Chahat Likes it Smooth
Friday evenings are usually not so boring. Except that my dear live-in boyfriend had decided to get drunk with his office friends. My best friend ditched our movie plans at the last minute. That’s why I was sitting in our room, smoking a joint as I looked out through the window imagining myself in a music video. The electricity was gone because some transformer blew up nearby. But the evening was nice and comfortably warm. I had the flat to myself, so I was just in a T-shirt (and nothing else). My boyfriend Tarun was an OK guy, but he was too plain sometimes. He rarely made plans for us to spend time together. It was usually me looking for places to visit, things to do that might be fun. We’d been together for four years now, and things had settled to a slow pace. Sometimes I felt like I was working too hard in this relationship. I must have dozed off at some point. I heard a phone ringing that wasn’t mine and woke up. It stopped a few rings later, and I heard Aman’s voice in the hall. Aman was Tarun’s flatmate and work colleague. There was one more flatmate, but he had gone home for a week to attend a wedding. I was surprised to see Aman back alone. He and Tarun were supposed to return together. In the silent flat, I could hear his voice in the corridor as he talked on the phone: “Yes, Abhishek, I came home. No, I didn’t want to, but you know what a choot Tarun usually is. He shows up at parties uninvited, doesn’t pay for the booze or the food, and then starts hitting on the girls. It’s embarrassing.” Well, that was unexpected. I didn’t know Aman had a problem with Tarun. Or that Tarun was being problematic. I didn’t know that Tarun hit on other girls after getting drunk, and that disturbed me. I heard Aman enter his bedroom and toss his bag to the bed. A belt unbuckled, a shirt rustled to the floor, a zipper unzipped, and his bathroom door closed as he started the shower. Maybe he didn’t know I was at home and left his room door open. I put my drinking playlist on my phone as I used its flashlight to roll another joint. I still had a nice soft buzz. But it was just 9 pm, and I had no intentions of sleeping early on the weekend. The shower turned off, and a few minutes later, his door softly closed. I smiled as I imagined him realising I was in my room, thinking about what I might have heard. I heard a knock on my door followed by, “Chahat, are you there?”’ I replied, “Hey Aman, yes. What’s up?” “I’m having a drink on the balcony. Wanna join?” That was surprising. Aman and I never talked much, even though we were staying in the same house for a few months. Tarun was friendly with Aman and Rahul, but I rarely used to join them for any drinking plans. I was a little hesitant, but I was bored and also a little curious. I opened the door, the joint still in my hand. “Sure. What’re we drinking?” “There’s some beer in the fridge, and I’ve got some vodka in my stash, but I’m drinking rum. Want a beer?” I thought for a while. “I’ll have the vodka.” We dragged the drinks onto a tray and sat on the recliner chairs on the balcony. I made the first round of drinks for us, tipping just enough vodka into my glass to start a decent buzz and some extra rum into his. “So what’re you doing alone on a Friday night? Tarun didn’t bring you to the office party?” he asked. “No, you know he doesn’t like that. Besides, I don’t want to come to your boring parties at that same old place. Their drinks are watered down, and the food is overpriced.” “Well, if that’s the only reason, then fine.” “What else could it be?” “You tell me, you’re the one smoking up alone,” he said and raised an eyebrow. I ignored him and sipped my drink. The pop-jazz music was getting me in a great zone. I didn’t want to spoil the buzz thinking about Tarun. We sat in silence for a while, letting the vibe hit. I turned my head and rubbed my neck, closing my eyes with discomfort. A desk job sucks, even if it was work-from-home. At this rate, I’m sure I’ll die of a sprained neck in the next ten years. “That looks painful”, he said. I replied, “Yeah, I was stuck in meetings all day. My shoulders are killing me.” He got up, came up behind me, and I felt his hands on my shoulders. I froze for a second, but he just held them there. “Relax”, he said, “Just breathe normally.” I could feel the heat through his palms. He slowly started rubbing my shoulders in circles, and it felt nice. I closed my eyes again, letting him take over. He continued rubbing my shoulders for a while. Then I felt his hands move closer to my neck, from the t-shirt onto my skin. Damn, he was good. The pain was completely gone in just a few minutes. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten a massage like this. I let my hands fall from the chair, and my head fell back to see him above me. His bearded jawline stood out in the dim light, his v-neck t-shirt showing off some light chest hair. I could smell his musky scent mixed with the lemony soap he used. I’d never noticed before how nicely fuckable he looked. He met my gaze, and we maintained eye contact for a while. He didn’t expect to see the lust in my eyes. This was where things took a turn. He continued rubbing along my throat, pushing the right places with his thumbs. I felt his hands near my collar now, just above my cleavage. He paused for a moment as though waiting. I looked at him and gave a slight nod. His hands slid down over my t-shirt before coming back up to cup my breasts. It made me gasp even though I knew it was coming. His hands went all over my front, rubbing, pinching, and squeezing like he had done this a hundred times before. I saw his shorts tented just a few inches from my face and imagined what his dick would taste like. I was breathing heavily, my mouth half-open, and I leaned ahead to help him as he pulled off my t-shirt.