Intense Desires...

Is That All You Have Accomplished?

I approached the door and rang the doorbell.

As she backed out of the driveway, Mrs. Sood exclaimed, "Hi, Ashvani!" and waved to my mother. "Come over to the garage and let's get this party started." She went back into the house, and the garage door opened. I saw her car, some cans of paint, garden tools, a bike, some weights that looked like they hadn’t been used in years, and her mower.

I proceeded to work on the flower garden with the hoe, a little shovel, and a bucket. The huge weeds were plucked and the soil was turned. Mrs. Sood brought several flower-filled pots, and I dug holes next to the path and along the front of the house to plant them. It wasn't difficult labor, and because I was on the west side of the house, the sun didn't shine too brightly.

I completed the flowers at 8:30 a.m. and proceeded to the garage to fetch the fence wire and posts. I walked around the rear of the house and glanced at the garden plot. I could see where the poles had been the previous year; I assumed she had pulled everything down for the winter. I hammered the posts into place with a rubber mallet, then secured the fence wire by wrapping lengths of thin wire around the posts and making sure that the dirt was pushed up against the fence wire. It wouldn't keep a determined rabbit or stray canine out, but it would help. I went to get the hoe and turned over the soil so she could plant it when she was ready after I finished.

Mrs. Sood was standing at the back of the house, watching me work through the sliding glass door. Adults, I assume, don't trust children. I was starting to go into my regular grumpy attitude about grownups, but I resolved not to let it show on her. She didn't know who I was except for the fact that I was a Junior Priest Boy at the temple. It was fine if she just wanted to watch. I'll do my absolute best. I didn't want her to say anything to my mother that would cause me to be late for the party! Mrs. Sood brought out some lemonade after I completed the garden. Because it was in the sunlight, this side of the house was significantly warmer. I was sweating a little, but not excessively.

She remarked, "You're ahead of schedule." I wasn't expecting you to finish things in such a short amount of time. It's too early to start hammering fence planks or mowing the lawn. "Come inside for a while, and we'll get started at 11:00 a.m."

It was just 9:45 a.m. when I looked at the clock. I followed her inside, removing my shoes and placing them on the mat. Her home was spotless. Pictures of a well-built, good-looking, black-haired man in an army uniform hung on the wall. A case with a triangle-folded flag and another case with two medals are on the bookcase. I was certain it was her husband's.

"That was Simarjeet," she replied as she noticed me glancing at the photos. “When he finished boot camp in 1995, we married. After graduating from high school, he enlisted in the army. We dated almost five years before getting married. Any female wouldn't have the courage to refuse his proposition since he was so attractive and determined. But his duties came first, and he was given a week off to be married and travel on our honeymoon. He then embarked on a mission to Kashmir. That was my final encounter with him. I had not expected to be a widow at the age of 24. "

I noticed a tear in her eye, but she appeared to be in good spirits. "I apologize for what occurred. My uncle served in Kargil and my father in the Pakistan War in 1971, but they both returned home."

She gave me another glass of lemonade and a seat on the couch. She sat down next to me, and I immediately noted how nice she smelt. I'm sure it was the same perfume she used in the temple since the aroma seemed familiar. She was dressed casually in faded jeans and a t-shirt. Her face was framed by her shoulder-length black hair, and she smiled as I examined her. At sixteen, I wasn't particularly subtle either. She had a fantastic grin, a thin physique, and stunning eyes. Those ideas were banished from my head; she was far too old for me.

"When are you going to graduate?" she inquired.

“Huh?”

"When do you finish high school?"

"Last year," I said hurriedly.

"Wait, you're not seventeen?" she said, her expression darkening.

“No. Last month, I turned sixteen."

"At Temple, I could swear you looked older, but now I see it," she replied after a little pause. "I'm such a knucklehead."

I didn't understand a word she said. The naive sixteen-year-old had grown into a naive eighteen-year-old.

"What exactly do you mean? Are you a knucklehead? Is it possible that I made a mistake? Are you mad with me?" I asked so many questions in her direction.

"It's not you," she answers. She put her head in her hands and said, "I simply thought... never mind."

She was in tears. What the hell is going on here?

"Mrs. Sood, what's the matter? Can I help you?"

"Maybe you can," she murmured as she stared up and deep into my eyes.

"Well, mum said I was expected to help you with everything you needed, and that's exactly what I intend to do. Anything you require." I answered nervously.

Clueless. I was completely oblivious to what I was saying. Or, to be more precise, no awareness of the double entendre in my remarks. I just sat there staring back at her. I was athletic, swam a lot, and had a good muscular tone when I was fifteen. Priyanka had always told me I had wonderful eyes, and I felt I was average-looking. However, I was still in my early teens. I was around two inches taller than she was at 5'5". She got up and walked over to the stereo, where she turned on some light, sober music. She sat next to me and grasped my hand when she returned to take a seat.

"I brought you here with ulterior purposes, Ashvani. I assumed you were older and more attractive. I was also lonely. Now I'm feeling like a fool. Sorry for the inconvenience. It's alright if you want to call your mother and leave early." There were foxy tears in her eyes.

"No," I said, "I'll finish the yard and fence, as well as whatever else you require. It's the very minimum I can do."

"Wow, that's very sweet."

She leaned forward and kissed the inside of my cheek. I reddened a little. A pattern was beginning to emerge. I flush when a gorgeous girl kisses me on the cheek. But this time, I had a different reaction, and my jeans were starting to feel tight. I fought the need to squirm and prayed she wouldn't notice before it passed.

She had taken note. She also laughed. Not an embarrassment-inducing laugh, but a nervous chuckle from someone uncomfortable in the circumstances. She stood up and crossed the room, turning to face me. I just sat there and did all I could to get out of this awkward predicament, but it was futile.

She said, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

“No. Last year, I had one, but we broke up during the summer."

“Sorry.”

"It's not a big thing; it was all my fault." I pushed her a little too far to get past kissing."

"Is that all you've accomplished? Just kissing?"

I was now flushed with shame. "Yeah," I confessed sarcastically.

I noticed her standing there, thinking about something. I was terrified of what she could be thinking.

Was she thought of... Nah... Nah... She can't be? What next, if she was...? Does Ashvini agree with that? Let's find it out in the next chapter...