RaBir OS : Seven minutes in heaven

She looked ethereal in her pink churidar accented with a golden stole that shimmered in the lights like diamonds. Every time he saw her draping it around her slender shoulders, his chest tightened and he had difficulty concentrating. It was HIS design. Like every man, he had wanted to see his creations on the woman who had the ability to affect him, but since he knew she would not spend her measly pay cheque on it, he had acted like a generous employer and asked her to pick anyone as a part of her bonus. Even though her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, to his dismay, she refused. A few weeks later he was furious as the clumsy wench was late as usual. He was prepared to give her a dressing down the very second she entered the premises. When she had finally made an appearance, twelve minutes later, all he could do was stare agape at the sight before him. The golden stole, a personal favorite of his, was kissing the hollow of her ivory neck. He discretely brushed away her apologies and had gotten to work; however, he continued stealing glances her way every few minutes.

With the date of her exams coming to a close, she had resorted to spending most of her time with her head in her books. She wasn't even interested in attending Nitya's parties, although they are usually fun and exciting, and she most certainly wasn't interested in meeting Kabir's New York friends. But when she had heard Nitya's fiance was one of them, she squealed and had given her consent.

"Lord!" he muttered, he had not been so excited even when he had hooked up with a 'Playmate of the Month' at a party.

"Women!" Kabir snorted disapprovingly and returned to his work.

The dinner party with the few friends was an uneventful affair and to kill time, Nithya suggested they play 'Seven Minutes in Heaven'. It was met with loud guffaws and lot of backslapping from all the excited ex co-workers. The last time he had been a part of such games was during freshman year in college. Once the rules were explained, Rachna was a little hesitant to play, but Nitya assured her nothing would be forced and she reluctantly agreed. The game started and the bottle was spun, every time it stopped a few sighed while the others cheered. It was all going smooth until the tip of the bottle pointed at Rachna and the bottom at Aidan. Suddenly, it felt like the room had gotten ten degrees warmer and someone had punched him hard in the gut; and if that was not enough, the witch, Nitya, added fuel to the rising flames by offering Rachna a tube of strawberry lip gloss. The innocent damsel looked like a deer transfixed by headlights, not really sure if she should accept the pink tube from Nitya's outstretched hands. She looked up at Kabir with questioning eyes probably he was the only person she believed could get her out of this. A small voice squeaked inside; urging him to do something to lessen the effect of the green monster. It felt like a small thread of self respect or was it ego that was the only thing stopping him from making a fool out of himself. Moments later, she took the tube with shaky hands as Aidan put an arm around her stole clad shoulder.

The thread snapped and to everyone's amazement, Kabir charged like a mad bull in a china shop, holding her tiny hand in his huge palms and dragged her with him. The protests of the group were countered with an angry glare that was enough to make everyone simper. He opened the first door he encountered and was about to pull her in when he heard her protest with her nose scrunched exactly the way it would when she was unhappy at work.

Oh! So now she was going to play the victim, he glared.

Her protests were met with a hush and he pulled her in with him. It was a tiny bathroom with space enough for one, before he turned around, there was a click. Nithya sniggered that she had locked them in and now the door would open only after seven minutes giving them more than enough time.

Kabir looked around uncomfortably; it would get extremely difficult for him if he had to stand with her plastered almost to his side. He gestured her to sit on the lid of the pot, she silently complied, giving him enough space to breathe. Thinking back to a few minutes ago, many questions bombarded him. What was it that made him snap? Was it Aidan's arm around her slender shoulders? Or was it that he hated anyone else laying a finger on her, let alone placed any other part of his anatomy on her? Didn't that shawl scream that she was taken and belonged to him?

It was time these dense people understood it for once and for all, no one toys with his woman. He looked at the watch, which registered that less than a minute had passed and he did not have the will to look into her almond eyes; eyes that were asking a hundred questions, the first one being why had he acted like a fool? He knew she would not understand. It was way too complicated to explain. Sure, she was the woman who haunted his dreams; the woman who made him smile; the woman who had changed his opinion about his mom and from a past few months, the woman who appeared in every crazy fantasy of his. But she was only a girl, a nave one, who had worshiped him as her mentor. Having such thoughts usually made it difficult to face her the next morning when she greeted him with a cup of coffee. He looked at the watch again, almost two minutes were up.

Kabir encouraged himself that the five minutes will pass in no time if he continued talking to himself. A voice jolted him out of his reverie as he looked at her standing in front of him with questioning eyes. She was biting on her strawberry puckered lips and carefully questioned, "What number am I?"

What sort of a question was that?

Looking at her with a strange glint in his eyes; she continued firmly, "How many girls have you played this game with?"

His eyes popped open; she was a strange creature indeed. What he had done in front of his friends two minutes back was equal to holding a blazing neon sign that says 'Kabir Tripathi is in love' and this chit of a girl was worried about her place on his "number line". If she wanted, he would happily let her be the last person he ever played such games with, but pride would not let him admit it. He needed to act cool even though his insides were burning.

"More than the number of..." he started but trailed off as he instinctively traced the cupid bow of her upper lip gently with his thumb and without warning, her lips parted. She looked flustered and her breathing quickened, he smirked as he realized he had that desired effect on her. To check his theory, he cupped her face gently and brushed her plump lower lip with the coarse pad of his thumb, an action that evicted a small, soft moan from her lips. This was all the encouragement he needed as his strokes grew bolder, lingering; his fingers having a mind of their own.