The Clear Glass

A tiny drop of air conditioned sweat trickled down his spine, chilling him to his very extremities.
He felt his hand reach out shakily towards the glass of clear mineral water, reflected shimmeringly in the spotless glasstop of the table facing him like an adversary. He raised it to his lips, taking a single swallow, measured precisely, as if the slightest overdose would kill him.
He slowly lifted his eyes and discreetly studied the man at the other bank of the glass river. He had never seen someone who resembled a wizened lion more. The conservative black suit with razor sharp edges; the immaculate black hair with the slightest tinge of graceful grey, as royal as the wild king's mane; the perfectly groomed beard, matching the authoritarian air to a T; and the gaze.. the gaze that was slashing his self-confidence to ribbons, like a lion's sharpened claws rip their victims to shreds.
"So, Mr. Delvehesh, what makes you think you are the man for this job?" the suited lion asked him in a quiet voice. He gave a start, he had expected a roar. "Err.. sir, well actually..", he stammered
"Yes?" , the gaze sharpened, even as the question was asked in a voice as quiet as the one before.
"Well, I am efficient and, and confident and I would love to do the work you are offering, " he tried valiantly, in a stuttering voice, that sounded so unlike his.
"I am sure you are all these things, but then so are the hundreds of young men standing outside that door. So, why should I chose you and be unfair to them all?", came the question, a subtle strain of mockery entwining with the quiet authority in the voice.
He opened his mouth, closed it again, swallowed and opened it again, but nothing came out.
He knew he couldn't afford to lose this job. He was at his wit's end.
He had gone numb, there was vaccum where his thinking machine of a brain had been a few minutes back.
He went into a sort of fever, losing control of what he was saying as he burst out "sir, well, I ... I am a peoples' person and.. and I can drive and I desperately need this job and I.. i can draw and and I can err.. dance and I am gay, " he clapped his hand over his mouth as he realised what he had just said. Torturously, in that moment of pure humiliation his mind was again crystal clear.
H clearly saw the the rocky grey eyes from across the table flicker for a moment before rippling back into a solid mass.
"That will be all Mr. Delvehesh, you can leave now." He staggered onto his feet weakly and struggled towards the closed door.
"And yes, tell the lady outside to cancel the rest of the interviews.. you are hired as my personal assistant." He whipped around in disbelief, a strange light entering his eyes, only to leave immediately as he saw the lion languishing in the chair, a lazy smile luxuriating on his lips. The penetrating gaze was replaced by a feather, freely roving over his body, marking him its owner's property...
"On second thoughts, you can stay right here and start immediately," the cat purred slowly, stretching himself invitingly...

PS: sorry guys got two examz tomorrow and haven't studied anything till now.. will pakka se reply to all comments 2mrw
tc

The fluttering White curtains...

She got up from her bed, closed her eyes and waited for the song to start. As, the subtle beginning strains reached her ears, she raised her hands to feel his clasp them gently. He started by giving her body a gentle turn. She didn’t open her eyes, relying only on the sensations flowing between their bodies to synchronize their steps. The tempo of the song quickened and their dance paced to keep up. They were swirling in a smooth fluid whirlpool.

She felt herself being lifted, high up like a log on a wave crest, left twirling there for what seemed like an eternity, before being washed over to the beach down at his feet. One moment, he was the master, and she his trusting slave, following every command in his touch as she danced to his tune and the next second, she was the unforgiving mistress, driving him mercilessly to the tempo of her absolute ownership.

Her skirt billowed around her, like a fan in full motion as he whirled her out… then wrapped snugly around her legs like the closed petals of a virgin rose, as in one swift motion he twisted her body in.. his hands moving to her waist as her fingertips landed on his shoulders and her toe-tips on his.

The music softened midway and they moved slowly, moulded together. Then, her fingertips slipped over his rippling shoulders and her body moved away from him, but still joined to him by the toes. She let herself hang there, over the abyss, her head thrown back, her hair almost touching the ground, only his hands tightened over her wrists keeping her from going over. And then, in a jiffy, as the music reached its pitch, he had whipped her back from the edge, back into a moving flowing swimming universe.

Their bodies met like two liquids meeting in a mighty splash and then receded into their own corners in the aftermath, as the energy between them, rippled them apart. And then, she was again revolving faster than she ever had, her feet spinning out from her still toe tips. Her arms passed through his hold, like satin flowing out a hole.. till her fingertips met his and the electricity coursing through them, made hers swirl in their wake..

She felt his hand let go and for a moment her blind feet staggered uncertainly… then his hands were at her waist again and the confidence flowed back into her, as he spun her around like clay on a spinning wheel, till she rose gracefully to the crescendo, like an elegant pot rising from the bowl of mud… her hands clasped high above her head. Then, as the universe around them came to a boom and the rhythm crumbled into a million stars raining down, she too crumpled, just as beautifully, to her knees like a ballerina’s final bow, with his hands holding hers above the crown of her lowered head…

As the last strains of the music died, she rose slowly, uncreasing her sweaty pajamas and opened her eyes.. coming back to the empty room around her, still except for the plain white curtains fluttering gently at her window….

Rosy day..

"Kya baat hai maedaem ji rosy day hai ke aj??", the remark followed by raucous laughter made him turn in his overcrowded seat and crane his neck to look at the source of the commotion.
At first it was just the mammoth crush of bodies indistinguishable from each other, so often found in a crowded roadways bus. Then he saw it.. a slender hand rising up from amidst that falling circle of a loose maroon sleeve, a hand with long sculpted fingers, a hand meant to create art, a hand which was an art in itself, and in that was clutched the most beautiful rose he had ever seen. He could see the sun from the nearby window glinting on the cellophane sheet wrapped around the rose. He could see it slide like honey onto the smooth skin of the hand he couldn't take his eyes off. he had this sudden urge to taste the honey slithering down that hand, to catch it before it slid down to the circle of filth gathered around it. He became aware of the callous mirth on the faces surrounding the hand and the rose... his rose.. they were like weeds slowing crawling in around his rose, ready to drown it in their wicked canopy, to strangle his precious ruby into a piece of burnt coal.
The bus lurched to a stop. The hand disappeared under the fallen crowd, to emerge a minute later, twisted and harassed, but with its delicate cargo still safe. Something licked at the back of his head.. what was it the boys had said ..."rosy day...". His half closed eyes snapped back open with a sighing "Oh!", it indeed was rose day.. It wasn't his rose.. it was a rose that girl with the artist's hands was taking for a lover. But of course! the perfection of the softly enfolding petals, the deepness of the deepest red like the blush of young love, the protectiveness of the hand's stance, for who else but the truest lover. He sighed softly, to his surprise, and closed his eyes again letting the music from his headphones drown out the fishmarket sounds of the yellow and green bus, and to soften the immutable sense of disappointment he inexplicably felt at the realization.
He had dozed off without even realizing it. It was the feel of warm honey against his arm that woke him with a jolt. He saw the lips move, lips that rivaled and matched the rose to a T. He saw the other one of those pieces of art move up to discipline a stray snaking strand behind on ear, and then pointing towards his. "oh! I am sorry I err.. forgot to remove this.. sorry err.. I errr.. couldn't hear you", with an embarrassed grin he tucked the earphones out. "were you err.. saying something to me?".
She lowered her eyes slightly taking in the loose T-shirt with a nirvana logo, the baggy beige pants and the MP4 player with the headphones still hanging from it, almost reaching the ground, and she looked up and smiled slowly.."I was just wondering if you could help me put my bag in the carrier, I errr.. would have done it myself, but I really don't want to spoil this rose".. "Ya of course! "he said half heartedly getting up to lift her bag and putting it in the over head carrier with a louder than necessary thump. "By the way that's the most beautiful rose I have ever seen, You must have woken up real early to get one like that on rose day, and I saw how dearly you protected it there in that circle of rascals.." He said, lookin down into her eyes as he got ready to sit back " your boyfriend is a very lucky guy, I hope he knows it", he added rather wryly and quickly turned his face away from her, sitting down, to hide the unexpected expression that had risen out of no where in his eyes. What the hell was wrong with him?? Had he gone nuts? feeling jealous for someone he had barely met.. "phew!! get a life dude!" he said to himself.. "err.. boy friend?" She asked.. He could hear the embarrassed confusion in her voice.. "well, it is Rose day.. and you are taking this for your guy right? I mean err.. are you married? I am sorry its just that you don't look like it.. hey I really didn't mean to offend you lady..", he stuttered in a single stream. She shook her head from side to side slowly at his words, her hand reaching up to her hair again, to hide her embarressement, "no, no, U kind of have it all wrong, I don't have a boy friend and I am certainly not married..". "Then the rose...??" "Oh! this.. its for my mom, she is not well, so i decided to take this for her, it completely slipped my mind until those embarrassing comments by those guys by the door.. I mean.. if i had any idea today was rose day, I would never have made a fool of myself like this... " She laughed self consciously.. and he joined in with all his heart, he swore he saw the mist lifting from around him as he sank back in his seat with a smile on his face and a rose coloured twinkle in his eyes.. "so, what did you say your name was again?.."
he asked, inclining his head towards the girl with hands like art that held a rose just as perfect..

This had been lying unfinished in my drafts since rose day, I loved the concept, but I am not entirely satisfied with the end result.. wish I could have done better justice to it. I invite any of you who would like to take it up to use the concept and come up with a better story.. do post it on your blog and leave the link in the comments.. take care

A painter's gloves..

Pre-Script: Long short story ahead... so beware!!! :D

He shaded his eyes from the glaring sun with one hand, and used the other to dip his brush into the blinding white paint. He was suspended on the outside ledge of the highest story of The Royale, which at 40 stories would stand as the tallest building in Shellsville on its completion.
He looked down to three stories below, where a blue scarf with silver birds flew in the wind, and a dash of red gloves worked against the pristine white they created wherever they touched the wall.
As if sensing his warm fond gaze, she looked up to raise her hellcat black eyes to his soft Grey ones, their gazes met and relived the secret laughter they had shared from the first time they had met, 18 years ago, as toddlers on a construction site just like this.
He left the brush on the platform and cupped his hands around his mouth forming the words "meet me at the gate after the night shift, there is something I want to show you."
That night, after everyone had left, they slowly made their way back over the fence, and up to the top, on the rickety service ellivator, as it creaked and heaved up the inky sky, against the white mammoth they had been painting.
As they neared the fortieth floor, he slowly slipped her scarf off her hair and tied it on her eyes, gently. She didn't utter a word.. If there was one person she could trust dying, it was him. He put his hand on her waist next to where her beloved red and white painter's gloves hung, and slowly took her forward to the very edge of the grill less roof. He softly slipped the scarf off and let her look at her surprise. Her breath caught in her mouth. There, spread before her, was the whole city.. down on its knees in a courtesy to its queen. Yes, there she was the mistress of the world, at her feet... their feet. She turned to him then, and he saw the light in her eyes, thinking how like the night sky they looked.. the fathomless darkness with the twinkling stars.. her eyes..
that was the first time they kissed.
And later, as they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, spent and glorious, tucked in the warm blue blanket of the midnight sky decorated with a million diamonds strewn in a careless pattern.. their eyes sharing their languid secret laugh, they knew what they had was more precious than the world spread out below them. "I am leaving tomorrow", she said into his chest "hmmm.." he murmured burying his nose to smell the secrets of her black hair. "I mean I am really leaving to make my fortune. I don't want to just make buildings any longer, I want to own them.." she went on.. "but"... "no, please, I know there are a lot of questions you want to ask.. answers I don't have, or may be just can't give.. just let me go.. please don't stop me.. let me follow my dreams" "Go.." he said as he moved down to plant a kiss on that high forehead. She reached up a little to where her overalls lay discarded and from its waist plucked out one half of her favourite pair of gloves.. "there keep these for me will ya? then i'll have to come back for it, if nothing else", and their eyes met.. his, a soft forgiving Grey, hers, a determined dreamy black and they laughed out aloud..

She laughed out again as she stood on the 40th floor of "The Royale", thinking of that night she had spent there 30 years ago. Today she owned this building, and thousands like it in a hundred different cities and in over 50 different countries. She was The Queen. It had taken a successful career, a broken marriage, a sense of dissatisfaction, 30 years of running away from God knows what and a hasty visit to New York the week before, to get her back here.
She thought of the day before. She had dressed in a black suit and with the old blue scarf with the silver birds, tied around her neck. She had built up the courage to go to his old house and knocked, standing there, waiting for the door to open, she had thought of what she might say...
A lady about her age and with soft Grey hair had opened the door. "err.. I just wanted to know if Mr. Todd Goodingson still lived here? " she had asked. The woman had looked her up and down, then turned to go back in, saying, "Wait right here now would ya, don't go away.. i'll be right back eh.." She had stood there at the door for 5 minutes.. wondering, anticipating, fearing.. The Grey haired woman had returned with something clutched to her heart, which she held out to her as she reached the door.. It was a frayed old red and white painting glove.. "He always said, you would come back.. ya loved that glove too much not to.. he used to say.." and they had both smiled..
She felt the breeze play with her scarf, unfurling it in little circles. Her soft hair got whipped about her face bringing her back to the present.
As she clutched the glove pair in her trembling hands, she could almost feel his nose burrowing into her hair taking in her scent, could hear his laughter calling out to hers, bubbling in return.. She swung her legs around the protective grill to reach to the other side and in that last moment as she let the railing go.. as she heard the whoosh of the wind, she outran.. as she saw the Grey of the ground rushing up to hug her.. Grey like that of his soft enveloping eyes..
she felt no fear.. she felt no ties.. she felt no pain..
she was free at last..
free of regrets and games.. free of guilt and nightmares.. free of dreams and unfulfilled desires.. free of the weight of freedom itself.. and free at last of pain and the cancer her doctors at New York had told her, had eaten her body through..
And as she met her kingdom in that royal clash.. the gloves hanging high up on the parapet, gave a tiny flutter, as if paying one last salute to the great queen and her hearty king.

PS: hey everybody.. this above was my first ever attempt at a short story.. Its very amateurish.. but I hope you like it