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“Maybe you should go sleep in the other room.” “I’m sorry,” was all I could think of to say as I slipped from under the covers and shuffled down the hall, a lump in the pit of my stomach. That night, as I had pretty much every night since I could remember, I had unsettling dreams and, when I awoke, I was alone, tangled in the damp sheets and trembling, wishing I could just have one hit to take away the pain. Once an addict, always an addict. It never went away. It was seductive. You just learned how to trick yourself into getting through one more day without it, was all. Seattle, Fall of ‘09 I’d let her stay on several conditions. One, being, that she stay clean. No drugs and no drinking. She was also to attend NA meetings as well as get herself a sponsor. Two, that she respect my boundaries. And three, that she do her share of work around the place. “You could be my sponsor,” she pressed me one day, a cute little pout, part anger and part disappointment, when I put down my book. I was stunned looking at her. She was fresh out of the shower, and that red bindi she had on her forehead aroused me tons. She knew I was getting steamy every passing second and called me near her. She told me that she’d teach me how to wear this one, and then I could drape the yellow saree around her all by myself. I was completely numb back then. She took my hand, made me catch the tip of her saree and guided it into her navel all the way till my fingers touched her panty. I retreated with a jerk. Even she didn’t expect that. Then it went on slowly, I moved my hands over her body, tightening my embrace with her with every inch the saree was draped over her. With every second passing, I became more and more close to her and when the saree was tugged into her navel for the final time, we weren’t ashamed of each other.I moved aside and complimented that if she was unmarried i’d have wanted to have her right now. She blushed and moved to the wardrobe to fetch the yellow saree. I was.
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