Adultery Unfaithful Mothers and Housewives - Stranger_Women

She knew what that meant. She gently carried her daughter to the couch. Pinky was a heavy sleeper, so did not wake up at all. Mansi put her on the couch and covered her with a thin sheet. Living in a small one bedroom apartment, that's the only way the married couple could get some privacy. Wait until the daughter falls asleep and then put her in the living room. She then went back to the bedroom and took a gown out of the closet. It was a simple modest full body sleeping gown. She changed into it and got into bed waiting for Amar. But she was so tired that she fell asleep almost right away.

The room was dark when Mansi felt herself being pushed a little. She opened her eyes.

"Are you awake?" Amar whispered.

"Hmmm." she responded.

"Too tired for it?" he considerately asked.

"No, I am ready." she said. It had been a while since the last time.

In a flash, Amar got on top of her, sliding off his pyjama and underwear. His hands went to her ankle and started pushing the gown up. It was easier than pushing up her sari. Mansi hated those gowns. But she knew that whenever Amar suggested that she sleep in a gown, it was a signal that he wanted sex that night. It happened about once a fortnight.

Amar pushed the gown all the way up to her chest. He reached behind her and fumbled with her bra hooks. Even after eight years, it always took him a while to unhook her bra. Then he played with her boobs with one hand as his other hand slipped her panties down. There was some perfunctory kissing for a few seconds. Mansi could feel her husband's erect dick against her thighs.

It had been eight years so there were no surprises left as such. Mansi could predict Amar's moves and their sequence. After the few seconds of kissing, he took her right nipple in his teeth and gently bit it. Then his left hand moved to her right knee and pulled it, opening her thighs. He lowered his hips and the tip of his cock rubbed against the opening of her pussy. She reached down with her left hand and aligned it. And then he penetrated her.

And the bed started shaking and creaking. Mansi felt pleasant sensations emanating from her loins as her husband fucked her. She always liked this. She always wished he did it more often. But she was brought up in too demure and conservative a way to ever make the first move. So she always had to wait until he felt horny. And this was the night. Their thighs made a soft slapping sound as Amar banged his wife fast. She put one hand under his kurta and played with his chest hair. As the sex continued, she felt herself getting more relaxed and also more pleasured.

She looked at Amar's face on top of her. He was staring at her with a blank expression, occasionally kissing her. She closed her eyes. Suddenly an image flashed in her mind. The image of Duttsahab's face as it was right next to her in the car. Panicked, she opened her eyes.

"What...happened?" Amar asked her.

"Nothing." she whispered and kept her eyes open, focusing on her husband's inert face. She was disturbed by why that old man's face had suddenly flashed in front of her eyes. She did her best to not think about it, and kept looking at Amar, kissing him whenever he kissed her.

After a couple of minutes, Amar started humping her harder.

"Still on the pill?" he hoarsely whispered, on schedule.

"Yes." she said.

Whenever he asked this, she knew what was coming. And soon he was cumming, inside her. It had been another enjoyable sex session. Amar stayed on top of his wife for a few seconds. Then he got up. As always, he wrapped a towel around his waist and went to the bathroom first to clean his sticky cock. When he came back, Mansi lowered her gown and did the same. When she came back from the bathroom, Amar was fully dressed, and in bed snoring.

She put her panties back on, and went to the living room. She carried her sleeping daughter back to the bed. And then fell asleep next to her.

Mansi got back to her regular life after her short introduction to high class living with Reena aunty and Duttsahab. She considered calling aunty to meet up again and talk about the job. But then she decided to give it a few days. She worried that if she contacted her again so soon, it might seem like she was again trying to mooch off a free expensive meal. Besides, thanks to that gift card, she was okay with finances for a while. There was enough money left on it to buy groceries and other supplies for almost two months if she stretched it. Which meant that the money from Amar's salary could be used for other purposes.

The next few weeks were great for Pinky. Whenever she went out with her mother and made a random demand, most of the times, it was fulfilled. Be it ice cream or pastries or even small toys being sold here or there. She just had to ask and she would receive, as long as it was within reason.

"Pinky is getting more and more toys these days." Amar noted one morning as he saw his daughter playing with a few doll.

"It makes her happy." Mansi shrugged.

"But...can we afford all this?"

"Do you want me to give you a full accounting of all the money?" Mansi said in a miffed voice.

"Of course not. Why are you getting upset?"

"I have been running the household for eight years now. I know better than you what we can and cannot afford."

"It's not just about being able to afford it." Amar changed the topic. "I have said before that I don't want to instill materialistic values in our child."

Mansi seethed in silence as she did her work. It was so easy for him to be so high and mighty from his ivory tower while leaving her to face the practical implications of his supposed values.

"So...how is your job search going?" Amar asked. She noted a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"I haven't gotten around to it yet." she said. She considered telling him about Reena aunty but then decided to wait until the job was confirmed.

"Hmmm." he said and smiled. She could sense that to him it was a big joke. He did not think his homely barely qualified wife could ever get a job.

This made her even more resolved to call Reena aunty soon. She knew that Amar didn't take the idea seriously. But it was important to her. Making some money wouldn't just make her household life easier, it would be useful for Pinky's future too. She had been thinking about it since Dutt spoke about his kids. To give Pinky a bright future, they would need a decent amount of money. A few years ago they had started a dedicated savings account for her college fund. But given how tight money was, it did not have more than a couple of thousand. If she got even a moderately paying job, they could save at least a couple of lakhs until Pinky grew up.

As it happened, Reena was the one who called her the next morning.

"Mansi, you have become a stranger. Too busy for your old friend?" she mock scolded.

"No aunty, I just didn't want to disturb you."

"You can never disturb me, sweetheart. Listen, are you free today?"

"Yes." Mansi eagerly said.

"I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise? What surprise?"

"If I tell you that, it won't be a surprise now, will it? Be ready in an hour. I will pick you up from that main road near your house. The corner with the ATM. And dress nicely."

Mansi hung up and wondered if she had ever given aunty her address. How did she know about the main road and the ATM? She guessed she must have and just forgotten about it. Mansi picked out another of her nice saris and got ready. She wondered what the surprise was.

And hour later she was waiting in the heat where Reena had told her to when a gleaming limousine pulled up to her. She wondered if it was Duttsahab again, but it was different from the one she had been in last time.

The chauffer, smartly dressed, got out and stylishly opened the back door.

"Mansi! Hi!!" Reena aunty squealed from inside and waved.

Mansi saw her and got into the air conditioned limousine. And right next to her, she found Dutt, again dressed in a stylish suit.

"How are you, Mansi?"

"Namaste, Duttsahab. Namaste, aunty." Mansi said as her shapely butt sank into the soft seat of the car. She was a little confused to see the old man here again. But she did not mind much. She had taken quite a liking to him. She tried not to think about how his face had flashed in front of her eyes during sex, and blushed a little.

"Mansi, you seem confused. Let me explain your surprise. Or rather, let Duttsahab explain." Reena said, holding a champagne flute in her hand and sipping from it. There was a champagne bottle in an ice bucket on a shelf next to her.

"It's nothing, really." Dutt said, also with champagne in his hand. "I told you my son is a sculptor. When I told him I was coming to Bombay again, he told me about this exhibition at a great art gallery in Bandra. And I remembered your interest in art. So I thought you might enjoy coming to it with Reena and me."

"Oh, thank you. That was very thoughtful of you." Mansi beamed. A high end art exhibition in posh Bandra did sound like something she would enjoy.

"Don't mention it." Dutt smiled and shook his head.

"Some champagne, Mansi?" Reena asked reached for the bottle.

"No thank you. I don't drink." she shook her head.

"You don't drink alcohol. This is champagne." Reena laughed. "I mean sure, it is also alcohol But it is very mild."

"But still..." Mansi protested.

"But still nothing. Just have a little. besides, they usually serve champagne at such exhibitions too. If you refuse it there, it will look rude."

"Oh, is it?"

"Yes. Just have a little bit. I insist." Reena poured half a measure into a stylish looking flute and held it towards Mansi.

The young middle class housewife, again feeling a little intimidate and out of place, took it. She didn't want to be rude to Reena aunty, who had been so nice to her. And she had heard that champagne is indeed a mild alcohol, mainly used to sip at celebratory or fancy occasions. She took a sip of the cold fizzy drink and grimaced a little.

"How do you like it?" Reena asked.

"It's...different. Tastes a bit like...sprite." Mansi said. It was a bit more carbinated than she expected. And the taste was a little bitter. She didn't enjoy it much, but did not want to seem like a bumpkin.

Reena and Dutt started laughing at the comparison. Until then, Dut had been checking email on his phone, listening to everything.

"Sprite. That's a good way to describe it." Dutt said.

"Have a few more sips and you will get used to it." Reena said.

As the car zoomed south on the western express highway towards Bandra, Mansi took a few more sips of the foreign drink. Having brought up in a conservative small town household, she had never even thought about tasting alcohol. It had been hammered into her that it was a vile drink that makes people act really crazy. She had seen many drunks on the streets of Meerut and knew it had to be true. And drinking for a woman was almost unthinkable.

But she was in the company of high society people now. So to fit in, what's the harm in having a few sips, she thought. Mansi knew so little about the effects of alcohol, that she expected that she would suddenly started feeling unbalanced and confused like a drunkard. So she was surprised that even after a few sips, there was no major effect on her, except just a pleasant sensation in her mind.

"Some more?" Duttsahab politely asked.

"Thank you." Mansi held out the flute.

By the time they reached the sea-facing gallery on Carter Road, Mansi had kept pace with her two companions, finishing three flutes of champagne. As the driver dropped them off and she got out of the car, Mansi felt a mild but funny sensation in her head. She wasn't imbalance, nor was she slurring. But there was something different. She did not know the term, but the first time drinker was what you might call "buzzed".

Mansi walked into the posh gallery feeling just mildly light-headed, even though her two companions were perfectly sober. Obviously, this being the first taste of alcohol in her life, she had a much lower tolerance. But Reena had been careful not to give her too much.

"May I accompany you inside, dear lady?" Dutt held out his elbow in a ceremonious way.

Mansi smiled and put her arm through his. As the two of them walked into the big fancy art gallery followed by Reena, a few photographers milling around ran over and started snapping a few pictures. Mansi was surprised by all the attention. She assumed it was because Dutt was a big shot industrialist. But in reality, the photographers had been drawn to her. Dressed in another of her very few fancy saris, and with her hair combed straight and let loose, she looked quite attractive. Although none of the photographers obviously recognized her, they all thought a picture of a pretty lady with a stylish but paunchy old man would make a great page 3 photo.

"So glad you could make it, Mr. Dutt." a distinguished looking older gentleman who was the owner of the gallery said.

"Happy to be here." Dutt smiled. "These are my friends, Mrs. Mansi and Mrs. Reena."

Mansi was just staring at the picture closest to her. It was a big 12 ft x 9 ft abstract painting hung on a spotless white wall. And the price tag said Rs 26,00,000. She almost fainted that she was so close to a picture that cost more than her husband would earn in two decades. But once she looked past the price, she found herself strangely enamored by the painting. It was a lot of strange blobs and strokes and uneven shapes. But she could see why it commanded such a high price. There was something magnetically fascinating about it.

"Mansi!" Reena nudged her with an elbow. Everyone was waiting for her to greet the owner back.

"Oh hello, how do you do?" she politely said.

"Mansi here is an aspiring artist herself." Dutt said, and she blushed.

"That is fantastic. We are always looking to discover new talent." the owner smiled and fished out a card. "Feel free to send me a sample any time."

"Sample...thank you." Mansi just dumbly stared at the card and said. She had done some drawings on chart paper many years ago. It had been considered nice by the untrained population of her small social circle in Meerut. And here was the owner of a super fancy gallery giving her his card.

The owner smiled knowingly and then snapped his fingers. A waitress appeared carrying a tray of champagne. Mansi looked at her. And yet again, wondered how the wait staff in the high society world is always so impeccably dressed. Dutt and Reena picked up a glass each. Mansi was now starting to feel the mild but real effects of the champagne she had in the car. She didn't want to over indulge. But she remembered what Reena aunty said in the car about not being rude, so she picked up a glass. She told herself she would just hold it, not really have any.

But fifteen minutes later, she felt an empty glass being taken from her hand and replaced with a full one. Dutt had been talking about all the gorgeous paintings in that brightly lit gallery accompanying the two ladies through the exhibition. As was his forte, he was talking nineteen to the dozen sounding very knowledgeable about everything, but any real expert of art would have realized that his expertise didn't go very deep and was actually very cliched and stilted. But to Mansi, who had never been formally educated in the ways of art and just had an amateur passion in it, everything sounded very profound.

The next hour or so passed with Mansi walking through the exhibition with her companions, being lectured on art. Throughout that hour, Dutt had occasionally touched Mansi on her shoulder or brushed her arm, while guiding her from one place to another. She noticed it and maybe because of the alcohol in her system, felt a small thrill at the unfamiliar touch. But did her best to put it all out of her mind. He is just a nice old man, she told herself. Stop being silly. Little did she know that all the subtle touches and brushes were very carefully planned and calibrated by Dutt.

About halfway through the exhibition just as they walked up to a new painting, Dutt stopped, and looked across the hall.

"Oh...would you ladies mind it terribly if I left you alone for a little while?" he said. "I see an old business associate that I need to discuss a new deal with."

"Sure." Reena said. Until now she had been a silent spectator much like Mansi.

"Sure." Mansi said.

"It won't take more than 15-20 minutes. You ladies keep looking and I will join you soon." Dutt said, and gently stroked both their arms before walking away.

Reena and Mansi watched him walk away and then looked at the painting.

"So what do you think this is?" Mansi said, trying to remember everything Dutt had said about shape and form and strokes and subtext.

Reena stared carefully at the painting.

"A big question mark on a fried egg?" Reena said. Both of them started giggling. "Sorry Mansi, but I am not really artistically inclined like you or Dutsahab. To me, most of these paintings look lie something a kindergarten child would make."

"I...like them." Mansi said. And Reena realized that she was getting more and more under Dutt's spell, although she probably didn't realize it herself. So this was the right time.

"Mansi...remember we spoke about a job for you?"

"Oh yes. In fact...I was going to bring it up myself." Mansi said. And then, more than a little buzzed by the champagne, started talking with a slight slur. "Amar has a great job as a professor and his salary is not bad. But it falls short, you know. Some extra money always helps. For helicopters and ice cream. So why not a job? He thinks I won't...or I can't...but he is also right. I never got any great education. Very basic. Like B.A. basic. And it was like...you know...it didn't matter if I could draw a perfect circle with just a brush...but more about whether I can roll a perfect roti. You know what I mean?"

Reena had trouble following that rambling sentence in entirety, especially the part about helicopters and ice cream but she got the general gist. She nodded sympathetically.

"Yeah...so...with Pinky...I don't care about her rotis. I mean...I do care about the rotis she eats. I mean...I don't care about the rotis she makes. In fact she shouldn't even make rotis. She should go to best colleges. And become like...Barkha Dutt or even Edmund Hillary. Why can't she be like Edmund Hillary?"

"You mean climb Everest??" Reena asked, a little confused.

"Noooo...become the first woman president of America." Mansi said.

"Oh of course." Reena realized what she meant but didn't say anything. gently, she took the half empty glass of champagne from Mansi's hand. She did not want the first time drinker to get so drunk that she would just fall asleep.

"So yes...I want to get a job. To save money for Pinky's college. We started a bank account for her college fees but I haven't been able to add anything much to it. If I start working and start adding money to it, she can go anywhere. Go to IIT...IIM...maybe even Stambford."

"Stanford."

"Yes, Stanford." Mansi said. And then stared at the painting. "I think I also see the fried eggs."

"Come with me, Mansi. Let's sit for a while."

Reena led the young housewife to a leather bench by the side. She had hoped the champagne would relax Mansi, but it had maybe been a little too much. She signaled a waitress over and picked up a glass of orange juice and handed it to Mansi who started drinking it.

Mansi was too inexperienced with drinking to realize that she was slightly drunk. She did realize that something was off. But she trusted Reena so implicitly that she still thought champagne is too mild to really be alcohol. They sat quietly for a couple of minutes as Mansi sipped the juice. Then a waiter came by with some finger food and Reena gave some to Mansi and had some herself.

"Mansi, I do have a job for you." she said.

"You do?" the orange juice and the food mad Mansi feel a little more normal.

"I do. In fact today is something like a job interview plus audition."

"Huh?"

"Do you like Duttsahab?"

"He is very nice." Mansi said and then found the question weird. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"Nothing like that, don't be silly." Reena giggled and slapped the young housewife on her shoulder. "I mean do you think he is a nice respectable person?"

"Of course." Mansi said.

"Well, the job is with him."

"With him?" Mansi was confused.

"Yes. He comes to Bombay often. Mostly it is social events and visits like these. Sometimes a business lunch. He is a widower. Alone with kids all grown up. And you have seen what a social butterfly he is. He likes company. So you will be like his...local guide plus personal assistant of sorts."

"What?" she was still confused.

"It is perfect, Mansi. Think about it. You have family commitments and household chores, so it's not like you can do a 9 to 5 job. Duttsahab's social responsibilities will mainly be in the daytime when your husband and daughter are away. And no more than a few days a month."

"I am still not sure what the job exactly is." Mansi said.

"Whatever we did today. Just like that. Accompany him at such events and keep him company. A big reason he likes company is also to avoid random bankers and industrial sales reps and account managers and other business folks from bothering him for orders or jobs or other favors. If he is in the company of a graceful young woman, no one bothers him. So you just spend a few hours in the afternoon with him, maybe 3-4 times a month. And you will be paid well."

"How well?" Mansi said, remembering that it was all about the money.

"I didn't ask the exact amount." Reena shrugged. "But you have seen how he is. Nice and generous. Trust me, it will be good. You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I trust you." Mansi said.

"I know this seems very unusual. But believe me, it is a very common job. Not just in Bombay but also Bangalore, Delhi, even in foreign countries. Just giving innocent company to business people. I myself have facilitated many such arrangements." Reena gently rubbed Mansi

Mansi was silent and thinking about it. She liked Dutt's company a lot. And she had recently enjoyed her brief glimpses of the high society. If she got a chance to do this a few times a month and also got paid for it, what was the harm? Even if she got a couple of thousand rupees for it, it would be worth it.

"What do you think?" Reena asked softly.

"Just 3-4 times a month?"

"Yes, just that."

"Will you be with us too?" Mansi asked.

"No, sweetie, I have my own job. You understand."

"Can I do like...a trial thing?"

"Of course. Next time he needs company, I will arrange it with you. And you can go out for a few hours. And then make the decision."

"Okay." Mansi shrugged.

"Great!" Reena was delighted. Stage 1 was complete.

Mansi was surprised when Reena aunty hugged her on that bench. She hugged back, thankful that this woman who was barely an acquaintance many years ago was being so nice and going out of the way to help her.

"I will go tell Duttsahab the good news. He will be very happy. He is very fond of you." Reena said and got up. "Oh, I almost forgot. He said that if you said yes, I should give you this for today."

She held out a sealed envelope. Mansi stared at it for a few seconds before taking it.

"For today?"

"Yes, he was dreading going to this exhibition alone. So many hangers-on trying to mooch something off him. That's why he walked in with you on his arm. This way, he can stay busy and fend off those vultures. And only talk to the ones he wants, like he is doing now. Plus he remembered you like art, so two birds with one stone." Reena said. "It's sealed, so I don't know how much is in it. But knowing him, it will be good."

Mansi sat there with the envelope in her hand as Reena walked off to the other end of the gallery where Dutt was talking seriously to another old man about some business deal. The young housewife was still feeling a little buzzed. Her head was hurting a little. She quickly put the envelope in her purse and sat there, looking at the paintings around her. She saw Reena and Dutt talking a little. And then she put a hand into the purse. She didn't want to openly check out what was in it. But she was curious. So carefully, using her index finger, she opened the seal of the envelope. Then quickly she looked inside. She saw pink notes. With her fingers, she separated them to count. There were five. So five thousand rupees! For just a few hours of attending an art exhibition?

Mansi felt a combination of jubilation and doubt. On the one hand, she was very happy about getting this extra cash. She could just add it to the bank account meant for Pinky's college. On the other hand, it felt weird that she was getting so much money for something so minor. And it was the same amount as that gift card. Was that also meant to be a payment? And for such generous payment, what would she be expected to do? Would he expect her to...

No no, don't be silly, Mansi scolded herself. He is such a gentleman. And an old man. Almost like a father. And plus this was set up by Reena aunty who was so nice. Mansi scolded herself for even thinking any unsavory thoughts. In the meantime, Reena was walking back towards her so she quickly closed the envelope and took her hands out of the purse.

"Okay, I talked to him. He is thrilled. And he is perfectly happy with meeting you next time as a trial run. If after that you don't want to continue this arrangement, that is up to you." she said.

"Thank you so much." Mansi said gratefully.

"One more thing. You found the idea of this arrangement a little...weird and transactional when you first heard it, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, so does Duttsahab, although he looks forward to it. So...in your interactions, please don't make a reference to the fact that you are like his employee. Just be like a friend. When he calls you next time to meet him, think of it like meeting a friend, like you are meeting me. Or else it feels a little sleazy. Does that make sense?"

"Oh okay, I guess that makes sense.

"Great. Okay, I should get going." Reena said picking up her purse.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes. I have so many things lined up back at the hotel. Plus you should get used to spend time with him alone. That is your job from now on."

"True." Mansi nodded.

She looked up and saw Dutt walking back towards them.

"Duttsahab, thank you for this great experience." Reena aunty said gently hugging him and kissing him on a cheek. "But work calls so I have to get going."

"I understand." Dutt smiled.

"Will you drop Mansi off please?"

"Of course." he eagerly nodded. "Shall we continue with the rest of the exhibition, Mansi?"

"Sure."

Reena left after hugging Mansi goodbye and whispering congrats. And then she walked with Dutt towards the next section. A waitress stopped by with a glass of champagne. But Mansi was still feeling a little light headed so she politely declined. Dutt thought about insisting that she have more, but remembered Reena's advice about taking it slow. And the two of them walked from painting to painting with Dutt talking nineteen to the dozen.

Mansi had seen so many high price tags that by now, she stopped even thinking about them. She had truly immersed herself into the exhibition and was really enjoying the whole experience. Most of the drawings were very abstract. And then suddenly they came across one that looked like something out of a comic book. Mansi was surprised and stared at it. It did not seem like art. And yet the price on it said Rs 75,000.

"Oh what a lovely reproduction of a classic." Dutt said. "Do you recognize the original that this is based on, Mansi?

"I don't think so." Mansi said nervously. Until now, he had just been speaking and she had been listening. Now suddenly he was asking her questions. She felt very conscious about her ignorance.

"It's a reproduction of Drowning Girl by Roy Lichtenstein. Describe to me what you see please."

"A girl drowning, crying, and saying" she moved closer to read the comic book style speech bubble, "I don't care. I'd rather sink than call Brad for help."

"And what is the painting trying to convey?"

"Despair...frustration..." Mansi guessed.

"Surrender?"

"Yes, surrender."

"And do you see the thinly veiled erotic references?"

"Really?" she stared at the image. She couldn't see any erotic references. She felt a little strange to even hear the word erotic in the context of a comic book

"Look carefully."

"I...have no idea." Mansi shrugged.

"All that white stuff...we assume it is water she is drowning in. But doesn't it look a little like...semen?" Dutt quietly said.

Mansi blushed profusely. She came from an unorthodox family. And never discussed words like semen even with her husband. She saw what Dutt meant though.

"The subtext I see is, she is drowning in semen...which symbolizes that she is being very promiscuous. And maybe she is in trouble because of it. Hence the tears which also look like semen. Or maybe someone came on her face. The mention of the name Brad suggests that he is maybe her boyfriend or husband. But she is angry with him or dissatisfied with him for some reason. So she doesn't care. She would rather drown in this ocean of semen, continue her promiscuous life, than reach out to her man for help."

Dutt stopped talking and was a little impressed with himself. He had thought of the whole thing at the last minute. But it seemed like a great way to casually introduce the subject of sex in their interaction. He saw she was still blushing like the simple shy housewife she was. But he stared at her pointedly as if waiting for her response.

"I guess so." Mansi finally gave in to his stare. And then quickly walked to the next painting.

At that moment, Mansi was so uncomfortable with the topic that she couldn't look at the painting anymore. But days and weeks later, as things progressed, she would often think back to that painting and identify with it and the interpretation Dutt came up with.

As they covered the rest of the exhibition, Dutt noticed that the innocent chaste housewife had gone into a bit of a shell. So he didn't really push her too much. In describing the other paintings, he did not make any more erotic references. And when she kept refusing champagne, he did not insist. An hour or so passed and Mansi seemed to be returning to normal. But she soon looked at her watch and said she needed to get home for her daughter. Dutt nodded and called his driver.

"So Mansi..." Dutt said about halfway to her house. "Tomorrow, I was thinking of doing some shopping for my family. For my granddaughters and so on. As you can imagine, I am just completely clueless about these things being a man."

"Amar is the same." Mansi smiled. "Once I sent him to buy some clothes for Pinky and he came back with such outsized things."

"Haha, indeed. So I was wondering, would you mind helping me out? Just come along and pick things out." he casually said.

"Oh..." Mansi thought about his question. Was this the trial run for her "job" that she had talked with Reena aunty about? But she had said she will arrange it. Here he was asking for it himself.

"I understand if you're busy and don't want to spend more time with a boring old man." Dutt knew that self-deprecation was a great tool.

"No no, please, Duttsahab, nothing like that. I will be happy to help." Mansi said. It was just shopping, she thought to herself. One of her favorite activities. Seemed like an ideal setting to spend time with him alone and get paid for it.

"Great. I will SMS you the time I will pick you up. You have my number, right?"

"Yes, I do."

When she got out of the fancy limo in front of her building, there were a few kids playing around who stopped and stared at the car. Such expensive vehicles didn't frequent their colony much. There were also a few neighbors out in the balcony. Mansi smiled at them and headed home. Pinky would be back from college soon, and she needed to start cooking. She changed out of her fancy sari into a regular household one and got to work.

As Mansi cooked and did her chores, she thought about the events of the day. She had gotten a job and that too very easily. And it fit right in her schedule. She had been paid five thousand rupees. Maybe it was a little high because it was the first payment. But even if she got, say, half of that on average. Reena aunty had said he would need her services 3-4 times a month. So about eight thousand rupees on average. If she put it all into the account for Pinky's college, it would be roughly a lakh rupees a year. In another ten years, if she did such jobs, about ten lakhs. Plus interest. It would be a decent bird's nest for her daughter's education.

Then she thought about how to tell this to Amar. Would he find that arrangement weird? What if he expressly rejected it? He could be so strange when it came to matters of money and ideals. Mansi decided to think about that later. Tomorrow will be a trial run anyway, she told herself. If things didn't work out, she didn't want to talk about it too early. So she postponed that decision to the next day.

But as it turned out, it wasn't in her control. In the evening, she was having dinner with Amar in the living room. Pinky was busy watching cartoons on TV as she ate, which was her habit. Amar was quieter then usual. Finally he said,

"So Mansi, how was your day?"

She was surprised. He never asked her this question.

"It was okay." she said.

"Did you go anywhere?" he pointedly asked.

She knew the man for 8 years. She knew he wasn't one to ask such questions casually. She also knew her big mouthed neighbors, many of whom had seen her get out of the fancy limo dressed like she was returning from a wedding or a big function.

"Yes, I did go out for a while." she said, thinking in parallel about what to say next.

"Where?" Amar paused to swallow the food in his mouth and asked.

"Bandra." she said, taking a big bite of the food.

"How come?"

Mansi held up her finger and nodded as if to say, just let me swallow this and I'll tell you. Meanwhile her brain was working at a rapid pace to come up with the right responses.

"It was like a job interview of sorts. Nothing is final. I still have to go tomorrow. But if everything works out, I will have a job that doesn't require too much work and pays reasonably okay."

"Oh! That's nice." Amar said in a neutral tone. "What kind of a job?"
​