Mistakes Like Love and Sex , livre ebook

MADHURI BANERJEE
Mistakes Like Love and Sex
Contents
About the Author
Dedication
Prologue
1. Heartbreaks Happen to Everyone
2. You Can Count Your Life by the Boxes You Own
3. Best Friends Last Forever
4. Ghosts from the Past
5. Coffee and Awkward Conversations
6. Alternative Beginning
7. Bela Bandhan
8. Shyamolie
9. Of Men and Matters of the Heart
10. Fantastic Dates and Worrisome Natures
11. Aditi s Reasons
12. Call Me Papaji
13. Just Because You re Older Doesn t Mean You re Wiser: Mom
14. Bonding over Preparations
15. The Arranged Marriage Meeting
16. A Surprise Named Siddharth
17. The Romance Continues
18. Two Sides of the Same Coin
19. Aditi Moves On
20. What s the Fear of Parties Called? Oh Yes, Not Wanting One!
21. A Middle-aged Birthday
22. Disasters and Parties Make Fun Cocktails
23. The Aftermath of a Disaster
24. Confrontations Are Never Easy
25. Where Do Memories Go When the Relationship Dies?
26. Outdoor Shoots
27. Smokes, Shoots and Leaves
28. A Day in the Life of a Heroine
29. Sandwiches and Sex
30. The Morning After Dark
31. Back to Square One
32. The Ugly Truth
33. I Do Begins with You
34. Career Karma
35. A Whole New Ballgame
36. Parents Are Nature s Way of Showing You a Mirror
37. Who Knew Love Could Be Arranged
38. Great Expectations
39. Conflicting Crossroads
40. Long Distance Love
41. @SomewhereFarAway
42. Back to Reality
43. Old Friendships and New Ties
44. I Did It My Way
45. Sometimes It s Not the Hours in Our Life that Matter, It s the Life in Our Hours
46. Happy Endings
Acknowledgements
Copyright Page
PENGUIN METRO READS
MISTAKES LIKE LOVE AND SEX
Madhuri is a multifaceted media professional, having worked in all forms of the visual medium-as a senior producer with Zoom TV; on advertisements with White Light Motion Pictures; as a director in her own production house, Gray Matter Solution; as a freelancer on documentaries with PSBT; and as assistant director of commercial Bollywood films. She has worked with stalwarts like Subhash Ghai, Kaizad Gustad and Rohan Sippy, and music director Anu Malik.
Madhuri graduated from Lady Shri Ram College, Delhi with an honours degree in English and she has a master s in Mass Communication and Films from Jamia Millia Islamia. Her thesis film Between Dualities won her the National Award for best documentary on women s issues. She is an avid reader, world traveller and film watcher. She gives relationship advice in a column called Love Guru in the Asian Age and Deccan Chronicle and writes a blog called Chastity Belt for CNN-IBN. Currently, she has finished work on a commercial film script.
Madhuri s debut novel Losing My Virginity and Other Dumb Ideas sold over 40,000 copies in the first year of its release and was on the bestseller list for over ten weeks. Check out Losing My Virginity and Other Dumb Ideas on Facebook. She blogs at www.madhuribanerjee.blogspot.com and tweets with the handle @Madhuribanerjee .
Visit her at her website www.madhuribanerjee.com
To Papa: I miss you every day and hope you will always be proud of me. I work with your blessings.
And to Ariaana: My precious joy. Without you I would not know what to do with my life. I do this all for you.
Prologue
Wide awake. Sunlight filters in, spreading across the room, through the sheer. The smell from the bakery below wafts in-an essence of vanilla and cinnamon. It mingles with the beads of perspiration on my body. The overhead fan moves at an excruciatingly slow pace. Ray is asleep. I sit up and look at him. The stubble on his chin barely visible, but eminently desirable. Thick, gorgeous brown hair that falls over his eyes. His back bare, tanned and firm. Boxers with horses drawn on them-liketh the boxers, liketh the man. Hmmm
I slide my foot against his leg, slowly. Deftly finding the contours I have gotten used to. He turns over onto his back. The corners of his lips curl into a smile as his eyes rest on me. Lazy. Teasing. I move over him and straddle his hips. He looks at me, curious. I reach up and slip the straps of my negligee off my shoulders. The red satin falls, bunching around my hips, exposing supple, white, full breasts. Firm. Erect nipples. I slide over his body, smooth, lithe, naked and run my mouth on his ear, his neck, and softly circle his nipples with my tongue. Remember last night, I whisper. He nods. That was a breeze, this is the storm. He s hard in an instant. Yearning. He pushes up and sucks on my breasts hungrily. I arch my back, wanting more. He runs his finger down my back, lightly, barely touching, then the inner thigh, tracing words on my soft skin. He moves his finger, slowly sliding it into me. Moistness. Thrust after thrust, deeper. Just there. Aaahh. Heaven. His uncanny ability to find the spot, while looking into my eyes. I stare right back at him, taking in his beautiful face, his blue eyes, sculpted lips, the rough stubble on his jaw. I decide to take matters into my own hands. I grab the scarf that was thrown carelessly on the chair last night and blindfold him. He wants it now. Urgently. I refuse to give in. I gently push him down and graze my fingertips down his body till I reach his shaft. Steel. Hard. I take him in my mouth. Rolling my tongue over his head. Licking. Nibbling. Tasting. Feasting. I cup his balls and rub him. He begs me to stop. Almost to the point of bursting. Screaming in pleasure. Pause.
One last taste, then I turn around, my back to him. Slowly, I lower myself onto him. The dark crevasses of my body envelop his desire. He cups my breasts as he moves to sit. And penetrates deeper. Measured movements. Gentle strokes. Rhythmic. He groans. A familiar action that makes it suddenly comfortable again. I moan softly. Faster. Harder. He removes the blindfold and, in one motion, picks me up and pins me to the bed. He looks at me, drinking in my body, trembling with desire, teasing me with his shaft. Smiling, he drives himself into me with one swift stroke. I lunge to hold him as he works up a rhythm. Our bodies move together in the synchronized harmony of rocking. We ve been doing this for two years. An intense love making that is beyond our wildest imagination. Biting. Scratching. Fiercely kissing. Pure ecstasy mingled with the sheer power and force of our lust. Relentless. I tighten myself just as he releases his grip. I feel him come. Again and again. I shudder as I feel the light pass through me. A magnificent, crazy, wholesome feeling that leaves me drained and complete.
Spent, we lie back. I reach for the lighter. The Zippo flicks, and I inhale a long, deep drag.
Coffee? I smile with a twinkle in my eye.
I knew this relationship would last forever. How could it not? The sex was simply brilliant.
1
Heartbreaks Happen to Everyone
The best way to break up with a man is to tell him that you can t live without him. After that the chase is over.
All men primarily want to be hunters. It is women who, with their soft, manipulative ways, turn them into farmers and gatherers. But soon enough most of them rebel and wish to run wild and free again, leaving the woman to wonder what she did wrong.
Love and heartbreak are two sides of the same coin. Heartbreak happens to every human being. And one must always be prepared.
One week after the most glorious sex of our life, Ray cheated on me. Two wonderful years, during which I thought I was doing everything right and that Ray was the most amazing man I knew, and here I was heartbroken once again. I was so shocked and devastated that I couldn t speak for a whole day. And that is saying a lot since I am known to be a chatterbox and as a teacher of art history in Barcelona I spoke continuously for ninety minutes three times a week!
But I knew I had to talk to him about this situation because, to me, loyalty is extremely important. I had been in a relationship where the man had lied to his partner for me and I had lived with that guilt for a year. I could not be in the same situation again. I could not let him continue to lie to both of us. It was going to be difficult, since Ray and I lived together, and neither of us could kick the other out.
I spent the whole night sitting in our pristine white kitchen wondering what to say and as the sun rose through the Gothic quarters the next morning, I decided to be honest and direct with Ray as he sauntered in, yawning and stretching. Damn! He looked good. His dark hair that fell over his eyes was his best feature. He had flicked it back and tied it into a small ponytail. His bronzed body clad only in those boxers with little monograms of the Spanish flag made him immensely desirable. But I knew that even though I still found him attractive, I had to let him go. So I began what would be one of the most painful conversations I would have that year.
Ray, I said, clearing my throat, we need to talk.
He nodded, S , and went to make himself a cup of coffee from the new cappuccino maker we had bought together last week for our house. Our house. How strange that sounded. I had been living with this man for two years. We had this lovely apartment with my favourite artists replicas and framed photos of us from our trips across Europe hanging on the white walls. Sunlight filtered in through the curtains, a soft yellow material with green and pink flowers that Ray found too girly but let me have after I fell in love with the pattern at a crafts bazaar on our trip to India six months ago. I had introduced him to my parents then who thought he was a lovely boy . They weren t too thrilled with the fact that I was in a live-in relationship with a Spaniard who was several years younger than me, but they saw how happy I was and gave their blessings, provided, they added, that we chose a wedding date soon.
I reached for a cigarette and lit it before I spoke again. It was a bad habit I had acquired in Europe, one I thought took away stress but really there