The Shy Night

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                     Part 3

قلب بارد

( The Cold-Hearted)

A story of flesh, blood, power and Ishq.

  ——————

The smell of cheap, overly sweet and spicy perfume hit his nostrils and he could barely breath. Cheap colourful decorations strewn everywhere. He watched as Hassan knocked on the door and gestured him to stay calm.

The door opened slightly and two black eyes peeked out, widening with surprise before a smile made it way on her face and she opened the door fully. Apparently she was in the process of getting ready, with a bare face but hair resting on one shoulder, properly curled and wearing a blue number similar to the last time one.

" Baat karni hai aapsay," Hassan started in his profession tone.

Her eyes widened a little with pleasant surprise before she shrugged, giving him way to enter and Asfandyar stayed behind.

" Jee, kahiye kya baat karna chahtay hain aap?"

She gestured for him to take a seat on a bright pink loveseat but he remained standing.

" Aap Syed Asfandyaar Hameed Akhoonzada ko jaanti hain?"

" Wo jo bahir kharay hain? Unhey kon nahi jaanta?"
She raised her eyebrows with a seductive smile.

Hassan remained as calm as he could. " Wo aap sey baat karna chahtay hain."

" Arey, hamaray aisay naseeb?
Bulaiyay nah unhey andar phir."
She immediately said, a twinkle in her eyes of curiosity.

Hassan cleared his throat before saying,
" Dekhain, hum aisay wesay kisi kaam k liye nahi aye. Wo aap sey sirf baat karna chahtay aik ahem maslay par."

She let out a twinkling laugh, barely keeping in her curiosity as Hassan opened the door and he stepped in. Hassan gave her a warning look and went outside.

She gave him a seductive smile, who was standing there in a black shalwar kameez and a waist coat, the classic politician attire. Tall, broad and handsome, with his eyes stuck to the mole on her chin for a second too long.

کالا تل

" Aiyey, Syed Sahab. Bethain."
His eyes didn't leave her for a second, not even to look around the room or notice his surroundings.

The room cackled with tension, thick enough to be cut with a knife as she slowly perched herself on the arm of the seat he was sitting in. Face to face, eye to eye.
 
کالی آنکھیں

" Jee, kahiye. Aisi kya ayham baat jis par aik siyasatdaan ko aik tawaif ka mashwara chahiye?"
Her voice had a element of ridiculing him as she batted het lashes and Asfandyaar fisted his hands.

" Mey aap sey teen sawal poochun ga, sach jawab dijiye." He couldn't ask her to sit somewhere else, because it was the only chair in the room other than the bed.

She let out a cackling laugh.
" Aap tou poori tyaari k saath aye hain."

Asfandyar remained stoic even though she was making his blood boil with anger. He remained to the point.