DECEPTION

1

Asraar nearly dug his friend's grave when he slapped his back, laughing at his joke, "Don't fucking touch me."

Wisps of cold air escaped his mouth.

"What happened, brother?" Asim's laughter died in his throat the moment Asraar spoke, he cocked his eyebrows, taking a step back as he raised his hands in surrender.

Zarrar told Asraar to calm down and turned to Asim, "He's fine. Lead the way."

Asraar straightened as he'd been leaning against the Prado and threw the cigarette on the dirt road, he walked over it, crushing the stub beneath his Italian shoes. He wrapped his shawl around his shoulders, following his friend as cold air nipped at his warm flesh.

"Why did you bring us, here?" Zarrar inquired, looking around at his less than respected surroundings. Their faces half-hidden, they had their shawls pulled up to their noses. Women lurked in the corners, slaves to men's desires who buzzed around them like fucking bees.

Red light area.

Old, young, drunk, wasted.

Addicted.

"There's a woman, here who's famous for her moves. She'll be dancing, tonight. I come every Thursday. Her eyes, her body... it's intoxicating... she's fucking... delectable," Asim sighed, dreamily. His thumb feathered against his lower lip.

Asraar's lips resembled Asim's when Asim's trance broke, pulled at the corners when they saw Zarrar look away from the immodest woman, dressed in a sari that left nothing to the imagination even in cold. She winked at him and he hurried along.

Sure, Zarrar Alamgeer accompanied Asraar Alamgeer but it didn't mean, he enjoyed it.

"Hurry, hurry," Asim said, lightly shoving Asraar and Zarrar up the narrow staircase. The disorderly house was in the worst state, imaginable and Zarrar had seen worst. It was no place for anyone. The walls bare of any colour cemented stairs, dust collected in heaps at the edges. Women lingered giggling, laughing.

Zarrar stumbled on the second step and flinched, his surroundings overwhelmed him, his forehead slick with sweat. A woman dipped down to help him, draping an arm around his broad shoulders, "Let me help you, Sahab."

Zarrar gently eased her hands off his body and rose to his full height, taking two stairs at a time so he could join his brother and friend who stood at the top of the coiled staircase, sporting smirking mouths and twinkling eyes.

"Sahab, naye aaye ho? (Sir, Are you new here?" The woman asked, Zarrar halted. He didn't turn around, the woman leaned against the bannister, showing off her deep cleavage.

Expecting him to look-

to feast.

"Nahi." (No.)

Asim stopped Zarrar from adjusting the shawl over his face once he joined them and rubbed his index finger along with middle finger against his thumb," Yahan sirf paisa bolta hai. (Money speaks, here.) You don't have to hide."

Asraar Alamgeer lost his friend as soon as they entered the room, he was left alone with his brother, awkwardly standing at the threshold of the room, searching for a spot to sit in the conjusted space. Asraar Alamgeer put a hand on his brother's shoulder as he leaned to whisper in his ear, the serene music drowned his voice," Mein dekhloon ya jaana chahtay ho?"

Asraar's lips perked up when Zarrar pointed to a secluded corner. Maybe, his brother hadn't heard him.

"Hookah idhar kardo," He told his brother.
Asraar Alamgeer couldn't quite comprehend the men's foolishness who gazed at the woman with eyes that said a little too much as he put the pipe in his mouth and took a deep drag. It's been some time he'd been sitting there, looking at the woman's back and she had yet to turn around, his brother had chosen his phone to waste his time, a pleasant smile danced on Zarrar's lips, Asraar looked away. He knew who was on the other end.

Asraar didn't know when it happened. One moment he had been only looking, the next second he was noticing her.

Asraar sat up straighter, his eyes following her every move.

She sat in the centre of the room, on the floor graced with white sheets and rose petals in an embellished tangerine dress that flattered her milky skin in the soft glow of the candles.

Turn around, he wished, mesmerised.

Her hair was arranged at the top of her head, a few loose curls teased the slender arch of her long neck, bedecked with motia k Phool. Desire tickled at his core.

Red painted nails beckoned his eyes to her small ears adorned with heavy earrings, Asraar breathed through his nose. Bewitched.

Turn around.

Something was intriguing about her that pulled him in, then like every other man in the room. Asraar Alamgeer hadn't seen her, still and yet, he was entranced. Spellbound. His heart thrummed with anticipation.

Turn around.

Asraar's breath stuck in his throat when she shifted a little, sideways and looked over the delicate curve of her shoulder, nearly knocking the breath out of his lungs when she caught his eyes.

That night when the crescent rose high in the inky sky, Asraar Alamgeer laid in his bed with his heart beating fast in his hands and his eyes wide open. She had gifted him with many sleepless nights to come and Asraar Alamgeer had accepted with open arms which didn't make him any different from the other men in the room including his brother and his friend.

The mere thought set his blood on fire.

⛓⛓

So, What do guys think of this?
What's going to happen?

This is me trying to stick to the weekly update schedule. 🍻