Sirop de Vanille

She decided to wait at the bar, instead of the restaurant/food-court. Yes, a bar next to a food-court, this is why she loved Delhi so very much! The bar was cheap, and they let her smoke in peace. The waiters were useless on a busy night, she was used to them taking ages to get her water, or even take her order. But they were sweet. They smiled apologetically when they wanted clarifications on the order, and lit her cigarette quickly.

The bartender was different today, sadly. The usual one made cocktails for her, just as she requested. On her last visit, he had served Mango Margaritas for her friends, and a Caprioshka with Absolut Kurant for her. It had been a crazy night! They had giggled and laughed and asked for complimentary peanuts and guzzled pitcher after pitcher! Finally the girls had wanted a nice cocktail and he had been kind enough to follow instructions. That was the thing with her, she would smile and talk oh-so-sweetly and always get her way! She never ever forgot to thank people. Never. That ensured her getting her way the second, third, or the gazillionth time around. Always. Well, mostly always.

Today, was different. Today, involved waiting, and she hated it. She had taken the wretched Metro and he still hadn’t reached. So, she waited and nursed her JD and Coke. She lit her cigarette on her own and stared at the smoke forming utterly lazy patterns around her. She smiled and sipped her drink. She speed-dial-ed him and cut the call before it could connect. She leaned back into her chair and continued dreaming with the lazy gorgeous smoke. She absently played with her silver earrings, and sometimes even twirled her hair around her index finger. The gray haze in the dimly lit room allowed her a trip to Lala-land. Her world. Her haven. A non-existent yet very essential part of her. She took solace in the quiet caused by the incessant chatter of people who didn’t matter. She planned her week, her days, her hours… the time she would spend at work, with the friends, with him, and with her books. She needed more time with him… She chalked it all out in neat columns despite knowing that it was impossible for her to implement any of her plans except of course the time spent at work. Work. A global firm, full of very serious and ambitious people. A firm with a gorgeous office, and not so gorgeous people. A firm that screamed quality?

“Is that really you?”, he spoke and shattered her reverie. She smiled and sat up, and took another drag. She nodded and presented him with an option to sit down. He jumped on the offer and planted himself firmly in the chair facing her. “So, how have you been?”, he delivered the greeting without really caring for the answer. Like hell, and you? She thought, but she continued with the fake smile that always seemed genuine and said, “Great? You?”

“Good, good. You look so… Wow! It’s been a long time eh?”, his eyes studied her gorgeous face, and the silver chain that caressed her beautiful skin.

Since I hung up on you and asked you to fuck off. Yes, it has, the humiliation of being cheated on has almost subsided, the pain had been drowned that very day with lots of vodka shots. “Yes, loooong time!”, she enunciated, and continued after lighting another cigarette “So, how’s everything? What you doing these days? Work or still studying?”

“I’m working now, with Dad”, he parroted to get it over with.

“Uhuh, nice… want something to drink?”, she helped.

“Sure, I’ll have a pint. I have to catch the 10:15 show.”

She ordered a Kingfisher pint, and another JD for herself. She lit his cigarette, and he mumbled an inaudible ‘thank you’. She leaned back and drank him in. Oh, he was quite hot. Her type, to look at. Clean, trimmed, well groomed, perfect nose and dark eyes. Tall, very tall and tanned. She raised her eyebrows at the diamond studs in his ears and laughed.

“What?”, he asked, his pride at being assessed positively hurt at the sudden although very sexy throaty laughter.

“Diamond studs?!”, she scoffed.

“Am I interrupting?”, a very nice voice asked.

They turned towards the man with the beautiful voice. She jumped up from her seat and hugged his 6′2″ tall frame. He kissed her forehead and tucked her hair behind her ear, he raised his eyebrows ever so slightly at the other occupant of the table and she obliged.

“Rohit, meet Dev.”

The men shook hands and took their seats. The orders were repeated, and Dev asked for a Black Label with Soda. The cigarettes were lit, Dunhills for her, Marlboro Lights for Rohit, and Marlboro Reds for Dev.

“Why this bar? Don’t you like the Whiskey Bar?”, Dev asked her, still unable to come to terms with the Food-court + Bar place.

“I like it. It reminds me of when I was young? Don’t you like it too? Rohit?”

Before Rohit could respond, Dev spoke, “So, how long have you known each other?”

“A long time,” she replied.

“Since first year college,” Rohit replied.

The conversation jumped from one topic to another, it careened dangerously on topics one never discusses after the “fuck off” has been delivered by one of the parties. It would relax, while everyone sipped their drinks, all in all, it was one uncomfortable table. Of course, she was at complete ease, she lazed in the over-sized arm chair like a gorgeous member of the feline species. She took Dev’s hand in her and exclaimed, like she always did, “My hands are tiny!” She also compared her hands with Rohit’s and whispered, “Not bad, they don’t look so small now”. She laughed at a ridiculously funny work story Dev had narrated and pointed out how adorable Rohit’s dimples were. She purred ‘Oh! Darling!”, whenever Dev paid her a compliment. The men were miffed, for very different reasons of course.

The evening wore itself out.

“Nice meeting you, we should catch up again sometime”, Rohit uttered the usual niceties.

“Sure. We will plan something out…”, Dev left it at that. She nodded and picked up her bag.

That night, in his expensive apartment, and even more expensive Egyptian cotton sheets, Dev competed with the memories of Rohit, and pulled out all his tricks. She became very loud. He looked very satisfied and very tired. She walked to the French window, and stood staring at the dark, silent, sleepy city she called her own. She lit a Dunhill, and inhaled. Exhaled. She stood there, posing for him. Smoking. Playing with her silver earrings, and twirling her hair. He turned on his side, stared at her glowing post-coital skin, her gloriously messy hair, and the tattoo on her ankle. He waited for her to finish smoking, only to ask her to light another, from his packet.

She walked towards him, and he knew. She smiled knowingly, and he smiled back. As she opened the packet of Marlboro Reds, she raised her perfectly arched eyebrows. “What is this, Sir?”

“What do you think it is, Ma’am?”

“Keys?”

“Yes, I think you should move in.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, come back to bed. I want to kiss you.”

“No, not now.”

“Okay, but hurry up. We have to move your stuff in tomorrow. It’s the only day I’m not working for the next two weeks”.

“Okay.”

She walked to the kitchen, and brewed herself some Jasmine tea. As she sipped on it luxuriously, she grinned, very Cheshire Cat like. She visited Lala-land, and planned the changes to the kitchen, the living room, and the guest-bedroom, which will be her study, rather library. She drained the cup and walked back to the bedroom. As she slipped under the covers, she let her hands trail the length and breadth of his chest… he stirred and let her bury her face in his shoulder. She sighed and drifted off to sleep.

Thank you, Rohit, she purred.