My Yuri Harem - Chapter 41

The days had slowed down ever since the new year hit. All the joints in my body wanted to stay stationary every single morning I tried to wake up. It was difficult to stay in my skin due to the stress that my work inflicted on me. The blood that college assignments sucked off of me had become a norm. Traveling on the weekends for my work, sometimes in the middle of the study was becoming exhausting. And yet, I welcomed every following day with open arms because I no longer had to pay my bills.

It had been ten weeks since my first kiss with the professor. Ever since then, she had been supportive and helpful towards my mental as well as financial structure. She bought the building in which I had leased a room. she assigned one of her workers to provide me with lunch whenever I felt necessary. I had realized that I Amaan didn’t know how to be a friend and was going overboard with the expenses. What I hadn’t realized was that she was smarter than she let anyone know.

For all the leisure she had provided me, she asked me to visit her every Friday afternoon. It was the most appropriate time for both of us. I had four hours to kill before I drove back to Pokhra. And I had been doing it for the last ten weeks. Ten days. On the dot. I visited her house, we talked for a bit, had dinner, and Amaan’s impulse to touch me will go through the roof. From our first kiss, she discovered her new found sexual identity. She told me it was strange for a woman to like another woman in her home country. It was almost a taboo. But the distance she had put between her past and present made her accept this newfound desire.

On my second Friday visiting her, she put her hands behind my head to deepen the intensity of the kiss. She had forcefully landed her lips on mine and thrusted her hot, slithery tongue into my mouth. With her unbalanced breath landing all over my place, I gave in to her intensity and reciprocated the kiss. The moment was blank. I didn’t feel anything. It was just two women on the bed, sharing a kiss. But I knew in the next two hours, I would be in arms of my girlfriend who was waiting for me.

On my third Friday visit, it was in the middle of our talking when she put her soft palm on my cheek. We were laying side to side, facing each other. We were talking about something that happened in college, but the moment her hand touched my face, I went mum. I closed my open mouth and stared at her. she was looking at my face with her eyes that were as deep as an ocean. She put her hand away and replaced it with her index finger. That finger rested right next to my left eye, which then proceeded to run against my skin. My cheeks were plump, and the bone was not easy to touch. But her finger that ran against the length of my face burned like fire. My face became red hot, and I couldn’t understand what was going on. I couldn’t break my gaze from her, and yet, there was something much more intimate that was going on in the same moment.

The fourth Friday came, and we were talking yet again about some random event. Out of the blue, she put her hand on my ear. Half of her palm covered my cheek, while the other half landed on my hair. Just like before, I laid there still. Every time she made physical contact with me, it felt precious. But this time, when she ran her long fingers through my soft hair, it felt generous. I hadn’t experienced this in a while. It was obvious when I realized my eyes had widened and my breathing had become reckless. Any area of the scalp her fingers touched resulted in a shock treatment for my soul. She was always intricate with the simplest things, and that made her special. Her tacking these complex bundles of emotions may have started with a throbbing kiss, but had taken a back seat since. She was cherishing the smallest things that could incite an emotion out of me. And it had started working against me.

There was no touch in the fifth meeting. She had consumed some wine before I came over. Given I was treated to her intoxicated state of mind, I craved the small contact that was established between her hands and my heart. That realization hit me like I was a victim of an avalanche. The moment I thought this woman, wearing nothing but a see-through black bra and a waist high thong, meant more than a friend to me, a million feelings flushed into my system. All I saw was a drunk woman going on a rant about her boss and what I saw was a vulnerable individual who was still discovering the wonders on life. All I could do was smile at her hijinks. But the bubbling that I felt during the drive to my home made me uncomfortable. I tried to calm my nerves. Blessing was smart, she’d immediately know if something was off. But she was not a big trouble. I could shut her down with sex. What I really wanted to know was how I was feeling towards Amaan.

It was our sixth day of meeting, and I was glad to find she was sober. Straight out of the gate she declared her desire to do something interesting. It involved me and her, which blatantly spelled out ‘sexual undertones.’ But what we ended up experiencing was much more risqu than I had imagined. Today, she revealed her kinks. She slowly unwrapped the bow that tied across her heart and spilled out all the stereotypes she had for gay women. I laughed them off, debunking some of them, while raising the possibility for the others. When her eyes glimmered with curiosity, I obliged her and offered her a demonstration. She sat on the chair, with a chocolate bar in her mouth. I had stripped off all of my clothes and entered the room in brown bra with mismatched pink panties. Nothing about my attire even whispered ‘sexy’, but Amaan clapped at the semi-naked sight of me. I gestured a thank you and did my best to do a sexy dance. With ever step I walked in her direction. She was more than pleased to see me coming at her. I ended my sex walk with sitting in her lap and bit the small piece of chocolate that rested between her teeth. My actions led to her bursting with laughter, and the room filled with our giggles and chuckles.

A week of my visits was upon us, and we wanted to do something special. She waited for me in her undergarments, and I had to correct her way of greeting a friend. She covered herself with a blanket and invited me under her covers. I did. I tried to put on the mask of fun and smiles, but I could not. Under the single queen-sized blanket, she hugged me. She insisted me to spill the beans as to what was concerning. And so I did. I let her know that our relationship was possibly getting in the way of me and Blessing. I let her know that her love was one sided, and this type of attitude was not appropriate for any kind of friends. She told me she didn’t care. But I did. I could not have her spilling out her love for me, whereas my romantic partner was Blessing. I cried my heart out, not only for her, but also for me. I thought I had taken an advantage and deserved a punishment. But she suggested me to take a deeper look into my present. She analyzed the relation me and Blessing had. And I ate it all up. Everything she said about Blessing being boring, to us having no spark between us, sounded true. She understood me, right? That is what friends do! I was happy to hear her opinion on my love life.

Eighth Friday was the week of despair. The week where I lost it all. My girlfriend, my job, my own house, everything. It was the week that bitch called me. It was the day she asked me for 2 million dollars. It was the same day I invited Blessing to a bar and broke up with her. and now, I was on my way back to Amaan’s place. It was the only place that I thought was a haven. I wanted someone to fill my arms with. I wanted to hug and cry. I wanted to wail for yet another failure in my life. And just once, I wanted a reason to end my life.

I reached Amaan’s house and her intercom fired up,” Who’s this?”

“Amaan, its me!” I said in a cracking tone.

“Its not Friday, Madonna. What are you doing here?” her tone was harsher than usual.

“Amaan,” I finally broke down crying as I continued to explain the wreck I was in. “I lost everything. I need your help. Please let me in.”

After a long static silence, she spoke,” Go home, I’ll see you on Friday.”

And then, nothing.

And there I was, on the tenth Friday of our meeting, standing right in the middle of her bedroom. Amaan was just onto the bed and had invited me under the sheets as usual. But I had a whole new set of objectives to take care of.

“Why was it so big of a deal for you that you chased me away, professor?”

“Why act so formally? You can come here, right next to me, and tell me everything that you wanted to say that day.”

“Quit the bullshit, Habib. I want to know why you chased me away that day. I started my conversation with ‘I LOST EVERYTHING’. Apparently, that was not enough to convince you to let me in. that means something. Would you care to expand?”

Amaan sat up and said,” I was with some friends. Not so much friends, but business partners. I was hinting of me being homosexual, just to see if they’d accept me. Right then, you chimed outside. When I buzzed and heard you in distress, I wanted to meet you, but our conversation was being heard by other people. I panicked and gave out a cold response.”

“Cold? Habib you left me hanging all by myself. You could have come to see me, but you didn’t.”

Amaan hesitated before speaking. What she did say completely blew my mind.

“I didn’t know where you lived.”

I was on the verge of tears again. Who was this strange person I have been with?

“YOU BOUGHT THE GOD DAMN PLACE! HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW WHERE I LIVED?”

“I, actually, didn’t buy it. One of my friends did.”

What the hell was this woman doing to my brain?

“So I have been living off of someone’s charity?”

“What does it matter? I was the catalyst in the whole operation. In a sense, it WAS me who rolled the snowball.”

I was silent. I was analyzing the audacity she had for trying to stay face. I was shocked as well as amazed at her tenacity.

“Amaan, I am leaving.”

“Next Friday, then?”

“No. I am leaving for good. I am leaving you. I am leaving my past. And I am leaving my shitty luck behind in this godforsaken country.”

“Listen. Wait.” Amaan quickly leapt off the bed and dashed to stop me from leaving the room.

“Madonna, I’m sorry. I didn’t behave appropriately. Please, I apologize. But let me listen to everything before you leave.

And so I did. I told her about the break up. I told her about the bland relationship we shared. I told her about the call.

Amaan earnestly listened to everything I said, and calmly took a deep breath. After a couple of seconds, she opened her eyes with glimmer and passion. The bright & broad smile she displayed made me sour in the soul.

“I have an idea.”

I had tired expressions all over my face.

“Listen to it before you show complete disdain for it. You don’t want to freeload, right? Then why don’t you work for me?”

I would be lying if I said I was not interested. “What are you proposing,” I asked.

“You can be my personal assistant. At university, we are no more than professor and student. But at home, I am your boss. I will pay you well.”

I pretended to think about it, but I already knew I was going to take it.

“Think over it. Let me know. It would work in your favor in many ways.”

I tried to play hardball.

“I don’t know, it sounds too good to be true.”

And what did you know, it was an offer out of hell.