First Kiss Or Molestation?

By Shivani Singhal

From the moment he first looked at me, I can still remember those eyes of his, following me around when I entered his class. He was preoccupied, talking to other girls and ladies in the group, still he couldn't help but to notice me. To this day, I have no idea what he could’ve possibly seen in my looks to have been so awestruck. I had never found myself to be that beautiful. But now when I try to see myself from his eyes, I can see what riveted him.

Before class started, he adjusted his beanie. His eyeballs were rolling with me, following me, left-right, as I searched for a spot to settle in. Coincidently, there was only one place available; right behind him, to his left. When he saw me stopping there, he crimsoned. That was the first time our eyes met, and a timid, sweet smile appeared on his lips — but he instantly suppressed it, perhaps fearing that it would be noticed by others in the room. There were around eight women in our Zumba group, and I was the youngest — sixteen years old. He was twenty-five, at that time.

I was terribly shy throughout the class, and I couldn't follow any of the steps. I fumbled badly that day and he, many times, chortled at me. I had lost all the confidence to ever go there again. It had all happened because of him — because that entire time, he had been looking at me, smiling sheepishly, and I was a timid girl back then.

After his introductory class had concluded, we had to tell him whether we were joining or not. I found every girl and lady too impressed by his charm; and I felt unspeakably discouraged and insecure, in that moment. He had become the heartthrob of everyone in attendance. And I wasn't the type who would vie for him with everyone. I decided to leave him for other girls and picked up my knapsack to leave.

But suddenly, he called out to me before I could step out. My heartbeat rose. He asked me for my name very confidently, then, with a warm smile, added, 'I hope you are coming for the next class.'

I smiled and nodded.

I really didn't have the confidence to go again, but still, I showed up, because of his words to me that he hoped I would. In the next class, once again, he paid special attention to me. Throughout the class, I wondered, ‘why?’

The batch was set up as twelve classes in a month. After each class, all the girls would surround him, cackling ostentatiously just to enamor him. They were all growing infatuated with him. Even new girls had joined the batch in the middle of the session. I never had the guts to go and talk to him about any random stuff — but I would always find him eying me whenever I moved to leave the club room silently.

Then one day, ten classes later, only four girls, including me, showed up for the class, as it was teeming heavily outside. After the class, I stood outside the club, waiting for the rain to stop… but it didn't seem like that was going to happen any time soon.

He came out and saw me, as the other three girls went off. He stood next to me shyly, and then asked me how I would go. I told him I had my scooty parked over there and was waiting for the rain to stop. He smiled. He then continued with random questions, like where I lived; which school I was in; why I had joined his Zumba class; and whether I was satisfied with his classes. I was crimsoning as I answered each question. I couldn't hide my excitement. He was smiling and blushing, too. I knew he was a very handsome guy; every girl and lady of his Zumba batches was mad for him. I knew he was very charming and winning girls was a piece of cake, for him. And how easily he had engaged a modest girl like me in a conversation! I knew he was only standing there to talk to me. But why? His every question was ready as soon as I had replied to the previous one. I told him about my good and bad habits, and he told me about his dreams and ambitions. He was a mature boy. He was a man, and I was a schoolgirl. For me, 'ambition' was an obscure word, of which only literal meaning I knew.

When the rain finally ceased, he followed me to my scooty. I said goodbye to him, after getting ready to ride — but he stopped my scooty. I was young and imprudent, but still, I could sense that he didn't want me to leave. He offered to ride my scooty and safely drop me off at home — to which I agreed immediately, very shyly. And my heart started thumping violently, and I could not stop blushing. I fear now that my cheeks had really reddened dark then.

I held him by his waist as he rode my scooty. It was so romantic. I could sense a tingling in my stomach, and my heart rate was shooting sky-high. Twice or maybe thrice, he hit the brakes suddenly, which had made me jerk upon him and touch his hot body. My nose was very close to his nape. He blushed at me many times in the rearview mirror, and I shyly looked away each time. I could see his face in the rearview mirror that he was laughing and blushing throughout the ride and was looking at me in the mirror over and over.

He stopped as we drew near to my condominium. He got down from the scooty, while I remained seated. He told me that he’d parked here because he didn't want anyone to see him dropping me off. He then asked me how the ride was. I couldn't say anything, I could only chuckle. He was blushing too. I thought to myself, ‘oh god, he liked me.’ He liked me, out of all those girls! And then, suddenly, I felt his lips pressed against mine, his warm breath on my cheeks. His hands moved to embrace my waist tightly. His tongue was forcing its way into my mouth. It had happened so quickly that I was dazed. I hadn't really seen him coming. But I could feel the thrill happening inside my body, which I had never felt before. My heart was in my mouth, and my lower belly was bursting with excitement. I felt rubbing against my bosoms, and it got really hot between my thighs, like a fire was igniting there. I wanted to touch myself there to soothe it down.

And then he withdrew. I was all abashed, and he looked confounded, like he didn't know what to say next. So, he left.

I reached my home all ecstatically, and had a dreamy night, replaying, repeatedly, that moment in my head. I began to imagine a whole life with him.

The next morning, my mom and dad woke me up, furiously. One of the neighbors had seen us last evening and had reported it to them. After I confessed about the kiss, my mom slapped me hard.

My parents rushed to that club to talk to him and the manager. I was trembling at home, thinking about what would happen next. I didn't want my parents to scare him away. I had liked him. I guess I was in love with him. I had imagined him as my future husband. So, I called him on his phone from the landline. He answered, and whimperingly, I narrated to him everything that had transpired. He couldn't say a word. I took his name a couple of times. And then, I cut the call and called him again; it rang and rang. I called back, and this time, his phone was switched off.

I locked myself in my room and cried awfully. I felt hollow inside. He hadn’t spoken a word. That could only mean: it meant nothing to him. Our first kiss, me, meant nothing to him. Was he getting ready to flee, I wondered!?

When my parents arrived back home, they told me that he had bolted out, and that the club authorities promised to take the severe actions against him, like he wouldn't get another job in the city.

After a few days, my parents calmed down somewhat, and lectured me for a long time on molestation and related issues.

Today, I am forty-four years old, my darling! I wanted to tell you this story because today, you have come up to the same age, as I was when I met him. I don't want you to feel hollow and used, as I did. I don't want you to dream about your beautiful life with the wrong boy. I don't want the woman inside of you to be touched by a guy like him because, my sweetheart, your first time will always be very special for you.

By Shivani Singhal