TEJRAN - U MIGHT BE A PLAYER BUT IM THE GAME

chapter 1

KARAN KUNDRRA POV

Mindless sex - there's lot to be said for it. No commitments, no expectations, and no disappointments ; I just have to remember their names. Who was it last time? Jojo? Jeanne? Jody? Whatever. She was some nameless fuck who moaned a great deal both in and out of bed. I lie staring at the rippling reflections from the Thames on my ceiling, unable to sleep. Too restless to sleep.

Tonight it's anusha. She doesn't fir the nameless fuck category. She'll never fit. What the hell was I thinking? Closing my eyes, I try to silence the still, small voice that is questioning the wisdom of bedding my bestfriend....again. she slumbers beside me, her sleek body bathed in silver light of the January moon, her long legs entwined with mine, and her head on my chest.

This is wrong, so wrong. I rub my face, trying to erase self loathing, and she stirs and shifts, waking from her doze. One manicured fingernail skims down my stomach and over my abdominal muscles,  then circles my navel. I sense her sleepy smile as her fingers slip towards my happy trail. Catching her hand , I bring it to my lips. "Haven't we done enough damage for one night nushi?" I kiss each finger in turn to sting out of rejection.  I'm tiered and disheartened by the nagging, unwelcome guilt that gnaws at my gut. This is anusha, for heavens sake , my bestfriend and my brother's wife. No ex-wife.

No. Not ex-wife. His widow.

It's a sad, lonely word fir a sad, lonely circumstance.

"Oh karan please. Make me forget," she whispers,  and plants warm wet kiss on my chest. Tossing her fair hair away from her face, she gazes up at me through long lashes, her eyes shining with need and grief.

I cup her lovely face and shake my head. "We shouldn't " "Don't " she places her finger on my lips, silencing me.

"Please. I need it."

I groaned. I'm going to hell.
"Please", she begs.
Shit, this is hell.
And because I'm hurting, too - because I miss him, too - and anusha is my connection to him, my lips find hers and I ease her onto her back.

When I wake up, the room I'd flooded with bright winter sunshine tHt makes me squint. Turning over, I'm relieved to see that anusha is gone, leaving behind a lingering trace of regret and note on my pillow

Dinner tonight with daddy and stepson?
Please come.
They are mourning, too.
                             
                                                               ILY x

Fuck.

This is not what I want. I close my eyes, grateful to be alone in my own bed and glad, despite our nocturnal activities, that we decided to come back to London two days after the funeral.

How the hell did this get wo out of hand?
Just a ightcap, she'd said, and I'd gazed into her big blue eyes, brimming with sorrow, and known what she wanted. It was the same look she'd given me the night we learned of omi's accident and ultimately death. A look I couldn't resist then. We'd almost danced the dance so many times, but that night I resigned myself to fate, and with an unerring inevitability I fucked my brother wife.

And now We'd done it again, with omi laid to rest only two days ago.

I scowl at the ceiling. I am, without doubt, a pathetic excuse for human. But then so is anusha. At least she has an excuse, she's in mourning, scared fir her future, I'm her best friend. Who else could she turn to in her hour of need? I'd just pushed the envelope on comforting the grieving widow.

F

rowning. I crumble the paper note and throw it on the wooden floor, where it skittles to stop under my sofa thats piled with my cloths. The the watery shadow floats above me, the light and dark seeming to taunt me. I close my eyes to shut them out.

Omi was a good man.
Omi. Dear omi. Everyone's favorite...even anushas, she did choose him after all. A vision of omis desolate, broken body lying beneath a sheet at the hospital mortuary appears unbidden in my mind. I take deep breath, trying to dispel the memory, as a knot forms in my throat. He deserves better then dear nushi and me ..... his wastrel brother. He didn't deserve this......betrayal.

Fuck.

Who am i kidding?

Anusha and I deserve each other. She scratched my itch, and I scratch hers. We're both consenting and technically free adults. She likes it. I like it. And it's what I do best, fucking some eager, attractive women into small hours of morning. It's my favorite recreational activity and gives me something to do - someone to do. Fucking keeps me fit, and in the throes of passion I learn all I need to know about a women - how to make her sweat and if she screams or cries when she comes.

Anusha is a crier.
Anusha has just lost her husband.
Shit.

And I've lost my big brother, my only guiding light for the last few years.

Shit

Closing my eyes, I see omis pale, dead face once more, and his loss is a yawning space within me.

A irreplaceable loss.

Why the hell was he riding his motorcycle on that bleak and icy night? It's beyond comprehension. Omi is..was..thebsame one, the safe pair of hands, lord reliable himself. Between two of us, it was omi who bought Honour to our family name, upheld reputation, and behaved responsibly. He held down a job in the city and managed the substantial family business as well. He didn't make rash decisions, he didn't drive like a mad man. He was sensible brother. He stepped up, not down. He was not prodigal mess that I am. No, Im the other side of onis coin. My specialty I'd being the black sheep of the family. No one has expectations of me, I make sure of that. Always.

I sit up, my mood grim in harsh morning light. It's time to hit the basement gym. Running, fucking and fencing, they all keep in shape.

With dance music hammering in my ears and sweat rolling down my bac, I drag air into my lungs . The pending of feet on treadmill clears my mind as I concentrate on pushing my body to its limits. Usually when I run, I'm focused and grateful that at last I feel something...even if it's just pain of bursting lungs and limbs. Today I don't want to feel anything, not after this fuck awful week. All I want is physical pain of exertion and endurance. Not the pain of love.

Run. Breathe. Run. Breathe.
Don't think about omi. Don't think about anusha.
Run. Run. Run.

As I cool down, the treadmill slows, and I jof through the final stretch of five mile marathon, allowing my feverish thoughts to return. For the first time, t have a great deal to do.

Before omis demise my days were spent recovering from the night before and planning the next night's entertainment. And that was about it. That was my life. I d9nt like to shine a light on the vacuity of my existence. But deep down I know how bloody useless I am. Access to a healty trust fund since i turned twenty one means I've never done a serious days work in my life. Unlike my older brother. He worked hard but then again he had no choice.

Today however will be different. I'm executor of omis will, which is a joke. Choosing Mr was his last laugh, I'm sure ...but now that he's interred in the family vault the will has to be read and ....well, executed.

And omi died leaving no heirs.
I shudder as the treadmill comes to a stop. I don't want to think about the implications. I'm not ready.
To be continued...
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