A perfect night

Nine o'clock, gtalk was signed out of, the twisty-top of the stack of films was opened, and movie titles were being mulled over. Seven Samurai, Foreign Correspondent, and The King of Comedy, a Kurosawa, a Hitchcock, and a Scorsese. The perfect way to spend a quiet night at home. A glance at the clock, ten past nine, a quick grin, all alone tonight. Ralph buzzes, a mental note to turn him off, message from a new years eve plans threatener, 'cum 2 da blcny'. A flash of white-hot rage, followed by a near-orgasm at the sight in the parking lot. A black and red 1968 Mustang, with yellow racing stripes down the bonnet. Two lovely ladies with shiny hair and tiny skirts, and a tall man leaning against the vehicle. One of the ladies shouts out You can drive it if you come to Raghav's. How can one resist.
Twenty minutes, a shower and much hair product later, we're on the road. Stifling the pangs of guilt at abandoning Aurelia, we truly get down to testing this rugged vehicle. Ren, we need to name this, just finished restoring her. HIM. Him? It's not that manly. HIM. ANASTASIO. What was said next was incoherent as it was a cacophony of squealing and complaining as Anastasio went from 40 to 150 in about five seconds. For the record, Anastasio is an Italian form of the Latin 'Anastacius', Resurrection.
At Raghav's, deep in the bowels of Noida, was a motley collection of some rather close friends of mine who I don't see often enough, mostly due to the fact that they live and work in Noida. After a round of hugs and introductions to some of the unknown faces, I was being led to the bar, when I heard a deep, throaty, sexy laugh. When I turned to find the source of the laughter, I was flashed with one of the widest, most genuine smiles I'd seen in a while, and those same lips moved to say something. I moved a little closer as I'd missed what she said, taking in what I was seeing. Long, naturally straight, shiny hair, one of the most beautiful faces I had ever seen, and the most perfect curves on a five foot eleven inch tall frame. I like your ear ring, said that throaty voice, with a bit of an accent like mine. My name's Seher.
It isn't often that I'm at a loss for words, but this encounter was one of those rare occasions. Seher came across immediately as hugely confident, witty in a deep, thought-inducing way that wasn't immediately apparent to people not familiar with that sort of wit, and an overall awareness of all of her traits. In essence, in a very immodest sense, a female version of me. She had also been blindsided by love on numerous occasions, including a very recent, massive heartbreak caused by the object of her affection suddenly walling her off, and yet retained faith in love, and believed that her soul mate was out there. While a majority of men over the years, and evidenced at the party itself, had found her height intimidating, I found myself increasingly referring to her height, a mere five inches less than my own as 'cute', which would cause her to flash one of those unforgettable smiles my way each time.
As the night wore on, we shared more of ourselves, finding a common love for cooking (and eating), merengue, and white roses, and she did at one point mention how she wanted to learn to belly dance, my single most favorite form of dance in the civilized world. We both sucked, quite terribly, at any form of non-coupley dance we attempted, and appreciated the same beer, Guiness, but drink very little of it, drink very little at all. Also, as I had formerly (quite incorrectly) assumed, I was the only person left who hadn't ever smoked a puff of anything in my life, she was right there with me, for the exact same reasons; never saw the point.
At around ten to twelve, the two of us decided to get some fresh air, and went up to the roof. As it was approaching midnight, and subsequently, new years, we decided to stay upstairs and share the moment alone. Contrary to what popular culture would leave you believing, we had a far more fulfilling new years moment; an amazingly long hug. Oblivious to the world, all phones calls, all shouting out of our names from below, we held each other for a good twenty minutes, before going back downstairs to continue the night.
As I've neglected to mention, she was the cousin of one of the guys there, a fellow whose decisions I haven't always agreed with, but have gotten along famously with his parents. Seher had just finished her undergrad in Denver and was spending a few months in town, considering looking for a year's worth of work experience here. She was to spend another month and a half at the very least anyway, a month and a half over which I would no doubt get to spend more time with her, so she said. Unfortunately, fate tends to have plans contrary to your own.
Around three in the morning, her dad called in from Denver, to tell her that his dad had died sometime in the last few hours, and that she had to get back there by an 8:30AM flight. Her cousin was far too drunk to take her home, so I offered to, another chance to give Anastasio a spin. We spent about half an hour there, while Seher packed, and I pretty much ignored her aunt and uncle, who later told me, when I went back there to apologize the next day, that they had considered introducing Seher to me at some point, as they thought we'd get along well. Leaving the house, the two of us stopped by at the Grand for an overpriced breakfast, as it was the coffee shop closest to the airport open at this time, and we were both pretty famished. We had also pretty much stopped saying much by this point, though I can imagine we both still had a lot to say.
Finally, at the airport, she refused to go in, choosing to stay at the separator bars at departure, holding my hands until about the last possible minute, when she gave me another perfect hug, a light peck on my cheek, and another of those smiles of hers, that reached well into her eyes.
I'm probably not going to see her again before July, from her email, but she did send me this little South Park character of me, knowing how much I love the show.