for you. With your new haircut your old clothes are not making you look glam enough.’ Aditi went on to pick some brightly coloured, shiny shirts and some short skirts.
‘I’m never going to wear these short, overly revealing things!’ I exclaimed in exasperation since I was feeling too lazy to even try them out.
‘Trust me. You might not wear them now, but when you do find a man, you’ll want to.’ She shoved me into the dressing rooms and I went off muttering something.
I was so glad that she had forced me, because when I emerged, I looked amazing! She was right—as usual. So I went and spent a small fortune on new clothes to wear and no one to wear them for. But at least I was ready!
I was ready to fall in love and get married. Oh sorry, lose my virginity! Did I just mix the two? Maybe the lines were getting blurred after all.
Eight
I met
him
in Goa.
I was actually there on work, chaperoning the Princess of Finland, along with her many bodyguards. It was extremely hot in the afternoon on the second day of her visit and the Princess couldn’t take the heat—coming from a land of icebergs. So she decided to stay in the hotel and go for a spa. She gave me the rest of the day off.
I quickly changed into a red off-shoulder blouse and white mini skirt that Aditi had picked up for me and went off by myself to find a shack and drink away the afternoon and most of the night. After walking on the beach to find just the correct shack to sack in for the next twelve hours, I came across Sunny’s. The shack was closer to the rocky edge than the beach and there weren’t too many people at two in the afternoon. So I got myself a table overlooking the sea and ordered a beer. Surprisingly, the shack was cool despite having no air conditioning and just an air cooler blowing at the tables. And since it was secluded, I didn’t have to deal with pesky couples, kids or rowdy office parties.
I started humming to the music playing in the background. This was the life! Soothing retro music, cool breeze, a beer and solitude. These were the times I loved my job as a freelancer. Just as I was about to call out to the waiter for some fried calamari, a man walked in and sat at the table next to me. Madonna’s
Like a virgin
faded in.
Irony
was my aunt.
The man was gorgeous.
No, that’s an understatement. He was a Greek God personified. Everything about him screamed, ‘Model’. He was tall, with dark, wavy hair, light brown eyes and a body that could pass off as one of the bodyguards from Finland. He was wearing a white linen shirt and khaki shorts and sunglasses. He sat down at the table next to me and placed an order. I was trying hard not to stare, but it was difficult.
After some time, the waiter appeared with a plate of fried calamari and put it on my table. I said flummoxed, ‘I didn’t order this.’
The Greek God spoke, ‘No, I did.’
‘Sorry,’ said the waiter and switched the plate to his table and left.
His voice was melodious. Not the waiter’s, the Greek God’s. A lovely deep baritone. I nodded towards the plate and then looked around for the waiter, ‘That actually looks good,’ I said, ‘I’m going to order one myself.’ The waiter was already on it. He knew anyone who came to Goa could never resist a plate of fried calamari especially on a hot afternoon with a chilled beer already in place.
‘Here, I’ll lend you some till you get a plate.’ The Greek God said unexpectedly.
‘No, it’s okay,’ I blushed. I took off my sunglasses and pushed them to the top of my head so he could notice my eyes, the only good feature about me apart from my wrists, but that hardly counted.
‘I’m serious. Here, grab one.’ He handed the plate to me and I took one piece and put it in my mouth. Then he took a fork and picked a calamari with it. I was mortified. Why hadn’t I thought of using a fork? I had unceremoniously touched his plate. I didn’t know what to say. I began to blush again. But he seemed
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