Circle of Eight

I reached the cottage in less than an hour. There was no one there. But the place looked lived in and had improved a lot. The living room was with a new look. A giant TV with brand new furniture. There was a half empty pot of coffee on the kitchen table, still lukewarm. I knew where she had gone.

I told the driver to go back and return the day after.

I took a shower and and since I had not brought any change of clothes I started my walk through the hilly terrain. I reached the top of the hill in good time, pleased with my own physique. I passed the hall we had made love in. A lot had changed here too. There were several comforters, one on top of the other spread nicely in a corner to make a bed. Pillow and a blanket. A couple of lanterns hung on nails driven into the wall.

I walked around, quietly and found her under a tree, reading. She looked a little older. Didn't we all? But she looked tired and old. "Faiz." I called softly. She dropped her book and jumped.

"Raj." Looking all around and saw me on the edge of the step. "Is it really you?"

I walked into the sunlight. "Yes it is, and I need to ask the same thing. Kya kar rahi ho."

"Living. The way I want to."

We sat together for a while, not speaking. Then she asked. "Rita se mil aaye?"

"Haan, we are getting married in less than a year."

"Good for you. I am happy for both of you."

"I see a lot more things in the hall, looks like you spend quite a lot of time here."

"Haan. I like it here."

"Is it okay. You must be alone and..."

"Oh it is okay. I am not afraid of dark and there are no wild animals here, a few monkeys from time to time..."

"With one disturbing you right now." I grinned.

I wanted to touch her. I wanted to hold her and make love to her. But this was no limit testing trip. There was Rita hanging between us like a think curtain. "Anything to eat?"

"I have a few cans of soup, I usually keep them in sun for while and eat it. Come. How did you come?"

"Your dad's chopper. I asked to him to come back the day after. I have a flight in the evening back to California."

"I though I heard the sound. Eat your soup and we go back to the cottage. No reason why you have to spend it here."

"I would mind, actually."

"No, we need to go anyway, there is hardly enough kerosene for the lanterns."

We ate the soup and started our way back. We stopped at the stream where we had made love the last time. Where she had loved my cock with her lips.

"You remember?"

"I remember every thing."

We reached the cottage. I was all sweaty and sticky. "I have a problem. I have not brought any change of clothes. And these are begining to stink."

"I thnk there are some of my father's clothes here, see if they fit." She found a loose shorts and an over sized T-Shirt. Laughing at me when I put them on and came out of the shower. She had whipped up some noodles. We ate again. The sun was beginning to turn red. She made food. A simple dish of fried rice with some canned tuna fish. We ate early and I stood outside in the porch. It was the beginning of winter, the air had begun to get cold. I got goosebumps on the expose part of my skin. She joined me. We stood close to each other. I could feel her warmth emanting out to me.

"Have you ever thought about that day Raj." I knew what day she meant.

"Yes I did, a million times."

"Hold me, Raj." I wrapped an arm around her, bringing her closer. How our lips met is something clouded in a mystery. Her warm lips opened up to mine, the slow langrous kisses making way to urgent ones, and we leaning against the column and my throbbing pressed against her jean clad crotch. Even through the thick fabric I could feel her pulsing pussy.

We broke off, only for her to pounce back on me, her arms around my neck, wrapping her legs around me. She had lost a bit of weight too, or my strength had increased. I carried her, light as a feather, inside, She pointed to a door, we enetered inside.

The first fucking was a frenzied affair. Clothes flew. Neither able to decide what we wanted first. She took my lund, neeche khisak ke wrapped her lips around my cock. I was in heaven, but in need for more. I pulled her back, spreading her legs to drink the sweet emissions of her cunt. Woh mujhe phir wapas upar kheenchi. She wanted more of my lips. I enetered her and with frenzied maddness, fucked her. Hard and harder, till her pussy was spraying and splattering her juice all over me and we were calling each other's name with screams that could have been heard miles away.

I came with her mouth on mine, her moans inside my mouth shook every nerve awake, grunts sent shivers down her spine. Spent we lay side by side.

The second time we made love was less frantic. We kissed. We kissed and kissed. Every conceivable part of each other. So much that we were each showered in other's saliva. We made slow love. Increasing the tempo to just slow it down, bringing each other to the brink and holding back, fustratting but exhilarating. Nerve racking but when at last our dams broke it was almost dawn. And our bodies were meshed together in the earthquake like orgasm that went on and till they became so strong that shaking we could only whisper each other's name. We feel asleep.

Later, I found her naked, in the kitchen, pulled her back to bed and made love to her. I washed and showered putting on the same clothes she had given me. She had washed mine and were drying outside. After food we sat on the couch, my fingers tracing the shape of her lips, her chin and nose. Straying to her still very firm tits. Reaching out to her pussy. Still wet. Still very sticky as if she had not washed.

I asked. "Hope that is not a problem with you."

"Not at all, but that is unlike you. Hardly ever see you dirty."

"But that is not dirty, that is divine."

We lost count of number of times we made love. We lost track of time, hardly sleeping, making love through the day and night. Breaking only when we heard the chopper. I showered in a hurry, she washed her face in the kitchen and told me I could go back, she would stay a few days more.

"Why don't take my calls?" I asked her at last.

"Why add fuel to a fire that is already raging."

"Come with me."

"You know I can't. Go, you will be happy with Rita."

The only people absent were Fez and Rahul when Rita and I got married. It was a decent affair. I started my own company, it was the beginning of Internet boom. I sold it six months later, I started another and sold it before settling down for a long term one. I had made my millions. I had made my name.

I tried many times to contact Fez. She was never there. Sometimes I had a feeling she was there listening on as her mother answered her calls.

The work, the millions took their toll on the married life. Rita was happy at first, the money giving her new things to buy and spend on. But the strain of working eighteen hours a day was really too much. Three years after we had married we broke up. I visited Delhi a few times. But each time Fez was missing.

I immersed myself in work. Another three years passed. My hair were prematurely gray. A trait that ran in my family, but oddly I liked it, it gave a look that brought some respect. Thrity something and among older giants I still managed to make my name.

* * *

It was almost ten years from the gangbag we had at the cottage.

Main ek bade company ke takeover ke baad New York se wapas Delhi jaa raha tha. Main apne assitant Deepak Basu se phone pe baat karta hua airport ki lobby main aahi raha tha ke ek aurat aur bacche se takrata takrata bacha.

Phone zara kaan se hata ke "sorry mam" kehne hi wala tha ke ankein khuli ki khuli reh gayi.

"Faiz?"

"Raj?"

Main phone mein moon laga kar Deepak se kaha ke main baad mein baaat karta hoon.

"Faiz, tum yahan? My God. Kahan ja rahi ho."

"Wapas India, ise ghoomne le aayi thi."

Then I remembered the boy, a small boy held her by the finger. Something seemed familiar about him.

"You married?" I said in surprise. No one had said anything about this. Even Rana.

"You can say that." Her eyes looked into mine. Clang. Something moved with loud enough noise to drown the surrounding din for a while.

"You are lying."

She avoided my eyes. "What difference does it make."

"Look at me, you think it doesn't... Look at me damn you, you woman."

"This is not a place for making a fuss."

"You are right." I called Deepak. "Deepak, get hold of the driver and whereever he is ask him ot come to the front of departure entarnce. Change of plans. I will let you know."

I looked at the boy. "What's you name son?"

"Siraj, uncle."

I looked into her eyes again, she could avoid them now, not now. She must have have seen anger flash through my eyes, she stod defiantly. "Uncle. And you say it makes no difference."

I looked at the boy again. "Bete, thoda change of plans ho raha hai. Tumhari ye mummy hai, yeh mujh se bahot naaraaz hain, aur itna naaraaz ke ye tumeh yeh bhi nahi batati ke main uncle nahin tumhara daddy hoon. Aap log mere saath pehle ghar chalein phir sab saath India jaayeinge. Okay."

"But my daddy died in a accident."

"Dekno ye ab tak kitni naaraaz hain."

"Kya ye yeh sach hain Mummy?"

"Haan beta yeh sach keh rahein hain."

The ride back home was incredulously frustrated. I wanted to say so many things and I could with the child present. I wanted to hug her, kiss, slap her. I want to hurt her as much as I was hurting now.

The tense ride ended at last. The young boy looked with wonder at the tall building where my penthouse was. He pressed the button for the top flight and looked outside through the glass exterior windows. I called the old Indonesian maid who kept my house and told her to make a room for the child and see that he is comfortable.

"Bete aap in ke saath jaao, okay. Main aur Mummy kuch baat kartein hain."

"Are you guys going to fight?'

"I don't think so, not much anyway." I laughed. "I little maybe."

As he was going out of the room he turned and asked. "Can I call you daddy."

"Yes, you may, Siraj."

When alone, I turned to the bar, pour myself a drink, added some ice and turned to her. "Follow me."

I padded to my bedroom. Put my glass on the table by the bed. Looked at her.

"I couldn't do it." She said, her voice a beginning to break. "I couldn't call you and say cancel your wedding Raj, I am pregnant."

"Knowing you, stupid though that is, I can. But didn't you hear of Rita and me breaking up. You were in town didn't it occur to..."

She walked over to the table and picked up glass, taking a few sips.

"There was never really a right time. I wanted to a million times."

"So what should I do with you now?" My voice betrayed the pain, the hurt.

She put the glass down, came closer. "Don't Raj. Please don't hurt this much."

I turned away, tears building in my eyes. I fell back on the bed. She came close. "I was stupid, I agree. Don't hurt Raj." Her tears were flowing too.

"How can you expect me not to Faiz. I am a father and... and..."

"It was difficult when you left... the first couple of months were hell. Plain fucking hell. Then I discovered I was pregnant. Thoughts of suicide faded away, I got a life. I had something to life for. Mom hated me for doing it, Abba is angry with till today. Now you."

I remained silent. "I could come after you. I didn't know, I couldn't know. I did not want to be accepted by own out of pity. And there was no way knowing if you still wanted me." Her voice faded, she lay her head on my chest. I could feel her every nerve, I could feel her every breath.

We lay there, our passions talking, argueing, angry and dancing.

I took a deep breath, her heaving with my chest. "What do we do now?"

She looked up, her eyes already red with the crying, the sress. "I only know one thing, never part again."

"Never?"

"Not unless you want to."

"And you think I might."

"Hell no." A smile creased her lips at last, it brought one to me. "Hell no. The bond was formed a decade ago and it is going to break." She was sitting up, her ass on my crotch, her finger opening my shirt. Her lips reached out to me, and for the first time, there was no fear. No fear of loss, of despair. No fear of parting.

We made love till dawn. We made love like teenagers, urgent and frenzied, we made love like adults. Reaching into each other's soul. I think my second son was concieved then.

* * *

I sat on the balcony, whiskey in hand. Faiz came up behind me. We looked up at the skycrapers dotting the landscape. I wrapped an arm around my pregnant wife. She looked absolutely ravishing.

"Faiz..." I whispered. Contentment in my voice, something that comes from a bond that is unbreakable.

"Raj..."

* * *