Natasha

Night- A term that meant different for different people. It was the latter part of the day, the remaining twelve out of twenty four hours. The sun worked ruthlessly for the first twelve while the moon took over his ass for the next twelve. Day and night as people call it. In the most basic sense, night was meant for people to stay home, recharge their batteries and get fucked up by their nightmares. That was the kind of shit induced in the brains of primary school toddlers.

But when humans grew into something with curves and muscles, they realize the importance of these twelve hours in their own twisted ways. The first twelve were for everyone in the world to see while the rest were locked behind doors and bars. What happened there, only the the sinners knew. Of course the night shift employers were an exception.

A young woman sat on a bar stool, her elbows and back leaned towards the bar table, her bare legs resting under the support. Her fingers curled around the cool surface of the glass. She downed the last sip of the drink that matched the color of her red lipstick and felt the liquid seep through her throat. The ice cubes clanked against the glass as she shook it, back and forth. She stared at the glass for the longest time until she placed it on the table. Finally, she turned her head to the man in white shirt.

She pressed a finger to her lips, letting it remain for barely a second before removing it. "One more please," she requested with a sheepish smile.

The man before her returned her smile before leaning forward to plant a kiss at her still raised finger. "Sure cupcake," he replied and ordered another glass of cocktail from the bartender.

After he fetched the drinks, they settled behind one of the tables. As she listened to his not- so- interesting conversation about the current status of his stock market, she chose to scan the place. She glanced upon the neon light above them. It kept blinking, making screeching sounds as it breathed it's last moments. At the bar, a stout bartender kept pouring drinks to the customers, looking as bored as the lecturers in her college. Unsatisfied even. Maybe his wife didn't provide him enough pussy. Poor fella. In front of him, four men sat, drinking and laughing like animals. At one corner of the table were another group of three men, throwing dirty looks her way.

Small, stinky, cheap.

She accidentally caught those horny men ogling at her once again. She didn't blame them. She was aware how edible she was but that didn't stop her from wanting to gauge their eyes out. It was then she noticed the number of women present in the bar that were limited to the fingers of her hand. She shifted the skin color handbag, closer to her side, feeling oddly comfortable with the knowledge of the pepper- spice spray inside it.

She shot a fake smile at Manit, the handsome, young man sitting next to her. So much for earning twenty nine thousand per month and bringing her to a stinky bar like this. He should stick it up to his ass for all he cared. Hymph, he should have just told her if he didn't want to donate his money for the drinks. Perhaps she made a wrong decision tonight.

"Would you like to have anything else, Ma'am?" he spoke, his tone deep and clasped his large hand above hers. His fingers played teasingly, sending slow chills up her arm.

What was that about wrong decision again? I forgot already.

"No, thanks, Manit. That will be enough," she answered, without sounding like a naughty hoè she was. Fuck. Who cared about the amount of money he spent, as long as he had those large, pleasurable hands. Oh, how she longed for those fingers to roam around her body and reach where they belonged the most.

She met Manit through Instagram. She wouldn't be shameless to admit that she followed him back, entirely based on his handsome pictures. A string of chats followed, which soon turned into sexting. More picture stalking, more chats and even more cyber stalking. Fast forward the chatting formalities and here they were— Their first, and hopefully, their last night. This had to be the first time she chose an Instagram man. First hand experience baby!

They left the place soon after and walked the night streets, hand in hand, like two dedicated lovers. Oh, the sweet irony.

"So, you are in your third year, right?" he asked, his voice laced with gentlemanly kindness while his eyes told an entirely different 온라인카지노게임 as he accessed her up and down.

'You asked this like ten times now, dick,' she thought, nodding, nonchalantly.

There was a moment of silence until the son of a bitch spoke again. "Such a dark night. The weather is nice too. Hey, did you notice? There aren't many cars here."

She stopped walking. Any more of his nonsense and she was certain she'll doze off. "Manit, what are you thinking exactly?"

It was then she saw his real face as a smirk occupied his lips. "That I can't wait to bed you and hear you scream my name."

That's the pervert I know. "You sure sound confident about it," she went with the flow.

He snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, his perforated cologne hitting her nostrils. "I don't like to brag so I'll just let you judge me afterwards," he winked. "Seriously Natasha, you are an enchantress. You turned out to be even better than the photos. Especially those wolf grey eyes of yours."

She never got tired being on the receiving end of the compliments. "Why, thank you. You are no better," she said, smiling as she felt his hard chest under his embrace.

"But that's not the only thing. You aren't like other girls. You don't shy away from a flirtatious comment. You don't put up an innocent act. You are what you are and you show that."

"And what I'm exactly?" she propped her head to his side.

"A slut," he said and she froze for a split second before he started laughing. "Just kidding, cupcake. What I mean to say is you are sexy and confident which is like a package in itself. I can't wait to discover the rest of it," he whispered the last part and squeezed her hip for a second before letting it go. She decided to let the comment go since he was drunk.

They continued talking for some time as they waltzed the streets. She was starting to grow weary but she kept going. He did mentioned that his place was beyond the Dadar West Street. Maybe they were almost there. She stole a glance at Manit, who was talking about his college days while laughing in between at God knows what. What a helpless drunkard. Good thing she had lemons with her.

"So this isn't your first night, is it?" he asked, his eyes slightly red.

"Does my body scream virgin to you?" she shot back.

He started laughing, that carefree laugh resurfacing yet again and ran his hand through his hair. God if he only wasn't so drunk, she would have grabbed his collar and kissed him right away. "Not at all. Infact your body screams years of experience."

She pulled her mouth downwards. "Quite a witty observer, are you?"

He nodded, seeming proud that she inflated his ego. "I know these things. So what's your scene? Do you come here with a new man every night?"

She tched. "I wish I could but I neither I have the time or the physical capacity for it. I have a life outside you know."

He nodded in understanding and ran his fingers at the side of her neck, sending her to frenzy. "Yeah, I know," he mumbled, his face brightening as if he remembered something. "Why don't you become a prostitute then? You'll have a new man to bed every night. Plus it'd be profitable."

His fingers that felt so sensuous before seemed like ice shards on her skin now. This time her whole nervous system froze until a ball of fire emerged from a deep pit, growing bigger and bigger until she was sure she was a fire ball itself. She closed her fists, her nails digging deep into the flesh of her palms— an attempt to stop the fingers from hitting anything around her. Quietly, she thought of her next move.

He laughed again but this time, it pricked her ear drums. She would rather listen to classical music than this. "Don't take it so hard, cupcake. I was just kidding. Spare me."

She suddenly had a intense hatred for cupcakes.

Instead of kicking him in the balls, like her mind screamed it should, she smiled. As sweet as ever, she may add. "You are so drunk, dude. Are you sure you are up to fuck me?"

"I should be the one asking you. Will you be able to handle me?" He said wriggling his brows like a clown. "Don't worry about me. I'll just have to look at you to make my dick stand."

What she could do, really? She was a sucker for big hands and perhaps a huge dick. Quietly, she followed him down the street until they reached a line of buildings.

Mumbai was a costly city. It was enough to have a roof over their heads with a decent rent, so his small, run down apartment didn't came as a surprise to her. Atleast it was clean and hygienic, though the stench of rain still lingered from the corners of the wet ceiling.

Manit made some lemon water for both of them while she rushed to the bathroom to finish the long pee business that was long overdue. After they finished having lemon water, he undid the first two buttons of his shirt before reaching out to kiss her.

"Wait," she pushed him away while he looked at her bewildered, "I prefer a certain protocol to this."

"Really?" he questioned, his impatience clearly detectable.

"Yup," she said, popping out the 'p'. She brought her pointed nailed forefinger to his neck and began trailing down his chest. Slowly and painfully. "I prefer the body clean and free of sweat. I prefer the aftershave smell, rather than the artificial stench of the deo," she said sensuously and stopped her fingers before his belt. She pulled the buckle, bringing him closer to her and brought her lips to his ear, "Do this and I guarantee you— we'll cum the most."

He let out low groan, clearly pleased with her answer. "As much painful as it sounds, I'll wait. Tell me what is it that I have to do, to have the most amazing sex of the night?"

Finafuckingly! "Nothing, just a two minute bath," she said sweetly. He didn't took time as he unbuttoned his shirt. For a moment, she was appalled by his well defined chest and muscles on his arm. What a beautiful, beautiful waste.

The fucker cocked his head to one side, considering her for a moment. "Why don't you join me?"

"Patience, hon'. I'll surprise you soon," she said and it was the absolute truth. Just not the way he was expecting her to be.

He gave a sloppy grin, silently agreeing to her demands. She waited as he removed his clothes, his hard- on, clearly out in the open. He shot a wink at her before disappearing off the bathroom.

She shuddered.

She made her way towards the small table, besides the bed on the living room and plucked a cigarette from the packet. Keeping the cigarette, fixed between her lips, she fished out a crumpled piece of paper from her purse and slammed it to the table. The cigarette packet was placed above the paper to keep it from flying away.

"You coming, cupcake," Manit's voice came from the bathroom along with the sound of running water.

She removed the cigarette from her lips. "Right in a minute, hon'," she called out and blew a farewell kiss towards the direction of the bathroom. Quickly she took out the Sim card from his mobile and threw it across the room. Good luck in finding that Manni boy.

Then ever so smoothly, she placed a lash on the door and strutted out of the apartment. Eventually she lighted the cigar with the lighter she stole. The smoke came to life, hiding the devious smirk of the owner.

She could picture it all. Manik calling her constantly with no response; him walking out of the bathroom, wondering where the hell she went; him frantically searching for her in his house then through the door, only to find it locked. Lots of cussing and shouting would follow until he'd discover her note on the table. It would read—

"You see this note- This is the motherfucking proof in your hands. This is what separates me from a prostitute that you referred to earlier, and that's what makes the whole difference, Mr Manit Gairola.

Go, enjoy fondling with your blue balls tonight. 😉"

Natasha blew the last of her cigarette, the smoke replacing the air before her eyes before tossing the burnt thing away. Her heels clicked against the ground she walked, leaving behind a secret as she disappeared into the dark abyss of the night.

○ ○ ○

Natasha must have ringed the doorbell atleast twenty times before it opened to reveal a petite girl in an oversized tee and shorts. She pressed the bridge of her nose, her brows creasing along with it but Natasha simply pushed her away to let herself in.

"Natasha, what the fuck? I was sleeping," she spoke groggily while Natasha carelessly tossed her heels away. She blinked several times until she finally got a grasp of the situation. "Why are you here? Weren't you supposed to be with uh... Instagram guy?"

"Fuck Instagram," she muttered in spite.

The petite girl giggled, "Aw, you poor, lamb. Well, you still have me. Want me to warm you up?" she said while trailing her hand across her cheek, mockingly.

"Shut up, boo," Natasha replied, slapping her hand away. She wasn't in the mood for jokes right now.

"It's Khushboo!" she retorted.

"Whatever boo," Natasha said, yawning and walked past the lobby as if looking for something.

"No one's here," Khushboo answered the unsaid question for her.

"Thanks," she heaved a sigh and it wasn't just a simple thanks for informing her either. With that, she proceeded to remove her one piece dress, leaving her in just a lingerie. She walked to stand in front of the mirror and smiled at what she saw. Her reflection stared wearily at her, with those mischievous gray eyes, a pointed nose and pouty lips chapped in red. She pushed few strands of her black hair behind her ear and trailed down it's length with her fingers that ended right above her chest. Her eyes shifted to her maroon lacy bra that held her round boobs in place. She was proud of her size— Neither too big nor small. 

She pouted at the few stretch marks that appeared on her sleek thighs and near her panty line. Then there was this dark birthmark at the side of her slightly meaty belly. She traced her fingers, feeling the soft dusky skin and stopped at her curvy hips. Despite her perfections and imperfections, she was proud of her figure. She didn't need a man to tell how sexy she was. Hell, she would totally do herself if she had to. Which was why no one had the right to disintegrate her and walk away with a laugh.

Right then, she noticed Khushboo in the reflection walking towards her as she yawned. "So much for choosing your favorite lingerie, huh?!"

"His loss, my gain," Natasha shrugged and laid down the bed. "Night."

"Night. Tell me all about it tomorrow." With that Khushboo resigned to her room, leaving Natasha in the company of her own. Taking advantage of her privacy, she removed the rest of her clothing and covered half of her body with a quilt. Her eyes grew heavy, making her realize how tired she was. As she laid on her stomach, relishing in the comfort of the mattress, she realized how better this was than lying on the small sized bed back in his stingy apartment. After all, a goodnight's sleep was what the night truly provided.

💎 💎 💎 💎 💎 💎

Dedicated to shachiseth

Big question guys- HOW was the chapter? What do you think about the character called Natasha? Please, please, comment down below and let me know what you think?

Next chapter will be up after a long time since my main focus is to finish Serious in Love. My apologies. Also the next chapter will be from her pov. (I think)