eyes and weary body from the pain of being forced into becoming an insomniac. Yes, they haunted her every night, haunted her to the extent that she had almost forgotten what it felt like to have a sound sleep.

They said that it was the horrors of her past that kept coming back to her. Every night she relived the most inhumane experience she had been subjected to 3 years back. She still felt the touch of that masked monster's fingers on her bare skin; she could still see him strip her off her clothes and push her onto that sinful bed. Yes, she still heard herself scream out in pain as he repeatedly punished her for being a woman. She wanted to push him off, she wanted him to stop, but even in her dreams, her attacker overpowered her and relished his feast the way a lion would relish a petty lamb.

It would seem that she had grown out of that horrid experience. During the day, she would come across as just another beautiful 24 year old aspiring for success in her life. But no, time wasn't enough to heal all her scars. As night fell, her fears overpowered her.

 As she struggled in his arms, Aryan felt that he should have been used to this by now – used to watching her inflict pain on herself, used to watching her cry every night, used to spending every night holding her tight and slowly watching her crumble in front of his eyes. But he wasn’t. How could he ever get used to watching his obsession succumbing to her painful past every time the sun set?

But she was not the only one who remembered that evening clearly. It was also the day that had completely changed Aryan's life. It was the day when he had finally won her over. The day when she had been weak, and his strength had made her fall for him. He could still exactly recollect how she had been sitting in one corner, her eyes red, her clothes torn... How he had turned into her hero when he had given her his support when it came to facing the society and how he had then easily made her fall for him.

Until that eve, she wasn't even aware of his existence, but he? Oh he had always been crazy about her. He had looked at her everyday through his window, seen her go to work, waited at the window again when it was time for her to be home. She could be any man's desire! She was a breath of raw sensuality, and now, she belonged to him.

He did remember that day clearly. He had waited at his window to watch her return, but she was late that eve, and it was pretty dark when he saw her walking down the lane towards her building. He could just see her silhouette; the fog and the lack of streetlights were playing a dirty game with his eyes. It is then when he realized that he couldn't watch her from his window forever; he couldn't be a lonely secret admirer anymore. He had to get her attention. He had to show his feelings to her or else he would lose her forever. So he picked up his coat and scarf and stepped into the starry night and crept his way into her balcony...

An hour later, he was back in his apartment. He could still hear her cry out in pain, and as he looked into the mirror, he saw his cold blooded eyes staring back at him. His lips curled into a smile as he unwrapped the scarf he had used as a mask, and he shrugged out of his torn coat. His desire had been fulfilled. Her beauty had bowed down to his strength.

As he held her tightly, he thought of how blessed he was. His muse would never think that the strongest pillar of her life today had once been her ruthless masked attacker. The lamb had fallen in love with the lion that had once crippled it.