He sits on the bed and fumbles with his shirt buttons.

I watch him struggle with them for several minutes—he stands, he sits, stands again, swears and sways on the spot—till I can’t handle it anymore.

I move his hands out of the way and start to undo the buttons; it’s a tough job since he constantly pushes my hands away and tries to do them himself.

‘I can do,’ he says pushing at my hand, ‘I can doooo …’

He trips again—I grab him by the waist to hold him, he grabs my dressing gown to break his fall—and rips the right side straight off my shoulder.

I stand before him—exposed and self-conscious in my new lacy bra and underwear.

‘Sorry,’ he says and stares at my breasts, breathing heavily.

I try to pull the torn dressing gown over me—he grips my hand.

He pulls at my dressing gown roughly till it falls at my feet. I try to hold on to it but he doesn’t let go my hands—holds me by the wrists—and raises my arms over my head. He watches my breasts as he raises my arms.

‘Keep ’em there,’ he says thickly.

He trails his hands down my arms, over my chest and cups my breasts, one in each hand. He rotates his thumbs over each of my nipples—over the lace—I feel them harden, feel a pull in my groin.

He pinches my nipples and makes me cry out. He bends his head and takes a nipple in his mouth. I gasp as he sucks on it really hard.

He runs his hands all over my body—he squeezes my butt, pinches my waist, he bites me—

He pushes me on to the bed and falls on top of me. He kisses my face, my eyelids, my cheeks, my mouth—

‘You are so beautiful,’ he says.

He kisses my neck, my shoulders; kisses me between my breasts, runs his tongue over them—

‘So perfect,’ he says.

He kisses my belly button—moves lower—stares at my underwear, grabs the waistband in his teeth and pulls it down, down, down.

He stares at my curls—I can’t breathe—he buries his face in them.

‘You’re so perfect,’ he murmurs. ‘Oh Lata, don’t ever leave me again.’

6

Kareena Kapoor vs Rest of India

I’ve had a horrendous night with little sleep and nightmares that I don’t remember. I’ve also got this nasty feeling in my stomach—like I’m about to sit for an exam but I’ve ended up preparing for the wrong subject.

It feels like déjà vu—only I am also naked and my thighs feel like jelly.

Sid is fast asleep beside me—he sleeps on his back, sprawled across the bed with his left arm across my chest. I gently push it off me and get up.