Sunday , November 27 2022

Shocking Flashbacks About Wife

As I sat in the back of the car, going over the fi…

As I sat in the back of the car, going over the file for the meeting, I noticed yet again that the driver was looking at me carefully in the rearview mirror. I looked at the mirror, into his eyes, and he looked away at once, focusing on the road.

This had been happening for about for about ten minutes since he picked me up from outside the Bombay airport. I live in Bangalore, and was visiting Bombay for a meeting that day with some foreign honchos from my company’s global headquarters. The company had booked an air-conditioned car to transport me from the airport to the hotel on Marine Drive where I was to attend the meeting and then fly back to Bangalore in the evening. Right from the moment that morning when I spotted him otuside the arrival gate, dressed in a white uniform holding a placard with my name on it, I realized that he had been looking at me with a confused look on his face. He politely took my bag, put it in the trunk, told me about the newspapers and magazines in the back seat, and then got in the driver’s seat. All through he had been stealing glances at me. And then when he started driving, I realized he kept looking at me in the rearview mirror.

When he looked at me again, this time when we were stopped at a traffic light after the Mahim causeway, I could not help but say,

“Driver, why do you keep looking at me like that?”

He was startled at the question, looked away, and then said,

“Sorry, Sir, I keep getting this strong feeling that I know you from somewhere. And ever since I picked you up at the airport, I have been trying to figure out where we have met before.”

“Okay.” I said looking now at his face to see if it rang a bell. He was an old man, and maybe 20 or so years older than me, which would put him close to 70. He had a bald head with a few white hair. Nothing about him struck a note in my memory, “You don’t really seem familiar to me though.”

“Hmmm. Well, maybe it is my mistake. Do you come to Bombay a lot? And book a car from our company all the time?” he asked.

“No, I don’t visit Bombay much at all in fact. This is just my third trip in the last twenty five years. Before that I lived in the city for a while.” I proferred some information.

“My mistake then.” the driver said and stopped talking. He also stopped looking at me.

The car travelled south slowly because of the heavy traffic. No matter how many roads they widened and how many flyovers they built, traffic in Bombay always moved at a snail’s pace. I got back to reading the file and we were just entering Worli when my cell phone rang. I took it out of my pocket and saw the name of my wife Sulekha flashing on it.

“Hi Sulekha.” I said. “Sorry, forgot to call after landing. Reached Bombay safely.”

“Alright, Tarun, just called to make sure. Ready for the meeting?” my wife asked.

“As ready as can be. Going over the file one more time.” I answered.

“Ok, I’ll let you get back to it. Call me when the meeting is done and tell me all about it.” she said and hung up.

I put the phone back in my pocket and got back to reading. It had barely been a minute when the driver said,

“Sir, when you lived in Bombay twenty five years ago, was it at Yari Road?”

His question surprised me. Maybe he did know me from somewhere.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I did.” I said. “Do you know me from there?”

“You lived in the A wing of Janak apartments, on the 7th floor.”

“Yes, I did.” I answered, astonished that the man remembered such details from 25 years ago. “How do you know that?”

“Well Sir,” he said and paused for a while and continued, “It was when I had just come to Bombay from my village and was working as a laborer on the construction of the B wing of your building.”

When he said construction of B wing, suddenly a bunch of memories came flooding back to me vividly. Although I still did not recognize this man’s face, now that I knew what he worked as back then, I realized, with acute embarrassment, why he knew me.

“Oh. So you were…. one of the laborers.” I said, betraying my discomfort.

“Yes.” he said, looked in the mirror at me and smiled. The traffic started moving rapidly and he concentrated on driving again. And I could not help but throw my mind back to those days, and the reason he still recognized me after all these years.

It was the summer of 1984 and Sulekha and I were enjoying newfound freedom. We had gotten married almost two years before, but I had just started working and did not have any savings, so we had to live with my parents in Delhi. My parents were nice to Sulekha and pleasant to live with, but we never got the kind of privacy that a newly married couple needs, except at night in our bedrooms. In two years though, I built up enough of a reputation at work for the company to transfer me to the then newly opened branch in Bombay. My beautiful wife Sulekha and I shifted to Bombay, excited at finally being able to get some privacy.

The company rented the flat at Yari Road for us, a comfortable one bedroom flat on the seventh floor with a view of the sea from the bedroom window. Needless to say, Sulekha and I, started humping all over the flat like bunnies whenever we got some free time. I was 25, she was 23, and our life was all about eating out, blowing my salary on shopping, roaming around Bombay and then having sex in our flat. Finally, after 2 years of an arranged marriage, we were feeling the thrill of being a newly married couple. It made us happy, and sometimes it made us brash.

One such instance of brashness is what must have made me so memorable for the driver. Like I said, the bedroom window gave us a view of the sea. But from the windows in the living room and the kitchen, the view was of steel rods, bricks, concrete and a lot of hubbub. The B wing of our building was under construction. When we moved in, they had just laid the foundation. So we fucked pretty much all over the house with the windows and curtains open, without worrying about who might see us. But the work progressed very rapidly, and within a few months, the slabs until the 9th floor were done and laborers started working on the walls and flooring. We had to exercise caution, closing windows and curtains before we got down to doing it.

One Sunday afternoon, my wife and I had just come back from shopping, and were both relaxing on the couch, trying to recover from the sapping Bombay humidity. Watching my wife sweat always turned me on. So in a few minutes, I was next to her, kissing her and fondling her all over. She pushed me away for a second and said breathlessly,

“The window.”

I was too caught up in the moment to drag myself away from her writhing body. I craned my neck and looked out the window. The wall-less 7th floor of the B wing looked completely deserted. As I listened, I notied that the usual din of cement mixers and yelling laborers was missing. It was all silent.

“No need.” I replied, kissing my wife even harder, “It’s sunday so they have the day off. No one around.”

“But still, why not..” she started saying, but by then, I had taken my dick out and inserted it in her mouth. Sulekha started sucking on it and soon forgot about the window as well. She sucked my dick for a few minutes and then I stripped her completely naked and went down on her for a few minutes. I fucked her tight pussy for a while on the couch and then, dragged her to the floor, where I always liked doing it.

I was on top of my wife, fucking her, my face over her shoulders, when she suddenly inhaled loudly.

“Did it hurt?” I asked out of concern.

“Noooooo” she said stretching out her reply into a moan

“Then?”

“There’s a man walking around on the 8th floor of the other wing. A laborer.” she said between my strokes.

“Really? Can he see us?” I asked, hoping that I would not have to stop because I was very close to cumming.

“He can if he looks down into our window, but so far he hasn’t.” she replied. Good, so I could keep going, finish off and then move to a spot out of his view. As I kept fucking her, for some reason a question popped into my head and I blurted it out,

“Would you like it if he saw?”

“Mmmmm….” was her ambiguous reply.

“Does it turn you on, the idea of a dirty laborer watching you get fucked by your husband?” I asked.

“A little bit.” she answered in a high pitched voice.

And then I did something rash. I moved my left hand down to her boobs and pinched one nipple very hard. Sulekha let out a loud yelp in pain. A yelp that I am sure the man must have heard. I was still facing downwards, so could not see him. What I saw instead was Sulekha’s face, an expression of horror as well as arousal on it, looking upwards. I followed her gaze and raised my head. And sure enough, there the laborer was, dressed in a knee-length lungi and a turn t-shirt, staring at us. Sulekha and I both looked at him for a couple of seconds. Then the both of us looked away. This was the first time I had had sex in front of any sort of an audience,and it turned me on so much, I started pumping her cunt with my semen right away. As I finished cumming, the two of us came to our senses, and scurried away from the window right away.

But that incident opened a sort of a door for us. We talked about it and admitted to each other that both of us were turned on. And we decided to do soemthing similar once in a while, without taking too many risks. After all, we didn’t want to tease the laborers so much that they’d storm into our house. And they should not realize that we were flashing them on purpose. It had to seem like accidental exposure. If they knew we were planning it, they’d come over to our house too, and we didn’t want that. We just wanted the thrill of someone watching, once in a while, as we had sex.

It took the laborers two months to finish the 7th and 8th floors. In those two months, Sulekha and I had sex in front of them 6 times. Each time, making it seem like we didn’t realize we were being seen, or that we had forgotten to close the window, or the curtain had slid open by accident. But we could see them in strategically placed mirrors. So I knew that at least 4 different men had seen us, my wife and I, completely naked and having sex. A couple of time, more than one man would be together and they’d talk while they watched. Other times it was just one person. My wife had the best orgasms when they watched.

Then the floors finished, and our exhibitonism ended. I expressed a desire to try out some new stuff, like maybe expose her to someone on the beach or in the local trains, bur Sulekha always dismissed it as too risky. A few weeks later, we came to know she was pregnant, and that completely put an end to any experimentation. Now I was lucky to get regular sex from her in the bedroom even once a week. As the delivery date came closer, Sulekha went to her parents place in Delhi. I took a leave and went there too. And a few days after our first son was born, my company told me they were transferring me to the Bangalore office. Where Sulekha and I have lived since then.

All these memories from 1984 flashed in front of m…

All these memories from 1984 flashed in front of my eyes for a few seconds and then I was back in 2009.

“So you worked on the 7th and 8th floors of the B wing then? That’s how you recognized me?” I asked the driver.

“Yes Sir.” he said. “It took me some time to figure it out. It has been 25 years and you look different now. Almost seems like a different life. I have been a driver for many years now but back then I was a laborer. And I have almost forgotten all about that period of my life. But when you said the name Sulekha while talking on the phone, it all came back to me.”

“Ah OK I see.” I said, and sat there with the file in my hand. A bee started buzzing in my bonnet but I couldn’t quite nail it down. “Sorry if we teased you all too much. We were young and stupid.”

“That’s OK Sir.” he said. “I have no complaints. I got some great experiences too, experiences I never though I would have.”

The car stopped at a traffic signal and we both stayed silent for a few seconds. I kept thinking about what he had said and then the bee buzzing in my bonnet finally stung.

“Wait, how did you know my wife’s name is Sulekha?” I asked.

“You just said it on the phone a while back, Sir.” he answered.

“Yeah, I know that. But when I said it, how did you know it was her?” I pressed on.

“I don’t understand the question, Sir.” he said, looking confused.

“Let me try it again. I said the name Sulekha. And you recognized me from that. But how did you know in the first place that the name of my wife whom you saw 25 years ago was Sulekha?” I asked.

“Why wouldn’t I know that?” he said, still confused.

“How did you first find it out?”

“She told us, obviously.” he replied.

Us? Who was this “us”, I wanted to ask, but instead I asked,

“Why did she tell you her name? And when?”

“Sir, obviously, when we had sex with her, we got to know her name.” he said.

And I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. Had I heard him right? Was he implying that he…no, not just he, but others too, had sex with my wife? The shock was visible on my face and the driver saw it.

“Sir.” he said looking very unsure, “You do know that your wife and a few of us fucked almost everyday, right?”

“Yes, yes, I know it, obviously.” I said, trying to save face. Was he telling the truth or just messing with my head?

“From the look on your face, it seemed like you had no idea.” he said.

“No, no, nothing like that.” I said, still trying to save face.

“Ok, good. I assumed you knew, because when she put a stop to it, she said it was because you had come to know and gotten upset.” he said.

“Yes, yes, I did. Very upset. Anyway, I have to read this file for a meeting.” I said and turned my face downwards and pretended to read the file. But my mind was swimming in chaos. There was so much I wanted to ask him. Was he really telling the truth, or would he start laughing and say he was joking? If he was telling the truth, how many men did she have sex with? And how many times? How did it all start? And how did I never realize this was happening? I wanted to ask him all that. But instead, I kept staring at the file and kept flipping pages.

Ten minutes later, the car pulled up in front of the hotel entrance. The smartly dressed hote valet opened the door for me. I got out, still in a daze, clutching the file, and just nodded at the doorman. The driver got out and took my bag out of the trunk and put it next to me. He then extended his hand towards me with a wide smile on my face and said,

“It was great to see you again, Sir. My name is Abid by the way. Give Sulekha my best regards.”

I absent-mindedly shook his hand and nodded. He let go of my hand, got back in the car and drove away.

I was a mental mess the whole day. A bombshell had just been dropped on me. My wife of 27 years, the mother of my grown-up son, had cheated on me many years ago with some dirty common construction laborers? And not just once, but “everyday” like Abid said? On any other day, I would have dropped any work I had and headed home straigbht away. But these meetings were too important to blow away. So I endured through them. I was visibly distracted and I am sure I did not do my chances of any further promotions or foreign assignments any favor, because the honchos seemed to notice it.

When the meetings concluded, not too satisfactorily, I called up Sulekha.

“How did the meeting go, Tarun? Any big news?” she asked excitedly.

“Meeting was fine.” I answered curtly.

“So now that you have some time to kill before your flight, what are you going to do? Why don’t you go to some of our old favorites from our days in Bombay? Go to Gaylord for dinner. Or maybe Gazali. have a beer at Loepolds.”

“Not in the mood.” I said brusquely, “I am going to the airport to see if they can accomodate me on an early flight.”

“Oh ok, sounds like it has been a tough day, darling.” she said sympathetically, assuming that my bad mood was a result of gruelling meetings.

“Hmm. Anyway, I’ll see you in a while.”

I did not call up the car service, worried that they might send Abid over again. I just hailed a normal yellow-and-black taxi, and went to the airport. I was lucky enough to get a seat on an earlier flight, and within a couple of hours I was walking out of Bangalore airport.

When I got home, Sulekha was sitting on the couch watching TV. I stared at her. The Sulekha of today looked nothing like the Sulekha of 25 years ago. Now she was, not to put too fine a point on it, very fat. After the birth of our son Karan, she never lost the pregnancy weight, and in fact kept adding to it every year. Her breasts, which back then were alluringly big, were now morbidly huge and sagging. Her ass, once perfectly round and fleshy, was now gargantuan. Plus she had lost interest in sex too, which was fine by me, because I was not attracted to her any more.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Tarun?” she said.

I did not answer. Just kept my bag on the floor, walked to the couch, picked up the remote and turned the TV off.

“Hey, I was watching that!” she said in protest.

“I need to talk to you.” I said in a tone of voice that immediately indicated to her that something was wrong.

“What’s wrong, Tarun?” she said, sounding worried.

“Is Karan planning on coming by tonight, by any chance?” I asked. Our son, who had recently finished his MBA, also worked in Bangalore. But he had moved out of our house in Indiranagar to the more “happening” Kormangala area with some friends as roommates. He still dropped by 2-3 times a week for dinner though.

“No, he is not. He is having some friends over for a party.” Sulekha replied.

“Good. I’d prefer it if it were just the two of us for a while.” I said.

“For god’s sake Tarun, what is it? Is it some bad news from work?” she asked.

“No, work is fine. The meeting didn’t go great, but it’s fine.” I said.

“So what is it?” she said, sounding annoyed.

I walked to the liquor cabinet and took out the bottle of scotch. I put ice in two glasses, and poured a generous amount of scotch in both. I then walked back towards Sulekha with thw bottle and the two glasses in my hands and gave her a glass.

“You know I don’t like scotch, Tarun.” she said.

“You and I both need something really strong for our nerves while we talk.” I said. Sulekha took the glass reluctantly.

“Alright.” she said, “But will you please start talking?”

I brought the scotch glass close to my lips and in one rapid motion, downed it down my throat, swallowing the whole thing. Sulekha watched in amaement, because she knew how I stressed the need to sip scotch and appreciate its flavors, and not chug it like a lot of our uncles from Delhi do. But today I needed the bracer. I poured myself another drink and sat back on the couch with it in my hand.

“Abid sends his regards.” I said.

“Who?” Sulekha said, looking genuinely confused.

“Abid. He was my driver today. Have you ever known anyone by that name? Abid?” I asked.

A brief, almost faint look of recognition flashed across Sulekha’s face, but to her credit, she skillfully brought back her confused look.

“Abid? No, never.” she said, and then took a sip of scotch herself.

“Are you sure, Sulekha? Never known an Abid?” I asked.

“What is this all about, Tarun? Why don’t you just get to the point?” she said impatiently.

I stared at her and considered the possibility that the old man Abid had just been lying. Making it all up. Screwing with my head. Maybe even getting back at him for teasing him all those years back by fucking my then-hot wife in front of him. But what if he had been telling the truth?

“Today in Bombay, my driver was an old man named Abid. For a while, he said he knew me from somewhere but couldn’t place it. Then, after he overheard me mention your name when we spoke on the phone, he remembered. He used to be a construction laborer working on the other wing of the building we lived in on Yari Road.” I said and paused to take another sip. Sulekha was just staring at me expression-lessly.

“So over the course of our conversation, I found out something. I always thought that our having sex near the windows to tease them was all they ever saw of you. It turns out that they saw much more of you. Am I right?” I said. I wanted to leave the questions open-ended and vague and see what information she proferred. I also did not want to head straight to the did you fuck laborers question, in case it was false and she got upset.

“Tarun, all this happened twenty five years ago.” Sulekha repliedm stressing on the twenty five.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Tarun, really, what good can come of this?” she said.

“Just answer my fucking question.” I said.

“Okay. Yes.” she said.

“Yes what?” I asked.

“They saw more than just the two of us together.” she said. “When I was alone.”

“How did it start?”

Sulekha took a big sip of the scotch, kept quiet f…

Sulekha took a big sip of the scotch, kept quiet for a few seconds as if to remember, and said,

“One day after you went to work, I slept for a couple of hours more. Then I got up and went to take a shower. But I forgot to take the towel with me. So when I got done with my shower, I not only realized that I had forgotten it, but also that the maid had washed all the towels the previous day and hung them to dry in the windows. So I tiptoed out of the bathroom, naked and wet, and into the living room. I could see the towels in the window. But I was worried that the laborers might see me. So I took a few steps, bent down and hid my nakedness behind the couch and scanned the other wing to see if anyone was around. I did not see anyone. So I decided to risk it. I quickly rushed to the window, pulled a towel down from the clothesline and wrapped it around my body.”

“As I stood there, the towel covering my wet body, I realized with a shock that one of the laborers was watching me. He had been standing behind a wall, plastering it, so when I checked earlied, I hadn’t seen him. But from the look on his face, he had seen me run naked to the window and take the towel.”

“When exactly was this?” I asked. “Before or after we first had sex in their full view?”

“I think it was after done it in front of them two times. But this laborer was a different one. He had not seen us before.” she said.

“So for him, that was the first look at you?” I asked.

“Yes. I stared at him for a couple of seconds, and then ran back, away from his view. Then I got dressed.” she said. “That’s how it sort of started.”

“Okay, what next?” I asked.

“Tarun, are you sure you want me to tell you all this?” she said almost pleading.

“Yes, I want to know the details.” I said emphatically.

“When that shower-towel thing happened, I got a perverse sort of a thrill from it. I was already excited by the previous times when we had sex in front of them. This seemed like my own solitary adventure. After that day, I started doing this almost every day. I would hang the towel in the window. Go shower without it. And then walk and get it. Initially I took precautions to make sure no one was around. I’d hide behind the couch, scan the surroundings and then get the towel. I had convinced myself that I didn’t actually want to get seen by them, but it was the thrill of the risk that turned me on.”

“Did they see you everyday?” I asked.

“No, not everyday. Sometimes, no one would be around. Other times, they’d be too busy in their work or facing away from me. As I progressed to not checking if anyone was around at all, and just walking naked to the window to get my towel, I was seen only three more times. Over the next ten days or so. once by just one guy, and ithers times by a group of guys.”

“Did they say anything to you?” I asked.

“Not then. Until then they kept quiet, just staring, maybe smiling once in a while. But I never made eye-contact with them. But after ten days or so, some of them saw the pattern in my behavior. On the tenth or eleventh day, when I walked naked and wet to the window, there were five or six guys standing there waiting for me to appear. And as soon as I did, started whistling loudly. Their first explicit reaction to me.” she said.

“How did you feel?” I asked.

“That really freaked me out. Until then, they had been a silence audience. And I was in some sort of a comfort zone, displaying my naked body to them, as they watched silently. But the loud whistles made me aware of the risks I was taking. Initially, like with our having sex in their view, my intention was to make it seem accidental, as if I didn’t really plan of exposing myself to them. And initially, they thought so too. But as my actions became a routine, they realized I was getting a kick out of this. Anyway, after the wolf whistle, I stopped pulling the towel stunt. I’d get dressed in the bathroom, keep my clothes on all day, and if they were standing around looking into our window, ignored them.”

“Then you wanted to have sex in their view once again. If you remember, I was very reluctant, because now I knew they knew. But you were really insistent. I contemplated telling you about what I had been doing in your absence. But I thought you’d get upset over my stupidity, so I didn’t. And I gave in to your desire to have sex by the window. As we had sex that day, you didn’t realize it, but I made eye contact with them a few times. And they all smiled or made some sort of lewd gestures, which turned me on. Now I had not only an audience, but an interactive audience. After that time, the desire in me to push things farther escalated.”

“What dd you do?” I asked.

“The next day, I walked out of the shower naked and wet and went to the window. The guys were standing there. As I took the towel, they got a look at my naked boobs and pussy and started whistling again. This time, I took the towel, and instead of wrapping it around me, started drying my body with it. I did it slowly and very sexily, pressing and massaging my boobs as I dried them. And turning around to show them my ass as I dried it. One of them yelled out and asked if he should come over to our house. That got me really scared. I had no intention of letting them come near me. It was all meant to be just exhibitionist games. So I shook my head, and ran back. And….” Sulekha said, taking a pause and downing the last of her drink. “…that’s it. I didn’t tease them alone by myself from then.”

She looked at me with contrition, but also with finality, signaling that the story had ended.

“Is that all?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s all. After that it was just the times we had sex in front of them that they got to see me naked.” she said.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes, Tarun, that’s it. I know you won’t believe me, but that’s where I drew a line and stopped.” she said, now sounding a little upset.

“What if I say that Abid told me something that suggests there was more?” I asked.

“Then Abid has either started having hallucinations in old age or he is lying.” Sulekha said, raising her voice. “I have had enough of this. I am going to the bedroom to read.”

With that she banged the glass down on the table and stormed out of the room. I sat there silently, introspecting. I was upset at Sulekha for whatever she had done. And I didn’t know for sure what it was. But I was also undeniably turned on by her description of the events. As she spoke, I pictured Sulekha of 1984, svelte, pretty, with a hot body, flashing herself to common penniless laborers. And the debauched incidents were getting me hard. Sulekha had fortunately not noticed it, or if she had, had not commented on it. So even though it was important for me to know the whole truth, especially in the bullet point form, it was more desirable to hear the events described slowly and in great detail.

I considered my options. I could go and started an argument with Sulekha, accusing her of sleeping with a lot of men. She might have denied it, or even admitted it. But if she did admit it, it would be in tears and the situation would be too volatile. On the other hand, if I slowly nudged her forward, and made her describe the events, she might not get upset. And might eventually end up confessing to everything herself. I decided to go with the latter option.

For the next few days, I did not bring up the topic of 1984 at all. Sulekha seemed relieved that I had dropped it. The awkwardness between us disappeared and we started acting normal with each other.

Then one day, we had gone to a party at one of her girlfriends’ places. It was all these women, who met in the club, getting together and yakking, while their husbands milled around. Since it was Sulekha’s event, I volunteered to be the designated driver and kept myself limited to just a couple of beers. Sulekha, given the free pass to drink as much as she liked, got really drunk. Not pass-out drunk…..at her present body weight, it would take a lot of alcohol to knock her out. But drunk enough that she was slurring, walking unevenly and giggling a lot. As I drove her back home late that night, and I saw how drunk, giggly and chatty she was, I realized this was a perfect time to probe her a little further on 1984.

“So back in Yari Road, the thing we were talking about the other day. I find it surprising that the guys didn’t try to make some sort of a move on you.” I brought it up casually.

“Hmmmm? Who?” she said, slurring, her eyes half closed.

“You know, in Bombay. After you dried yourself with a towel in front of them. You said it stopped. But come on, Sulekha, come on,” I said playfully, “that’s not the whole story is it?” and I laughed a little.

Sulekha also giggled and said ina very childlike voice

“No. But it’s a secret.” she said.

“Come on, tell me the secret. What happened next?” I asked.

“Okay.” she said rolling her head over to one side. “But you must promise to not get upset.”

“I promise.”

“Okay. So what happened next. Oh yes,” she started speaking, slurring a lot of words, “Two days later, there was a knock on the door. I opened and it was the watchman, with 2 of the laborers. He said they needed to do something…I forget what…something about water and plaster on the outer wall with a spray…I dont know… he said they needed to do it from our window. So they came in to the house. The watchman left and soon it was just me and those two laborers.”

“Were they among those who had seen you naked before?” I asked.

“One was. His name was Dara. He was middle aged and he had seen me naked many times before. Not the other. The other was a young kid, around 18 years old. I had never seen him before. The two of them had some tooks and stuff with them and they went to the window and started doing the work. I was happy they weren’t talking to me, or making any references to my naked games. I went to the bedroom and staretd reading a magazine. But that happiness didn’t last long. After fifteen minutes or so, I heard one of them yell out that they wanted water to drink. So I got up, filled water in two glasses and brought it to them.”

“I kept the glasses on the floor and started walking away when Dara said to me that I looked so different with clothes on. I was stunned and I could see that the kid was also stunned. I just stood there, turning my back towards them, when Dara came and stood very close to me. He very tentatively put a hand on my shoulder.”

“What were you wearing?” I asked.

“A full length sleeping gown like I used to wear back then, remember?” she said. I remembered. Those loose sleeping gowns were a big rage among women back then. Gowns that came all the way down to the feet. They gave women the modesty of the sari and the comfort of western clothing. It had become somewhat of a casual attire in the 80s, and it was common to see women go to their neighborhood grocers wearing it. As she mentioned the gown, I made a mental note that hardly anyone seems to wear them any more.

“Okay, so not revealing at all.” I said.

“No. He put his hand on my shoulder, as if dreading doing it.” she said. “I guess he was as nervous as I was. No matter how much I had exposed myself to them, if I started screaming, all the neighbors would have gathered, and he would have lost his job and probably spent a couple of days in prison. but luckily for him, I did not scream. Just turned around to face him. He was looking at me nervously, and the 18 year old kid was also staring at the events with wide eyes.”

“We all stared at each other for a while, and I think Dara lost his nerve at that moment, because he just asked me if I could make some tea for the two of them. I went to the kitchen to make tea. As I was standing there waiting for the water to boil, Dara walked into the kitchen. I think he had worked up his nerve by now because when he came and stood next to me, he immediately put his arm around my waist. I didn’t react to it. I like the hard grip of his rough hands.”

“His hand resting on my waist, he started pulling the fabric of the gown up and holding it in his fist. I felt scared at what he was doing, but also a bit aroused. I was also curious to see how far he would go. When he stopped, the gown was bunched up in his hand on one side above my hips. And hald my panties and my legs were visible.”

“When I didn’t protest, he got emboldened and now held the gown with both his hands and pulled it higher, to take it off. I said Wait, and he froze, wondering if he had gone too far and if the screaming would start now. Instead I said to him that I needed to loosen the buttons in the neck for it to come off. He watched intently as I unbuttoned the neck, and then raised my hands up, giving him the green signal to take it off.”

“You did this willingly?” I finally asked, shocked. It had taken a lot of effort to keep my eyes on the road.

“Yes, I just got caught up in the situation. Anyway, once he took off my gown, he threw it on the floor and stared at my bra-covered boobs. He then started to put his hands down my panties when I slapped them away. And then he backed off. He took a step back and just stared at me as I made the tea.”

“After I got done making the tea, I poured it into two cups, put them on a tray and walked to the living room with the tray. Just wearing my bra and panties. The kid who had been working there almost peed his lungi in shock when he saw me walk out like that. I put the tray down and sat on the couch, reading a magazine, as if everything was normal.”

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