The shadow tuned 90 degrees. The shadow was exposing her body, completely. Everything was quite visible. Untied waving hairs, beautiful shaped face, toned arms, under the arms the breasts, narrow waist, full sloppy hips, attractive thighs, thin legs!
Peter was looking at a unique sculpture, which was busy in its own amorous gestures. The shadow was totally ignorant that someone was staring at her, watching her keenly and was drinking the ocean of beauty through the shadow. She continued with her action.
Peter kept watching her, without interruption.
He was not desirous to move away from there. It was fascinating, a black shadow on the white wall. He was stationary at his position, like a statue, feeling every act of the shadow.
Was he stable or a time? He was the unknown.
Suddenly, she rested both of her hands on her waist. The left hand was on her right waist and vice versa. She uncovered the top of her body and put the cloth on the floor.
Peter’s eyes followed the cloth till the floor. He lifted his sight to the shadow. The shadow of her breasts – they were straight and tight.
‘Still she has some cloth on her breasts, which is gripping her curvy duo.’ He murmured.
The shadow removed one more piece of cloth from the breasts. Both curves turned little sloppy, but still they were waving tightly. The nipples were aroused and excited.
The shadow removed remaining cloths from below her waist, too. She was naked now. She bent down from the waist, snatched some water from the bucket and poured on her naked body. She was bathing.
The water was touching the black shadow, gliding from it and was dropping on the floor.
It was like a spring flowing and sliding slowly from the peak of a black mountain. It was creating a sound. The beautiful sound of waterfalls on a landscape! The sound of dropping water was as sweet as a melody of flute, as vibrant as the strings of guitar, as smooth as the tunes of Santoor.
Peter wanted to close the eyes and to get absorbed in that tune. But, the shadow on that white wall was not allowing him to blink, either. He gazed her with wide open eyes, for moments to go.
The shadow finished her bath. She wiped her body with a towel. Peter was following the movements of a towel. It was moving and touching every part of her body. Every gesture made her more attractive, and hence was exciting Peter. He was jealous of the towel.
He wished to cross the 3 feet wall and reach the shadow, to see her, to hug her, to hold her in his arms.
Peter was full of sweat. A flowing spring dried. He couldn’t cross the 3 feet wall.
The shadow put on the cloths and left the terrace. Peter too. He went for his job with Jack. Peter tried to understand his duty from Jack for the whole day. But, that black shadow occupied his mind and thoughts, all through.
Every moment between work, he desired to leave and rush back to move to the terrace. He wanted to look at the shadow, feel the shadow, dissolve into the shadow, absorb the shadow in his existence and surrender to the shadow. The waves of time might flow or stop still! It did not matter to him.
He came back in the evening, reached straight to the terrace and stared at the white wall. There was no shadow on it. The only thing was the white, colorless and dry wall!
Peter waited for a long, but the wall remained white, pure white. The color of wall didn’t change. But the color of the sky changed.
Twilight of the western horizon was busy saying goodbye to the sun. The night knocked; the white wall vanished in the darkness. He returned to his room disappointed.
The shadow did not allow Peter to sleep the whole night. Neither was the night passing nor was the sleeplessness showing any mercy. He wanted to sleep, but the sleep insisted that he stayed awake.
Peter did not like the flow of time which was moving steadily, but he was helpless. He had no option except to wait. He was waiting for the daybreak.
Early in the morning, he got some sleep, but he woke up soon after. He did not want to sleep more but now the sleep was not in a mood to allow him stay awake. What a simulation? Peter was confused. He looked the watch. It was the same time as yesterday.
Anyhow, he defeated the sleep and ran to the terrace. He focused again on that white wall.
That white wall! That shadow! The black but very attractive, very fascinating shadow.
The wall was white. There was no stigma, nor any color and not a shadow on it.
Peter looked at it with full concentration, again and again. The wall remained as it was. He checked the time. Nothing had changed, it was as it was. He lost patience. He was about to cross the 3 feet wall to reach that terrace, when the image emerged on the wall. He stopped himself.
An image turned into a shadow. He gazed it, tested it. It was the same as yesterday. The shadow did everything she did yesterday.
She turned and twisted the body, moved her curves, removed cloths, gave some jerks to the body. She had the same hair, nose, neck, arms, breasts, waist and legs. She took her bath, wiped the body, put the cloths on and disappeared.
Peter watched and observed all the acts, standing like another wall. The whole incident he witnessed, without blinking the eyes.
After a long, he got back his senses. The wall had turned white, again. Lifeless, still, colorless, detached from any emotion and empty. It was as still as a saint in penance since ages. Peter felt that the wall was changing colors rapidly. It can’t be trusted. He returned to the rooms.