It's your reception. Organized at a upscale venue. The hall is teeming with people. The central AC is working well to keep the ambience comfortable, despite the night still being oppressively warm outside. You're the centre of attention, of course, given the occasion and how stunning you look.
You're on the stage. Sitting by yourself as the photographers are preparing their gears. The guests are still streaming in, and the function is yet to start in earnest.
I was one of the early arrivals. Wearing a tailored and ironed sky blue shirt and navy blue trousers, with lace-up shoes polished to sparkle. I've been peeking glances at you from a distance all through.
We both have known each other, of course. Known well, given there's history. While we've never gone physical with each other, there have been little encounters that have got over before things could really develop.
Until tonight, maybe.
You're aware that people are gawking at you. But among all those people, you're also aware -- call it a lady's sixth sense -- of a certain man boring into you with his eyes and his thumping, lusty heart.
I excuse myself from the other guests, people I've known here and there. Making as if to go on towards the loo, I instead slip behind the stage. I come to the right side of the stage, towards your left hand as you stand towards the audience. I'm hidden from the view of everyone.
Even you don't notice me till I clear my throat a couple of times.
It's then that your eyes fall on me. Standing there, locking my eyes on your sultry body.
I beckon you towards myself.
You stand there for half a moment, confused whether to come to me or not, wondering how I got there, and completely sure that I was the person your sixth sense was pinging you about, the man whose forbidden glances were sending signals to various zones of your body.
You eventually smile. It's not taken more than 4 seconds, but a world has passed in that time.
You, your subconscious to be precise, is aware of what's going to happen.
But the conscious mind is still mixed up in the thump of your heart and the glazed feeling coming over your eyes.
You walk towards me.
As you reach me, you smile in a quizzical fashion. You're not ready to let go of control so easily.
"You look ravishing tonight, Chica," I whisper. It's a nickname I know you have. You aren't aware how I know this. But beyond a moment's surprise, you don't dwell much on it.
"Thank you. Anything important?"
"Yes, of course. But I can't tell you here. You need to come to the back for that."
"Err, it's my reception function. I'm supposed to be on the stage throughout."
"Yes, I know. But this is important. You'll see. C'mon."
Your interest piqued, you follow me. I take you backstage where we enter a lift. The building is multi-storeyed, with 50 floors in total. The reception hall is on the 10th floor. Now you notice the lift zooming upwards.
"Say na, what's it?"
"You've noticed how I look at you, don't you?"
You're taken aback.
You're standing on one corner of the lift, while I'm standing diagonally across.
"That day at the corporate function, we had a moment between us. I think we should extend that tonight." I say, coming closer to you.
You're aware of the butterflies that have suddenly started fluttering in your abdomen.
"That'd be right, don't you think?" I ask, a whisper only, but reverberating in your mind.
"I...I don't know. It's my reception. I think we shouldn't..."
"...waste our time wondering who will eat what and which colleague will gift what? Right. We ought not to waste our time on those petty things."
Your head is down. I raise your face with my right index finger. You see the eyes, drilling into you as your chest heaves.
"What do you say we do some exploration instead?"
"Ye...yes, I guess we could..."
The lift stops at the 50th floor.
The top floor houses some office spaces, which are being refurbished. The whole floor is quiet, but some of the offices still have the lights on.
I take you into one of the corner offices. It is a spacious one with floor to ceiling windows.
We walk to the edge to the room. You are standing in front of me as we gaze down at the traffic. There's complete silence in the room. There's a lit bulb towards the far corner, but the area we're in is almost dark. Almost, except we can see each other. But it's dark enough so no one else in the world can see us.
I run my finger across the uncovered portion of the back of your neck and your back. I lean down, my breath heavy on your nape. My hands run across the front and back of your neck. And eventually, the fingers come to rest on the strings tying your choli (blouse).
