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A maang-tikawhich sat perfectly between her brown silky hairs. Big dangling jhumkasdecorated her ears. She looked at her hands which looked lovely in themehendi with bright red nail polish. For a moment she couldn't believeits all true. It was all too hazy for her. Her chain of thoughts wereinterrupted by a message alert on her phone. It was her soon to behusband Amit. She blushed as she read "Lene tujhe o gori, a rahe hai teresajna". The makeup was complete by now. She got up and took many selfieswith her new friend Rekha. She sent the one with shades to Amit with#kalachashma. Rekha reminded her that the cab is ready and they shouldleave. Riya found it difficult to walk with the heavy lehenga and allthat jewellery but a part of her was cherishing this experience of beinga bride.They started from the Makeup studio, Riya sat at the back and Rekha satnext to the driver giving him directions to the wedding hall. It wasWednesday evening and Gurgaon traffic was moving at a snail pace.. My brain was a total muddle. I had spent the night with Maggie, spooned on the same bed, only separated by the thickness of a quilt, one half of my brain was calling me a total pillock for not making a play for her, or even using ‘The Touch’ to get into her pants. The other half was rationally telling me that IF anything was ever going to happen, and it was a very big and unlikely IF, then it had to come from Maggie herself, otherwise was to invite total disaster. I poured two mugs, drank half of mine and then took the other up to Maggie’s bedroom. She was awake and looked ruffled but refreshed and was smiling brightly, I handed her the mug. ‘I’ll see what I can find for breakfast,’ I told her, ‘then I had better go down and have a look around the garden centre …. The storm is really bad now!’ ‘OK,’ she replied, ‘I’ll get dressed and come down, then we can go together.’ I went back downstairs and found a loaf of sliced bread in the freezer which would defrost in the toaster, there.
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“Oh, a rough and tough guy; I like that,” she said with a promising smile. Janeen took Jill and me by the elbows and steered us toward the kitchen as she spoke. “Actually, Jill, Ben is a pussy cat, although he can be persuasive at times.” As we sat down at the kitchen table Jill gave me an interested look and asked, “A pussy cat?” Janeen laughed and Jill looked at her. “Yeah, that kind of pussy; Ben will eat it for breakfast if you ask him nicely, and he’ll do it all day if you make him do it.” The topic had taken an early and unexpected turn to sex and I was getting a bit uncomfortable. I knew I would seriously consider sex with Jill but since Janeen and I had been getting together I didn’t know how to proceed. “Perhaps we’d better change the subject or I’ll never make my jogging run today,” I offered. “I think Jill would love to hear about your “pitch”, Ben,” Janeen said boldly. “Pitch? What pitch?” asked Jill. “Ben has an interesting way of hitting on a woman; he offers.

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