Waiting Under Cover

Ni would be awaited under the covers. The stage set needed darkness, for which the window curtains were too narrow. Nights these two and a half or three months at Doreen’s one had made-do with only the windows nearer the bed covered. This morning for what was in mind a few of the plastic laundry clips would be employed to stretch the curtains right the way across and perhaps some added fabric sought. Eight o'clock morning sun on the eastern side of the block usually flooded the room–not what was required on the morrow. Usually Ni was received in the old tropical pink sarong an old girlfriend had brought back from Polynesia a number of decades previously. It was time for a change. A change was as good as a holiday. Disruption, surprise, ambush was important for what one wanted drawn from Ni. The young woman would be forced to follow another script and improvise, screen test unannounced. Ni's precious erotic reactions. Usually the toying took the form of withholding the sexual union, the coition for which Ni had been primed with some extended preliminaries. All this was good and well as far as it went; the purpose had been served. Now it was time for a change, a holiday. The rather poorly masked sexual hunger was one problem. More importantly the long established set piece of the sarong, often the hard-on, clutching, brief resistance from the gal, needed refreshing. It was like a tired room, or sofa was it an interior designer was employed to enliven. Give a little spurt to proceedings, introduce some tension, throw in a stretch of quicksand and storm. Usually, like one or two other Indo lovers over the stretch, Ni wanted to promptly remove her jeans or skirt, and then her blouse or tee, all rather perfunctorily early in the piece. There was concern about crumpling of course, getting back home on the train and passing muster. It was the same with panties, where it was more like soiling that was the problem. Usually Ni would be prevented, strong-armed indeed from removing the panties. Jeans could be peeled off, it was no fun rubbing against the hard fabric of denim; the top was a lesser concern. But in either case what was disallowed was the orderly disrobing like an office girl preparing for bed and thinking of the morning. Fuck that to be blunt. On the morrow now however precisely this was going to be allowed, in fact encouraged. First contact on the morrow was going to be under the covers with many millimeters, in fact the whole entire of naked flesh in immediate contact first off. Bang, like in a forest glade in Tarzan’s day. Door to the flat left open–there would be no hotel on the morrow, Doreen would have to cope if she happened home and Ni the same. Usually Ni messaged on leaving her condo and nothing thereafter. At the door when there was no-one to greet her she would be tentative, but proceed. Bedroom door closed Ni sheepishly approaches, opens. Right from the outset uncertainty and tip-toeing: Ni would not know whether her lover was in the kitchen, or the bathroom perhaps. She would look around the corner to scan the former. Whether the landlady was home would be an unknown too, no need spoil the fun. In the days prior Ni had been warned the old Chinese auntie must be respected, no loud moaning or Fuck me Pee! pleas. (The whole show did depend on Doreen in fact being absent at least in the morning, going off to work early. The week before she had departed early every morning. If she was at home it would be difficult bringing the thing off.) So, door slowly opened. Seeing her lover in bed in the darkened room Ni would enter and close the door behind her. Pee. Why you not...? She could not say exactly what. Why what not Ni?... Why you...? Bedcover up high and aircon the same. Ni would be hot from the walk over from the station. Sakit Ni. Come to bed.... There had been no mention of sickness the night before, another surprise; it would explain the lack of reception. If Ni had brought lunch she would want to settle that first, perhaps use the fridge. Was auntie home would be a question; she had expected so. Come to bed Ni. No.... Well.... Little alternative left her. And she did want to join in that bed after all after a long month of absence. What was the out-of-sorts? Ni would disrobe, folding her clothes neatly. (A chair or desk space as usual vacated in advance, Ni would immediately find for herself.) Well then, you had her where she was wanted now. The disrobing would not be observed, it had always been inconsequential. Disrobing had never really been of any interest, void of any sexual charge. Men were supposed to delight in it were they? Counter-case. The disrobing would not be observed, turned away, either toward the wall or under cover. Joined then, skin on skin first contact top-to-toe, Ni's enquiries might be answered. Not immediately, but not necessarily prolonged delay. The other would be prolonged as usual, in this new manner now. Sakit. Itchy.... Gatal: itchy was their “horny.” As in “I’m itching for it!” It had taken the best part of five years to twig. Not the kind of useage you found in the dictionary. In her throes Ni had often used the English “itchy”, Oh she was itchy, itchy Pee. She had never used the bahasa. The matter was understood well enough, but not properly comprehended in fact. The teasing, the withholding worked a treat with Ni. Yet the woman had never used the original term that she was in fact translating. Gatal was itchy: gatal poor thing, in serious need of scratching. The rice padi, the heat, the volcano steaming and rats scurrying in the darkness were strongly evoked.