Long slender fingers ran through
the silky ginger hair, caressing, loving. She stretched, arched her back, with
those beautiful eyes serenely shut to enjoy his touch with undivided attention,
a low moan developing in her throat. He sighed and thought of yesterday, when
his fingers were exploring fine filaments the colour of the darkest purple
night. He had loved both his girls, and they practically purred at his touch.
He half-smiled and waited. It was always the wait that nearly drove him insane.
She sensed a change and nudged him,
finally opening those sharp green eyes. Her throaty purr was replaced by a low
voice of appeal. Still he waited. Finally she said the one word he was waiting
for. Instantly his hand flashed to her throat and squeezed ever so slightly,
with ever increasing pressure. He looked into those wide eyes of alarm, those
flailing nails trying to scratch his hand away. He looked, with an increasing
delight deep within him, till the arms fell limp, till the eyelashes drooped,
till the magnificent eyes of green lost their brilliance, till the last light
went out of them.
He huffed out his held breath,
happiness filling him, every inch of him, till he felt he could walk on air
with his new emboldened spirit. He grinned like a maniac in his empty hostel
room, until someone banged on his door screaming ‘Lotter!’ and damning in
select words his lack of action just five days prior to Saarang. He gave back a
few of his choicest words, and felt the effects draining out of him, felt
himself sink back into an empty shell, a mask of his former self, into the
Saarang 2013 Cultural Affairs Secretary, lit. Covering her up in his red
bed-sheet, one by one Cul Sec Lotter put on twenty rings on his ten slender
fingers and slowly opened his door to face the latest we’re-so-screwed story
his remarkably unobservant Co-Cul Sec had managed to come up with.
Lotter was literally LOTR, or Lord
of the Rings. He was a member of the rarest species at IITM – his name’s funda
was neither uninteresting nor related to twisted guy fantasies. He had the
courage to leave his room without disguise and fingers weighed down by twenty
gold rings for twenty different gods. He locked his door behind him, a secret
smile on his face and a plan for the dead he left in his room.
He had been in ‘love’ once (Why all
IITians are delusional enough to think their fickle, mechanical, and entirely
and selfishly RG-max hearts can experience anything of the sort is probably
beyond anyone!). She was the prettiest freshie girl he’d seen last year (the mention
of a freshie girl works like magic on IIT’s guys – they are more than likely to
step ahead and slip on their own drool). A Tam Brahm to her very soul, she had
a 9 point CGPA and the most goody-goody reputation in the Institute. At least
she had had, until she was driven to insanity by her Sponsorship Creative
Coordinator, Shaastra interview and subsequent rejection for the very year he
was to be Cul Sec. She now spent her days in a straitjacket, bouncing off
padded walls in the asylum she had to be packed off to, to avoid endangering
herself and other students and further endangering the wildlife at IITM.
Her pitiable condition changed him
in much the same sense Bella Became Bloodsucker. He became a ruthless killer,
vowing revenge on the Sponsorship Core, Shaastra 2013. Five days before
Saarang, Shaastra was underway. He’d already had his revenge. Now was the time
to display it.
Evolve’s Shaastra Hacks had another
weird run-down plane to display (their lack of originality, perhaps). Quietly
in the dead of night he made his way to it with his strong arms weighed down by
the two girls he dragged, and left them in there. The next day, all hell broke
loose when a kid broke all the administration block windows with his single
high-pitched screech on discovering it. In the KV grounds, Lotter’s eyes
gradually met the shocked ones of the Sponsorship Core’s across the plane, and
held them. His mouth slowly curved into a smile while the Core looked puzzled,
and then alarmed as realization finally dawned on him. While his expression
started turning into outrage, Lotter got lost in the memory of the silken cats
in his hands the last two evenings, and the exhilarating moment when they had
each finally uttered, “Meow?”
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