“Do you drive?” he asked, throwing a brief glance at her. It was night, they were driving on a winding mountain road and he did not want to be too distracted by the beautiful woman in the passenger seat.“No,” she responded. She was nervous and her throat felt a little parched. But one look at the man beside her filled her with loathing again. She was overcome with a fury greater than any amount of nervousness. “A woman in your profession must learn,” he said, a lascivious grin painting his bearded face. “What if a patron is unable to drive? Wouldn’t you miss – how shall I put it – a day’s wages in such situations? Or, should I say, a night’s wages?” His grin widened, so did her desire to slap him hard across his smug face.“Well, sobriety is a must for a prospective patron,” she responded, keeping the quiver and the anger out of her voice. “If he is sober when he is with me, he will ask for me again, another night, another series of nights. How is that a loss?” she raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at him.“Haha! Awesome!” his laugh was like a bark. “I like you. You’re funny, you’re well-groomed, you smell nice. I don’t usually notice such things, but that black nail polish goes so perfectly with that red dress of yours. And I must say, that dress - !” he placed his left palm on her thigh.She could no longer contain her fury. She glanced at the rear view mirror. She saw the car was not too far behind them. “Is that what you liked about my sister too?” Her question caught him off guard. He moved his hand like he had been singed unexpectedly. “Wh – what?” he stammered.“I am Neha’s sister. Remember her?” she sneered at him.His thoughts went back to Neha, his old mistress. The twenty-three year old girl who had foolishly fallen in love with him. She had gotten pregnant with his child. He had arranged for an abortion, but unfortunately, she had died due to a fault of the anesthesiologist. Because the anesthesiologist was a man with a price, and he had been bought.And this beautiful woman was Neha’s sister. The man felt the blood draining from his face. He had to think of something and quickly. But before he could arrange his thoughts, the woman next to him punched him as hard as she could.“You lecherous bastard!” she screamed, and at the same time, he felt his car being rear-ended. The blow to his head and the sudden bump from behind had made him afraid. Suddenly, the car was rear-ended again. “Listen,” he managed to blurt. “This is stupid. If the car pushes us off the highway, you die with me.”She dug her nails deep into his throat, with all the strength she could muster, and said, “It doesn’t matter. If I die, I have nothing to lose. But if you die, your wife will know there was a woman in the car with you. She will know who you were before you died.” The man lost sight of the road. He did not realize he was at the edge of a curve. With one final shove from the car behind, they were thrown into the deep valley below, to their deaths.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
Copyright Petrichor and Clouds 2013 at petrichorandclouds.blogspot.com Please do not reproduce the material published here.
