Sex & Samosas. Jasmine Aziz

I guess. All Indian girls can sway their hips, na?”

      He laughed out loud and then laid me back on the chaise so that I was sitting in the same position as he had been. He walked over to the stereo to change the c.d.

      I looked down at the folds of fat curling down my stomach and quickly grabbed my shirt off the floor to put it on while Manny’s back was to me. I couldn’t find my hair clip so I let my curls hang loose around my head.

      Manny turned and looked over his shoulder at me. “It’s my turn now,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

      I nestled back on the chaise and drew my legs up to my chest eagerly clapping my encouragement.

      With extreme drama, Manny tapped the play button on the stereo and in moments the heavy tabla beat of an Indian song began to thump through the air. I instantly burst out laughing from the expression on Manny’s face. He mimicked the actions of a Bollywood actor in sync with the lyrics. His expression changed from sorrow to fleeting happiness as he thrust his hips rigidly from side to side. His mocking impression of an Indian movie star dancing in the rain and looking around imaginary trees had me holding my sides with laughter.

      He chose to pick up his clothes and begin to dress instead of undress. He put his pants on and as soon as he raised the zipper he began to thrust his hips back and forth while holding his hands up in a “U” shape over his head. At one point I think he was swatting an imaginary tabla drum but it looked like he was playing basketball.

      “For the love of Bollywood please stop!”

      “Here comes the strip tease part,” he said between jagged breaths. He reached behind him and turned the music up. As the bangra beat rose to its crescendo, Manny started to undo his pants slowly. He had them half way down over his boxer shorts when he stopped to smack his butt to the rhythm of the beat. With his pants half way down his legs he began to hop up and down again flailing his hands about as though he couldn’t decide if he should pull up his pants or push up the roof.

      “You’re killing me!” Tears of laughter streamed down my face.

      Manny pounded the power button off in one fell swoop and then leapt onto the end of the chaise by my feet. I could see beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead.

      “That was awesome!” I said clapping my hands. “You were amazing!”

      Manny flashed me a big smile and dramatically patted himself on the back.

      After we caught our breath, we both looked back at the coffee table and the game. I think we were both wondering at the same time if we should continue playing or just start having sex.

      “You tired?” he asked.

      “No,” I said quickly. “Maybe a little,” I added a second later.

      “That wore me out,” he said with another big smile. “It was fun though.”

      “It was really great! Do you want to keep playing?”

      Manny paused before answering. “Let’s have one more go of it if you want. Do you want to?”

      “Sure,” I said straightening out in the chaise. “It’s your turn to spin.”

      Manny spun the wheel and it landed on the section marked Challenge again. He picked it up and read it aloud: “Tell your partner exactly what you would like to do to them. Be explicit.”

      I instantly felt myself get tense.

      What was I supposed to say? Talking dirty was something that had never come naturally to me with any of my partners. It wasn’t like I was a complete prude. I could call my lady bits by their common cat reference even though it felt weird but stringing out a full sentence with the word was much more awkward.

      “Mahjong, how does one talk dirty exactly?” I asked in a study break for calculus once.

      “You just say wicked things to your lover while you’re having sex.”