"Zubein", I introduced myself as I stopped at the reception.
"Please wait there Sir, while I let Mr. Tiwari know that you are here", she pointed at the seating area.
Orange nail paint! White skin. Her fingers were beautiful. I thought, why didn't her face appeal at first? I stopped. Turned back. And looked. Looked at her. Her hair - tinge of brown. Eyes, un-kohled. Drab. Nose. Lips. I stared some more. I wanted her looks to attract me. I tried harder. Neck -sleek. A beautiful diamond pendant adorned the chain she wore. Did I notice her lips? I went up a tad. Stared. Just gloss - neat.... down to neck.... pendant!! A nice neckline...further down.... Her breasts. I stared. How were they, I examined carefully as layers of clothes took its shape.
"Excuse me Sir!", she interrupted. I looked up. Her face looked red, forehead tensed. Offended, was she? Of course. I was staring, wasn't I? But what was it about her? Why wasn't she appealing? I had my questions. I wanted to explore more. So, where was I? Breasts. Yes! I looked down again. Decent, I concluded.. And..
"SIR", she yelled this time. I stood looking at her face, studying the details of her features.
"Please leave!", she ordered. I continued looking at her. She picked up the phone and dialed a number. I smiled. I knew there would be ruckus after this. I silently picked up my bag, took the newspaper lying on her desk and left. I smiled at the watchman on my way out.
I looked at the newspaper. "Bina Raj". There were repeated signatures in red ink, over the headlines. It was her name. A chill went down my spine. Her face didn't do that to me, what her name did. Bina Raj. I tried to recollect her face. I had forgotten already.
While the lift zoomed down, I felt free, gravity playing its part. The whooshing sound of the fan was interrupted by Dev's call. I smiled. He always had the perfect timing.
"So, when is it going to begin?", he asked, authoritatively.
"I left already", I said as-a-matter-of-fact-ly.
"What? You had the call letter. They didn't let you in?", he questioned.
"I didn't reach till... you know...the interviewer", I started explaining.
"Why? Last when I called you said you were in the lift going to the office reception", he demanded an explanation.
"The candidate was already selected, so they asked me to leave", I told believably. He bought it.
"Oh no!", he was more disappointed than I was. Or was I?
"Zubein, you have to do something. Aunty keeps calling me up and says that you are not getting proposals for marriage because you don't have a steady income", he began the same old story.
"Blah, blah, blah, Dev", I interrupted. "I will get married when I want to. 30 is not an age where I have to start worrying about spending life and dying alone.", I used my usual guard.
"Ok Ok.. We can talk about it later. Anyway, so what else? Anything interesting?", he changed the topic.
"Bina Raj", I said.
"Who is Bina Raj?", he asked.
"Meet me this weekend, I'll introduce you to her", I replied.
"So you are making progress.. eh?. Aunty will be happy! Hope Bina doesn't have a problem with your unstable income", Dev teased.
"Unstable income? Watch how she falls for me now", I reassured.
Fall for me? Hahahaha.. No girl would fall for me. I am "Perversion Personified". I don't say it. Once a girl told me that. That's a nice description. I love titles. Specially given by women. Because they don't seem to give me anything else. So titles... so be it!
I hadn't fallen for that receptionist yet. Nothing about her interested me, except her name. Bina. Is it even an interesting name? Perhaps for my painting. I can call one of my paintings Bina. But what was wrong with her? She had the perfect set of fingers. Prettiest nail color, and...
May be I was pulled away before I could analyse her anatomy -below that diamond pendant. So, where do you live, Bina darling?
www.facebook.com. My nerves ease, as I open her Facebook page and browse her pictures...
Dev should never know about this.
***
....to be contd.
Read Chapter 2
***
PS: 'Fictional Fridays' will feature the serial fiction -"Diary of a Compulsive Stalker" (DOACS), every Friday. This is chapter 1. Stay glued for more.
"Please wait there Sir, while I let Mr. Tiwari know that you are here", she pointed at the seating area.
Orange nail paint! White skin. Her fingers were beautiful. I thought, why didn't her face appeal at first? I stopped. Turned back. And looked. Looked at her. Her hair - tinge of brown. Eyes, un-kohled. Drab. Nose. Lips. I stared some more. I wanted her looks to attract me. I tried harder. Neck -sleek. A beautiful diamond pendant adorned the chain she wore. Did I notice her lips? I went up a tad. Stared. Just gloss - neat.... down to neck.... pendant!! A nice neckline...further down.... Her breasts. I stared. How were they, I examined carefully as layers of clothes took its shape.
"Excuse me Sir!", she interrupted. I looked up. Her face looked red, forehead tensed. Offended, was she? Of course. I was staring, wasn't I? But what was it about her? Why wasn't she appealing? I had my questions. I wanted to explore more. So, where was I? Breasts. Yes! I looked down again. Decent, I concluded.. And..
"SIR", she yelled this time. I stood looking at her face, studying the details of her features.
"Please leave!", she ordered. I continued looking at her. She picked up the phone and dialed a number. I smiled. I knew there would be ruckus after this. I silently picked up my bag, took the newspaper lying on her desk and left. I smiled at the watchman on my way out.
I looked at the newspaper. "Bina Raj". There were repeated signatures in red ink, over the headlines. It was her name. A chill went down my spine. Her face didn't do that to me, what her name did. Bina Raj. I tried to recollect her face. I had forgotten already.
While the lift zoomed down, I felt free, gravity playing its part. The whooshing sound of the fan was interrupted by Dev's call. I smiled. He always had the perfect timing.
"So, when is it going to begin?", he asked, authoritatively.
"I left already", I said as-a-matter-of-fact-ly.
"What? You had the call letter. They didn't let you in?", he questioned.
"I didn't reach till... you know...the interviewer", I started explaining.
"Why? Last when I called you said you were in the lift going to the office reception", he demanded an explanation.
"The candidate was already selected, so they asked me to leave", I told believably. He bought it.
"Oh no!", he was more disappointed than I was. Or was I?
"Zubein, you have to do something. Aunty keeps calling me up and says that you are not getting proposals for marriage because you don't have a steady income", he began the same old story.
"Blah, blah, blah, Dev", I interrupted. "I will get married when I want to. 30 is not an age where I have to start worrying about spending life and dying alone.", I used my usual guard.
"Ok Ok.. We can talk about it later. Anyway, so what else? Anything interesting?", he changed the topic.
"Bina Raj", I said.
"Who is Bina Raj?", he asked.
"Meet me this weekend, I'll introduce you to her", I replied.
"So you are making progress.. eh?. Aunty will be happy! Hope Bina doesn't have a problem with your unstable income", Dev teased.
"Unstable income? Watch how she falls for me now", I reassured.
Fall for me? Hahahaha.. No girl would fall for me. I am "Perversion Personified". I don't say it. Once a girl told me that. That's a nice description. I love titles. Specially given by women. Because they don't seem to give me anything else. So titles... so be it!
I hadn't fallen for that receptionist yet. Nothing about her interested me, except her name. Bina. Is it even an interesting name? Perhaps for my painting. I can call one of my paintings Bina. But what was wrong with her? She had the perfect set of fingers. Prettiest nail color, and...
May be I was pulled away before I could analyse her anatomy -below that diamond pendant. So, where do you live, Bina darling?
www.facebook.com. My nerves ease, as I open her Facebook page and browse her pictures...
Dev should never know about this.
***
....to be contd.
Read Chapter 2
***
PS: 'Fictional Fridays' will feature the serial fiction -"Diary of a Compulsive Stalker" (DOACS), every Friday. This is chapter 1. Stay glued for more.
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