Team Blog-O-Holics-Week 2-14th post-#GameofBlogs by BlogAdda

A TIME TO DIE

Read the 13th post by Parichita Singh  Here

The bitch was trying to hide her face and go with her candy boy. His hands clenched by his side, anger heightening the blue viens on the back of his palm. The man took a deep breath, to keep himself calm. He felt so lucky, at that point of time, for the bitch didn’t know that he knew all about her.
He quickly flagged down another taxi  and before the driver could react, he rasped, “Peecha karo!” His voice did not encourage any argument. The driver knew when to keep quiet and they snaked their way across the heavy Mumbai traffic, keeping their target in front of them.
The man seethed, impatient as his mind raced ahead of time. The bitch enjoyed making out in the backseat of the car. Was she having fun? And Cyrus? That chit of a boy? All smiles and cuteness to attract bored ladies while having a heart of a dastard.  Involuntarily, a whimper escaped his mouth, startling the driver. His fingers slowly traced the leather of the back seat, his mind conjuring the smooth skin of Tara. Will it pain? He let out a short laughter, his heart again dancing in anticipation.
Suddenly the cab stopped. Looking up, he saw Tara being helped out of the cab by Cyrus. The gentleness in Cyrus’s eyes made him want to retch there and then. But he was a patient man. He would wait it out. His time was coming soon.
He tossed a few hundred rupees note at the driver and followed the couple ahead. The driver shouted something about it being too much. Who cared? He would get plenty after this assignment was over.
Why was Tara going into the attarman’s building? What were they doing here? Slowly like a ray slicing through a thick cloud early at dawn enlights the earth similarly the truth dawned to him. The bitch was on his trial! His heart skipped a beat and he pulled up the hood further and skirted behind a tela, kept at the side of the road, laden with plastic pots and knick-knacks.
Tara rested her head on Cyrus’s shoulder, her strength seed to have left her. That bastard was slowly caressing  her  back. His well manicured, long fingers were sensuously tracing her small back.. His eyes saw red. His nerves started pounding on his temple. Breathing heavily, he tried to control that anger. This was too public a place. He had to wait. She had, after all escaped the last time. This time there will be no mistake.
Still holding Tara by her shoulder they seemed to make their way towards the tall building in front of them. And then a deafening noise shook the very earth he was standing on ….

The Story is continued by Dola Singh Basu

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