Hearing your footsteps, my imagination is on fire.
And, the silk around my body, shimmers with desire.
Admiring myself in front of mirror, preparing for this rendezvous,
No matter how I look, I love dressing up for you.
7 years ago I started my blog. And I entered the magical world of writing. I was living in the Boston suburbs. After finishing my work and household chores, I still had some spare time. I remember the exact moment I clicked the 'B' icon on Google and I created a Blogger account. I knew only two Bloggers that time - Amitabh Bachchan and Lisa Ray. I had no idea what it takes to be an accomplished blogger, but I was excited to be a part of a community which is independent and expresses its views without any inhibition. I must say, it has been an amazing journey only because I have learned so much.
I started by writing poetry, then I started writing articles and now I can write anything. Professionally, I am a content writer for a couple of websites. I ghostwrite for two more agencies based out of North America. I write sponsored articles on my blog. I tweet, post Facebook statutes, answer Quora questions, and mention brands on Instagram for money. Brands even consult me for social…
My poetry is not for foreplay. It's for after sex. When you'll light the Marlboro and move to your side of the bed, my poems will be the breath of fresh air in a room filled with smoke. But do not underestimate me. My poems won't be sweet, gentle or mellow. They will be brazen, brutal and bold. I will present them on a sharply-edged knife. The blood on the knife will be hot. Fresh from the wounds I don't allow to heal. You will take a drag from Marlboro - but served with my sinful words - you will feel as if you've snorted cocaine. You will not get high, though. You will see the world in a different light. Murky lanes leading to posh hotels, board rooms and high-rise apartment buildings. In one of those aesthetically decorated rooms, you will see a man f*****g someone's life just for a little pleasure. You will see him getting hard on someone's misery. A woman pleasuring herself while watching a wrecked home that she takes all credit for. To watch someone se…
Men have a weird obsession with boobs. I get that. I even laughed out loud at a party in New York when a drunk friend being called out for objectifying women said - and I quote his exact words - 'We don't want to hear any word against boobs. Woh hamara passion hain.' He was sincere to the level that if there was a club of people extending their solidarity to boobs - he univocally and unanimously be the president.
Cut 2 to a couple of weeks back. I was at a meeting. The girl I was interviewing had no clue of the work she was supposed to do. She was hot and she might have used her body to get things done or undone. But I'm a thorough professional and a girl who only gets "cute" as a compliment, I was adamant on grilling her. In my desi head, I was like - Achha tu hot hai, behan chal ab khelte hai rapid fire. One question after another, I roasted her. But 15 minutes later, things got awkward. She started stripping.
She threw her hair back revealing her sexy collar…