A Friendly bug ( repost)

He stared at her. She had curled up into a bundle of bed sheets. He looked again moodily. He could make out; she was pretending to be asleep. Normally, he would sleep earlier and she would always bully him out of sleep with her silly stories and monotonous anecdotes about her growing up days. Today was a different case. He knew she could never sleep like the way she was pretending. Atleast not after that row.

It was quite usual for them to squabble. Today, after one such row she had not spoken to him. It was a spark-flying squabble this time. He tried to remember how it all started. So many things followed, so much said, scabs of old hurt torn open-he really couldn't remember. Not that it mattered, and definitely not owing to his diminishing love for her, as alleged by her. In their six months of marriage there were numerous flair-ups. It had become so normal that no one bothered about it. What bothered them was the making-up. That was the toughest part. Who would let go the ego and loom first. They tried their best to out-maneuver the other into taking the first step.
She continued her way. He looked again at her moodily. Today, by pretending to be asleep she was scoring one off him. She knew he hated to go to sleep, on a quarrel. She was redeeming on his displeasure. The onus was on him, the back said. He tried hard to shift his attention on the book. He turned the pages noisily. She appeared unmoved.

She was a classic woman. As always a woman does, she always kept track of such things. It was his turn to make up. He should apologize and beseech her. For the life of him he couldn’t remember. He loathed it when it was his turn. Somehow it stuck to him to make the first move. Last time around he had taken her for a long drive. They had stopped at the Starbucks and had Frappuccinos. It was past midnight and they had returned way into early morning. He had struggled to keep alert the next day. He almost slept in between an important meeting. Yet he had returned with a long-stemmed yellow rose and with a card, her favorite color for a rose.

He looked at her again. The distance between them bothered him. He knew he wouldn’t get a sleep with an unsettled simmer between them.

He looked at her again, for signs of softening. But she was undeterred; in fact she appeared to have taken a harder stance. She knew how to kick him and to punt where it hurt the most. He frowned at her as she started to expose her body. A large space formed between her pajama and T-Shirt. He could see her pink panties now. She growled something and turned. She calculatingly positioned herself so that he could see her mounted breasts. They appeared no less than peaks. He felt aroused. A warm sensation of craving formed and shrouded his body, as if to further annoy him.

With much exertion, he resisted the lure to tickle her in those spaces of skin that formed between her clothes. Her skin appeared pinkish, glowing and soft. He longed to walk his fingers gently over her exposed skin. He knew she would be hyper sensitive when touched; rather feather-touched in those places. It would set her off. It would make her get back to him, then a wrestle which would make them forget their brawl. But he wouldn’t do that. Why should he let himself go so easily. She would bump up her pranks on him. He too has an ego. He groaned mentally. He went back to his book. A train of thoughts followed.

As if out of nowhere a beetle landed shakily on his hand and started a curious exploration over his hairy body. His impulse of swatting it away was arrested by a wicked thought. He wondered if he dared to do it. He decided he would.

She hated insects and creepy-crawlies. She would shout at the sight of a cockroach, so much that the entire apartment building came to light on several occasions. He glanced again slyly to see if that exposed space of skin was still open for an attack. He gently trapped the insect and dropped it on the target zone.
It fell on her pajama and moved drunkenly towards her open skin. It moved over the uneven surface of her skin, like one of those extra terrestrial vehicles seen on National geographic, moving over the surface of moon. “Go baby go”, he whispered soundlessly.
One last uneven tumble and it fell onto her tender, warm navel. Stunned for few seconds, it lay on its back before moving upright and beginning its exploration upwards towards her face.

A few seconds of walk had her stiffening and he watched as her hands searched for the probable causes of that tickly disturbance. And then as her hands touched the offender, she half rose in bed with a loud scream and launched straight into his waiting arms.
“Its O.K darling, I have got it”, he whisper in his best soothing voice, with one arm wrapping her closely and with the other gently rescuing the insect onto the floor. He thanked the insect mentally, “Thanks buddy”.

He reached out and switched off the light and shifted his attention to shaking bundle of prettiness in his arm. He smiled to himself as he knew he had saved himself an apology. What was that cliché-all is fair in…..