I was expecting Gaurav to arrive any minute. We had a hot Sunday planned out, with scented oils, erotic kissing, the works. When the doorbell rang, I was surprised to see who it was.

This scruffy looking man somewhere in his late forties, stood there smiling at me. My head’s reflex immediately was to roll my eyes , “ Do I know you? How may I help you?”(rude, yeah! so)

“ Hi, is the doctor home, I am Mr.Batra a patient of hers. Needed some darned syringes, you know insulin shots, diabetic” shrugging in the you-know kind of way. This wasn’t the first time one of our neighbours had come along to get some freebies. My mother was a goddess in her profession, besides being good at what she did; she also dispensed free advice, free medicines and free care.

I casually told him “ Sorry Mr. Batra, ma’s not home, she gone off to attend an emergency call but I will let her know you had come” expecting him to leave. Just as my mind began to relax thinking about who was going to arrive, Mr. Batra suggests that I look for some syringes since he needs them desperately. Now this was really getting to my nerves, here is this old guy, I know I should be nice to but I have other things relating to my life to attend. Genetically born kind, I decided to act in a manner not many would have. I let him in

Mr. Batra was seated in the living room. I went to my mother’s study to look for two disposable syringes, the sort he had asked for. I was kneeled on the ground to look inside the lower drawers, when I sensed someone standing behind me. There he stood holding his limp organ, stroking it. I presume my posture would have tuned to his carnal side.

I avoid panicking, since it wasn’t a sensible option to test my strength against him. How ever old he looked, this was no time to test. My thought process was quite unclear now, Gaurav would be here any minute now, till then I must pretend to go with the flow.

I did not want the i-think-sugar-is-killing-me man to get violent.

It could lead to a whole lot of controversial situations

(A)I could get very eek-ed out with how horny this old bastard was getting, and do something absolutely unnecessary, like killing him ( I swear I could manage that, empty syringe, air bubbles in blood stream… .this could work)

(B)But if this failed I could get the old man very angry, and if he turned out to rather strong I could be in deep shit, with drastic moves.

(C) If he really had any serious problems that needed immediate attention, he could also just die in my house, which would in itself have other complications, homicide and blah blah


So I stand up, my raised brow turns to a coy smile. An attempt with the ultimate, the art of pseudo-seduction. No matter how sour I am in the head for doing what I am doing. Since Gaurav he had a key to my house my strategy was to delay this horny prick, till Gaurav would arrive.

But where the fuck was Gaurav?

As expected he is taken aback with the tantalizing, he grins and says “ When the cat’s away the mice are at play, Naughty girl”. I squeal and laugh like a silly sixteen-year-old blonde, putting on my best theatrical performance. But I am thinking fast, somehow I must get my hands on the phone, (I must, I must, I must.)

Where the fuck is Gaurav?

We have moved to the bedroom much to my dismay. This guy is getting very touchy now; he is standing really close. I am absolutely disgusted. He shuts the door behind him. Even more disgust and added worry. With all this drama I cannot even protest, I am now feeling extremely stupid for tugging at the fire end.

Thinking to myself “please god, please please please don’t make him want to kiss me, ugh! Please do something”.

He pushed me onto the bed, while I was sneakily trying to reach for the phone.

(shit! All hope is lost)

Gaurav you are always late!

I cannot take it anymore, I gasp, cry aloud and then scream, “ get off me fucking prick”, futile kicks in the air.

The bedroom door opens with Gaurav carrying a bunch of white lilies.


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