Role play is an art

What’s the point of keeping all the good things under covers and proclaiming being noble? I say relish the filth the way it’s meant to and if you can’t, a little role play won’t harm.

There comes a time in every couples’ lives when sex turns dull, they prefer a posh meal over a night of intimacy. And that’s how people get fat in love, because the love they had towards each other is now with their respective belly. Yes, I just stereotyped all fat people in love. And it’s true. They take more time in deciding their dinner menu than making out with each other. I hope they are reading it.

Role plays are like beautiful getaways. They don’t have to be cheesy like in the tele. I find it really hard to understand how a bunny or leopard could turn anyone on. The role play I’m talking about should be staged in the mind and played with eyes, like how Nina and Abhay did in the candid video shoot scene. But that was just one; there can be so many more interesting situations and instances where Nina’s mind could come to play.

A night it was

Nina is called at a studio for a candid photo shoot. She has to play the body of a celebrity who is not yet ready to reveal more than the audience is ready to take. Going by the script, candid is actually an understatement, Nina thinks but she agrees to the shoot only on the condition that her identity won’t be revealed and her face won’t be shot at all.

The studio is dark, only a bit of natural light trying to peep in through purple curtains. The focal point is the bed of course. It’s a queen size bed with a medium height headboard made by adjoining 4 wooden planks. The sheets are purple sateen perfect for a sex scene. She walks in and greets the director who by the way is also the actor of the film. To make her feel comfortable he has ensured that there won't be any witnesses to the scene, and thus all the responsibility is on his head including the videography. He and his team spent the entire morning preparing the scene. Since he is good with camera, the videographer didn’t have to train him much but that doesn’t make it any easy. He has to act in the scene and rush to check the camera each time to check if the shot was good enough.  

What earlier seemed like a regular routine now appears a big deal to him. The air had turned suddenly tensed from the moment Nina entered. Her cheeks looked fumed from the heat, or maybe she too was feeling the same as him. As he details her on the scene, she finds it difficult to meet his eyes. He hurries up to break the awkwardness and finishes with the script. The scene begins.

Nina is sleeping on the bed wearing just a bathrobe. She looks delicious and vulnerable, making it hard for him to think or act clearly. He is supposed to feel the smoothness of her exposed thigh and feel her through till where it ends. She wakes up to the tingling but is unable to rebel. He is already close to her hair smelling it deeply reaching for her neck. Nina shudders and he pulls himself back.

“We can take a break if you want. You really must feel comfortable for this shoot to happen.” He says.
Nina nods and takes a few deep breaths trying to shake off her nervousness. He checks the recording and acknowledges what needs to be done right and goes for another take. He runs his soft but passionate fingers on her thigh, exposing it further, desperate to get a good shot. He sniffs through her hair and tickles her ear with his tongue, not that it would show but it will make her body react. And it does, beautifully. His lips uncovering her depths, his hands consistent to discover her warmth, it’s not late when he realizes that this act has gotten real. She’s wet. Too wet that he could feel it while playing around the edges of her thighs. He wonders what could happen if he went further. He does.

Nina gives up. He is amazed by the curves, by the smoothness and he just can’t get enough. She looks him in the eye stripping off her timidity and mirroring her lust. His hands are soft as feather on her breasts giving her goose bumps every time they caress. The robe is now just a rope on her waist, and he makes sure it stays. His clothes are off, his eyes greedy, there’s nothing stopping the two of them with bodies so hot and steamy. Her legs are shaking at the beats of his fingers; she can’t take it – no more. Nina has never been so turned on before. They do it, on and on, as if there’s never going to be an end. It’s so hot and why not, they are playing with fire, igniting it further and more.

Panting like hell, they settle next to each other after the heavenly stint. Nina fights for her breath to utter the right words but instead grins at Abhay assuring him that the job was well done.

Fear of death, not your own

Have you ever wept over the death of someone still alive?

One night, when I was a child, I couldn’t stop crying for a whole night. My best friend had died.

Not really.

I was living in a story where she had died. I could see her body wrapped in white waiting to be flamed, burning her out. She was only eight and so was I but her friendship meant a lot and I couldn’t stop crying. I met her in kindergarten and now we were in second standard, there was so much more to laugh, so much more to do. I was a happy child but still it was her who made me laugh most of the time. Her impromptu comments, her fascinating tales, her contagious laughter – everything had gone. She was gone.

My heart was in my mouth as I tried to gulp down the last of my dinner. Everybody was home, watching TV and not talking much. I made use of the situation and hurried up to clear my plate and cease the day. Walking like a scared rabbit I rushed to my bedroom, eyes down to the floor trying to hide the outburst of tears that was ready to explode. Lights off and boom!

It was like my life had ended. I cried so hard that my heart ached. But soundless I was as anyone could walk in the room; my sister was yet to come beside me. But till then, all my painful heart could do was to cry madly but quietly, not moving much as I had to look sound asleep. She came, my sister, turned on the stupid light. Thank God I had already tucked my face in the pillow. I waited for her to sleep, crying just with my eyes. I couldn’t even blow my nose, gosh it was almost annoying. But my sister was a quick sleeper; I could hear her little snores already. I got my sign and got up to do what was long pending.

All I could think was how hard life will be now. Without her, school would be meaningless, life would be meaningless. At that age, I tried my best to make myself understand that it’s just in my head, an imagination. But I couldn’t understand why that. Maybe I was gifted - with the power to know without actually knowing. Oh my God! That means she’s really gone. No!

I spent another 2 hours crying, on the floor this time, with actions expressing my grief but no noise still. But then it was over; can’t say that I felt better but I had had enough, enough for that night at least. I cleaned up, hid the proofs of my weepy night in the dustbin, and hugged myself to sleep.

I saw her at school the next day. Well, she was very much alive and I was severely swollen. Everyone noticed. She enquired sharply. In a lame effort I tried to make it sound comically tragic, and said “I thought you were dead”. She laughed and sweared (yes she could do it even at that age), and life was normal again.

Until..

Non-exclusivity

A not-so-wise thought

When you fall in love, everything changes. You start paying attention to minor things, from your mother’s childhood stories to how green your garden is. You suddenly feel alive. Even the emotions that you had only heard of start brimming from within you. You start believing. The first love becomes your destiny and the source of all happiness you think you can have. But then one day, this feeling fades away and you meet someone else, and then someone else again. And each time you do, your mind starts to repeat the same old pattern – mystery, love, destiny.

It’s weird to witness how some people move on. How can you hate the one you once deeply loved? Nina wonders how it would feel to stumble into her past but at the same time hopes to never have to face her lost love, any one of them. She has a soft corner for each one of them, even for that bloody chauvinist who thought he had wrapped her around his finger. She loved them all, maybe in different ways, but she brought them in.

The heart has been manipulated time and again - with stories true or not, with preachings vicious at thought. The heart is capable of unimaginable love - it has always been fearless and young. Guilt is just a cage built by generations of cowardliness, for what will happen if your partner finds another one. It helps you settle into your ageing body, losing its charm sooner than it should.  But if you open up and allow the fear to vaporize, you’ll find those insecurities to be equally futile. Your love will be stronger than ever; your heart younger and fearless.

About your body, you’ll always keep it under check for there will always be someone to woo you or someone ready to be wooed by yours.