He watched her intently as she moved.

She moved with a grace and fluidity that he knew only she could possess. Grace combined with a reckless abandon, scorning everything and everyone else. Almost as if she would recognize no reality, except the one she created right now with her every move. As if space and time were just a function of her body movement, to be accepted only in relation to how she moved. As if the world around her collapsed and coalesced, thanks to her body. As if her body created a reality of its own, out of thin air. He stood rooted at the spot, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to tear his eyes away. Unable to feel anything apart from what she made him feel.

She, of lithe sinews and velvety skin, of tiny bones and tinier lips. Her body moved effortlessly, almost unconsciously, as though it wasn’t hers at all, as though it never belonged to anyone, but was just an entity being driven by – Desire – he thought – His desire. He found it impossible to watch her move independently of his sight. It were his eyes that caused every pull, every contortion, every twitch of her muscles. His eyes choreographed her. So that every movement she made belonged to him. He felt a slight curve on the ends of his lips as he thought of this.

How he wished to pull that delicate, determined frame into his body and that mouth into his. A mouth that was a window to a mind. A mind that had held him captive in amazement, in wonder at the thoughts it echoed. Thoughts held by no one but just a woman meant for him, uttered by none but her, belonging to no one else but her, and when they spoke, to him. It was her mind, her being, that he was most attracted to, always, except now, when she was dancing.

But her dance too was a function of her mind, just like her words, just like verything else she was or did. He wished he could take her away with him. Take her to a place where no one else could see her, hear her or be with her. So that everything she was or did would be his alone.

He wanted to possess her. In the way one possesses the ground beneath one’s feet at any given point of time. She arched her back and threw her head back to a lilt in the music. He inhaled. It was too late. She already possessed him. With every movement her body made, every word out of her mouth, every inch of her being. He had no choice. And all he could do was hold on – to anything, everything – she threw his way.

When did it come to this? God, When?

Who was she? Just a person. Just a normal person. Talking to him, sharing his meals, dancing on his verandah, ruining his life.

Move, he told himself. Getaway from here. Now.

He didn’t. He just stood there watching. After a while the music stopped. Her body relaxed. She became still. She breathed deeply a few times, looking into the distance. She knew he was watching. She let him. She stood still so that he could take in all of her, without interrupting him with her eyes. But of course, she chose how much he got. After a while she turned to face him and gave a slight smile of acknowledgment, of amusement, of innocence.

What he felt could have shattered the ground beneath their feet.


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