Andrew’s eyes were bright; it was a light I hadn’t seen before.
He let the back of his hands brush my breast. My nipples were so hard they hurt.
I wanted Andrew, and I could see he wanted me.
We were back on our feet again. Andrew eased off my jeans. I rolled my head. I was caught in a hypnotic spell of scent and heat. I went down on my knees and took him in my mouth again.
‘Myraaahhhh,’ he shouted. I mewled. This was crazy ridiculous.
He flooded my mouth, and I swallowed before collapsing on my back… Andrew was on me, covering me like a blanket.
I lay on his denims, and his phone poked my shoulder. I tried to move his trousers away unsuccessfully.
‘What?’ he asked, smiling into my eyes. I pointed at his jeans.
Andrew tossed them aside.
Andrew’s phone fell on the carpeted floor. It had opened to an Instagram page, which had a picture of Meena and Ravi.
My eyes stayed on the phone screen, just to confirm what I had seen.
Andrew was on his feet, and I joined him.
‘This has nothing to do with that,’ he said, bending to pick up his phone. ‘I saw this just now, an hour ago maybe, when we were at the café.’
I nodded.
I knew just when he had seen it; it was in his expression.
‘I wanted to show it to you right then, but that’s when I saw the house.’
I hadn’t told him I had broken up with Ravi.
Andrew probably sensed it at that very juncture, that same evening, but he hadn’t brought it up. In our profession, the deity was in the details, but when it was personal, Andrew tread lightly. It suited him.
‘I knew this,’ I said, pointing to his phone. ‘I saw them together.’ I moved my head dramatically. We were on the sofa, not a stitch of clothing on either of us.
‘I am okay,’ I said, turning to face him.
He nodded. Andrew didn’t need me to say it.
‘He didn’t need much time,’ I said, laughing.
‘And neither did you, Rai.’ His thumb was stroking my cheek. I could still taste him.
We had brought a couple of bottles with us. I had asked for Chardonnay. I was suddenly only drinking white wine.
Andrew had poured out a couple of glasses, something dark for himself.
I pulled on his tee, and he was bare-chested.
We were quiet to begin with, sipping our drinks. I was considering the day, the miles we had driven, Bhumika’snotes, all the people we had met and everything we had learnt.
Then Andrew spoke about his family. It was just little titbits he was dropping, about Hari Rao, the campaigning. He asked me if there was a physical resemblance. Alcohol had freed his tongue.
I told him there was nothing he had of his grandfather looks wise, but there was the other stuff, like their walk.
I mimicked Andrew’s walk and that of his biological grandfather, like some burlesque dancer, and ended up on the sofa, laughing.
