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Let me narrate one incident that happened to me. Both my parents are working and I was in college. It was study holidays for me and I was at home, alone, pretty bored. I lived in the ground floor of an apartment. There was this watchman, tall and dark, but not really handsome. He was young – must have been only 25. But he was very well built. Being so white complexioned, I always had a fantasy of having dirty sex with a dark tall man, preferably from a worker class. I had just finished masturbating, when a wild idea struck me. I called the watchman to my house and asked him to fetch something from the loft using a stool. He always wears a lungi folded, and I had an irresistible urge of seeing his black cock. As he was standing on the stool, I was bending down trying to get a glimpse of his cock. He saw me do that and got down and said “What are you trying to do”. I didn’t say anything. He then removed his lungi and I saw his cock – it was flaccid, but even the flaccid cock was soooo. ’ I took her hand and pulled her into the living room. ‘No.’ ‘It’s waiting for you.’ ‘No, Edward.’ ‘Play.’ ‘Play what?’ ‘Anything. Some solo.’ ‘Well, I guess.’ She sat on the cello chair and adjusted it, took the bow, tightened and rosined it, took the cello from the stand. I stood next to the fire, leaning against the mantle. She was looking around. ‘I know! Bach’s First Suite for Cello. The Prelude is wonderful.’ She looked for the music. Once she found it she futzed with the tuning, doing this and that, and I found myself cocking my head at her and raising my palms in a question shrug. Finally, she started. But she made a mistake. She started over and made another mistake. I was certain I had her. Second date! ‘You think that’s gonna get you off the hook?’ She began again, and yes, it was as good as the other night. It was better. She played the same way, her left hand moving up and down, her fingers almost ectoplasmic. So maybe I could like a ghostly woman. Elizabeth would glance.
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