Circle of Trust

Chapter 17

He was a ninny. A scared little furball scurrying away to hide in the obscure bars of the city. Varun tossed back the last of his whiskey and raised his glass to the bartender, silently admonishing the voice in his head to shut the hell up.

Eight years ago, this had been his favorite watering hole. He had spent every single night after marriage, getting drunk here after having mind-blowing sex with his wife at home. It had been a routine – work, home, sex, bar, drunk, and back home on the living room couch till his wife woke him up with a steaming cup of coffee. One look at her scrubbed face, devoid of all make up, her long black tresses curling and dripping water at the tips, her soft lips swollen and pink from his kisses of the night before and he would lust after her again.

He had never stayed long enough to have breakfast because he was scared he would take her right there. What kind of a jerk loved one but lusted after another? His instant attraction to his wife to the point of needing to sink into her warmth every single night had terrified him.

So he had run. Every single night, he had left her cold after taking his pleasure and scurried away into the darkness like the vermin he had been.

What was he now? For the last five nights he had been doing the same. He had cried in her arms that day. Like a new born baby needing his mother’s attention. She had clutched his head tight to her chest, wrapped her arms around him and held him till he could cry no more. All that fear of losing her that had bottled up over the years had come rushing out. She hadn’t said a word, but had rained him with kisses, wherever her lips could reach, she had imprinted him with her warmth.

She had been the one to stray, but he was the one guilty of that crime. How twisted could that be?

He raised a toast to no one in particular, suspending his full glass of whiskey in the air for a while before he brought it down to his lips.

He couldn’t face her because he couldn’t give her what she wanted. His best friend was dead to him, and he wasn’t going to resurrect him let alone their relationship just to prove to his wife that he trusted her.

Now that was a twist he didn’t get.

So he drank, every night at different bars ultimately ending up at his old joint.

“Fancy running into you here,” a familiar voice said from behind him.

He squinted into his whiskey trying to figure out whom that sultry voice belonged to, but came up short. A whiff of perfume tickled his nostrils as the lady in question leaned on the counter, tipping her head down to look up into his eyes.

“Tej!” He swiveled his bar stool to his right to take a closer look at her. “You look gorgeous as ever.” He twirled two fingers in the air to indicate her curly locks.

“Compliments…from you! How drunk are you?” She slid up on to a bar stool and rested both her elbows on to the counter.

She clicked her fingers and nodded at the bartender. The guy, barely out of his adolescence, beamed and rushed towards her, tripping on the way. It did nothing to dim his radiant smile.

“You have a fan! Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” He mocked, tilting back his head, and raising his glass to her.

Tej whipped her head around almost hitting him smack across his face with her bounteous curls and narrowed her kohl-laden eyes.

“Is it me or are you this cynical with anyone who is close to your wife?”

His eyes widened in shock. He quickly placed his glass back on the counter.

“Hi Tej, your usual?” the bartender asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Tej turned around with a smile. “Hi Peter, yes please. You are a darling,” she crooned, and the bartender’s eyes twinkled bright in the dim lit bar.