The First Secret.

Doesn't getting a 'favourite' over a 'retweet' for your tweet bring back memories of that guy from high school who insisted on keeping your relationship a secret?

I used to know a guy like that. 

It wasn't an epic romance or anything that its failure would've painted all my future romantic interactions. But it was definitely one of those firsts that used my body in a way that I hadn't thought possible; atleast at the time. 

He was older, dumber and perhaps not interested in me in capacity at all. I'm not sure if I remember his correct name and I definitely don't remember his face. I remember the pink shirt he was wearing that evening though. If memory serves me right, it might have been the year 2005... you know, when the likes of Salaam Namaste came out and Saif Ali Khan showed guys everywhere that not only is it okay to wear pink, they must embrace it. Anyway, I digress...

Speaking of being interested, it wasn't like I thought he was the shiniest bulb on the planet. In fact, I had actually just met him that evening. He was nauseatingly popular though; in a Delhi sort of way. He'd come over along with his friend who at the time was dating my friend. Ugh. And what an ugly break up they had.

My house has been quite the make out spot for many couples in my growing up years. I feel differently about that fact on different days. 

Back to us strangers who were put together in the same room because their respective friends had shut the door on them, we were fairly comfortable with each other. One thing led to another and before I knew it, he was coming in front of me. 

We used to have a huge dining table in the house at the time to give the impression of a happy family when we had guests visiting. Needless to say it was rarely used by us and hence was mostly untarnished. Little did I know that the table was suddenly going to be the most useful furniture we owned.

Our man here literally lifted me up to plonk me on that wooden table quickly that I didn't have the time to even feel shy properly! I must mention here that I was very many kilos lighter then and hence it wasn't an unbelievable feat; just an unexpected one. His need for speed ended right then because he unhooked by cream colored bra, lifted my (then favourite) red colour top and licked my nipples so slowly that I'm getting tingles just writing about it after all these years. It was definitely one of my first few "casual" experiences and maybe is why I still remember it.

I wish it had ended half as comfortably as it had begun because it was awkward as fuck. Thank the universe because it was my house I didn't have to do the walk of shame back home. I still had some years to go before that happened but this was awkward as fuck.

And just before leaving, he hugged me, grabbed my ass and whispered in my ears: "you're not going to tell anyone, are you?"