The English Rogue II

“Do it.”

I begged. My eyes bored into his and while I said it with a tight little frown characteristic of a girl who’s slightly constipated, I found myself stifling a smile that was curling up the sides of my lips.

“No. Beg me to”

He coolly said, and I turned the smile into a girlish pout, my eyes darting sideways thinking of other strategies to get him to cave in.

“ok. pleeease.”

I clutched my fists, lifted them up to my throat in my typical dramatic flair.

“I beg you… Do it. Come on. Please… with a cherry on top…”

He threw his head back and laughed. A laugh that brought out the creases around his eyes and two long dimples that framed his kind face. He must be about 40, I figured.

“No. Can. Not.”

I frowned. And I studied him. My hands on my throat now, fingering my collar-bone. Then I reached over, sub-consciously, and playfully patted his hand before warmly and grabbing it.

“Come on.” I coaxed.

He put his hand on mine and for the first time that night, we touched.

It lasted a good 5 seconds before I pulled away, blushing.

I stood up, smoothed my skirt, adjusted my hair and said:

“I’m going to the bathroom. When I get back, you’re going to do that scene from Snatch. I don’t care.”

Note: when I say “I don’t care” to anyone, it means I have allowed myself to be reduced to a lump of whine and have chosen to take on a vulnerable stance that likens me to a puppy who’s seen the bone. I am a tad unreasonable, a little bit girlish and at my attract-the-40-year-old ’s best.

And I wiggled my way out of my seat. When I passed him, I stopped by his side, leaned over beside him, placed my hand on his arm and said:

“and don’t forget the accent”.

He looked blankly at me and smiled like a schoolboy, clearly enjoying the closeness we were sharing.

Within minutes, hours had gone by.

Through the night, our phones were ringing like a Chinese takeaway on Valentines’ Day. And both of us were too polite to each other to speak for too long, and too polite to our friends to shut it. His conversation with one friend went like this:

“Yeh? Umon ay dayte…. Tha’s righ. Eu erd me.”

He looked right at me and I blushed.

“She is stunning mate. An shes nort ma raght hand.”

I gave a chastising laugh and shook my head.

“Lis nn. We ah jus avin dinna at Seb’s restront… Oh, eu wanna check on me don you, you li-el nosey fat fock.”

And he looked at me and nodded, as if asking for my permission. And I just nodded in return quite blankly.

“righ. Come o-er if ya laike. I don think she’d wanta spind frighdaigh noight with an old English boy. She’s a partay animal musta made plans with friends * making air inverted commas*”

and he winked at me.

Minutes later, I returned my girlfriend Anjali’s missed call.

“babe! Sorry I missed your call. Am on a hot date”

and I smiled cheekily at him

“Oh, it’s almost over. He’s chosen to meet his friend over me! To think I was gonna let him get to first base or something tonight. *loud deliberate sigh* haha. Yes. We’re just by the river. Oh, are you? Come over if you like! We can all do drinks!”

He laughed.

And we kept on flirting. It was a perfect dinner date. At some point, actually, at the precise point he tried to explain about his job to me, I gave myself an invisible pat on the back for showing up to this date. He was just so easy to be with. He put me at ease, gave me ample air time, shared some stuff about himself when asked, and asked me questions about me. It was honest, sensual, and all very mature.

And then his mate arrived.

And they broke into a never before heard, or should I say comprehendible language – cockney it was called (I later learned). In between the blah blah blahs and and the oh oh ohs and the ay ay ayes, I can hear faint traces of “Tha berd las nigh wus shite. Heels up to er shouldas. Beh-ah chick if shes’ stolen me wallet.”, and “Vince brough us some fine wine. We drank till now and um so tired um gonna go home and sleep till Tues fuggin day”… and “Wha’s her name? hasn’t she gort a proppa nayme like Twinkle or sumthin? She’s hot…. Oh, but so s this one…” his mate gets distracted by someone who waltzed in the restaurant.

Anjali is in da house.

In her full blown hotness - clad in a dangerously tight skirt and propped up by her suspiciously smooth legs – Anjali, looking like the figure of 8 was at her mating peak.

And there were 4.

In between the wicked banter, the sexual connotations, and the polite conversations, even Stevie Winder could see that we were 4 inebriated spirits in a restaurant, hiding our true intentions behind wine glasses. So the most decent thing to do was…

To head to The Living Room to party it off.

Vodka shots were like free - Or at least that’s how we were behaving.

We were rock stars and the dance floor was our stage. I was waving my hands in the air in the classic 1990s, I.am.intoxicated way. It’s all a happy blur.

Hours later, Liam takes my hand. I swept my hair out of the way and leaned in, allowing my cat-like listening powers that can differentiate house music from human voices to take over. He said,

“I’m goin tah gooh. Old men need rest. You staigh and partaigh”

“Hey, no!”

I said. Just realizing I was actually having fun because he was watching me all night and for him to leave now would mean one front row ticket stub holder gone from my audience of… ONE.

And he said, “or if yo’d laik, I cun ah, take u someplace else u’d like ta go, but I wan tah leav”.

“well, ok then. I’ll stay”

“No, come. Come with me. Drink at mah place”

I was silent.

“Come on then”

he said and forcefully took me by the hand. Leaving no goodbye kisses behind.

***

When all the necessary was done, we sat politely by his sofa. By necessary, I mean I had already done a scratch-the-surface mandatory check. Despite being ruled by a head of vodka, I remember seeing an Indie Arie CD, a Shawshank Redemption DVD, a decent collection of soap bars and passing him on the cd, dvd, hygiene test. We both had a drink in the hand – which was really a much-needed tool in modern-day pre-foreplay instances.

“Ah wonted eu tha whole nigh…”

he said to me and leaned in. I could feel his breath on my cheek and for the first time, I caught a whiff of his aftershave. I closed my eyes, and smiled, it was a compliment, and it made me, for some reason… feel relieved.

“When you walked passed me in tha ristront, and eu stopped and touched me on tha shoulda, eu remembah?”

I nodded, looking up at him.

“tha was ma favourite par of tha nigh.”

Subconsciously, I had turned to face him completely now, and with every word that he spoke, I felt more relaxed.

“and eu are such a bright one…”

He put his hand on my shoulder and reached up to hold my face. I looked down. This man had a strange calming effect on me, yet when I looked in his green eyes, all the calmness just gets blasted into a ball of nerves.

“tha eu are out on a dinna date… with me. It’s unbelievable.”

He pulled me closer and I was letting him completely run the show.

“I wan tah see eu again”

I opened my mouth and I had nothing to say. An epiphany hit me. I am never good with serious conversations. Turning this into a joke and a giggle fit would be my forte, but keeping it up was like asking me to kiss my elbow. I smiled like a dumb 3 year old, and said,

“Can’t believe we waited to do this.”

He laughed.

(I knew it. I always manage to be funny at serious moments. Argh.)

“yeah, eu are a tough one. Honestly, I neva try so hard, but I think old age has a way o makin skins thick. I’ll be honest with you, I’m a male slut, and I’ve doon things I’m nah pruud of, and a lort of it,”

he smiled and looked up, as if a recent sexcapade just floated into his mind. He shook it off.

“but callin a person up again and again is nort ma thing. don make me do tha again.”

Before I could answer, he kissed me squarely on the lips. My eyes flew open. And as quickly as it happened, it ended. He stood up and said.

“Come on then, you can sleep in the guest room. I’ve got towels, toothbrush, and a big t-shir for ya if eu need. Mi casa, Su casa.”

And maybe the look of disappointment was clear on my face, cos he quickly added.

“or you can pick tha bet-ah option, to sleep in mine… with me”.

To be continued