[Continued from Love in March 11: A Drive Through the Black Dog Destination]
A sailing boat was meant for us alone. The climate was very clean, with a bright light spread all across the lake. There was a lightest version of the mist clouded over the surface of the water. At length, we could see silver rich mountains posing very majestically making gigantic reflections on the blue water. The indigo of the deep lake looked ferociously beautiful in the morning.
Our yacht slowly moved through water. In such a wonderful event, I wished if I had carried one bottle of the luxury rich Black Dog Quintessence, just to add to the charm of our adventurous journey. When I mentioned this to Diane, she said, she already had this thing in her mind, but her preference was BD Reserve, as it was known for its smooth, yet long finish.
When I wondered about it, she just pulled out a Black Dog Reserve from her backpack, and smiled at me in a child like manner. Seeing the Black Dog, my eyes shined, I never thought she would have brought one bottle of the most luxurious Scotch in India.
Diane was very excited at the water trip. She took snaps with her Leica camera. Handing over me the camera, she asked me to click snaps while she was holding the Black Dog reserve. I loved the idea. She looked very photogenic through the lens and appeared a perfect mach to the Black Dog Reserve's golden sparkling shade. Her fair skin appeared elegant that shined above her white AllenSolly shirt.
The light wind patted us, creating scattered patterns with her hair all over on her face. When the wind tried to pull up her skirt, she tried to protect her nudity from being exposed in that old Marilyn Monroe’s style. When she knelt down to cover her voluptuous sculptured thighs from getting revealed more, her open neck of the shirt moved from its place slightly. Her platinum necklace suspended on air, adorning the rich sight of her cleavage, visible through the front portion of her shirt which was left unbuttoned. That moment, I wanted her very madly. I wished if she would agree to be mine, I would have taken her in my arms, and kissed everywhere on her face.
When the wind struck one more time, her skirt moved little more from its comfort zone. This time, I saw some dark shades below her tights on her thighs. They looked like long scratches formed as part of previous wounds.
Shocked, when I was staring at the dark spots that tarnished her beauty, holding the Black Dog Reserve bottle firmly, Diane smiled at me shyly begging me to stop taking snaps.
(To be continued)
Part of a series prepared for Ginger Claps Blogging experience.