It's 4:00 am. I'm driving home in my car. I can't remember how much I've had to drink. I know it's a lot because I have my seatbelt on. I always wear my seatbelt when I think I'm too drunk to drive safe, a habit I picked after passing out at the wheel a few times only narrowly escaping potential disaster.
I know I need to force myself to stay awake, so I turn up the music to its maximum and try shaking my head to the beat. I hope there are no police check-posts on the way because they'll probably smell the whiskey from a mile away. I'm also cursing myself for not having carried the house keys. I'll have to wake my mother up if I want to let myself in, and I'm sure she'll make a snide remark about the smell of alcohol on my breath.
I notice there is a crossing approaching. I'm suprised that the lights are functioning at this unearthly hour. Not wanting to take a chance in my current chemical condition, I dutifully stop and wait for the light to turn green. I'm almost proud of myself for doing so. The evening that has gone by is flashing in front of my eyes. Suddenly, I realise "Soul Meets Body" is playing on the music system. "Brilliant!" I exclaim, and start to sing along... it'll help me keep my mind off what happened at the party. I also adjust the shaking of my head to this new found beat. The air-conditioning has me near frozen so I switch it off and roll down the front windows of the car.
That's when I notice her.
It was 8:30 pm. Radha stepped out of the shower and looked at her naked self in the mirror. Impressed, as always with what she saw, she gave herself a quick, naughty wink and grabbed her towel. She wiped herself dry and with a practiced ease applied three different types of lotions, leaving no part of her body unattended. Next, she wrapped the towel round herself and stepped out of the bathroom. She scanned her room, making sure no one was there. Then she hurried to the door and locked it. Next, she turned on the music and flung her towel on the bed.
If you saw Radha, you wouldn't believe that she took less than ten minutes to dress up. She's the sort of woman who would compel you to look at her, simply by way of her existence. She had the rare ability to make even the suavest of men uncomfortable and even the most ravishing women helplessly jealous. The difference between Radha and the rest of the world was her confidence and comfort with self.
Today was no different. Swiftly and efficiently the items of clothing appeared on her dusky body. The carefully faded blue jeans waste 26" and the black top with a plunging v-shaped neckline. The top was designed in such a way that each time she bent, you would get a fleeting glimpse of her lacy purple bra. Radha, knowingly, made no effort to cover her chest with her hand when she bent, a part of her enjoyed this sudden attention, from men and women alike, and of course she cracked up when she used to notice the evasive actions that followed when she looked up.
Her sandals were a point of discussion in the local social circles. Most of them were black, beige, chocolate brown, and a few were silver. All of them had one thing in common, a four inch heel and a characteristic, dull silver star right next to the ankle on the outside. Her jeans were just short enough to reveal the star.
No one knew how she managed to dance so well wearing such high heels. And no one knew where she shopped for them. What really got to the women was that Radha wouldn't tell. She used the convenient excuse that her father used to buy them from somewhere in Europe, Latvia? Lithuania? Luxembourg? No one remembered. Or maybe each time someone asked, Radha named a different country.
Once dressed, Radha ran to her cupboard mirror which was full length. She stood for two full minutes, much longer than usual, carefully examining herself. Her hair fell carefully on her shoulders, the wavy black locks blending with the black of her top. She adjusted her top to make sure there was enough skin between the end of the top and the beginning of the jeans. This way those who saw her from the front got a view of her naval ring and those who looked at her from the back were able to examine the tattoo on her lower back.
Then suddenly, for reasons known only to her, she broke into a dance. A casual, almost careless shaking of hips. She turned her body around but her eyes remained fixed on herself in the mirror, making sure every inch of her was just the way she wanted it to be, including the intensely inviting ass. Once she was convinced, the naughty wink followed.
She quickly turned off the music, went out of her room and into her parents'. There she spotted her favourite perfume on the dressing table, Turquoise by Ralph Lauren, and applied as much as she could without nauseating herself. She didn't normally use much perfume but today was going to be a long night, and hopefully a special one, so she had decided to go that extra mile.
In the throws of olfactory passion, Radha didn't realise that her cellfone had been ringing in her room. The ringtone "Rubina's Blue Sky Happiness" by Joe Satriani echoed in her room, begging to be heard. The phone screen read: 3 missed calls.
Radha was unaware of the fact that his was one phone call she should have attended.
(To be Continued...)