With both legs safely tucked away in a separate blue bag, I stuffed all my belongings together and pushed the mound of cement over what remained of Sunaina, not of any use to me. I watched her cold body shudder for one final time before the black cement swallowed it.
I move around the figure, allowing my eyes to wander from the legs till they settle on the curvaceous bums protruding from the sexiest hips I had ever come across. Ah, that touch! I still remember the bus; bus no. 271 during that ride back home when I met her or rather felt her for the first time.
I was on my way back home from the bar some three weeks ago when the skies decided to open up. I took shelter under a crumbling bus stop. Some minutes later, a loaded bus, a 271 showed up cluttered with people. Knowing it would drop me a couple of lanes from my house, I pushed my way in hoping to find a seat at the back but soon the crowd made me move ahead where three burly guys sandwiched me near the seat reserved for ladies. I was having trouble standing on my own with the heavy bag slung on my shoulder, holding the bar above when all sensations came rushing back to my head on spotting this woman climb in from the front.
My eyes immediately focused on her bottom, full and shapely with narrow hips. I could sense her discomfiture as she struggled past the male crowd in front. I pushed back with all my drunken might to give her space between the person ahead and me and sure enough; she squeezed her frame in what was the only possible space she could find. I relaxed my lower body, allowing my senses to enjoy the touch of her satin suit. I inhaled deep, feeling the smooth round curves slam against my thighs. The bus braked abruptly, pushing our bodies forward and I nearly lunged to hold her in place as my hips catapulted into hers. She flinched a little and we were soon back to our original positions. This time I decided to use the liberty and dropped my hand down, pinching the flesh, feeling her waist down. The woman squirmed and turned to look at me, shifting uncomfortably. I didn't withdraw my hand, letting it lie there. She turned again, eyeing me with disgust and for a moment, I thought she would shout at me and make a scene but beyond the contempt I could recognize that shadow of hopelessness, of mute acceptance. I knew that feeling too well. I would not move my exploring palms from her bottom. She swatted at my hand without turning back this time. In response, I pinched her bottom hard, making her squeal. I was just about to put my hand inside her salwar to cup her bottom when I felt her tremble as she pushed me with her elbow and fought her way ahead. I did the same.
She alighted at the next stop though I was sure it was not where she wanted to get down. I did the same. She walked faster sensing my presence on the lonely road in the climbing night. I did the same. She broke into a run, her posterior inviting me to follow. How could I reject?
“Help, help!” she shouted too late, looking ahead at the deserted street, the lurching trees and the couple of dogs barking in the distance. I rushed ahead, tackling her with my head. Both of us lost our balance, she desperately trying to wring herself free from my grip even as we fell into the thicket of bushes over the slope to our left. Blood oozed out from little lines across our exposed skins where the thorns pierced our bodies. Our rolling came to a halt as we tumbled down some hundred meters below the elevated road, me on top of her. She opened her mouth to scream again and I grabbed the first thing that came to my hand and banged it against her skull with full force. The sturdy wooden branch snapped into two upon impact, a piece flying in another direction, while a small fragment rested in my hands. The woman convulsed once before going still as thick blood rained on the dried leaves beneath our bodies. A strap protruded from her handbag and I pulled it out.
“Manorama Reddy,” the identity card from FGI Technologies said. I smiled in glee as I felt her breathing become shallow. I jumped aside, tugging at the knots of her salwar. With a single yank, I pulled it down along with her floral underwear. I smelled it once before stuffing it in my bag and pulling out the chainsaw. I calmed down my excited heartbeat and calculated the geometrical requirements in my intoxicated mind. I put the machine just above her waist. The extra skin could be of use in the final process. I pulled the plug and the blade stirred to life, gnawing through bone and splattering her blood over my body and face. I could feel Manorama trying to scream her agony even in her dying state. Half an hour later, I hugged the bottom and wrapped it in plastic before storing it in a separate blue bag. I rolled the remains down the ravine and set fire to thicket that was surrounded by blood. I wiped the blood off my face with Manorama's salwar before throwing it into the fire and then changed into a spareset of clothes that I carried in the bag, after dumping the soiled ones back into it. Just when I was about to leave, I saw a small fox trot warily in the corner, scared of the fire but eyeing something a few yards away from the thicket. It seemed like a toe to me.