The Last Supper


Riyaz and Monica cannot seem to get enough of each other due to the night’s hot encounter when they broke up. Thirsty for each other, they wonder if they made the right decision of getting intimate in bed before shutting things off. Will it be wise of them to get back together?

Riyaz had given the word — he didn’t seem to make it work out with her anymore. They both hadn’t seen the best of each other since ages now. The spark was lost long ago. But they still loved each other; enough to want to make their love stay a little longer; enough for Monica to crave his eyes running all over her body; enough to ache for that touch to arouse a gush of longing. Even though the decision they both had put forward had wounded her heart; made her numb. But the bile in her stomach was still churning when she imagined days when she would not be able to see his face. She wanted to touch him,

kiss him, hold his body close to hers, invite that lover in him; she wanted to lose herself in him — one last time. His eyes red and running were exaggerating his silhouette of a shattered man. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, knowing that he loved it when she did that.

She went for it. She tried to pull him closer by his heavy shoulders that reached her knees. He had already dropped a few pearls of tears on her feet. He lifted his dejected frame, now his shoulders on the level of her chin that looked like a chiselled end of a diamond. It felt like the sharp end of an icecube when it touched his chin. She instantly recognised the saline taste left on her lips as she kissed each of his cheeks. Months of hurt were bursting out of their bodies now. Never had they wanted each other so much as they yearned now when they were leaving each other for good. Her fingers crawled in his hair like pernicious snakes, and he didn’t intend to stop her. He leaned forward to taste the sugary lip balm she always put, and in the depths of each others’ mouths, they discovered a fire of passion leashing through their flesh and bones. In no time their lips embraced every inch of each others’ bodies.

They were crawling in the sheets, feasting like hungry tigers tasting blood for the first time. The photo frames, which she had so fondly decorated her headboard with, shattered on the floor. With the temperature of the city falling to four degrees Celsius, they were sweating in the sheets like old men in a

sauna room. Their bodies hurt each other several times. The bed creaked with each groan Monica released, growing louder with their movements. Riyaz was panting. His fingers dug in her skin like a chef kneading his dough for the most important meal of his life. Her fingers later pulled his hair so hard, that there was aggression in the way he turned and pushed her in retaliation. She shook like a broken machine, and he found a closure maybe even unknown to the souls departing to heaven. They had finally released their anger. No word was said, but they had done all the talking in the bed. The fingerprints and bite marks on Monica’s body told her how angry he was at her for always trying to control him. Riyaz’s hair in her hands and the slits of her at his back shouted at him for not being emotionally available when she needed him.

This was the closure they needed. Their feelings were out in the open. Their love had never vanished but they knew they were no good together anymore. The fire in the bed had never been so intense though. They left each other with the memories of passion and an outburst of emotions. Both of them knew that they did not need any other memory of distress and anger. They just needed the warmth of their best night together.

He moved out of her flat the very next day. She looked like a divine angel wrapped in sparkle dust as she kissed him goodbye, dressed in the warmth of her bathrobe as the tiny drops of water from her hair dropped on his shoulder. That was it. No more noxious outbursts from her from time to time that could ignite his anger to erupt like lava. She didn’t expect someone to make small gestures for her anymore. The toxicity was out, but the love still kindled in both of them with that night of passion.

Monica piled herself with work. She was biting more than she could chew. Even though she tried meeting new guys from dating sites, none had the spark to fuel her curiosity. She and Riyaz had never flirted even the slightest bit when they had started dating. They just bonded over the vibes their personalities exhibited. No other touch could heat her body as Riyaz’s touch did on their last night together. This was starting to slowly diminish her soul to ashes. Contrarily, Riyaz had the time of his life after his break-up. He hooked up with a bunch of girls with whom his colleagues had set him up. There were a lot of parties, drinking, and smoking up, until one day when he realised he wasn’t living at all. How hollow his life had become without Monica’s touch of love. He missed caressing each part of her body before making love to her, all night long. He missed the way her hair smelled that night when she sat on top of him — naked — with her hands on his chest, head bowed, her long locks reaching his face, as they indulged in an intense session.Within two months, both of them were slowly withering. Riyaz craved each day for the sweetness of Monica’s lips. And Monica was restless all the time. She would look at Riyaz’s pictures on her phone, remembering how his eyes peered into hers when she looked at his face that night, lying below her. Each part of her body that he had kissed that night ached with a yearning for more. Nothing would satiate her.

Every time she wanted to give him a call, a fear of not getting the same response from him grappled her.

In the end, it was Riyaz who picked up his phone to dial Monica’s number. Exactly two months from that night, spring was just setting in, even in their emotions towards each other. The cold had bid goodbye.

Monica didn’t pick up the call. She did not know how to react. She left her office and bought a few cigarettes before she could call him back. She lit one up as she spoke to him on the phone. Complaints broke loose like a swarm of bees evacuating from a broken hive. They spoke to each other in incomplete sentences disintegrated by their respective sobs.

Both wanted to start things up again. They decided to meet. Yet again. Monica knew exactly what she wanted to do when they met again. She invited him over; hit the shower; dressed in her kinkiest lingerie that accentuated her breasts with straps and laces; instructed him to bring condoms. She grabbed and put on her bathrobe when she leapt towards the door as the bell rang. It was him. Riyaz wore the same shirt he had worn that night. He also wore a smile on his face. He was holding a bouquet of pink-and-white peonies and a bag of hot food from her favourite Chinese takeaway joint. Daylight fell on his face, highlighting his cheeks rising to the highs of elation. She couldn’t contain her excitement and hopped for a hug immediately. There wasn’t any talking this time as well. She placed the bag of food in the kitchen and grabbed his face ina jiffy.

His hands moved to her breasts and down to the string of her bathrobe, undressing her, exposing the curves of her body. Her hands were running through the curls of his hair. They were kissing passionately. He lifted her up in his arms and proceeded to the bedroom. The voids in their bodies since that night were getting replenished with fits of desire. That night was revived. It was only sweeter with the ignited passions of the lovers uniting into a synergy of fervour. Riyaz proposed marriage to Monica later that night when they went out for dinner. He knew he couldn’t do without Monica anymore.

They promised to see a therapist together. She made a ring out of the leaves from the bouquet on their table and asked him to slide it on her finger. This is what their break-up sex had done to them — did not let them move on, made them yearn for more. Their make-up sex sealed the deal — both of them were made for each other.

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