“Much better than the AC coupe, I must say” remarked Divya. Gautam smiled as he walked close up to her. He touched her face with his two hands, as if he was going to kiss her. Then he ran them down her slender neck and then over her breasts.“Shall I get you anything?” he asked. Divya looked at his eyes, “You have already got what I want” and then she placed her hand behind his head and pulled him closer, and the both started kissing each other. She then held her head with both of her hands and continued smooching him. He too put his hands around her waist, holding her close to his body.They already started using their tongue and kissed and sucked each other’s lips, and played with each other’s tongue. Often they would look back at each other’s eyes and the passion in them would drive them back to their lips.After sometime, he pulled her more and hugged her tightly, and started kissing her slender neck. Divya in the meantime, got hold of his t-shirt and pulled it off his body. And. He could see her memories, her father and tormentor, the way he would beat her until she wept, then force himself on her. He could see that she blamed herself, that she came to invite the abuse, flirting with her tormentor, thinking that it was the only way he could love her, the only way she could be loved.Inside his own mind, the rage threatened to break free, tried to escape the box he had shoved it into, tried to force its way out so it could vent on the world at large.He nudged, sending her images of the first time he met her. He saw her interest, her almost automatic flirting. Images of him running, the thrill and terror she felt when he lifted her effortlessly that day. The shame at the attraction, knowing in her heart that she would be adding to her own shame, her own torment.He found what he had feared when he inserted her mother into the equation. Her mother drunk, beating her, calling her a whore. Blaming her for seducing her husband, turning him against her own mother..
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