God, that would have been just terrible, she thought, laying her head back on the pillow in sudden relief. Perhaps Aman was of the slow ‘n’ steady school of seduction, rather than a fast mover. Riva had recently confessed to Susan how appealing she found Aman’s eager adoration of her, and Susan had wagered that Aman’s good looks were a hugely contributory factor to Riva’s inability to tell him to bog off. Susan didn’t know, however, how much Riva enjoyed Aman’s company. The fascinating insights his background gave her into her own Indian heritage were a large part of his appeal. Above all, it was his gentleness that drew Riva in, a rare quality in the boys she generally met. And now here she was, wrapped snugly in Aman’s duvet while the poor bloke lay shivering in a sheet on the floor…
Later, Riva would try to understand what prompted her to do what she did next. After all, she had never been particularly promiscuous. But there, in the early hours of that February morning, Riva raised her head and called softly out to Aman before stretching her hand down towards him to touch his arm. He looked startled as he opened his eyes and his confused gaze met hers in the half darkness.
‘You must be freezing,’ Riva said, whispering for some unfathomable reason. ‘Come up here,’ she invited, moving the duvet aside. Aman sat up and she saw that he was still wearing his jeans and a T-shirt. ‘Take off those bloody jeans,’ she said, smiling, as he got up. When he had done so and climbed in to lie next to her on the bed, she rubbed her hands up and down his cold arms to warm them. By now Aman looked wide awake, his dark eyes shining in the diffused moonlight filtering through the curtains. While Riva rubbed his shoulders and then his chest through the thin cotton of his T-shirt, he cupped her face in the palms of his hands. They kissed gently at first, then more passionately. They began to undress each other, Riva sitting up in bed and raising her arms so that Aman could slip off her top before lying down next to him again. As he kissed her again, pressing her down on the bed with the force of his ardour, she lay down and arched her back to tug off her jeans. Finally, when they were both naked, their bodies shining in the half light, they made love, tentative and fumbling at first. When Riva felt Aman come, she held him close as his body trembled against hers and they stayed like that for a long time.
When they finally drew apart, Aman lay back, his head next to hers on the pillow. Riva could hear him panting slightly. A few minutes later, he spoke, looking at the ceiling rather than at her, his voice shy.
‘You might have guessed, that was my first time.’
‘I didn’t actually,’ Riva replied, but she was being kind. Even though she wasn’t hugely experienced herself, it hadn’t been hard to tell from Aman’s nervousness that he had never had sex before. It also suddenly occurred to Riva that they had not used a condom and she cursed her stupidity for assuming Aman would have had one handy.
Aman’s next words followed a logical thread. ‘Was it the first time for you too?’ he asked quietly, now turning his head to look at her.
His expression was strangely hopeful and Riva wondered momentarily if she should tell him the truth or not. But, honesty being one of her unfailing traits, Riva replied, ‘No, not really.’ Aman continued to look at her questioningly and so she elaborated. ‘There was a boy in high school I was quite mad about. And I sort of thought he loved me too. Well, he said he did and I believed him but, the following week, he went on to say the same to my best friend who slept with him too. So that was that!’
They were too tired to talk much more and soon Riva drifted off into slumber again. In the morning, Aman got up while Riva was still asleep and made two mugs of coffee. She deliberately kept the conversation light and friendly as they sipped their drinks, recognising the faint embarrassment that now lay between them. Riva hoped it would soon dissipate, for she was keen to stay friends with Aman. He seemed like such a nice lad, and so different from the boys she had met so far. She was held rapt whenever he talked of India, her own memories of the place she had come from now being far-off and fuzzy. There was, however, little chance of her relationship with Aman going any further than friendship – despite his astonishing good looks, they were a bit like creatures from different planets. Besides, it somehow felt wrong to be going out with someone who was even less worldly wise than her! Finally finishing her coffee, Riva got out of bed and pulled on her clothes before going down the corridor to use the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, she popped back into Aman’s room to collect her bag and coat. He was sitting on the edge of his rumpled bed, holding his empty coffee mug. Riva felt a rush of sympathy for the little-boy-lost expression on his face. She bent and kissed him on the cheek. ‘We must do that curry another time,’ she said. Then she grinned, straightening up and waving a forefinger at Aman, ‘No, really a curry, not using euphemisms now!’
‘Shall I walk you back to your hall?’ Aman asked.
‘Don’t be daft, it’s broad daylight now so I think I’m perfectly safe. Typically sweet offer, though, Mr Khan. You’ve obviously been dragged up proper. Not like the boorish lads one usually gets around here…’
Nevertheless, Aman did accompany Riva down the corridor of his hall of residence and she kissed him lightly on the lips before stepping out into the morning sunshine.
He stood at the door, unable to take his eyes off her as the black of her duffle coat disappeared around the corner, feeling his body surging with an odd mixture of hope and disappointment.
LONDON, 2009
The foursome emerged from the Comedy Store, blinking in the bright lights of Leicester Square. Riva shivered as a cold gust whipped around them and swiftly pressed herself up against the warmth of Ben’s coat, slipping one ungloved hand into his pocket.
‘That was good, wasn’t it? Terrific to see Paul Merton return to form,’ she said, looking over her shoulder as she talked to their friends.
Joe, walking a few paces behind, replied, ‘Good is an understatement. Those guys are so clever. Certainly one of the best uses you can put twenty quid to in London.’
He pulled on an ancient woollen bobble cap, earning an affectionate slap on his behind from his wife.
‘For God’s sake, Dr Joseph Holmes, where do you manage to unearth that ugly bit of headgear every winter!’ Susan said in exasperation. ‘I thought I’d sent it off to Oxfam last spring.’
‘You nearly did. Very sneaky, if you ask me. But no flies on me: I managed to retrieve it in the nick of time,’ Joe retorted, putting both hands to his hat and pretending extreme relief.
Susan rolled her eyes skywards. ‘I’ll soon have to scrape it off your head!’ she muttered, linking her fingers with his and dragging him along to keep pace with Riva and Ben. ‘Fancy a coffee, anyone?’
‘More like a stiff brandy on a night like this, methinks,’ Ben said.
‘Too right,’ Joe grinned. ‘There’s De Hems just around the corner from here. Hopefully the crowd’s thinned out a bit by now.’
‘Or Bar Italia just up Greek