Chapter 6

Tony felt happier than he had ever been. The song of the birds was sweeter. The touch of the wind made his senses come alive. The grass was greener. Even the girls were prettier, though seeing them only made him want Manjula more.

They say that oral sex is not sex, but it is. Bill Clinton had been wrong. Tony did not feel a virgin anymore, and he could not think of Manjula as one either. She had been right. They had crossed a line, a line that Tony felt himself well rid of.

He still wanted to have full-fledged intercourse with her, of course, but he knew how much just this oral sex would have cost her. Let it wait. It was hard to see how he could be any happier than he already was.

He could not stop thinking about the incredible experience, to the point where he spaced out in class, or dropped sentences with his classmates in the middle of study sessions.

He even ran into Tiffany at lunch again one day. She stared at him for a moment before recognition dawned. “Say, aren’t you the guy who—”

“Thank you so much for introducing me to Manjula!” he boomed, warmly shaking her hand, then boldly kissing it. He could not resist bragging a bit. “She knows everything now! Everything!” he crowed as he walked off, leaving Tiffany flabbergasted.

He found Manjula in a couch in the lounge area. She smiled, that sweet gentle smile he loved so much. He snuggled up beside her.

“Somebody looks very happy today,” she said, with a tone of unmistakable smugness.

“It was paradise. Pure paradise. The only thing was—”

“Please do not say I did something wrong.”

“Nothing. But I didn’t do anything right, or anything at all, really. I didn’t give you anything.”

“I think I got the better side of that equation. How do you boys survive with only one orgasm a day? I had three.”

“I didn’t even notice—”

She laughed. “I do not think you were in any shape to notice. But it is okay. I know now what the other girls meant, why they take it in the mouth. You men have a baser, more raw sexuality than we women. Being close to it like that is like being close to the earth itself, rich and fertile and full of life. Never be ashamed of your carnal desires. They make you the man you are. And watching you react that way — so strong and powerful and yet at the same time so open, so exposed and vulnerable — made me feel like a goddess, like Lady Rati herself. It did not feel quite as good as your fingering me, but it was very close. In a moment like that, I only need one hand.”

“I still want to keep fingering you—”

“You will, believe me, you will.”

“But tell me one thing, I have to know...”

“Yes?”

Tony’s face was red, he could barely meet Manjula’s eyes.

“Did it stink?”

Manjula snorted with laughter, so loudly that it drew stares across the room. “Of course it did not, foolish boy! I am a cleaner of dirt, not an eater of dirt!” She kept laughing until she saw just how relieved Tony looked.

“Actually,” she went on, “your kundi tastes better than some other parts of your body. Would you believe it is a little sweet?”

“I’m not sure I do believe that. I wonder if ... next time ... I could do the same for you—”

“Next time?” Her eyebrows shot up.

“I mean, if ... I just thought...”

“I was only joking. Of course you can,” she said. “I am looking forward to it.”

Tony’s cock pulsed a little, and his eyes burned with a hot light.

“I wish we could do it more often,” he said. “Having to work around roommates really sucks. I wonder if we could go away for the weekend sometime.”

“I do not think either of us has time for that,” she said regretfully. “But there are always the holidays. We can learn how to ski together.”

Tony looked at her, thinking about how much there was he wanted to show her, share with her, explore with her.

“You know what would be great?” he asked. “If you go back to Sri Lanka over the summer or anything, I could go with you.”

“What?”

“It would be awesome! I’ve wanted to go there for years, but my parents weren’t interested, and they always said I shouldn’t go alone.”

“I am sure you could manage. You are a grown man, and plenty of foreign tourists come to Sri Lanka.”

“But I want to go with you,” said Tony.

“There would be far too much gossip in my village. Even your staying in a hotel nearby would lead to rumours spreading.”

“But there’s the whole rest of the country! I have relatives in Colombo, Batticaloa, and Jaffna—”

“Who will also spread rumours, and probably will not even let me in their homes,” Manjula reminded him.

“Well, screw them then. I’ve read the tourist books. I can’t believe there’s so much to see in one small island.” Excitedly, he went on about the beaches, among the best in the world, the historical sites in Anuradhapura, whale watching in Mirissa, the elephant sanctuary in Pinnawala, mountain climbing at Adam’s Peak, wildlife in Yala National Park, festivals in Kataragama...

“You know more about travelling in Sri Lanka than I do. I have never been to any of those places. I have seldom gone far from my village, except to visit relatives in Colombo.”

“Why not?”

“We cannot afford to stay in a hotel. If we do not have relatives to stay with, we do not go. And even bus fare to Colombo can cost as much as five hundred rupees.”

That was less than four Canadian dollars. To go a distance of more than three hundred kilometres.

“Foreign tourists usually take trains or tourist buses, which are air-conditioned and much more expensive,” she added. “But they go only to the big tourist sites you were talking about. Those are mostly in the Sinhalese parts of the country.”

“What I want to see most of all is Jaffna. Both my parents were born there. I feel I could understand everything so much better if I could see it, just once.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s where my ancestors come from. In that sense, it’s home.”

Home. Manjula’s eyes filled with tears.

It was not the beaches, or the mountains, or the scenery, or the sights that Manjula thought of when she thought of Sri Lanka. It was her aunt and uncle, who had worked so hard to give her the chances to grow and succeed in life. It was her three little cousins who looked up to her, who all called her simply akka, “big sister”.