💥 𝓢nap-𝓢horts 💥

Sweet Suite

'Yeah... it's fine, ...come anytime.' Neel sensed a vague welcome in the woman's voice, ending their brief conversation.

Scratching his chin, Neel wondered if it might be considered 'designer-stubble', but on a second glance at his selfie, he had to admit he looked more like a homeless hobo - not the ideal sort to have as a couch-surfing stranger, especially in the home of a single young female. Well, he hoped his credentials as a journalist would allay any anxieties on her part. And now in Amsterdam, being an impecunious biographer of the flash [but 'no advance-cash'] Bollywood babe-magnet Faroosh, following him on his promotional foreign tour, Neel had to slum it out, as far as accomodation was concerned.

In a short while he was at her door-step.

'Hi I'm Neel, we just spoke on the phone?'

For a second, it seemed she would slam the door in his face, the way her irises flashed, like her tiger-eye earrings.

'Oh yeah ...come on in, ...err...' her lips pouted a scarlet welcome, 'I was in the middle of getting made-up to go sell myself tonight. Wanna come?'

A flash-back of Bukha Butt's inebriated red lipstick hit Neel but he blotted it out. That was back in Mumbai ... weeks ago, a memory of his meeting with the media-mouthpiece he had to schmooze in the line of journalistic duty.

Quickly re-presenting himself : 'Neel, Neel Nair' he offered his hand to shake, tugging off his battered rucksack with the other, 'Yeah, that would be cool.'

'Cool' huh? he winced inwardly at using slang he despised, besides what was her invitation leading up to?

Neel was too jet-lagged to cogitate any further.

'Kala Chatterji' answered the back of her paint-spattered t-shirt, beckoning him to follow her through a narrow corridor, plastered with sketches of Goddess Durga in sci-fi mode, hurling her weaponry at various raging demons, and into a room littered with an artist's paraphernalia.

'You can crash out there' Kala waggled an inky index at a sofa by the window, 'and wifi is free, help yourself to food and drink... just top-up what you take, okay? ... bathroom upstairs.' As she rushed off, adding 'We need to be at the art gallery by 7 p.m. - my first exhibition!'

Neel, having freshened up, paused on the stairs, savouring both the soap-scent on his hands and the sight of her magenta-tinted black curls, head bent over a tablet, checking out route-maps.

She sniffed the air appreciately 'A wanton musk in warm honey base notes ...you like it, do you? It took me ages to capture the tulip fragrance in that soap!'

'You make your own soap? Wow!'

'Yessiree, I'm creating a perfume, called 'Carolus' after the sixteenth century Flemish scientist, who obtained tulips from the court of Suleiyman the Great.'

With amusement, she watched his awed reaction in her make-up mirror, propped beside a plate of cheese and crackers.

'I hope you'll be comfortable there,' she shrugged towards the suite, of reasonable size and laden now with fresh linen and cushions. Neel nodded gratefully , stifling a jet lag yawn.

Crumbs on her lips, she gestured Neel to help himself and he did, wolfing large mouthfuls and surreptitious eyefuls of his hostess.

'You will soon tire of Gouda but cheese is the only real alternative for vegetarians here, as long as you are not a strict vegan and can ignore the rennet.'

Her little diamond nose-stud sparkling, Kala sniffed the air around Neel, adding in a pretentious voice but with a girly giggle 'the freshness of ozone , a daffodil-like scent ... powdery hints from pollen on its black pistils' she scribbled some notes to go on the wrappers of her home-made all-natural soaps, alongside her sketch of red tulips, pouting from the window-sill at the canal-side tourists outdoors.

'Faroosh should have got rid of his teeny-bop entourage and come along with you, incognito perhaps with a beard and glasses...he used to be fun, him and Dev before he Dave-ed out.' 

 Yes, those weird and wonderful mutual friends, Faroosh and Dev - well, he wasn't one to complain, seeing as it got him somewhere to stay for a while.

Neel nodded noncommittally - he needed to know Kala a bit more, having only just turned up at her doorstep.

It promised to be a very interesting evening.

Crazy people, these artists. 

But Kala had two pretty ears intact, so no worries about her going full Van Gogh.

-

this is adapted from a chapter from the now-unpublished novella 'Cover Story'