Wayanad was one such place. I arrived there exactly five minutes before time, as I always do. I walked down to the basement, found myself a cubicle an... made myself comfortable.On the walls, there were pictures of artists like Bob Marley, Bob Dylan and other few Bobs I didn’t care to notice. I saw Kashish as she walked down the spiral staircase to the basement. I waved at her, she saw me and joined.“Hi!” she said with a half smile, “Thank you for coming here, I almost thought you won’t.” Her. My life growing up has been a series of short cameos, operatic arias where crescendos are levels of orgasmic bliss, legal and i*****l, safe and dangerous, planned and spontaneous.Girls are by nature, are better at it than boys or men can. Men whip their dicks out in the extreme, or play body footsie with a game girl or frustrated woman, touching her ass and praying for a positive feedback.Girls on the other hand plan and plot their dress coding, knowing what to wear, and how to wear it, it was. More

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