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Hold on...Please.

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Blurb

He tasted so good. Initially he did resist but soon I could feel him surrender and then he pushed me back with a thrust. We both breathed heavily.

"What the f**k! What was that?" he panted.

"I was protecting you dude! A' thank you' would be fine!" I said licking my lips. Oh! Even the after taste was good.

"Don't be over smart. You used your f*****g tongue!" He spat on the ground.

"Why....didn't you like it?" I giggled.

"What do you think?" He still rubbed his lips to his jacket's sleeve.

I laughed. I knew he was just close to kissing me back but I also knew he wouldn't confess that. I looked at him in the dark knowing exactly where he stood. "Are you following me?"

"In your dreams!" He growled. "I think I might have something that belongs to you!" He held my gun in his hands. He might have pulled it out from my pocket while we were kissing.

Ansh is an Narcotics officer. Sandy is the son of a drug lord. Sandy is head over heels for Ansh but Ansh is here to unravel the mystery of a murder. Ansh's girlfriend was killed and Sandy's father is the prime accused. Will they come together or will they go against each other?

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I always imagined airports as  portals to different worlds. Different life. They have a tiny world of their own. Fancy counters, good looking people, good food and overpriced food. People coming home, people leaving their home, some crying, some laughing, some super bored, some so immersed in themselves to give a s**t. I was numb. I was too tired. I stood at the gates of the international departure with a small backpack, it had some cash, my notebook...actually my sketchbook and some snacks. I was holding my phone in one hand and my passport in another. My throat was super dry, eyes wet. My heart was racing but my legs were motionless, somehow bearing my weight. Sweating in the winter like crazy. Thinking ways to protect myself from the torture if I get caught. I was running from home. I watched people come and go. Huge luggage. Their family and friends were seeing them off. Hugging, crying, clicking pictures. I stood like a zombie, watching with heavy eyes, swollen eyelids, checking my phone almost every two seconds. Praying to God that my Aunt sends me the tickets and does some sort of arrangements for the visa. It was getting difficult to breathe. I could feel my heart in my throat. Beating loud and fast. I was about to pass out when my phone beeped. 'FLIGHT BOOKED!' read the notification bar. I cried out loud. Imagine a fifteen year old boy sobbing at the entrance gate of an airport. Yeah, I did turn some heads that day. In about ten hours, I finally entered the portal to my new world...London! Now almost seven years later I still manage to turn many heads. With my looks of course. Like my aunt says, I have grown into a really handsome man. I am not bragging but I have rejected many women. Good looking women. I will come straight to the point...I like men. I have had many casual relationships and many partners, some true loves and some nasty stalkers.   So the thing is, when I ran away from home. I didn't have all my documents with me. My dad had them. Leaving a country and getting to another without the papers was not easy but not impossible. My aunt did all those works for me. Making the papers. Fooling the embassy. Getting a visa and many such things. I know all that sounds bad and illegal but that's what my family does. Everything illegal. Everything that's a crime and is punishable in front of the law. I love my aunt. Actually she is the only person I trust after my mom. And yes...My dad is a criminal. Not  a small one but he is the boss of a f*****g underworld company. Arms, drugs, trafficking...all sorts of things. I studied fashion for seven years in London. The city of art and rich fashion. I didn't formally attend any school but aunt got me to meet many respectable fashion companies and stylists. I, in short have had loads of fun and parties. Worked with wonderful people. Totally forgot about the life I was supposed to live. Never ever thought of getting back home.      I, Sandy, was a free bird now. Or at least I thought I was! One night when I was returning from a party, Aunt called. Her trembling voice and rapid breathing made it difficult for me to understand a thing. I rushed to her house. I was half drunk, my eyes half opened and I was probably reeking of alcohol. I fell twice while going through the lawn to her door. The door was open. "You have grown well I see." A familiar voice greeted me when I entered the house. I wished to never hear that voice again. Square frame spectacles, two layer leather jacket, big thick beard, and a stick in his left hand. He limped as he moved, the stick was for support. I then realized, that was probably due to the gun shot. I shot him in his left leg, right before I ran off.  He was actually taller than me but now as he had to hunch a bit, he appeared shorter. He had become quite old and weak I could see but...but the eyes...the eyes were the same. Looking for a prey. The anger and frustration that I could feel in his eyes seven years ago had remained the same I guess. I didn't realize when my eyes had started forming a tear layer just by the appearance of the man, Pankaj Dwivedi. I looked around. Four really big and muscular men stood with guns. "Dad...Dad...I" I could not form sentences. I could again feel my heart in my throat beating loud and fast. Something that I never felt in these seven years. Dad stepped towards me. Slowly with a wicked smile. I gulped and a started taking my foot backwards. He was crippled but still his speed was good. He grasped my hand and handed he an envelope. I trembled with fear. I was sweating from everywhere in the cold. "Sandeep Dwivedi! come back or this is the last time you see your aunt." he uttered pointing towards the couch where aunt lay unconscious. "Tomorrow, come to the address with the papers. My men would fly you back home." saying this he stormed out of the house. I rushed to my aunt and began to shake her vigorously. I was afraid, confused and shook. It didn't even appear to me to call the ambulance. But fortunately my aunt slowly opened her eyes after a minute of my stupid cries. "Pankaj was here!" she mumbled. "You should..." tears rolled down her cheeks. This was the first time I saw her like that. Weak and insecure. "I met him..." I ran my palm over her head to calm her down a bit. Aunt had a weak heart. Too much excitement was not good for her and I guess that was why she passed out. "I will be going back mum!" Yeah that's what I called her 'mum' the closest to mom. "He wants me back....and I should..." "But you know he will get you to business. All that brutality and...what about your dreams?" I pressed her head to my chest and we both cried our heart out. "I am not supposed to have any!'  the loud sobs went on for quite some time until we fell asleep. So here's the deal... I loved my life in London but I love my aunt more. I knew that man could do anything for his profit. Kill anyone. Can even kill his family. He killed mom when I was twelve. He killed her and I could do nothing. I still live with the guilt, the terror and the pain. Thus, I, Sandy was no longer a free bird. I buried my dream of becoming a world renowned stylist in the soil of London as I boarded the private jet the next day which would take me back to my reality in India. 

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