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A special thanks: We would like to thank Gitanjali Paruah for such a powerful and mind-boggling story. The story and the language used is so perfect and powerful that we didn’t edit a single word in this story.
She was my girlfriend. Except that I saw her in the arms of her best friend. And her best friend was a male. I always had a problem with that. But I had never felt threatened. Not until now. It was not casual hand holding. It was nothing short of intimate.
I was supposed to pick her up for a date. So I had gone to her room. I had heard noises. And I had peeked through the key hole. She was in a hot dress and he had just come back from a jog. She was in a tight sleeveless top and a tube mini bottom. He was in shorts and a cut unisex tee. She was in high heels. He was barefoot. He always jogged barefoot as I would learn later from him. I could smell her perfume through the keyhole. He was sweating after a jog.
It looked like they were kissing. But I could not make out. She wouldn’t tell me when I asked her after we had gone on the date. She shushed me saying it was nothing and I was imagining. Why was I so insecure, she asked. It was nothing, she said. He had come to pick up something and she had something fall into her eyes. And he had blown her eyes. Or so she said.
This had happened last week. Yesterday, she had dumped me. And she had told me why. I wasn’t man enough for her. I was too short and too soft for her, she said. My eyes welled up. Before I realized it, she had seen it. Are you about to cry? For God’s sake! I knew it, you ARE a sis…, she held herself back. I desperately bit back my tears for fear of looking unmanly, the irony was all but lost on me.
I had always looked up to her in more ways than one. Not only did she always take the lead in whatever we did, but she was also taller when wearing heels. And she stubbornly refused to look shorter than me although I had pleaded. She had loved the fact that she towered over me. I had always admired her. Little did I know that she had wanted to do the same too in her man. And I wasn’t going to be her man.
The time with me had proved to her that only her best friend was to be her man. She had always been in denial although he had pleaded. I did not know any of this when we were together. But he told me all after she had dumped me.
He had always know that it was he who she loved. But she had not known that. She would require time. And that time was me.
I was in tears when he came to meet me. He was a sweet guy. He did not come to mock me. He genuinely cared that I was feeling bad. He knew her. He knew how she could be cruel and go from hot to cold in matter of minutes. He knew. He had been receiving it since childhood.
I was curled up on bed and sobbing when I heard the door open. I did not want anyone to see me crying. So I just turned on my stomach but the sobs did not stop.
“Oh, I am sorry”, I heard his voice after I heard the door open. “I thought it was your brother’s room”, he said. As he tried to leave, I turned around to see who it was. He just stopped in his tracks. He said, “Oh my god, it is you. I thought it was your sister. What is it that you are wearing? Isn’t that ladies jeans?”
I had always worn ladies jeans. I always had a problem when I wore men’s jeans. If the waist fit, then the hip wouldn’t and if the hip did, then the waist wouldn’t. My sister had suggested that I try hers and it had fit. To hide that it was ladies jeans, I had always put my shirt out. But somehow that day, as I was turned over and sobbing, the shirt had climbed over the low waist jeans exposing my wide rump. And he had thought it was a girl sobbing.
But I did not answer him. My girlfriend had just dumped me. What he thought of me in ladies jeans did not bother me much then. I just turned over as I did not want him to see me crying. He sat next to me on the bed and tried to get me to sit up and stop sobbing.
I guess he realized the minute he touched me. “You are so soft”, he said. I got up and although I don’t know why I did it, I hugged him and continued sobbing. It just felt like the natural thing to do, when he was so caring. “You re so understanding”, I told him through my sobs.
And he let me sob. I don’t how long I was crying. His shoulder was wet when I got control. I felt ashamed that I had wet his shirt. But I was to wet something else too whenever I was with him. Only, I did not know then.
He gave me his handkerchief to dry my eyes. I noticed his wet shirt. I offered to dry it. He said no. I insisted. I started unbuttoning his shirt much to his consternation. But he allowed me. I was shocked to see the bush of hair on his chest. I don’t know why I did it, but I ran my fingers slowly through his chest hair. I was mesmerized. I saw him watching my fingers run through his hair with an amused look. A wave of shame swept over me. I don’t why I did it, but I closed my eyes with both my hands.
“Oh no no, dear. Open your eyes. Don’t worry. It is ok, you can run your hands on my chest”, he said while prying my hands away from my eyes. I need no further inducement. I ran my left hand over his chest and whispered, “Wow!”.
“Haven’t you seen a man’s chest before, dear”, he asked. I shook my head no. I had not touched a rock hard chest before.
“My chest is not different from yours, dear”, he said.
“No dear, it is so hard, so hairy, so broad. My chest is not so hard”, I said.
“Let me see”, he said jovially while running his right hand over my chest.
“Ya”, he said. “It is nice and soft. Soft like a…”, he did not finish.
“Soft like a what, dear?”, I whispered. I don’t know why my voice became so husky. I was struggling to make words.
“Is it ok to say, dear?” He was also whispering now.
I said “mmmm”.
“Like a girl”, he replied.
“Really? What do you find girly about my chest?”, I asked as I withdrew my hands and crossed them over my chest. With my head tilted to one side, I was defiant now.
He started laughing at my mock protest. “That’s so like a girl!”, he said.
“See dear”, he continued as he cupped my right breast with his left palm. “This is almost an A cup. It is soft. And you don’t have hair”, he finished.
My eyes closed, as he was cupping my breast. I could feel his breath on my face. And my face tilted upward automatically. As if I expected something to happen. But all I continued to feel was his hot breath on my nose. I knew his lips were close.
The incongruity of us both standing barechested and breathing heavily almost in a trance did not strike me.
But the moment broke.
“Dear”, he asked, “is it ok to continue?”
I was too far gone. I did not care anymore. But he did not continue. He did not want it that way.
“Dear, dress up. We are going out”, he ordered.
When we came back, I was giggling like a school girl. We had gone shopping and we returned with everything I needed to take my first step. Not once had he told me why we were going out and not once had I asked him. We just sort of knew what was going to happen next. It was inevitable, I guess.
He got me panties, inskirts, long skirts, half sarees, elastic blouses. He told me it was too early for sarees. Bras were the most difficult. Nobody had A cups. He did not want me to buy bigger cup size and stuff anything. He said, “You have nice lovely budding breasts dear. It would be a pity to stuff”. But a final shop we went to had a section called young adult.
As soon as we came, he asked me to shave my body hair. I said I did not have much.
He said, let me check that later. But he said you will have to at least shave off that budding moustache hairs. I said I did not have a shaving set. He was surprised. Then he understood. I had no need to shave. From far, nobody could really make out the hair. He started laughing. I started tearing up. Was he making fun of me?
He saw the tears welling up in my eyes. Then he did something completely unexpected. He bent his face to mine and pecked the tear droplets off my face as they rolled down from my eyes. “Don’t worry, darling”, he said. “I will never make fun of you.”
“Now go in and dress”, he ordered.
I had never worn any ladies dresses before except my sister’s jeans. But I had never felt so comfortable. There was something in me that was taking to this quite naturally. I took out a panty. I had never worn anything silkier in my life. The garment was a sweet nothing. I could not figure how such a flimsy tiny garment would cover my ample behind. I thought it would be tight and I wouldn’t fit inside it. But the garment expanded magically as it travelled up my hairless thighs and covered my wide rump. The feeling was magical too. I had never worn anything so hugging. As I saw myself in the mirror, only the front was a little incongruous. There was no hiding the bulge. I was to learn how to do that much later in life.
I next wore the bra. I was struggling to wear it and clasp it from behind. I could not do it. Although, I was ashamed I decided to call him inside for helping me. I frantically looked around for a towel to cover myself. Luckily I found one. I put it on like a dupatta. I don’t know why I felt the need to cover my chest. It was silly, but it felt natural.
I opened the door a peek and called out to him. “Ya sweety”, he replied.
“I need help dear”, I whispered. He immediately understood. He came in and asked with a smile. “You want me to help?”
I just bobbed my head up and down sheepishly. He took the bra and asked me with a naughty look, “How do you expect me to help if you have a towel around you? Open it.”
I turned red in my cheeks. I said in my mock defiant tone again, “Just tell me how dear. I will wear myself”.
“Such a spirited girl,” he said, laughing all the while. But he was a gentleman and did not push it.
He showed how to keep the cups in the back and clasp the bra in the front before turning it around so that the cups came in front and then to put the hands through the straps. He did not do it fully for fear of tearing the tiny bra over his wide chest.
I just watched him wide eyed. I asked him innocently, “Wow, you are a smart guy. How did you figure out? I could never have figured it out.”
“I have seen her do it many times, dear”, he replied. And he bit his tongue. He realized he should not have said it. It was too late. And it hit me. All this while, she had been doing it with him, right under my nose. Tears naturally welled up in my eyes. My head went down.
Silent sobs were wracking me, when he put his hand on my chin and lifted it up gently. “It is ok, dear”, he said. “Everything will be alright.”
And everything became alright as I just clasped his wide shoulders and sobbed on his chest. He let me cry gently. Then he lifted my chin up and locked my lips with his. And everything became alright. Nothing seemed to matter anymore as time came to a standstill.
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