The excerpts from Mohan Deep's- It's My Life, a novel about Mumbai's high society.

Few would have believed the next conversation between them on the same day in the evening. Bhairavi was relaxed, leaning against her leather upholstered chair, clad in an out of the glossy pages of 'Vogue' thigh-high split lingerie of silk chiffon. Lying with his hands over her milky naked thighs, between her long legs was Vasant.Vasant was drowning in her juices. But then Bhairavi was a Scorpio. All woman. And her only regret in life was that her looks didn't match her desires and riches. In fact, she would have preferred to be a man where the looks didn't really matter as much. She had spent weeks and thousands of dollars abroad in cosmetic surgery with the best in the field, changing her from a dark, plain Jane to a fairly attractive woman. The surgeons could only add silicon and a shape to her breasts, alter the shape of her nose and somewhat reshape her thighs with liposuction. For the rest she depended on the best money could buy. Her life style worked against her. Men, endless cigarettes, alcohol, late nights played havoc with her looks. First, she delayed her marriage. Now  marriage eluded her. 

Getting married for a builder's daughter with millions to her name wasn't difficult but for her 'I want a man. A real man. A man who doesn't feel insecure if I ride on him or dominate him. He should be strong enough for a strong woman.' Only Bhairavi and God knew what kind of man she wanted to marry. She didn't want to waste her years searching for him. Not Bhairavi. Like any willing woman who has power and money, she had a line-up of 'em. And Vasant was one. It is difficult to know what went on in Vasant's mind at that precise moment when he was sitting in her feet. Resentment at being used by a ruthlessly selfish girl he couldn't afford to annoy, uncertainty about the next morning when she would grill him again about going over-budget. Much later when their tale took an unexpected turn he was to confess that he felt like a gigolo and 'I was simply not enough for her. No one man could match her appetite. She was a man-eater.' Vasant picked up the cigarette packet and lit two cigarettes, gave her one. This was always the way their love-making ended. She inhaled the smoke.

All rights reserved, Mohandeep, 2000