Fear froze Sruthi's brain. Her body started shaking, visibly. "Don't react. Stay calm. They are coming towards us, we can't run. It will be obvious" said Danush.
Archive for the category Fiction
Fiction stories and poems by the Gaysi to be read by all.
In the ensuing months, he unwittingly and unknowingly became the object of my affections. And I wished him well in whatever he did. Out of love, out of respect, out of blind adoration.
Blue shirt slowly started drumming his fingers on the chair. He was signaling Sruthi, obviously. Sruthi wondered if it would be a good idea to take her hand to the back of the chairs. The very thought gave her goosebumps. But, what if someone sees them from behind?
But the best saved for the end Is when they continue to play pretend “Someday ...I’ll be back” Keeping false hopes alive and on track
Charming face. Sharp nose. Attractive eyes. Bushy eyebrows. His mustache was dense too. At the bottom of the mustache, were those slightly wet, beautiful lips. The blue shirt he was wearing suited his dark complexion. She could see his chest hair, peeping above his shirt.
“Oh good! Fooooood!” she jumped out of bed, clapping her hands joyfully. She pulled on a bathrobe and ran to open the door while I attempted to straighten up the bed a little, in an effort to hide an all-night and all-morning romp. I gave up trying as the server came in, pushing a trolley laden with food.
A warm towel slowly ambushed my feet—cleansing my toes in circular movements. Kneeling by my side, Neha spread the sesame oil warmed by her hands over my right leg. Stroking my legs from the inner thigh to my calves in a circular fashion, her soft palm was edging my unease out. Her palm followed each other in an easy move as her palms moulded the contours of my legs… Her touch was warm and her steady hands felt smoother than satin.
I adore cooking. The snap, crackle, pop, fizz, hiss and fumes swirl together and evoke much sensory delight. And tonight, I was cooking for her. Reminded suddenly of the bizarre need to impress, my left hand automatically reached out for a wine glass that possessively ensconced some crisp and dry dutch courage. Gulp.
I entered the Parsi villa in Breach Candy with Jeff and Nadir, gay neighbors of mine from the ‘burbs. We were received graciously by Rustom, studded with numerous gold rings on his right hand and a glass of wine in the other, possibly a Los Vascos, Chilean Rothschild. Some were outside, smoking, talking, laughing… oh! Even a couple engrossed in an indulgent kiss right there, towards the corridor on the left, and a bunch of kids dancing near the music system in the big hall– the party was on.
"What a noise!” She added, “God knows how you guys listen to such stuff!” She then caught side of the boyish looking girl in the midst of all the boys, and gave her a strange look, which was mixed with pity and disgust. The look made her feel, for some inexplicable reason, ashamed of and angry with herself.
Today, I had decided to tell Anubhav everything. I couldn’t lie to him anymore. Although I was petrified about his reaction, I needed to let someone know what I was. Even though I was perspiring heavily, my throat was dry as sandpaper. Anubhav, Oblivious to my dilemma, was pondering what movie we should watch.
When tears don’t flow And all is trapped All you feel is numb And nothing else Paralyzed with pain All that flashes is the past
I always knew I was gay, but I just refused to come out. I have a couple of gay friends too. They would always encourage me to come out of the closet, but I refused. I claimed to be ‘straight’ but the truth is I have never had any sexual or romantic thoughts about a girl. I have always been a closeted gay man.
Fireworks I liked. The spot I stood on I didn’t like. I’d stood at the same exact spot very many times. On the 66th floor. The last was two years ago. Watching the same fireworks. Having just realized that I intensely disliked the woman standing next to me. At the start of what was to be two terrible months of insomnia. It felt lonely and cold.
My dear Here’s a little about me. I hate crowded roads. I hate walkways filled with men where I have to dodge unwanted touch.
Your nose ring It calls out to me. Almost saying touch me, tinker bell It glints, telling me... I am so within your reach
Our meeting certainly wasn’t love at first sight I didn’t get a clear picture of you that night But something about watching the waves crash and collide Egged me on to be back to see you against the sun at high tide
There was something so appropriate about hotel rooms. Non-committal. Sometimes adventurous, sometimes depressing. Bedsheets soiled by one only to be washed and reused by another. So many stories must be woven into its seams by now. Of lonely people. Of strange escapades. Of unions and partings.
Alas, I get to dance alongside you, Our ankle bells sound enchanting together, Now devadasi, will you dance for me?
What did I love about you? Was it love? I thought I loved you. But then again I know, I loved who I thought you were. Not who you really are. As much as I hate accepting it, I wish you really were that person I thought you would be. I wish you weren't so brutal.I wish you weren't "too hot-too cold".