Third Date

All week, Uma had been actively obsessing about tomorrow; her date with Ajay. It was the weekend, the morning of, and soon to be a subjectively dreadful one. Uma couldn't relay her discontentment the first time around, thanks to her foot-in-mouth syndrome, further exasperated by familial upbringing. Damn traditions -- it's not like she's by her peers, only her family's guilt tripping. She didn't want to spoil the mood when Ajay came to meet her parents on the second date, break the news that she thought he was overly disingenuous; or just plain difficult to be around. Ajay talks, a lot.

Which is why Cafe Lona, the java jive in the middle of uptown, felt like a good place to put him down. It was loud, dirty, the perfect place to drown out the man's ramblings, and finally get a word in. She once jested that Ajay composed himself like an American fifties newscaster, accent to match. If only her humor wasn't wasted behind a facade of eloquence.

"Cancel it!" Marcel shouts over the phone.

Uma breaks away from her friend's words of advice, "I can't! He's both overly polite and suuuuuch a wanker, he'd reschedule! Help me!"

"If you don't tell him it's over, there's gonna be a fourth date and you know it!"

That thought made her squeam. Uma had been looking for the right moment to end things from day one. Her insecurities, diluting a simple F-U wrapped in prose had no bearing if once again, Ajay avoids his (gently-worded) termination. She had to end it.

"When do I tell him?! If I say it after we sit down, he'll have time to convince me otherwise. But if I wait til after the meal, and he pays for it, I look bad.

"Pay for your own fucking meal, girlfriend! Split the check! He- he's not gonna hold you hostage with the check book!"

"Oooh, he might. First date, he didn't want me to pay because he was afraid I wouldn't have enough money for an Uber. He's that dastardly."

"U-Uma, Uma. I've gotta go. Dad's starting shit, I'll talk to you later."

"Ok-ok, I understand, put a broom between the two of 'em."

Marcel is the first to hang up, leaving Uma with the not-unpleasant dial tone. Heaving a sigh, Uma sits up from her bed, glancing down to the clock on her phone.

"Damn you, clock."

With 45-til, Uma begins her trek downstairs, neglecting to dress for the occasion beyond her already admittedly cute green cardigan with floral t-shirt, and jeans. Maybe she should dress down? Sweatpants? No; act aloof, don't overthink. Be courteous, but firm. She could've used Marcel on her date had he not been otherwise occupied with his family's drama. Grabbing her purse off the bottom railing, her attempt to sneak past her parents is cut short when her mother turns the corner, bumping into her.

Her mother looks down on her, raising an eyebrow before speaking, "Where are you going?"

"My date... with Ajay."

"Oh!" she exclaims in surprise, but welcoming, "Ohhh, I like him. He has such a baby's face, Ha! Whiskers like a cat, too." Her mother's laughter simmers down, placing a finger to her lips with a slight scowl, "He's very passionate about that job of his... what was it?"

"Āmā..."

"Don't worry, it'll come to me. Don't keep him waiting! See if he can come for supper."

Sure, yeah. Another outing with Ajay. That's just what she needs to put the man behind her...

---

What a crummy day. Uma could only envision what other plans she'd have scheduled were her hands not tied. She could be out on the town, she could be riding the rapids -- not that she ever expressed interests in kayaking -- but still! And there was the man himself, Ajay, approaching fast from a block away, and still -- still talking to her!

"Uma! How was your week? We had such -- such a lovely time over on Calvin & Hall, the whole office shelled out for Shelly."

Could she complain, really? A guy who doesn't know when to shut up? He talks himself up, a lot. Who doesn't? She's the opposite, can't spew out a word for herself if it meant something obscene in another language. They say opposites attract.

Ajay stops lock-step in front of her, "There's an opening if you feel like applying. We could be the power couple!"

There. There it is. That seemingly innocent (if also overly-bearing) comment hits like a backhand. Ajay had been pushing job opportunities left and right ever since their first date. Out of niceties, she assumes; no man wants an apoplectic woman still finding herself in her twenties. Uma smiles, however disingenuously. The guilt tripping stops here.

"Ajay... I've been good. Thinking about this day all week."

Damn; Uma recants in her mind. A fear her cliche statement might've posed an outlook more endearing. Stupid foot-in-mouth syndrome.

"Ahem, coffee?"

Ajay nods, "Yes, lets!"

She follows a few steps behind, trying to detract her presence as best she can, hoping Ajay could learn he'd be just as happy without her in the picture. Endlessly yapping on about his 'job at the office' without a care in the world. A part of her wanted now to sour the mood, just get it done with while they were only one foot in the door. She knew she couldn't, having to necessitate food comas as a means to get the words in. Maybe they have something filling...

"Do we just take a seat anywhere, or is there a server to take us?" Ajay turns to Uma, unaccustomed to the simple peasantry.

"Uh, I think we can just sit down-"

"I'll be with you two in just a moment, sirs." A waitress shouts from across the floor, ducking back behind a half-wall. Ajay smirks back, denoting a form of playfulness -- but it just felt cruel. Always when within proximity of Ajay, Uma felt her luck turn cold. The universe performing feats to chastise her nerve, while she can only fluff her hair in an attempt to present more feminine.

Another waiter steps up, waving an arm as one would in an overtly affluent dinery. Graceful, but with a bit too much pizazz to maintain the joke.

"Booth? Table?" the waiter chokes; probably a new hire.

"Booth-"

"Table. Sorry, Uma -- did you say you wanted a booth?'

"Table's fine." Uma strangles her own brain cells. Ajay would get his frickin' table if that's what it takes to break things off with him.

For what it's worth, it could've been a lot worse. Ajay could've started their street-corner conversation spilling out that his grand-mother, or cat, had died; whiskers of a cat. That he slipped on a banana peel or got gum on his shoe. She didn't want to jinx it, being seated at the most visible table on the dining room floor was bad enough.

"We can switch if you're not comfortable here." Ajay interjects, noticing Uma squirming over her cramped knees.

"No, It's fine," Uma grits through her teeth, "I'm just adjusting."

"You're the boss," Ajay grins, plopping a menu in front of his face.

The general coffee klatch menu; nothing special. Just as milquetoast in variety, she imagined a life with Ajay would be the same way. No way out thanks to her personality, unable to defend herself, her desires. If she were to fall in the man's rut, she'd be stuck there without a ladder. What would she do once she dumps this dead weight? Do something with turquoise? Visit Paris? Tokyo? Her parent's consistent pestering to visit some family in Nepal had been unyielding -- but maybe she should go, just to get away from it all; to find herself.

The waitress from before saunters over to their table, a wide grin on her face. Rather unprofessionally, too. This blondie, with, by the looks of dust bunnies in her long, flagellated hair, forgot a few buttons on her uniform.

"My, my, you look happy!" Ajay beats with the waitress.

"I am happy, thank you for asking!" she chimes blithely, "My name's Joanna, and if I may, can I start you both out with something special for today?"

"You forgot a button, miss." Uma interjects.

"Oh, shoot. Gal's worst nightmare, am I right?"

Both Joanna and Ajay laugh out loud at the apparent joke. Ha. Totally not horrifying or embarrassing were it to happen to her. Further, Uma couldn't contend with how well he and Joanna were hitting it off. To her own logic, had she said everything Ajay was saying to the waitress, she'd surely have expected an awkward silence, and maybe some spit in her food. And yet, the two continue chatting; without -- fucking -- breaks! He's quite the social butterfly...

"So, Joanna... what would you recommend?"

Right there it slowly dawned on her. Uma couldn't believe she didn't see it before. That she'd been stressing about her own agency of the situation, incorrectly assuming Ajay felt some spiritual connection when around her. That it all might've been just who he is. Holy crap! Ajay would be fine without her! He's not going to be heartbroken by some naive, androgynous presenting, first-gen immigrant! Hell, he might take the waitress home after their little spat; she definitely had a career, Ajay would dig it. She'd be cool with that.

It wasn't so simple, was it? Sure, there'd be some surprise -- maybe tears. But after that they'd both be home free. Uma couldn't commit to the idea that Ajay and Joanna would start sucking tongue the minute she calls things off, ride off into the sunset and such -- but, maybe with someone else? Being able to stare across a crowded room to pick someone out, and know perfectly, that they're the one for you?

Uma was talking about herself at that point...

Uma still had her heart. Hell, it was the very reason she asked her parents to set her up in the first place. Ajay was a no-go, but she still craved the intimacy expected in a relationship. When she's free of the man, who will she find staring back at her?

But there he was. Out of the corner of her eye, emerging from behind the dutifully fleeing waitress. A man, strong arms, with a shaven head of hair. By complexion and features, of some descent from Nepal, or maybe Tibet. He could've been mistaken for a Buddhist monk had his attire not looked so... street-wise. Uma felt a stirring in her chest the longer she looked at him, the kind of butterflies you might get buying a car at a reasonable price... or something.

Uma couldn't explain it, she'd never felt this way over a man before -- much less, for a man who she's never spoken to. Her friend too, Marcel, was at least conventionally attractive, and he would never get this kind of reaction from her. The second the man turns his blue-eye gaze on her, Uma jumps in her seat.

Fuck; she swore in her own thoughts. The man's gaze was offending; perfection, even, and in that moment fireworks went off in her mind. She couldn't even feel guilty with Ajay sitting one tiny table's length away, full well knowing she still had to break it off with him. One glance leads to another, and the next thing she knows, this handsome stranger is walking over to their table!

The closer he drew, the further the thoughts of Ajay slipped from her mind. Her eyes remaining transfixed to the stranger, with each step spreading a euphoric tingling down her body. Not more than a minute after learning of this man's existence, he'd already shared a feeling to her so profound. Who was he? She had to meet him, at the very least get a name.

The man smiles, baring teeth, one gold. "Hi."

"Hi." Uma only has the strength enough to say.

Without hesitation, the man turns his head ever so slightly towards Ajay, but dead in his eyes. In an almost humorous intonation, he asks him:

"Is this seat taken?" He relays, pointing his finger in the general vicinity towards Uma.

Uma scowls, not enough for Ajay to notice, still aflood in the ecstasy. The worry that her date had any sway to halt this introduction lingered. Ajay turns to him, eyebrow raised, and so casually replies:

"Not at all."

Just like that. No before nor after. The conversation had ended thusly. Uma was in the clear.

Of course, the stranger returned to act like Ajay was a non-variable, taking Uma by the hand to pull her up to her feet.

"I'm Bodhi."

"Uma."

"I hope I'm not interrupting your... date."

"Not at all."

Bodhi's few words strike a passion, further channeling into his sudden compassion.

"How are you feeling?"

"Amazing."

"Would you like to feel even better?" he asks, as if that's even a question.

Uma nods, fully believing Bodhi's assumed capabilities.

Bodhi gently unhooks the belt around his leather pants, letting them both fall from his legs, to the floor with a subdued clatter.

"You're a beautiful woman, Uma."

Uma blushes intensely. Did she have the words to reply, or could she only nod along to whatever he had in store for her?

"I'm usually... so shy, when I'm around strangers, I almost sat in a booth."

Bodhi chuckles, almost puzzlingly, "It's good you didn't. I might've missed you."

Bodhi sets free his burgeoning erection; stealing Uma away from this droll coffee house into something more surreal. The scene couldn't feel more -- what's the word, romantic? Or sensual, despite taking place within a restaurant only moments ago she'd considered kitsch. Every sound, smell, sight, was further accentuated by Bodhi's presence. Uma's only displeased opinion, was that her timid nature could've sabotaged their fated encounter.

But that worry quickly fades, enamored by the now. Bodhi's touch could no longer be described by the pleasure taking hold of Uma, rescinding her senses entirely into nothing more than a healthy glow. Her body radiated all this love and joy for the man standing before her.

"Undress."

How could she not? Even though she didn't feel obligated to follow his word, like he somehow deserved her devotion, every validating thought about why she should seemed to feedback into more pleasure. Her hand slowly rises, slipping the cardigan off her shoulder, and placing it down onto the chair beside her.

The silent Bodhi in front of her made her think that her work wasn't done. Far from it, with still many layers to give over. What's the point of such a request without full undress? At that, Uma got to work. Stripping the floral tee off her chest, her ratty jeans, her mismatched undergarments as well -- all of it, onto the pile, until it was just her dark skin gleaming under the incandescent lights.

"Sit here." He replies, pointing to their table.

Uma leans back, thrusting her chest out as she collapses onto the elevated table, barely enough room for her hips to fit. Bodhi takes a seat at Uma's chair, atop her pile of clothes, taking a fleeting taste of her thigh, her clit.

"Ass, first."

Uma's upside-down gaze of Ajay rightens, turning her head up to see Bodhi pointing at his own slick cock. A single thought of glee crosses her mind before commencing.

Uma rises, then lowers, straddling the man on the chair for all to see. Her arms cradle Bodhi's neck as she adjusts onto the man's penis, his hand copping her ass cheek, her lower back. She sinks onto the man, feeling herself stretch out, accommodating his size. When there was no more to do, Bodhi enlists her once again:

"Start riding me."

Even in Uma's elated mind, something crossed it that made her feel unprepared. She couldn't guess Bodhi's expectation, nor presume her own ability be fantastic for something she had never done before. All eyes were on her -- and, the only man that mattered. Hesitantly, she complies, starting to rock against his dick, picking up her pacing as it goes on. A simple friction sends spasms up her back, already crying out in ecstasy, nowhere near actual climax. Everything around the two of them is drowned out by her squealing, by the stars forming in her vision as she's overcomes with pleasure she never knew was even possible. Bodhi's cock provided a sense of completion in and of itself; the rest was just a bonus.

Bodhi starts to match the rhythm, thrusting ever-so-slightly from his position, grinding deeper every time Uma slams back onto his groin. Once more, Uma puts her full weight on the man, ceasing all movement as she shares a gaze squatted on his lap.

Was there anything to say to the man? A gracious thank you for making her whole weekend? As she stares into his eyes, she realizes that she can revel in this naked silence without guilt, because that's what he wants too; that's what he'll get. Uma maintains eye-contact with Bodhi as she delicately raises her butt to his cockhead. Teasingly, she lowers back down, hinting a coy smile to the bemused man, still uncertain of her following actions. Gradually, Uma picks up speed, faster and faster, closing her eyes as the sensations of his cock become more and more intense. She grabs hold of Bodhi, supporting his fall backwards the further she pushes her breasts against his body, all while bouncing her ass on the man's cock; a show for Ajay had he cared. Uma shutters, on involuntary words she can't help but back down to not ruin the moment. A whimper of lust escapes her lips, all the right nerves contracting in her back as Bodhi's cock hits the deepest it's been. She moans again, and again, and Bodhi takes notice, letting go his own reservations to the silence to embrace the animalistic grunts he's been holding back. The two of them deadlocked in heat, Uma's full-body spasms send them from their ergonomic reclining to the linoleum floor; barely skipping a beat.

Bodhi's hands grab hold of Uma's flesh, the pleased woman thrusting above him. She shouts unintelligibly, hell-bent on making the man cum, her own orgasm trailing not far behind. Bodhi squirms under her unforgiving rhythm, tensing in preparation of bursting inside of her. Five thrusts later, a squealing Uma feels a warmth drenching her rear. Bodhi kicks out at nothing, grunting loudly as he feels the tension subside to his groin, freely convulsing inside of Uma; she too, collapsing onto the man as she reaches her peak. Not inspired by her orgasm, Uma simply lets out roar of satisfaction, giving way to the silence afterward.