The converging point

“I love you,” he said. He pushed her hair behind her ears.

“These curls of yours will forever be in our way, beautiful,” he breathed in and out heavily, making sensual noises.

She sat, her eyes half-closed in anticipation. All this was new to her. Her lips trembled. She could feel her piloerection and the erection she had brought about in him. She was incapacitated by him. He made her heart skip beats. He made her heart beat faster. He brought about a whole range of emotions in her which she never knew could exist.

“You’re one of the best, mmhmmmm,” he said. She shivered with excitement.

Their lips were barely apart. She was breathing in the air he was breathing out, they were so close. He traced his finger all the way from her forehead to her chin and tilted it upwards. She was hardly daring to breathe or move a muscle, as if that would spoil the magic of the moment. She closed her eyes. He closed his eyes. He brought his lips even closer.

And they touched.

For her, it was as if all the pieces of a puzzle had finally fallen into place.

For him, it was as if a desire had finally been satisfied.

For her, it was the first word in a new chapter.

For him, it was the last page of the book.

For her, it was love.

For him, it was lust.

They finally broke apart. He left her and went away, just like that. Not a word, nothing. She sat dumbfounded for five minutes and then hurriedly arranging her hair and putting on her clothes ran out, after him.

She found him nowhere.

The street which used to be full of traffic during the day was now empty.

She was a bird, torn of her wings just as she started to fly.

She was too shocked even to cry.

She stood at the crossroad waiting for him to come.

But he never came back.

She was humiliated, used and thrown away by him but she knew that if he came back, she would accept him in a heartbeat.

IF he came back, at all.

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