A stolen life

"This is awkward", thought Mohit, as he saw her walk in.

The ambiance of the restaurant suddenly became charged with a flurry of ignited emotion. The placidness of the soothing yellow light, that soaked the entire place, felt like an electric storm about to break.

The restaurant had an assemblage of gaiety individuals, lavishly displaying their patrician demeanor. An array of sumptuous cuisines and bottles of expensive wine lay in front of them. They were engaged in discreet conversation, with occasional restrained laughter erupting over the soft notes of jazz hanging in the air.

Mohit had immersed himself in the surroundings, to celebrate his climb up the ladder of success.

But, the moment she walked in, everything, else dimmed.

*****

The first time he saw her, it was her long shapely legs. She stood at the other end of the carpeted hallway, talking over the phone. Shaded lamps that hung in the wall threw a splash of golden light making her oily suntanned skin glisten. She wore a smear of deep purple lipstick on her pouty lips and a skin tight black evening gown, that accentuated her desirous curves.

Mohit had landed on the wrong floor of the hotel building. The multiple elevators from the hotel lobby, with each catering to a few selected floors, were too confusing for him. He was staying for the first time in a five star hotel and that too in a foreign country. It would take time to adjust to the ways of high life.

Mohit was on the seventeenth floor, his room one floor down. He decided to take the stairs. As he walked across the hallway, towards the door to the stairs, he saw her. He had never seen someone so desirous before. She seemed to walk straight out of every man's wildest fantasy. He slowed his pace, letting his eyes drink all her sensuous beauty.

As he approached the door, he again glanced at her. His last look would be to his heart content. But what was he seeing? His heart skipped a beat. She was waving at him. He pointed towards his own self, to make sure it was he she had waved to.

She nodded.

He could hear the thumping of his own heart, as he walked towards her. The nearer he came, the more ravishing she looked. She was tall and had a figure that looked deliciously full. She had high cheek bone, deep set eyes and long flowing auburn hair. Her dress that cut deep into chest reveal a fair amount of her skin.

She held up her key card at Mohit.

"Not working...can you help?" she said.

Her hispanic accent, further added to her sensuous appeal. Mohit took the key card, and inserted it in the key slot. A slight click and the door opened.

She looked surprised and said " Oh…..thanks....must have put the wrong side in."

Mohit stepped aside. She passed him, brushing her warm flesh against his. She opened the door, glanced over her shoulder and asked.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?"

Mohit couldn't refuse.

She leaned against headboard, with one foot resting on the gleaming marble floor and the other stretched on the bed. Her gown was pulled up to reveled her long rounded thighs. Her fingers delicately held a burgundy glass from which she sipped, measured quantity of red wine.

On the wall, above her, hung a colossal imitation of Titans, famous painting Venus of Urbino. The brazen goddess, Venues lay on couch, in a Renaissance palace. Not a shred of cloth in her body. Venuses strong erotic stare, bored into Mohit's eyes. He lowered his gaze. His eyes now fell in line with her stare. Deep and daunting, they were. She moved the wine glass to her lips, poring the liquid at the tip of her tongue. A sense of unblemished pleasure radiated from her face.

"Sorry …..I didn't have coffee, I hope you didn't mind" she said in a soft delicate voice.

Mohit could only nod his head.

"You can come near me," she said with a slight tap on the bed "that chair is not very comfortable".

Mohit drained his glass of wine, in a single gulp and stood up. An impish smile played on her lips.

"Leave you coat on the chair" she said.

Mohit's eyes scanned the room for one last time. The painting, the unmade bed, the cloths on the floor, the half empty wine bottle and her naked body amidst the soft silk linens was again beginning to excite him. With great effort he pushes those thoughts aside. He stepped out and locked the door.

But what an evening it had been! Just five days in Singapore, and it was turning out to be quite an adventure.

He walked along the hallway with slow steps. Lit a cigarette and pondered, how he would explain to his wife, about this one and a half hour delay.

******

His wife talks too much. He always felt so. But five years of marriage, have taught him how to pretend to be listening, when he was not.

It seems her initial excitement of staying and starting a new life in a new country had died down. She was complaining about a lot of things and enquiring about his transfer back to India. But after today's secret adventure, Mohit felt Singapore was treating him well.

His company had given him the opportunity to have a life he had always dreamed of. He had no intention of letting it pass by, without squeezing every drop of the pleasure it could offer.

His wife was saying something about little India, of taking up a flat near that place. She wouldn't go near the Chinese. Their dietary habits were too repulsive for her orthodox Brahmin ways. Mohit was listened to her only half heartedly. His mind drifting back and forth the seventeenth floor room.

She tapped at his hand.

"Are you listening ?." she said, sounding angry.

"Yes….yes I am…who else would I listen to?" Mohit said with smile.

She resumed her talks, and Mohit tried to make sympathetic face.

His wife had a round face, wide eyes and a not so sharp nose. She was plump, stout and her skin pale. She did look beautiful a few years back, now however the charm was gone. And after what Mohit had experience toady, he knew that charm would never return.

The waiter brought in their order. His wife had ordered, vegetable fried rice, while Mohit, in his mood of adventure, have ordered Sisumi. His wife frowned at the raw meat. Mohit felt a twitch of anger seeing her expression. He thought of saying something but decided against it. Why spoil the evening?.

He picked up the glistening fork beside his plate, and slid it into the soft raw meat., He was about to dip it in the pot of miso soup, when she walked into the restaurant.

Everything else dimmed.

The air became electrifying. Every eyes in the restaurant, poured over her. She walked in slow delicate gait, but thumped her foot with enough force, to let her ever swell in her body tremble.

Mohit was stuck again. He could feel a conquers smile growing within him. He had already claimed the land. But his wife's face came in between. He suppressed his smile, and avoided his wife's questioning look.

"Do you know her?" his wife asked in an impatient voice.

"Who …no how would I ?" replied Mohit.

He devoured into his food, telling his wife how excellent it was. Though, through the corner of his eyes, he kept following her. She was moving around the place talking, laughing and blowing kisses. She seemed to float or rather glide between the tables.

She picked up a glass of champaign, and spoke briefly to a suited guy. Mohit looked sideways, trying to catch the face of the man she was talking. His wife stared back at him. He returned his eyes to the plate feeling a bit embarrassed. What was he doing? His life would go hay wire if his wife found out what he was up to. He suddenly felt anxious and hoped that the girl didn't notice him

But that was not to be. To his horror, he could see that she was walking straight towards their table. Mohit hunched his back, trying to hide behind his wife. But she was already there.

"Hi Mohit" she said in a soft, delicate voice.

Mohit...How the hell did she know his name? He never told his name to her. Or did he? He was beginning to panic. His wife eyes glared with a million questions.

He shook his head and said an inaudible "Hi". She sat on the chair beside his wife.

Oh ....This is awkward thought Mohit. He didn't know what to do.

"You left….without saying goodbye….bad boy" she said.

A mischief laden smile appeared on her face. His wife looked at her and then at Mohit. He looked away. Not knowing what to do he signaled for the waiter.

He could feel the tip of her toe on his right legs. He pushed it aside. Hell… his life is finished. How would he face his wife again?

"What's the matter Mohit …..did I do something wrong?" she was insisting on a reply.

"No….No….I had something important to do", Mohit stammered as he spoke.

"What can be more important...then…." She stopped and looked at his wife. "Is she your wife…..Hmmmm?".

Mohit felt that he was on a verge of a breakdown. Small beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He had no idea how to deal with the situation. He couldn't look at his wife, but he could very well make out the sound of her heavy breathing. She was angry...no she was furious.

He could see the girl trying to make a conversation with his wife. What was she up to? Was she going to reveal everything to her? Or else, did she have any other agenda?

The waiter came and stood near the table. Mohit looked vaguely at him.

"Sir…what can I do for you?" asked the waiter

Before Mohit could speak, she turned towards the waiter and said " A bottle of red wine please....you love red wine don't you …bad boy".

Mohit moved his tongue inside his mouth. A faint taste of the wine still lingered. A quick glance at her long neck, reminded him of the way his tongue had moved over it and its sweet, powdery taste.

Mohit moved his tong over his lips, it had become dry and parched.

She waved to someone, stood up and before leaving said "Will be right back...…will enjoy the wine together…..ok bad boy".

Now it was just Mohit and his wife. Even with all those people around, he felt terribly lonely. He couldn't gather the courage to look at her. He waited impatiently, for her to speak. But an annoyingly long moment passed, she didn't utter a word. She was busy munching her vegetable fried Rice. Finally she drank some water and readied to speak. Mohit braced himself.

"Not as good as you get in India…..it's too plain" she said sounding a bit disheartened.

Mohit looked stunned. He didn't know what to say. He had expected a tornado but what he got was a breeze.

Mohit looked behind his wife towards the other end of the restaurant. She was again walking back towards them.

Mohit felt he couldn't handle this anymore. He told his wife, he would be back in a few minutes and left the restaurant.

****

The room was dark.

Mohit sat on the chair, vaguely looking out of the window. The city below, with its million glowing lights, had dimmed the starlit sky above.

Mohit closed his eyes. He was felt anxious.

His wife was extremely gorgeous, rather an exotic beauty. She was a tempting image, that can ignites any man extreme emotions. To top this, she was awesome in bed. A fearless adventurists wanting and yearning for the unexpected. But beyond this, she was empty.

At least Mohit felt so. The moment he lifted himself from the bed, the charm would be gone.

He couldn't control her outgoing ways. Her demands, for living a fake nonexistent life and forcing him to pretending to be someone he was not. Mohit felt bored… Bored and tired of playing the awe struck stranger on hotel lobbies and hallways. The card key not working trick. He wanted a life that was simple and uncomplicated.

But it doesn't matter what he wanted. His wife runs his life now. She was manipulative, controlling and bent on having her way. He is just a show piece, something to be displayed, without a soul and a say.

But he continues to live. He does so by stealing…. Stealing the shadow of his life from the blinding glare of his wife. A walk on the beach, or an hour spent at the most secluded part of the garden or an lonely dinner, all by himself, and...and he hadn't named her. That round faced girl, not beautiful, a nagging girl, an orthodox unadventurous girl, who loves vegetable fried rice.

Mohit suddenly became aware of the darkness surrounding him. He stood up and switch on the bedside lamp. A faint muted light illuminated the room. The bed was unmade, with cloths strewed all over. A half open wine bottle, lay on the floor.

Mohit began to picking up the cloths. On the other side of the bed near the dressing mirror, he saw the reflection of the round faced women. The women his mind perceives as his wife. She was saying something in a low, agitated voice. She seemed upset, at what just happened at the restaurant.

Mohit felt relived. She would stay. She would not abandon him.

Mohit felt a pair of eyes on him. Those shameless eyes of Venus of Urbino. Oblivious about her nudity, she looks on.

What was she looking at? Is there a grin in her face.? Mohit felt naked, totally…totally naked.

He switched off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into total darkness.