The Ultimate Seductress or The Ultimate Bitch!

Well, what began as a normal day at the gym, soon became the record breaking hottest day for the gym-vaasis. A smouldering new entrant in her itsy bitsy track suit made a majestic appearance and suddenly the treadmill scuttling at the speed of 10.5 was not fast enough to match with the near exploding pace of the heartbeats of the ‘man’kind present there. “Who issssssss that girl?” was the question that boggled most of the male and female kinds within 10 meters of the diameter for even though most of us adorned our sexiest sport gears or so we thought for using that unisex time slot, we appeared shabby before that Greek goddess of sorts. A couple of the not-so- fair-in-the fairer sex were eyeing the damsel up and down so intently that I almost wondered about their sexual preferences. And another couple of them who were the hitherto reigning uncrowned gym queens were burning with envy or was that rage and their expressions indicated that if you’d touch them you might be electrocuted.

Okay, after such a build up, obviously you want to know about the girl-small of frame but big of assets and as we all concur-size does matter. Chalo, this should get our male readers to read on. She must be 5.5” and in early twenty something, dressed in lycra leotards that fitted so snugly at the right contours, that they seemed like second skin for her. The art of dressing is also really an art, the real skill comprises of revealing what you are showing to be hiding er, did you get that? Well, I didn’t-I am adding it because it sounds quite profound!

So, while all of us pragmatic females tied up our hair in a make-do bunch at the top of our heads to escape the heat, Madam, left her tresses wantonly open, the soft curls seductively covering the better part of her back till her well-endowed bottom. It reminded me of some fierce Maenad from Greek mythology who was so drunk in her devotion to her Lord Bacchus that she cared not how the locks of her hair alluring fell over her gleaming skin. Ah! But the lady in question was not so naive. She fully knew the effect she was having and “performed” more intently to ensure she got a “standing” ovation from those who personify the ‘I-am-only-human waala excuse’. Right from the gym members to the trainers and the cleaners-sab ki band bajee hue the ya nikal pade the, it was difficult to fathom. You know that gaping mouth expression where you can’t make up your mind if the person is happy, shocked or devastated?

Oh, did I use the word ‘covering’ somewhere above? Tch, tch, how silly of me! Well, she didn’t believe in that for every now and then she would casually put all her hair on one shoulder to make sure everyone caught a glimpse of her bare nape and the deep neck of her t-shirt from behind. What a lesson it was that day for us and I don’t mean here the lessons given in the aerobic moves!

I could feel everything moving in slow motion like in Hindi movies, when the guy and the girl are running towards each other with effortful rising of hands and legs, heads moving from side to side as the body goes slowly up and down with background score of ‘la la la la’ to match. Same was the case in this turf-those raising the dumbbells forgot that they had to bring the hand down also and the one on the cycle was paddling with such soft motions as though he was taking a nap between each rotation of the wheel. The cleaner boy kept cleaning the same spot of the mirror for what seemed like eternity and I thought the poor looking glass was going to fade away with the sweeps that day.

This was awesome for me. I suddenly lost count of the crunches I was doing as I joined the jing bang in eyeing her. And before you doubt MY tendencies-phuleeeeeezeee, I was doing it for you guys to be able to reproduce this here later to tickle your funny bones too. I have always been inclined towards constructive learning and this was an educative experience of how conniving and artificial a drop dead gorgeous stunner could be! A lesson learnt in addition-Men also go dumb when they are blinded by the sight of sex-in-a-jumpsuit.

While at 7 am like in the bloody good early morning, while most of the lesser mortals could barely wash their face or brush their teeth to smell tolerable before finding themselves being ground on the treadmill, our little Miss Minx had kaajal smeared eyes that could put Aishwarya Rai to shame and smelt of something no lesser than Channel No. 5 to rightly reinstate the effect.

I observed her game as I watched her moves. She took her place right at the centre of the hall from where she would be visible to all and sundry. She made sure she eyed herself sexily and completely in the mirrors all around. As she would bend down her knees, she would deliberately protrude her bums out, jutting out dangerously almost like the backlights of a truck-making some guys horny and some guys sweat, although they hadn’t even begun the work out yet. Then she slowly moved her hands up her sides suggestively and placed them on her teeny weenie waist. When she touched her toes, she made sure that she stayed in that position for a tad extra seconds, till her rear side had done sufficient damage to the environment.

And then came beads of sweat trickling down her own tiny frame and she picked up a hand towel. While we normally press the napkin in rough side to side motions to hasten the process, madam gently dabbed and pressed and rubbed it on her cheeks, taking it slowly down her nape, neck and upper chest. As her bosom heaved, the action had an equal and opposite reaction from the rippling chest muscles of the six-pack superior sex, watching the performance “Live”.

Then madam got on to the tread mill and make no mistake, it was a catwalk that could give the top models their run for the money. And then lo, behold a frown on that sculpted face! What on earth could have caused it despite the obvious swoon all over? And she blurted out huskily to the boy instructor, “Raaayjuuuu....” Well for all of us normal humans, we’d call out this simple common place name ‘Raju’ and for the Punjabi mundas there, it is just ‘oye Raaaju’. But madam had to stretch and prolong and heavily accent the name, so much that Raaayjuuu, appeared in a jiffy before his highness, like a domesticated puppy minus the tongue lolling out or was it really?

Madam had a problem with the music-so changed it was! Had she had a problem with the arrangement of the equipments, I am sure the guys would have not hesitated to pick up one each and come to rescue the damsel in distress.

So ten minutes passed away like this, when madam got down from the treadmill, bending her head down and brushing through her hair with skilful fingers, apparently to let some air in. Phew! I had had enough too. I needed to breathe in some air myself. The adaayein of the ultimate seductress were being dissected by the women folk as the tacky ways of the ultimate bitch. Whatever, she was much like the sizzler platter, hot and fresh out of the oven- you might not be able to have it but you can’t escape the steam it generated!

As for me, I couldn’t help wonder at how ridiculous that was and what motives could possibly provoke such deliberate nonsense. Also I shuddered to think that this ‘drill’ would be in encore mode from that day on and desperately hoped that the men and women there might gradually become immune to the disaster that had struck. Thank god for wishful thinking! ;)