I was off on a trip, a trip that definately changed a lot of things and the way they used to work. Infact, now they work even better.
Anyways, I have always liked the traditional indian ceremonies, except the crowd of people that I hate to pretend to, its silly, but there I have to pretend to be conservatively good, the way those elder wants to see the ‘good girls’. It exausts me, emotionally, all the time. But this time it was good, cause at the end of the day, I was able to shrugg off the traditional indian lady’s attire, and get back into my normal bold frame of mind. And as the cherry on top, I had Ember there to appreciate and enjoy that change of frame.
Of course, I must say the biggest turn-on was a moment when I saw my henna[mehendi] decorated hands, holding him down, while almost molesting him, against his confort level. Something was beautifully arousing in that scene, the irony, the interesting turn of events. The henna decorated hands, which normally represents indian feminity and its submissive beauty , were inflicting pain, a total opposite of what they are thought to be ‘supposed to’.
That meet, indeed, proved to be strongly intense as I somehow expected it to be.