by Zoe May
Meera’s eyes light up.
‘Are you two going out?’ she asks, with a mischievous smile.
‘Just to your uncle’s place,’ I reply, trying to act casual, as though this isn’t a date.
I mean, of course it isn’t a date. We’re just going to a casual place for a casual meal. Seb’s taken a vow of celibacy. It’s definitely not a date. And yet, he’s dressed up and I’ve dressed up…
‘Do you want to come?’ I ask Meera.
‘Oh no, no, I’m busy,’ Meera insists, smiling conspiratorially at me.
I try to ignore her suggestiveness, but I can’t help smiling back at her, feeling quite grateful that she declined my invitation. As much as I like Meera, and I really do, I want to be alone with Seb tonight. I want to talk to him, one to one, like we did last time we were at the paratha place.
‘I was just about to head in for the night anyway. You guys have fun,’ Meera says, folding her magazine and getting up.
‘Have a good night, Meera,’ Seb says.
‘And you guys,’ Meera replies, giving us both a cheeky smile, which we awkwardly pretend not to acknowledge.
I pick up my bag from the picnic table and sling it over my shoulder.
‘You look great, by the way,’ Seb tells me, once Meera is out of earshot.
I realize he’s looking at me in an almost enamored way, as though he’s genuinely impressed. He’s clearly gotten used to seeing me looking super casual and make-up free.
‘Thanks!’ I reply. ‘You look pretty good yourself.’
‘Thank you!’ Seb smiles.
‘Let’s go,’ I say as I get up from the picnic table.
We head out of the guesthouse. The sky has a burnt coppery tinge to it as the sun sets and the air is pleasantly cool and breezy.
We catch up properly on the past few days as we walk out of the ashram. Seb tells me how he’s been busy meditating and working out and admits that he gave in to using the internet and caught up with family and friends back home, draining the data on his dongle. I recount the spirit animal workshop and he howls with laughter, especially when I fill him in on Blossom mauling me while getting in touch with her inner tiger.
Seb describes a book he’s reading about the power of our subconscious mind as we walk along the seaside road. The sound of the waves is hypnotic, and I feel totally relaxed and content as we reach the paratha place. I’ve barely eaten today, aside from a quick sandwich I made in the guesthouse and gobbled outside the library earlier, and the smell of the freshly-cooked parathas, the chopped coriander and fragrant spices of the curries, combined with the salty sea air, is delicious, making my stomach rumble.
Meera’s uncle, Ishaan, greets us like old friends, showing us to a table. Within minutes, he brings over bowls of curry and paratha. The curries cost less than a pound and yet they’re so incredibly tasty, the flavors fresh and fragrant. Both Seb and I relish each bite, so distracted by the food that we barely speak apart from to compliment it.
‘God, I love this place,’ I say at one point, taking in the ambient vibes around us.
The restaurant has the same relaxed convivial atmosphere it had when Seb and I first came here. Everyone seems so relaxed and content. I think it’s partly down to the amazing food and the gentle sea breeze, but it’s also thanks to Ishaan, who clearly loves cooking and creating a sense of community for the people who come to his restaurant. He reminds me slightly of the guy who once ran La Dolce Vita – he has the same love of food and of making people feel happy and at home.
The sun sets and the sky takes on a velvety darkness. The moon is full, making the ocean glow silver. Occasionally, the sea breeze blows tendrils of my hair across my face. I tuck them behind my ear, while continuing to enjoy my meal.
‘I love it here too,’ Seb comments, looking across from the sea to me, holding my gaze.
His eyelashes cast spidery shadows across his cheeks, illuminated from above by a lamp.
I realize his knee is brushing against mine again. The electricity and connection between us is so unsettling, so tempting, and so undeniable. I smile shyly at him, feeling a blush creeping onto my cheeks, painfully aware of his skin against mine. I’m a thirty-year-old woman, I should be able to handle having someone’s knee touch mine, and yet it’s making me all kinds of flustered and awkward and uncomfortable. I edge my knee away and look back down at my curry.
‘This is so good!’ I enthuse, taking another bite.
A smile twitches at the corner of Seb’s lips. He’s clearly aware of the effect he has on me.
We finish our curries and stay for a cup of chai, continuing the conversation we were having before about Seb’s book. Ishaan comes over and we chat to him for a bit, before heading back to the ashram. We walk back, the waves crashing, and it hits me that I feel perfectly content. Perfectly, perfectly content. I want to reach across to Seb and take his hand, but I can’t quite bring myself to. I don’t want to disrespect his vow. If anyone makes the first move between us, it should be him.
By the time we get back to the ashram, it’s gone 10pm and the sky is pitch black. Normally, the ashram would be deadly still at this time, with everyone heading to bed, but as we pass the temple, I hear a peal of laughter and the sound of people splashing around in the nearby pool.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, my ears pricking up as I hear voices.
I can hear people talking, loud laughter, more splashing. It sounds like some kind of pool party.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask Seb once more.
‘Oh God,’ he groans, lowering his head into his hands and drawing to a halt along the path.
‘What is it?’ I turn to him, confused.
We’re just around the corner from the pool and I’m dying to have a look to see what all the commotion is about. Are people having a late-night swimming session? Is there some sort of workshop taking place? But if that’s the case, why’s Seb cringing? What’s up with him?
‘Come on!’ I urge him. ‘I’ve been meaning to check out the pool. Is there a workshop on or something?’
I walk further along the path.
‘No, Rachel!’ Seb rushes after me.
He grabs my arm.
‘It’s not a workshop,’ he says.
His cheeks look a little flushed. He looks desperately uncomfortable, squirming almost.
‘What is it then? It can’t be that bad!’ I point out.
‘It’s…’ Seb ventures, before trailing off.
I carry on heading towards the pool and Seb’s grasp falls away.
As I approach, the laughter grows louder. There are other sounds too, almost like moaning or groaning. I raise an eyebrow at Seb, to see him grimacing.
As we reach the entrance and I peer towards the pool, I freeze, in shock, unable to believe what I’m seeing: dozens upon dozens of writhing naked hippies in all kinds of contortions. Girls kissing girls on sun loungers. Couples fornicating in corners by the pool. A group engaging in all kinds of sexual and penetrative acts on a picnic blanket on the grass. Threesomes and foursomes and fivesomes and even a couple of solitary masturbators hanging out at the sidelines just enjoying the view. What is this?
I turn to Seb, eyes wide, speechless.
‘I told you it wasn’t a swimming event,’ he comments, pulling a face.
‘You didn’t tell me it was an ORGY!’ I point out, shielding my face with my hands, cowering.
‘Sorry,’ Seb replies.
I peer through my fingers at the fornication in front of me, unable to quite believe how full-on this group sex session is. There must be fifty to sixty people taking part, from all ages, from lithe twenty-year-olds to wrinkly grey men of sixty years old. Clearly anything goes here. A woman who looks about twenty-five is gyrating in the corner of the pool with an older guy who looks mid-fifties. Two middle-aged women are engaged in a threesome with an athletic young guy with dreadlocks. And two pretty women, who look around my age are kissing and frolicking in the pool, which accounts for
the splashing noises I heard on the way here.
There are so many people kissing and caressing and writhing and touching and cuddling. And even though it’s a shocking sight to take in, it’s also weirdly erotic. It’s making me reassess the ashram. I thought this place was just full of sanctimonious hippies - weirdos who go around channeling their inner sparrows. I didn’t realize people here were into late night orgies. I didn’t realize they actually had fun. I thought they were all uptight and boring but now I feel like the boring one. I can barely even look at what they’re doing, let alone contemplate partaking.
‘They hold these orgies once or twice a month,’ Seb explains. ‘I forgot all about it or otherwise I’d have suggested a different route home. Or suggested we stay at the guesthouse!’
I laugh. ‘No, I’m kind of glad I got to see this!’ I say, glancing away from the sight of one man’s weirdly gigantic penis.
‘They don’t call them orgies though,’ Seb muses, gazing unfazed at all the people having sex in front of us.
‘What do they call them then?’ I ask, genuinely curious, since I have absolutely no idea what this is if it isn’t an orgy.
‘I think they see the term “orgy” as a bit crude or too on the nose,’ Seb comments, frowning slightly.
‘So what do they call them?’ I balk.
‘They call them yoni yoga, since “yoni” is Sanskrit for vagina,’ Seb tells me, his lips twitching. ‘They sometimes call it priapic meditation, too.’
I snort with laughter. ‘Are you actually kidding me?’
Seb laughs, shaking his head. ‘No!’
‘Oh my God!’ I wheeze, unable to stop laughing.
I grab Seb’s arm for support and flick tears from my eyes.
‘I know!’ Seb grins. ‘I couldn’t believe it either! When I first heard people talking about yoni yoga, I assumed it was some kind of pelvic floor exercise group. I didn’t realize it was… this!’
He gestures towards the orgy.
‘I would never have imagined this!’ I insist, still laughing.
‘It’s crazy. I came to this ashram thinking it would be a place of purity and spirituality. I thought I’d be able to clear my mind and abstain from sex, but then a few weeks in, I discovered they have orgies and I realized that pretty much everyone here is horny and sex-obsessed,’ Seb comments.
‘Oh my God!’ I utter, still in shock.
I look out over the sea of bodies again. Even though I can’t quite get over the fact that these people refer to a mass orgy as yoni yoga and priapic meditation, I can’t deny that there is something entrancing about what they’re doing. Everyone is so unselfconscious and unapologetic. They’re just enjoying each other, at the most primal and intimate level. Although it still feels a bit cringe-worthy to witness, like I’m watching a live porn show, there is something quite beautiful and almost joyful about it.
For the first time since I’ve been here, I feel uptight, disappointed in myself and unenlightened, because unlike all the people before me, I can’t see myself ever partaking in something like this.
‘So did you manage to resist?’ I ask Seb.
‘Resist?’ he echoes.
‘Did you manage to resist, or did you give in and try a bit of yoni yoga and priapic meditation?’ I tease.
‘Oh, I’ve tried yoni yoga, alright,’ Seb remarks, giving me a wink.
Just the reality of him mentioning sex makes me feel a little hot and bothered, warm in my nether regions.
‘Haha!’ I laugh a little nervously.
‘But not in this kind of situation,’ Seb adds, nodding towards the orgy.
I look back at the sea of bodies. The man with the gigantic penis is now inserting it into a woman on a sun lounger. I flick my eyes away, feeling like a voyeur.
‘Maybe we should go?’ I suggest. ‘I feel like a bit of a creep watching everyone!’
‘Yeah, we probably should,’ Seb agrees.
He places his hand on my lower back as we turn to walk away. The sensation of his touch is acute and momentarily drowns out all thoughts of the orgy, but as we walk back down the path, his hand drops away. Maybe he didn’t mean to put it there? Maybe he placed it there almost involuntarily and then felt awkward?
I glance over at him, but he looks lost in thought, his expression unreadable.
‘I can’t believe I just witnessed an orgy!’ I say, still in shock.
‘Yep, anything goes around here!’ Seb replies.
We chat about the orgy a little bit, cracking jokes, as we walk back to the guesthouse, and yet weirdly, underneath all the humor, I can’t help feeling aroused. The hippies may not be the Brad Pitts or Kate Mosses of the world but there was something erotic about the sex scenes regardless.
Seb and I lapse into silence, the sounds of the orgy so far away now that it’s inaudible. I find myself wondering if Seb’s having similar thoughts. Was he turned on by the orgy too?
I want to say something – something – and yet my mind is blank. The only sound is the sound of the breeze rustling through the trees and our footsteps.
Suddenly, Seb stops in the middle of the path. He turns to me.
I stop and look at him, questioningly. His eyes have an intensity about them that I haven’t seen before. He looks serious, a little awkward.
‘What’s up? I ask.
He takes a step closer and places his hand on my hip. He strokes the side of my face with his other hand and gazes into my eyes. I feel like everything’s gone into slow motion. Is this really happening?
‘I need to kiss you,’ Seb insists, his eyes alight with passion.
We spring together like magnets, locking into one another, his soft lips on mine, mine on his. He kisses me softly, sensually. But as the shock of finally kissing passes, our embrace suddenly becomes hungry, ravenous, insatiable. We grasp at each other. It’s like the build-up of weeks of tension has finally erupted and we can’t get enough of one another. I let my hands roam over his back, pulling him close, feeling his warm body against mine. I feel dizzy with lust as he kisses me. He’s the best kisser.
I want him. I want him right here, right now. I want him up against one of the trees. I don’t even care. I want to feel him inside me.
‘Oh my God,’ I moan, melting under his touch.
‘I’ve wanted this so much,’ Seb gasps. ‘So much.’
I can feel his desire, his eager kisses, his warm body, his searching hands.
He wants this as much as I do. He wants me. He wants me so badly and that makes me want him even more. I want to tear his clothes off. I want to break his vow. I want to have him.
‘Me too,’ I sigh, kissing him, slipping my hand under his shirt, feeling his silky soft skin.
He kisses me deeply, his tongue plunging into my mouth. He traces his fingers under my top.
‘We should go back to the guesthouse,’ I insist, feeling light-headed with desire.
As much as I want Seb, we’re getting precariously close to having sex in the middle of a path, and even though this place is definitely more kinky than I thought, I still don’t want to get kicked out for public indecency.
‘Ok let’s go,’ Seb replies, while planting kisses on my neck.
It takes a lot of effort to pull apart, but we manage it, hurrying back to the guesthouse.
We clamber up to Seb’s treehouse. I don’t dare look around to see if Meera is still up. I can’t face her ‘I told you so’ look right now.
We tumble into Seb’s treehouse, and pull each other close, our bodies tangling. I start unbuttoning his shirt and he pulls my top off.
‘Your body’s incredible,’ he murmurs.
He reaches behind my back to unfasten my bra and pulls it from my shoulders.
‘Oh my God, you look amazing,’ he sighs, as he kisses my neck, working down to my chest.
I haven’t even managed to unbutton his shirt yet, but I lose my grip of his buttons as he plants kisses on my chest, working his way over my breasts. He takes one of my
nipples into his mouth and sucks gently, flicking his tongue over it.
I moan, feeling light-headed, dizzy with pleasure.
‘Oh God,’ I groan.
I can barely believe this is happening. Seb and I are finally hooking up. My whole body feels tantalized, alive with longing and lust. I thought sex with Paul was good, but I already feel more pleasure from Seb touching and kissing my breasts than I’ve felt from entire sex sessions with Paul.
I want to feel Seb kissing me all over. I want to unbutton his shirt, do naughty things to him, and yet, something’s holding me back. A nagging thought pulls me out of the moment: the girl, Vanessa. The abortion. Seb’s vow. As much as I want to use Seb’s body as a jungle gym, I don’t want to sabotage his growth either. I don’t want to be another mistake, like the fling he had in Thailand – an encounter he’ll later regret.
‘Seb,’ I gasp, pulling him away from my chest.
‘What?’ he asks, gazing lustfully at me.
It takes every ounce of my self-control not to just kiss him.
‘Are you sure about this? What about your pledge?’ I say. ‘I want you, so badly, but I don’t want to mess things up for you.’
Seb smiles.
‘It’s fine,’ he assures me. ‘I’ve given up my pledge. It’s over.’
‘How come?’ I ask, totally shocked.
‘I spoke to Vanessa. We chatted on Facebook the other day. I was going to tell you. She’s pregnant. She’s found a new boyfriend. They’ve moved in together. She seems really happy, like she’s ready to settle down,’ Seb says. ‘They’ve even started doing up the spare room for the kid. She said how the time feels right now and she’s found the one. Everything’s worked out for her. She doesn’t have depression anymore.’
Seb smiles, and I can feel the relief radiating from him. He seems lighter, carefree.
‘I’m ready to move on too. I don’t care about my pledge anymore,’ Seb insists.
I grin, feeling an immense wave of relief. We can have sex. Guilt-free, glorious sex, with nothing holding us back.
‘I’m so glad!’ I kiss him, pulling him close.