Adultery Unfaithful Mothers and Housewives - Stranger_Women

The Motel Manager's Wife

Where exactly should I start this story? At the very beginning? But what is the beginning? A year ago? Two years ago? Ten years ago? Fifteen years ago?

I guess for me, the story really started in the middle of a scorching hot summer night in a small town in South Texas about a year ago. I woke up with a start in my bedroom, drenched in sweat. Summers in Texas are a lot like summers in India. Even the nights are hot. In fact even hotter. Thank heavens for ubiquitous air conditioning and ample electricity in America, you didn't suffer it much. Which is why I was confused as to why the room was so hot. I am usually a heavy sleeper. Once I even slept through an earthquake. So for me to wake up like this, the room had to be really hot.

In the darkness I got up and walked to the AC. It was making more noise than usual. So it was clearly on. I put my hand over the vents. And I understood the problem right away.

"Apara, the AC is broken." I instinctively said, and then bit my tongue. If she hadn't woken up, why wake her? She was the exact opposite of me, a very light sleeper. Luckily, there was no response. So I hadn't woken her up. Phew!

The good thing about living in a motel is that you have a huge selection of bedrooms. So what if the AC in our small manager's apartment was broken? Half the guest rooms were unoccupied. I could have my pick. I went back to the bed to get my phone from the night stand. By now my eyes had gotten used to the darkness. And that's when I first noticed it.

My wife wasn't in bed with me. I could see the bathroom door was partially open and the light wasn't on.*

I didn't really think much of it at that time. In our business, such situations can arise in the middle of the night. A guest checking in late, some complaint about noise from some room, the night clerk having to leave in the middle of the night, the security officer or immigration officers visiting us to ask if a particular fugitive is in the motel, or literally anything else you can think of. As the light sleeper, if such situations arose, Apara was the one who usually handled them.

I walked out of our apartment, remembering to take my phone and keys with me. The corridor wasn't as hot as my bedroom, but it was still not cool by any means. I checked my phone. It was 3:30 AM and the temperature outside was 38 Celsius. Ouch! No wonder. Pulling at my sweat soaked t-shirt to air it out, I walked to the front desk, which was just around the corner.*

I was half-expecting to see Apara there. But it was Pepe, a guy who occasionally filled the night shift. The 20 year old Mexican immigrant inhaled deeply when he saw me.

"Meester Hitesh!" he said loudly.

"Pepe." I nodded yawning and rubbing my eyes. "Is 106 still empty?"

If I had to choose a room, that was the best. It was the closest to our apartment. And it had the newest and strongest AC. But even as the manager with the master key, I couldn't just walk in. I had to make sure it hadn't been given to some guest.

"Que?" he said, looking either confused or scared.

I grimaced. Growing up in India, I used to think everyone in America speaks great English. It was only after I moved to the small Texas town close to the Mexican border that I realized that there were probably more English speakers in any random Gujarati town. I never understood the logic behind having a guy with zero grasp of English working at the night desk. What if someone who only spoke English showed up in the middle of the night? Apara brushed those concerns away saying, that situation in our region was highly unlikely.

"Uno....zero.....cinco." *I said trying to remember the Spanish numbers. I didn't really know too many words. Apara had grown up in Arizona and was fluent in Spanish, so if a situation arose when the language had to be spoken, she handled it.

"Uno cero cinco." He nodded.

"Is it still empty?"

"Emp....tee?"*

"Ocupado?" I said, hoping it was the right word for occupied.

He understood. Looked at the computer screen.*

"Uno cero cinco......no ocupado."

"Okay, I am going there to sleep."

I reached over the counter for the keyboard, turned the monitor to face me, and changed 106 to occupied, hoping that it would be nice and cool. I made sure I had my master key card with me and walked away. A few steps and I stopped. I turned around.

"Where is Apara?"

"Apara...."

"My wife. Apara."

"No se." he shrugged. He didn't know. He was turning the monitor around to face him and looking at it.

"She didn't come here?"

"No se, jefe." he shrugged again.*

I shrugged too. My guess was, my light sleeper wife had woken up because of the broken AC much before me, had the same idea, and moved to a guest room. I was about to turn into the long hallway at the end of the reception area and was about to turn right towards 106 when I thought I heard Pepe mutter to himself.

"Merde! Uno cero seis!" and then he said to me loudly. "LAVENDARIA!!"

"What?

"Miss Apara.....lavendaria." he said very urgently.

"She is in the laundry room?"

"Si."

"Why is she in the laundry room?"

"Laundry room. You go. You see."

This was weird. Why was she in the laundry room in the middle of the night? Maybe some machine had broken? Maybe she could use my help. I turned around, because the laundry room was all the way at the end of the other hallway. Pepe stared at me as I walked towards it. And just as I was about to walk out of earshot, I got the feeling he picked up the phone and dialed some numbers. But I didn't think much about it. At that time.

It took me almost a minute to walk all the way to the laundry room. When I opened it and walked in, I was confused. It was completely dark. I turned the lights on and looked around. There was no one in the room. At that time, I thought maybe there had been an error in our English-Spanish communication. I yawned, closed the door and turned back to head over to room 106.*

I stepped inside the room. Ah, nice and cold, with the AC cranked up to high. Didn't even bother turning the light on. Just as I sat on the bed, I heard the bathroom door open. And instantly jumped up. What the hell? The room was occupied? How was I going to explain my presence there in the middle of the night? But before I could say anything, the light streaming out of the bathroom illuminated the figure that stepped out.

"Apara?"

"Hitesh?"

"What are you doing here?" she said, looking around the room.

"What are YOU doing here?"

"I came here to sleep because of the AC." I said.*

"I just came to check on the shower in this room. One of the maids said the knob was wobbly." she said. "What happened to the AC?"

"It stopped working." I said.

"The AC is fine, Hitesh." she pointed to it.

"Not this one. The one in our apartment. Stopped working. The bedroom got really hot. I woke up drenched in sweat. So I decided to move to this room. I thought that's what you did too. That's why you weren't in the room."

"Yes, yes. The AC in our room. That's right." she said and walked towards me.*

I stared at my wife. She was dressed differently than when we had gone to bed earlier in the night. At that time she was in a t-shirt and pyjamas. Now she was in a tank top and a skirt.

"When I went to the front desk to confirm this room was empty, Pepe said you were in the laundry room." I said as she sat on the bed next to me.

"Yes, I was in the laundry room because the maid also said one of the machines was not working. Then I went to one of the other rooms to check on some thing there." I felt her hand on my arm and then move to my chest. "And then Pepe told me you are in this room. So I came here."

And suddenly I felt her teeth at my ear. She nibbled at it and then pulled my face into a kiss. This was a pleasant surprise. Usually Apara never made the first move in bed. Many times when I did, she said she was either too tired or had a headache. We had sex maybe once a week or so. And it hadn't yet been a full year since we got married. So this gesture from her pushed all other thoughts out of my head.

I grabbed the back of her head and kissed her back. She kissed me very passionately. Much more so than usual. I thought I detected an unusual scent in her breath. With her right hand, Apara grabbed my shirt and pulled me on top of her. I reached under her skirt to pull down her panties, and was surprised when I fingers directly touched her bare pussy. That made me pause.

Apara paused in the middle of the kiss and giggled.

"I took them off in the bathroom. To prepare for you."

"But you...." I was going to ask her something when I felt her other hand reach into my shorts and grab my hardening dick.

And soon I was completely on top of her, thrusting my dick in her warm and wet vagina. I pulled up her tank top and played with her big jiggling boobs.*

"Yes....yes....just like that....harder....come on, harder." she said, biting my shoulder.

I complied, banging her even harder.*

"Kiss me!" she hoarsely said and pulled my face down. And then I felt her ankles lock behind my back and pull me in.*

I felt my wife's tongue probe all over the inside of my mouth as our thighs slapped against each other. I could feel my orgasm approaching. I grabbed her boobs harder and started pounding her even faster.*I was on cloud nine. Was this really happening? Such amazing sex, with Apara acting like an animal in heat? This is how I had always imagined it! It took a year but finally, our sexual chemistry seemed to be clicking.

Apara and my marriage was an arranged one, and like many, was a marriage of convenience and compromise.*

I am originally from Ahmedabad, born in a lower middle class family, the son of a grocery store owner, and the grandson of a grocery store owner. Growing up, I was never too academically inclined. Like many Gujaratis, I always wanted to be an entrepreneur. So after getting a simple bachelors degree in commerce from a mid-level college, I tried my hand at striking it big in business. With a couple of friends, I first tried to open a gym. It was an ambitious plan. Our respective parents financed it and put a lot of faith in us. But we had overestimated the demand for fitness and underestimated the competition. In three years, it shut down.

One of those friends got married to a girl in the US and moved there. The two of us who remained, decided to open a big internet cafe. Back then, they were in high demand. But along came smart phones, and our revenues or profits weren't able to keep us going for long. Yet another business failure. And then another.*

Before I knew it, I was 36, starting to lose my hair, my pudgy body getting even pudgier, with no real career or business, helping my father out at the grocery store, seemingly destined to follow in his footsteps. I was also unmarried. Not being very good looking or charming, I had never been able to get any girl to say yes to me in the romance/dating context, which was already rare in our conventional community. A few attempts at arranged marriage had also fallen through because of those business failures.

And then my mother came to know of the Apara prospect through our caste's match-making service. Apparently her family was keen on a husband from the same caste. Like my own marriage resume, her's seemed to have some flaws, which is probably why she was unmarried at 34.

From the pictures, she looked nice enough. Let's say, above average. Not a drop-dead gorgeous hottie and slightly plump, but a nice face, and from what I could see, well-stacked. She was born in Baroda, but at age 3, lost both her parents in an accident. Her uncle and aunt had adopted her, taken her to the US and raised her there. She had dropped out of college after a couple of years, and from what I heard, worked for her uncle who owned 3 motels in Texas.

What made the proposal really enticing was that it came with a job offer. The uncle was about to buy a 4th motel and whoever married Apara would be the manager. We would get an apartment in the motel, rent-free, and a combined salary of 35,000 US dollars. And after a few years, he would loan us money to start our own motel if we wanted. And needless to say, because Apara was a US citizen, her husband would instantly get a green card, and in 3 years, full citizenship.*

My father was very gung ho about it. My mother had just one concern - why is this girl unmarried at 34? And having grown up in the US, what kind of a "past" does she have? My father brushed those concerns off saying, well, our own son is 36 and unmarried. And we know it's not because of some shady past, but just bad luck. So her uncle was approached.

Unsurprisingly, mine was one of about two dozen proposals she got from within our caste. The lure of an easy green card is hard to resist, especially in Gujarat. I apparently made it to the "shortlist" of five. Then the family came down to Ahmedabad to meet the prospective grooms. When our families met, Apara herself didn't say much. But I was pleased to see that she was nice looking in person too. A little darker complexion than in the pictures, but otherwise, very nice. And yes, definitely well-stacked.*

It was the uncle who talked the most. I felt like it was a job interview. And it was completely in English. He asked me about my two failed businesses, why they failed, what I had learned from them, and so on. After two hours, they left, and said they would let us know.

In five days, we got the call. I had been "selected". Later the uncle told me I had been selected because my English was very good. And I had experience in the service industry, and from our conversation, he was convinced the failures were mainly because of bad luck. There was no mention made of why I would be a good husband for his niece, or whether Apara had any say in the matter.

Both families started preparing for the wedding. Our relatives met their relatives. There were a lot of functions, in true Gujarati tradition. Apara and I got to spend some time together, but rarely alone. There was always some family member or other with us.

Throughout all this, I was a little bothered by how Apara seemed almost........disinterested in the whole thing. Don't get me wrong. She wasn't sulking or depressed or anything. And of course, in arranged marriages, the bride and groom are a bit subdued. But still, it seemed like something was off. So after one function, as the family was going back to their hotel and everyone was saying their goodnights, I spoke up.

"Can I...talk to Apara alone for a little while?"*

Suddenly everyone in the family fell silent. The uncle looked at me.

"About what?"

"Just....like that." I said nervously. My dad gave me a look as if to say, why are you trying to ruin this?

"For how long?"

"Ten minutes? We'll just take a short walk around the block."

"Hmmm...OK. We will be in the car." He looked at Apara and nodded. And I thought I detected a stern 'behave yourself' kind of a look. She lowered her eyes and walked towards me.

I took a dozen steps down the road, with her by my side. But I couldn't think of anything to say. I had no idea about how to start a conversation with a woman I would be spending the rest of my life with.

"Are you......happy with this?" I finally said in Gujarati.

"Sure." she said in a nonchalant tone.*

Silence for a few seconds.

"Are you happy?" she asked.

"Me? Yes, of course I am." I said. "I just....I don't know....I found it strange that we are about to get married and we haven't had a one on one conversation yet."

"Isn't that how it's supposed to work in our community? It's the families that do everything before the marriage?"*

"Well, yeah. But still. We can talk and spend some time together alone. It's not like the 1800s anymore."

She let out a short derisive laugh.

"If you say so."

We walked a little more. I was having trouble coming up with the next sentence.

"What are you thinking about?" Apara asked.

"Nothing." I said.

"Should we turn back?" she stopped.

I stayed silent and looked at her. She looked back at me with the same prosaic expression I had gotten used to. And then suddenly, there was a spark in her eyes and she half-smiled. For a second she looked back at the car with her family, about 500 feet away from us. The uncle was standing and looking at us. Then there was a flash of emotion on her face.

"Are you trying to summon the courage to ask me if I am a virgin or not?"

"What???" I was taken aback.

"Isn't that supposed to be a big deal? Especially when it's someone who's grown up in corrupt godless America."

In a way, this first ever open expression of thoughts was refreshing. But it was also disconcerting. Women in my family or my community didn't talk like this.

"No." I said. "I mean, yes, it is supposed to be a big deal. But for me personally.....I don't care."

"Don't care? Or have you just assumed I am not a virgin....and are okay with it because you get a job and a green card in return?"

"I......." she was sort of right.

"Well, for your information, you assumed right." she said, smiled, and started walking back.*

I walked back with her, in silence.

Back in Room 106.

"Ohhhh yes....yes....harder....harder...." she was saying in her Texan drawl.

And then I started shooting my cum inside her. And she stopped talking. Put her right hand on my chest and unlocked her legs from behind me. Spent, I gently kissed her and rolled off.*

Before I could say anything, she jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom. I used tissues from the night stand to clean myself. And as the exhilaration of sex wore off, some thoughts that had been pushed to the side started making their way back.

I closed my eyes and thought about the conversation we had before she initiated sex for the first time ever in our marriage. A few things didn't add up.*

She did not seem to know initially that the AC in our room was broken. She said she had just come here to check the shower. And seemed surprised to see me in the room. But later said she had taken her panties off in the bathroom in preparation for me. And she had changed from her usual night garb into a tank top and a skirt. She rarely, if ever, wore those clothes.*

All these thoughts were swirling in my head, and the implication was too much to contemplate. Had she been lying to me? If so, why? Why was her story so mixed up? And then I thought about my interaction with Pepe. He initially seemed almost shocked to see me. And his English seemed even worse than usual. It could be because it was the middle of the night and he was groggy. But still.*

And then I thought about how I mixed up the Spanish words for five and six. When he thought I was going to room 105, he was fine with it. But then he saw the screen and probably noticed that I was going to 106, which was across from it. And then he suddenly sent me on the long trek to the laundry room.*

A few minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom. Her demeanor was very different from earlier. She was back to being her inert self. Without making eye contact with me, she walked to the other side of the bed.*

"I'll call the AC repairman tomorrow." she said, getting under the sheets.

"OK." I said.

I thought about questioning her a bit more about the story. but then, thought better of it. Soon she was asleep. But I stayed awake, thinking about all these things in a loop.

At 5:30 my daily alarm rang. I reached for my phone and silenced it. It was time to put out the breakfast and relieve Pepe. As I headed to the bathroom, I sensed that Apara was also stirring. I came out of the bathroom a few minutes later and turned the light on. Apara was sitting up in bed looking at her phone. As I walked towards the bed, she got up from it and started walking towards me.*

And then I stopped and looked at the floor. There were two socks there. Apara also noticed them. Her jaw seemed to tighten.

"Whose socks are these?" I said.

"Aren't they yours?"*

"No."

"Maybe the previous guests forgot them." she said picking them up.

"I thought the maid had already cleaned the room."

"Oh you know how they can be." she shrugged and laughed. "Anyway, I'll go change and then start the coffee machine."

And she almost ran out of the room.

So you see, in certain ways, the story starts that night. At least from my perspective. It was the first time ever that I had real suspicions that my wife may be cheating on me. I had no concrete proof and of course, maybe there was some other explanation, but that's when the worm of suspicion first entered my head.

As I thought back to the almost one year before that, I realized that this change wasn't exactly overnight.

Although I am from a conventional and orthodox family, with traditional moral values, I am also a realist. I knew that I could not expect a woman who had grown up in the United States, no matter how chaste her family, to be as docile and homely as someone who grew up in India. And she had even confirmed that she was not a virgin. But I had still expected some level of decency, soberness, and even obedience.

After we got married and moved to Texas, she started showing her true colors very soon. Again, nothing extreme initially if you have a modern upper middle class mindset. But those were big changes for me. For example, in my family, all women wore saris or salwar kameez. Before the marriage, Apara had also been dressed that way. But when we moved to the hotel and started our life together, those traditional clothes became less and less frequent with each passing day.

She gradually went from wearing Indian clothes every day to wearing them every alternate day, down to almost once a week. What she started wearing wasn't scandalous by Texas standards or frankly, even Ahmedabad standards - jeans, trousers, blouses, long skirts, western dresses etc. The streets of India are full of women who dress that way. It's just not something I was used to seeing in the house. But I didn't say anything. When in Rome, do as the Romans.

As time went by, I also realized that her personality was quite dominant and assertive, at least with me. When her uncle and aunt were around, she was always very quiet and obedient. After moving to Texas, we spent the first week at their house. She was like the typical Gujarati housewife then, being silent, respectful, staying confined to house work. But after we moved to the motel, she started being more independent. Again, nothing radical. But she was a lot more involved in the decision making, even taking the lead on many decisions. One small example is that she insisted on driving most of the time, saying I was not used to American rules. In my family, none of the women drove.

In running the business too, she was asserting herself. I had gone there with the understanding that I would be the manager, running the business side of things. And she would take care of housekeeping stuff like laundry, cleaning rooms, cooking etc. She still did the housekeeping things of course. But was acting like a co-manager with me, deciding shift schedules, setting prices, etc. One time we had a little argument about this.

"Hitesh....I see the price in the system is set at 150 dollars a night for the next weekend." she said one night.

"Yes, I read there is a rodeo contest nearby. So there will be high demand."

"There will be, but 150 is too high. 125 will be better. Or we won't sell out. That's roughly how much our competition is charging."

"No, I heard some fifty thousand people come for it."

"I know. Still, we should change it to 125."

"150 is fine." I gruffly said, with a tone of finality.

I saw anger flash in her eyes as she said,

"I am the one who has grown up here. I am the one who has grown up in the motel business. But you think you know more than me in just a few months?"

"Apara!!" I raised my voice, sounding like my father.

"Whatever." and she stormed away.

In the end, she was proven right. We only sold about half hour rooms that weekend whereas other motels were packed. On the last day, I decided to drop prices down to 100 dollars to salvage some business.

I had started off with that traditional mindset of the man knowing the best. That's how it worked in my family. My mother never disagreed or questioned my father on anything. However, I realized soon that Apara was indeed more experienced and knowledgeable than me about the business. So I slowly started making peace with the fact that she would be an equal decision maker.

Another aspect of her behavior and personality that I found unusual was how friendly and chatty she was in general, but particularly with men. Be it guests who were checking in, or the guys who worked for us, or other casual acquaintances, she spoke to them for a lot longer than I would have expected. In my family and social circle, women only talked this much to men who were related to them. With strangers, especially working class people like clerks, plumbers, delivery men, repair men etc, the women barely interacted. So I found it strange how she could have 5-10 minute long conversations, often full of giggles and jokes, with these kind of people.

I noticed that America was in general a more chatty country than India. Even strangers chat so much. They call it "small talk" I think. And America doesn't have that social barrier between men and women that we do in conservative Gujarati society. So it wasn't unusual considering that she had grown up here. But still, it wasn't something I was used to, and it bothered me.

And what additionally made those conversations bother me was the fact that most of them were in Spanish. I was still not used to how dominant Spanish was in South Texas, It almost felt as if we were in Mexico. So I would be around Apara while she chatted with them in fluent and rapid Spanish. And I had no idea what they were discussing.

So by the time that night in room 106 happened, there was already a lot of discomfort that had built up. Growing up in an orthodox Gujarati family, I had certain expectations of how a woman and that too a wife should behave. Maybe some rich modernized guys from Mumbai or Delhi might have been okay with it, but it rankled to me. Of course, I didn't say anything. Just kept everything to myself. Even with all these small hiccups, things were on the whole good. I was in America, the land of opportunities. I had a green card and would soon be a citizen. And my kids would grow up here and have a better future than I ever did.

I don't want to come across as very whinny or thankless. Yes, all these aspects of Apara's behavior bothered me. But not enough to really make my life miserable. She wasn't exactly what I expected, but she was still a good wife, all things considered. She cooked for me, cleaned the home, took care of all the household work, helped me run the business. Was quite good looking too, and had a nice body. And sex with her, although not always as mind blowing as that one night, was still satisfying.

I mean, it satisfied me. Apara had dropped the bombshell that she was not a virgin. She never asked me the same question, so I never volunteered the information that I actually was. Yes, until my mid-30s, I had never had sex. I was never able to get a girlfriend. And unlike some of my other friends, I never had the courage or the inclination to go to brothels or hire call girls. I was brought up being told that pre-marital sex was bad, prostitutes were unclean, and sex should only be had after marriage. So as much as I felt tempted, I ended up saving my virginity for my wife.

So until the first night I spent with Apara, I had no first hand experience of sex or of even kissing a girl. All I knew about sex was what I had seen in porn and movies and books. All I knew about sexual pleasure was what I got from masturbation. My close friends knew this about me, but it's not like they themselves were Casanovas. Some of them had only been with prostitutes. Others, only with their wives, who themselves were virgins. So before my wedding night, I got a lot of advice from these friends, but most of it was confusing and conflicting. I searched for advice online, and found even more conflicting and confusing information.

Don't get me wrong. It's not like I was ignorant of basic anatomy or what goes where. I had watched enough porn to know that. I wasn't sure exactly what to do. Like....should I just start taking her clothes off? How long do I kiss? Is it okay to touch her breasts? We are practically strangers after all. What if she doesn't want me? Do I look good naked? Does my paunch make me ugly? Is my dick big enough? So on and so forth.

All my friends who were married, had married virgins. Or at least that's what they told me. So if they were confused, so were the wives. At least they took this journey together. Here I was marrying a woman who grew up in America and had already said she wasn't a virgin. When had she first had sex? How many times had she had sex? With how many men? Even if it was just once with one man, that still made her infinitely more experienced than me. So maybe she could sort of take the lead and teach me things.
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