Episode 95
Almost a month later, Mansi was sitting with Reena in a high end Chinese restaurant in Bandra, deftly picking up dumplings with chopsticks and appearing very comfortable in the high end surroundings. Reena had been getting constant updates from Dutt on the progress he was making. She admired the slow pace with which he had moved. But she could also sense that he was getting a bit impatient and wanted to seal the deal. So Reena called up Mansi and made a lunch date. To hear from her first hand how things were going and to get a better sense of the situation.
"Life can be so much better with some extra money." Mansi said. "I know it sounds like an obvious thing to say. But the extra income has really made my life so much better. And Pinky's. She loves getting new toys and dresses and fancy desserts. Even Amar has started enjoying the materialistic side of things."
"That's nice." Reena smiled.
"The other day, on a whim, I said let's go to a nice restaurant. I assured him that with my extra income, we can afford it. He was reluctant at first, but enjoyed the meal thoroughly. And Pinky was delighted to be able to choose whatever dessert she wanted."
"Have you told Amar the truth about your job yet?" Reena asked. "He must have started wondering how you are making 25-30 thousand for what is supposed to be basic work like you told him."
Mansi frowned a little.
"Honestly, I still haven't been able to tell him the truth. About the job or even how much money I am making. He has always been a bit of a ignoramus on matters of money and budget. And besides, most of the money stays in that college account that he never checks."
"Hmmm...just most of the money?"
Mansi winced a little.
"I know that when I initially decided to do this, it was for Pinky's college fund. And that is still the main goal. But occasionally, I can't help but indulge myself a little, so I take cash out from it. I do feel guilty."
"Don't feel guilty, Mansi." Reena said. "There is nothing wrong with wanting good things from life. Besides, you are making enough money. And you can make even more if you want. I am sure Duttsahab won't mind spending even more days in Bombay. He is quite smitten with you."
Mansi blushed, and that pleased Reena. Her reaction had been almost like a young girl being told that someone had a crush on her. Not offended or indignant.
"Please aunty, don't even joke about it." she said. "He is old enough to be my father."
"Yes, but the heart doesn't care about such things. Whenever I talk to him about you, I can sense the longing in his voice." she laughed and then added. "But seriously, Mansi, how are things going with you and him? Everything okay?"
"It's mostly nice. He is a very polite and generous man. Spending time with him doesn't seem like work. Most of the time, it is just parties and events. Sometimes though..." she paused.
"Sometimes what?"
"I don't know if I should say this. You are his old friend after all." Mansi sounded evasive.
"Nonsense, I am your friend first. Tell me."
"Sometimes he gets a bit...aggressive after a few drinks."
"Aggressive?"
"Suddenly he will start ordering me around. Touch me on the hand or shoulder a little longer than normal. In the car, sometimes he will just stare at me, and give me compliments."
"So he acts a little flirtatious. So what? That's how people behave in high society."
"I guess. I am just not used to it." Mansi shrugged. "Mostly, I know it is because of the alcohol. Drink can make men do strange things."
"Can you tell me one thing honestly?"
"Of course."
"Do you...like it?"
"Like what?"
"His flirtatious behavior or aggressive behavior or his touch. Honestly, do you feel just uncomfortable or is there a part of you that actually likes it? Be honest, woman to woman."
The question caught Mansi off-guard. In her own introspection, she had been struggling with this issue. That often when he touched her or showered her with compliments, the only thing stopping her from responding was the fact that she was married. It was her sense of morality and propriety. But if he had come into her life eight years ago, who knows what would have happened.
"You see aunty... I never had a boyfriend. My parents were too strict, and you know how Meerut is. I read all these romantic novels and watched all these movies. And heard stories of some friends who had affairs and lovers. But for me, the only thing was arranged marriage. Amar and I barely knew each other. So this flirtatious behavior from Duttsahab..."
"It is filling in some sort of a void?"
"Maybe. And I just find myself not minding it as much as I could or should." Mansi shrugged. "Does that make me a bad person?"
"Not at all." Reena smiled. "It just makes you human. Besides, you are stuck in an unhappy marriage and..."
"Excuse me!" Mansi interrupted her. "I wouldn't say stuck in an unhappy marriage."
"Oh come on, Mansi!" Reena raised her voice. "Who are you kidding? From that day we met in the mall, you have been complaining about your husband."
"Yes, but which marriage is perfect?" Mansi argued. "I am happy with Amar. And with Pinky. Yes, there are some small issues, but you're making it sound like I am a hostage."
"You ARE a hostage. But not a hostage held by Amar. You are a hostage to your own archaic value system and lack of self-belief."
"I disagree." Mansi pouted.
There was a tense moment. Reena tried to smooth it over by laughing a little.
"I didn't mean to offend you. But think about it, Mansi. In Duttsahab, there is a man who obviously likes you a lot. Cares for you. And you seem to at least find him not undesirable. And he is rich and generous. In just a couple of months, he has turned your life around. If you were to...explore things further...who knows? Think about the future. Think about Pinky's future."
"What exactly are you saying? That I should leave my husband and take up with Duttsahab?"
"No, of course not. I am saying...just keep an open mind. There are ways in which you can have your cake and eat it too."
"So...become his mistress?" Mansi almost shouted.
"Not exactly mistress. That's such a cheap 19th century word." Reena dismissively said. "Have you heard of the term friends with benefits?"
"No."
"Look it up online when you go home." Reena said. "It's not that different from what you already have with him. You both enjoy each other's company. You are both benefiting from this arrangement. And it's just a few days a month. You yourself said it has made your family life a lot happier. If you explore things further, you will benefit even more, trust me. And I am not just saying financially."
"Do you know what you're suggesting?" Mansi said horrified.
"If you think from the medieval middle class Meerut values mindset, what I am suggesting is evil and sinful and horrible. But you know there is a bigger world out there. You have tasted that world. You have started fitting into that world. Think from that enlightened perspective and you will see that what I am suggesting is the best of both worlds." Reena paused to finish the last of her food. "Anyway, I have said what I had to say. What follows is up to you."
Mansi thought about all these things on her way back home. She was in an Uber. Before meeting Reena, she almost exclusively traveled by locals. But she had gotten so used to the air conditioned car rides with Dutt, that she had started using cab services regularly.
She herself did not realize how access to easy money was changing her. When others made a lot of money, it was through their careers or business. They spent most of their free time working to make that money and got very little time to spend it. Here. she was making 25-30 thousand rupees for just a few days work, that too for a few hours. And had the rest of the days free, even with her household chores. She found herself shopping a lot more, indulging a lot more, and not just for Pinky. For herself too.
In addition, Dutt made sure that every other day they spent together involved shopping as well. he wanted to get her almost addicted to materialistic life.In addition to the skirt suits, he had bought her a sari, some earrings, a bracelet, and many toys for Pinky. And when she checked the bank account, she realized that everything he bought her were genuine gifts, not compensation. Because even after buying her expensive gifts,there was still anywhere from 5 to 8 thousand rupees added to the account every time she spent a few hours with him. His hold over her was strengthening. He got the first sign of it the first time she wore the skirt suit at an event. He noticed that as instructed, she had shaved her legs. Shaving body hair was an alien concept to the demure middle class housewife. She had to go online and check how exactly women shave their legs. It seemed so odd and weird. But Duttsahab had told her to do it, so she felt compelled to comply.
Then there was the fact that she really was enjoying his flirtatious behavior a lot more than she cared to admit to Reena aunty or even to herself. When in the car, he started sitting closer and closer to her, and she did not stop him. Once while returning from an event in South Bombay, he had a few too many drinks, and dozed off on her shoulder. She did not know that he was pretending to be asleep, just to test her comfort zone. The entire way from King's Circle to Borivali, his head was resting on her shoulder, and she could feel his warm breath on her skin. Later that day when she scolded herself for allowing that to happen, she rationalized it by saying that she herself had downed a couple of drinks, so it was an honest mistake.
His touching also became more prolonged and bold than she found comfortable describing to Reena aunty. Once at an art exhibition, when she was wearing a sari, he had casually slipped his arm around her and placed his hand on the naked skin above her waist. She had almost jumped out of her skin, but didn't push his hand away. For about ten minutes, they walked like that, with a lot of the visitors around noting to themselves that the old millionaire seemed to have a young hot girlfriend.
Almost everyday, Mansi felt tempted to just talk to Amar about all this. Tell him the true nature of her "job", tell him about the flirtatious generous benefactor behind the uptick in their lifestyle. But she couldn't. She couldn't talk to anyone. She had no real friends to speak of. She couldn't discuss such things with her parents or relatives. And the only one she could talk to, Reena aunty, had in fact suggested she forge ahead. What was that term she used? Friends with benefits? Mansi fished out her phone and googled the term. And read the description wide-eyed.
The next Sunday, Mansi was cleaning up the kitchen after lunch, when Pinky walked in with her phone that she had left in the living room.
"Mamma, it's ringing."
Pinky handed it over and then ran back to the living room where she was watching TV with her father. Mansi recognized the number. She answered after making sure Amar was still in the living room.
"Hello."
"Mansi, it's me. The car is on the way. Be ready in ten minutes." Dutt casually said.
"What? I can't come today. It's a Sunday! My daughter is home."
"So what? Your husband will be home too, right? He can take care of her."
She was a little pissed at how casually he was dictating what she should do with her family life.
"Listen Duttsahab, this is not acceptable. I have a family, a life of my own. I am happy to meet you tomorrow. But I can't just drop everything and..."
"Don't argue with me, Mansi." Dutt sternly said. "Besides, I am leaving for Europe tomorrow. Will be gone for a couple of months. So today is the only day I have."
"Then we will meet after you come back. I really can't come today."
"Either you meet me today as I have instructed. Or then we are through. I will never call you again, and you never call me again."
"Fine." she angrily said and hung up.
Mansi was a little breathless with tension and anger. Who did he think he was, ordering her to just come to him like she was his property? He had been acting a bit more demanding recently but this was the absolute limit. He wanted to cut off all contacts over this? Fine. She was getting by with life okay before she met him. She would get by fine after too. Thinking these thoughts, she angrily scrubbed the kitchen counter clean.
Then she walked out to the living room and saw Pinky watching TV while playing with the new Italian dolls Dutt had bought for her. She saw the look of pure joy on her daughter's face.
"Amar." she said.
"Hmmm?" he replied, still looking at the TV.
"I need to go help out at the hotel. It's an emergency. A couple of people who were supposed to help out got food poisoning."
"But today is a Sunday." Amar sourly said. "Pinky is home."
"I know. It will just be a few hours. You can look after her."
"Me...look after her?" Amar sounded almost shocked.
"She is your daughter too, you know?" Mansi sarcastically replied.
"Okay, okay. If you have to go, then go." Amar was taken aback at her feisty response.
Mansi went to the bedroom to get ready.
Dutt sat waiting in the car, checking his watch every few minutes. He was afraid he had pushed her too far out of her comfort zone. And that threat to never call her again if she didn't come...seemed like a good idea at first but maybe it was a mistake. Ten minutes turned to fifteen and then to twenty. Maybe she wasn't coming. He almost told the driver to start driving when there she came, around the corner. Dutt smiled with self-assurance. She was wearing a dark red sari, and carrying an imported purse he had bought for her. She seemed to be scowling. But the important thing was, she was here.
"Hi." he said when she opened the door.
She just pouted and got in, shutting the door a little too hard.
"You're unbelievable." she said in a surly voice, folding her hands across her chest.
He just shrugged. She saw that he had a champagne bottle open. He poured some in a flute and held it out for her.
"I don't want it."
"Have some. You know you like it. And it'll calm you down."
"I said I don't want it."
"Mansi!" he said harshly. "Stop acting like a petulant child and spoiling the mood. I told you to have it, so have it."
Reluctantly, she took the champagne and sipped some. Over the last few weeks, she had developed a taste for alcohol. She still had enough self-control to not get too drunk like at the art gallery. But most of the events they attended had alcohol being served. Whenever she got back home, she was usually a little buzzed. Amar once even smelled alcohol on her breath and asked her about it. She said it was just a celebratory toast. After that, she started brushing her teeth and using mouthwash before he got home.
They rode in silence for a while. The champagne did calm her down a little. But she was still not completely at peace.
"Why am I doing this?" she said out loud.
"What?" Dutt looked at her.
"Why am I here? Why did I just lie to my husband, leave my daughter at home, and come here?"
"You know why." he smiled.
"It's not all about money." she said, more to herself than to Dutt.
"I didn't mean it was about the money."
"Then what did you mean?"
"What do you think I meant?"
"Duttsahab, please! Stop playing games with me." Mansi said, reaching for the bottle to refill her glass.
Dutt said nothing, started looking out of the window and sipped champagne.
"Where are we going anyway that is so important? Another corporate event? Another exhibition?"
"Neither of those." he said.
"Then?"
"We are just going to my suite in Reena's hotel. Like I told you, I won't be in the country for a couple of months. So I just wanted to spend some quality time with you. You know by now that I love spending time with you."
Mansi was a little taken aback by this revelation. Until now, all the time they had spent together had been in public. And now he was just simply taking her to his hotel suite? To what end?
"What are we going to do in the hotel suite?"
"We can do whatever we want." Dutt cryptically said.
"Will Reena aunty be there?"
"Not unless you want her to be."
Mansi clammed up and thought some more. Finally she said,
"What if I ask you to just drop me home right now?"
"I will drop you home right now..."
"But?"
"You know but what?"
"We will never meet again?"
He just shrugged.
"So I don't really have a choice." Mansi said.
"Everyone always has a choice, Mansi."
The car sped through the relatively empty Sunday streets and was soon in Malad. At the hotel, a valet opened the door of the limo and the two of them stepped out. Every step Mansi took through the foyer and into the lobby made her seem like she was wearing shoes made of lead. Dutt walked alongside her, feeling nervous and excited himself. After Reena reported her conversation back to him, he decided that the time was ripe. Clearly, Mansi had at least some feelings for him. The ultimate test would be an ultimatum. It was a big gamble, but it had paid off.
He still wasn't sure how far he should go though. Over the last few weeks, he had slowly but surely increased moments of tender physical intimacy between them. And now, without making up any ruse, he had told this young housewife that he was taking her to his hotel room in the middle of the day. Even she wasn't innocent enough to not realize the implication of that. And yet here she was. A little upset, a little scared, but still, willingly walking with him.
They walked into a suite that was even more plush and fancy than Reena's. But unlike that time, Mansi barely noticed the expensive decorations and fittings. Her mind was preoccupied with a struggle. She was still replaying his line about everyone always having a choice in her mind.
"So what next?" she asked.
"Have a seat."
"Where?"
"Anywhere."
She walked to the single seater love seat in the living area and sat down in it.
"More champagne?" he asked.
"Just a little. I get a headache if I have too much." she said.
"Only cheap regular champagnes they serve at those events cause headaches. Not this one. This is really special. I have been saving it for a special occasion."
He went to the bar area and took a bottle from a ice bucket where it had been left by the hotel staff at his orders. Mansi looked at the bottle. It didn't look too special or different from the other champagne bottles she had seen.
"It is one of the most elite champagnes in the world. Moet and Chandon Dom Perignon. Costs about 40,000 rupees in India."
"Oh, I see." she knew him long enough to know that money was no object to him.
"Look at the year."
She read the label.
"1988." the champagne had been bottled in the same year that she had been born. She wondered if it was just a coincidence. But knowing him it had to be a deliberate decision.
Dutt unwrapped the foil and then using his thumb, deftly pressed the cork upwards. It flew up and landed on the floor. Fizz came out of the bottle. he quickly poured it in two flutes, handing one to Mansi.
"What shall we drink to?" he asked.
"I don't know."
"To special creations from 1988." he expansively said. That confirmed for Mansi the deliberateness of the selection. She took a sip, trying to calculate how much the sip cost, if the whole bottle was 40,000.
"It's really good." Mansi said.
"Of course it is. It is from 1988. Just like you."
Mansi smiled. Although she was still torn about even being there, the attention starved side of her found the gesture very grandiose and romantic. They sipped in silence for a few minutes. Then Dutt reached for a remote and the stereo in the room started playing some western classical music. He was going all out in this seduction attempt.
"Would you rather have the TV on instead?" Dutt asked.
"No, the music is fine." Mansi said, the expensive alcohol starting to have a slow effect on her. What am I doing, her brain cried out again. Why am I just calmly going along with this?
A few more minutes passed, with the music creating a romantic atmosphere. The room was already dimly lit. The champagne was flowing through their bloodstream. Mansi's heart was beating a thousand miles a minute. She was in the single love seat. He was at the close end of a couch perpendicular to her seat. Their knees were almost touching.
"What am I to you, Duttsahab?" she asked, the alcohol making her a bit bolder than usual.
"What do you mean?"
"The question is simple."
"You are someone very special that I want to make a part of my life."
"And of course, you want to make love to me?" Both she and Dutt were taken aback by the directness of that question.
"I do want to. Very much. Do you want to?" he turned the question back on her.
"I don't know. A large part of me finds the very idea too horrific to even contemplate. I have a husband, a reasonably happy life, a daughter I care about a lot."
"And yet you are here. So then the question is, what am I to you?" Dutt asked.
"I wish I knew." she shrugged and looked down.
Dutt leaned over until his face was very close to her. She thought he was about to try and kiss her. And she was trying to decided if she should back away.
"Give me your hands." he said instead, surprising her.
She put the champagne flute down and held out her hands. Dutt wrapped his own hands around hers and stared at her soft palms.
"They say you can read a person's entire life story in the lines of their hands. Do you know what I read in yours?" he softly asked.
"What?" she whispered.
"I read a life that is crying out for more. More happiness, more enlightenment, more pleasure, more love."
She thought about what he said. And before she could respond, he had slid down from the couch and grabbed her left foot.
"What are you doing? Please don't touch my feet." she was horrified. The conservative upbringing she had been through had hammered in this strange principle in her - that an older person touching a younger person's feet is not good. It should be the other way round.
"Relax, Mansi. Don't be so traditional. Just like your hands, your feet are god's creation. And they also tell a story."
Dutt slowly raised the foot in his hand and lowered his face to stare at them.
"Such beautiful feet. Elegant toes, with the toe rings. I have never told you this, Mansi, but one of the things I find the most beautiful about you are your toes."
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING???"
Mansi cried out in shock as Dutt opened his mouth and sucked on her left toe.
"Just relax, Mansi." he said and then kissed the top of her foot. With one hand, he started massaging her calf gently.
Mansi's brain was a vortex of chaos. Touching feet itself was weird. he was now licking and kissing them. What made her feel especially confused was that she liked what he was doing. After the initial shock of the big burly old man crouching at her feet and taking them in her mouth wore off, she actually found herself finding it a pleasant experience. Dutt had a foot fetish for many years, so he was adept at how to play with women's toes.
"Duttsahab..." she sighed. But then the tenseness of her body subsided.
He slowly rolled her sari and petticoat up to her knees, admiring her smooth shins. Mansi instantly contrasted this with the hurried artless way in which Amar would hitch her sari up. With half open eyes, she noticed Dutt reach for his champagne flute. And then she had an odd experience as he held her foot up tilted, put his open mouth at the toes, and poured the champagne down her shins. The cold liquid tickled her, and also made her feel a little aroused. She watched, as if a spectator outside her own body, as the champagne was poured down her leg and into Dutt's mouth.
He pushed the coffee table away and got on his knees in front of her. And then holding both her legs up by placing his palms under her calves, he started kissing and sucking her toes again. Mansi felt small waves of pleasure run up her body, emanating from her toes of all places. She was still too taken aback by his unusual approach to make sense of it. he hadn't kissed her or groped her breasts or fondled her butt. Here he was, giving her incredible pleasure by just manipulating her toes.
As Dutt noticed the last bit of trepidation and discomfort melt away from Mansi's body language, he knew that she was his.
The last bit of tensions left Mansi's body and she laid back in the seat, relaxed, as Dutt expertly played with her feet and calves. The old man, despite waiting so long to finally get to this point, was very patient. He had decades of experience with such things. After all, he had been seducing women longer than Mansi had been alive. He stroke and gently scratched her shins, occasionally fingering the top part of her calves right behind the knee, which he knew as an erogenous zone for many women. And he was glad to see it have an effect on the young housewife. Her eyes were still half open, staring at his half bald head over her legs, and her breathing was getting deeper.
He kept licking, sucking, kissing, and biting her toes one by one as his hands slowly traveled upwards. His curled fingers gently caressed their way past her knees and stroked in inside of her right thigh. Mansi shivered at this touch, and it took her a while to note that it was moving gradually upwards. And it was only then that the end destination of his fingers struck her.
"No...wait! Not there!" she protested, starting to sit up as his fingers were almost at the top of her inner thighs.
But then she stopped mid-rise, and her torso crashed back on the seat again. And her hips bucked slightly. Dutt's fingers had reached her crotch. And the experienced old man, sensing some resistance from her, quickly moved his thumb to find her clit over her panties. And pressed it firmly with his thumb.
The sensation this created in her body was unknown to Mansi. Amar had never bothered to find her clit and stimulate it. She herself had led such a sheltered and orthodox life that she had never explored her own body much. From magazines and TV shows, she vaguely knew the concept of clitoral masturbation. But nothing in her life had ever led her to experience it.
"What are you...what how...what...wh...mmm" Mansi tried to form a sentence but her mind was too caught up in the new pleasant sensation. She just sat back again and enjoyed what was happening.
As Dutt played with her clit over her panties, he smiled at a realization. A short time ago, he had used this very thumb to uncork an exquisite item from 1988. And that same thumb was doing it again.
He put her ankles on his knees and started swirling the tip of his thumb over her clitoris faster and faster, as he turned his face to one side and other to kiss her calves. Mansi's hands, which until then had hung limply by her sides, reached up and tightly grabbed the two armrests of the seat. Dutt noticed her tightly her nails were digging into the fabric. He looked up at her beautiful face. Her eyes were now fully closed. Her lower lip was being bitten down by her upper teeth. Her nostrils were flaring. And her hips were making a slight up and down motion, in rhythm with Dutt's finger movements.
"HUUUU...let go!" Mansi suddenly said as she felt the unfamiliar overwhelming sensation of an approaching orgasm.
"Relax." he calmly said.
"No...please...this is...strange!" she begged and tried to push his hand away.
"Just enjoy it." Dutt said and held her down by her hips.
He increased the swirling pace of his thumb ever so slightly and pushed a bit upwards. And that did it.
"HNNNNN...HNNNN...HNNNN" Mansi started moaning loudly as she experienced the first ever orgasm of her life.
Her hips bucked wildly up and down, almost flying off the seat. If Dutt hadn't been holding her down with his other hand, she would have. Her body twisted sideways, first to the left and then the right. It was shivering, and then with a loud yell, she screeched her way through the top of the orgasmic wave as Dutt's thumb never lost the spot.
Once the crescendo had passed, Dutt was experienced enough to know he should take his hand away. He did and sat up straight on the floor. Mansi was still shuddering and moaning, curled up on the seat. She still couldn't think straight. What had just happened? And what was this unfamiliar tornado of thrills still coursing through her senses, although it was ebbing?
And then she thought to herself - whatever just happened...was that considered cheating on her husband? Reminded of her husband, she felt sad and guilty.
By now, Dutt could read the expressions on her face well. He decided to give her a little space. Leaving her splayed sideways on that loveseat, he got up and sat on the couch. He refilled both their champagne flutes and sat sipping quietly. In a couple of minutes, Mansi slowly sat up. Her sari and petticoat rolled down from over her knees. She kept staring at the floor, unable to make eye contact with the man who had just given her the greatest pleasure of her life without removing a single piece of clothing.
"Here."
Dutt held up her champagne. She took it and started sipping slowly, sitting in the loveseat with a blank expression and shoulders slightly slumped. She wondered if all this had happened because she had been drinking. What was she doing? Should she just leave? She suddenly stood up.
"I have to go home." she said.
Dutt frowned. He considered being assertive and making her stay. But he also understood the turmoil she must be going through. He had already crossed the biggest hurdle. He knew she had enjoyed what she did. He also guessed, correctly, she she had never experienced an orgasm before. He had a hold over her now. he could afford to relax the line a little, like a skilled fisherman.
"Ok." he nodded. "Should I call the driver?"
"No, I'll just take a taxi." she said, still not making eye contact.
Mansi picked up her purse, and taking uncertain steps, walked towards the door. Dutt stayed seated where he was, and watched the beautiful young housewife leave. A part of him wondered if she was guilt stricken enough to just cut off all contacts from now on. But from experience, he knew that the more likely outcome was that she would come back for more.
Mansi was in somewhat of a daze as she took the lift down to the lobby. Her mind was a hot cauldron of conflicting emotions - guilt, shame, pleasure, anticipation, doubt and many more. In the lobby, she fished out her phone from her purse. Then opened the Uber app.
"No need." a voice next to her said. "I'll drop you."
She looked up. It was Reena aunty, smiling at her. Reena didn't know the exact details of what had happened. But she was aware that Dutt had planned to make his move. She assumed that he had gone all the way. So she had told her staff to notify her whenever Mansi came down again.
"It's...okay." Mansi sullenly said.
"I insist. Come."
A while later, Mansi was in the passenger seat staring out of the window as Reena drove, talking almost non-stop.
"I know you must be feeling guilty. Conflicted. Used. But think of it this way, Mansi. You have been used your entire life. Tell me...did you enjoy it?"
Mansi didn't make eye contact, but started sobbing a little. Reena had asked her the question that was troubling her the most. She had indeed enjoyed it. Those moments Dutt gave her goosebumps by just playing with her toes and calves, she gave in to it completely. When he touched her in the most private of places, she didn't think about being a married woman and him being essentially a stranger over twice her age. She didn't think about her husband or her daughter, or what was right or wrong. She just gave in. Gave in to her deeper baser desires.
"Mansi...remember that time we had lunch. And I ordered that dessert for you. How much you loved it. You told me that you almost always ate at home. But you took pleasure in that occasional eating outside. Doesn't mean you don't like homecooked food. Think of this as something similar. You always sleep with your husband. Today was like...the occasional eating out experience. Doesn't mean you love your husband any less. And you make even more money to improve your lives."
That little speech somehow made Mansi feel even worse.
"Please stop the car." she said, wiping her tears.
"What? Don't be silly. I'll drop you home."
"No, please stop the car. I don't want to go home yet."
"Okay, we can go shopping."
"No. I want to be alone. Stop the car NOW!!" she yelled.
Reena stopped the car. Mansi got out without saying goodbye. She was still in a bit of a daze, still lost in a storm of emotions. She had no idea where exactly she was, although it seemed like Kandivali. She started walking in the general direction of her house, trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings.
"Oh you're finally back." Amar said sarcastically as soon as Mansi walked in the door. He was playing chess with Pinky.
She had spent almost three hours just walking around aimlessly until she regained some semblance of self-control. She still hadn't fully sorted out the situation in her head. But she at least had enough composure to face her family.
"Mamma, I'm hungry!" the little one whined.
"You didn't give her anything to eat?" Mansi asked, surprised.
"I gave her some biscuits." Amar shrugged.
"You could have made her a sandwich or ordered delivery or something."
"But you said it would only be a few hours, so I assumed you would come home and make dinner."
Mansi felt a slight surge of anger. This is the man she was feeling guilty about betraying? Someone so self-centered and insensitive that he couldn't even arrange their dinner while she was away?
"Mammaaaaa!" Pinky whined again.
"Yes beta, I will make you something right away."
"Life can be so much better with some extra money." Mansi said. "I know it sounds like an obvious thing to say. But the extra income has really made my life so much better. And Pinky's. She loves getting new toys and dresses and fancy desserts. Even Amar has started enjoying the materialistic side of things."
"That's nice." Reena smiled.
"The other day, on a whim, I said let's go to a nice restaurant. I assured him that with my extra income, we can afford it. He was reluctant at first, but enjoyed the meal thoroughly. And Pinky was delighted to be able to choose whatever dessert she wanted."
"Have you told Amar the truth about your job yet?" Reena asked. "He must have started wondering how you are making 25-30 thousand for what is supposed to be basic work like you told him."
Mansi frowned a little.
"Honestly, I still haven't been able to tell him the truth. About the job or even how much money I am making. He has always been a bit of a ignoramus on matters of money and budget. And besides, most of the money stays in that college account that he never checks."
"Hmmm...just most of the money?"
Mansi winced a little.
"I know that when I initially decided to do this, it was for Pinky's college fund. And that is still the main goal. But occasionally, I can't help but indulge myself a little, so I take cash out from it. I do feel guilty."
"Don't feel guilty, Mansi." Reena said. "There is nothing wrong with wanting good things from life. Besides, you are making enough money. And you can make even more if you want. I am sure Duttsahab won't mind spending even more days in Bombay. He is quite smitten with you."
Mansi blushed, and that pleased Reena. Her reaction had been almost like a young girl being told that someone had a crush on her. Not offended or indignant.
"Please aunty, don't even joke about it." she said. "He is old enough to be my father."
"Yes, but the heart doesn't care about such things. Whenever I talk to him about you, I can sense the longing in his voice." she laughed and then added. "But seriously, Mansi, how are things going with you and him? Everything okay?"
"It's mostly nice. He is a very polite and generous man. Spending time with him doesn't seem like work. Most of the time, it is just parties and events. Sometimes though..." she paused.
"Sometimes what?"
"I don't know if I should say this. You are his old friend after all." Mansi sounded evasive.
"Nonsense, I am your friend first. Tell me."
"Sometimes he gets a bit...aggressive after a few drinks."
"Aggressive?"
"Suddenly he will start ordering me around. Touch me on the hand or shoulder a little longer than normal. In the car, sometimes he will just stare at me, and give me compliments."
"So he acts a little flirtatious. So what? That's how people behave in high society."
"I guess. I am just not used to it." Mansi shrugged. "Mostly, I know it is because of the alcohol. Drink can make men do strange things."
"Can you tell me one thing honestly?"
"Of course."
"Do you...like it?"
"Like what?"
"His flirtatious behavior or aggressive behavior or his touch. Honestly, do you feel just uncomfortable or is there a part of you that actually likes it? Be honest, woman to woman."
The question caught Mansi off-guard. In her own introspection, she had been struggling with this issue. That often when he touched her or showered her with compliments, the only thing stopping her from responding was the fact that she was married. It was her sense of morality and propriety. But if he had come into her life eight years ago, who knows what would have happened.
"You see aunty... I never had a boyfriend. My parents were too strict, and you know how Meerut is. I read all these romantic novels and watched all these movies. And heard stories of some friends who had affairs and lovers. But for me, the only thing was arranged marriage. Amar and I barely knew each other. So this flirtatious behavior from Duttsahab..."
"It is filling in some sort of a void?"
"Maybe. And I just find myself not minding it as much as I could or should." Mansi shrugged. "Does that make me a bad person?"
"Not at all." Reena smiled. "It just makes you human. Besides, you are stuck in an unhappy marriage and..."
"Excuse me!" Mansi interrupted her. "I wouldn't say stuck in an unhappy marriage."
"Oh come on, Mansi!" Reena raised her voice. "Who are you kidding? From that day we met in the mall, you have been complaining about your husband."
"Yes, but which marriage is perfect?" Mansi argued. "I am happy with Amar. And with Pinky. Yes, there are some small issues, but you're making it sound like I am a hostage."
"You ARE a hostage. But not a hostage held by Amar. You are a hostage to your own archaic value system and lack of self-belief."
"I disagree." Mansi pouted.
There was a tense moment. Reena tried to smooth it over by laughing a little.
"I didn't mean to offend you. But think about it, Mansi. In Duttsahab, there is a man who obviously likes you a lot. Cares for you. And you seem to at least find him not undesirable. And he is rich and generous. In just a couple of months, he has turned your life around. If you were to...explore things further...who knows? Think about the future. Think about Pinky's future."
"What exactly are you saying? That I should leave my husband and take up with Duttsahab?"
"No, of course not. I am saying...just keep an open mind. There are ways in which you can have your cake and eat it too."
"So...become his mistress?" Mansi almost shouted.
"Not exactly mistress. That's such a cheap 19th century word." Reena dismissively said. "Have you heard of the term friends with benefits?"
"No."
"Look it up online when you go home." Reena said. "It's not that different from what you already have with him. You both enjoy each other's company. You are both benefiting from this arrangement. And it's just a few days a month. You yourself said it has made your family life a lot happier. If you explore things further, you will benefit even more, trust me. And I am not just saying financially."
"Do you know what you're suggesting?" Mansi said horrified.
"If you think from the medieval middle class Meerut values mindset, what I am suggesting is evil and sinful and horrible. But you know there is a bigger world out there. You have tasted that world. You have started fitting into that world. Think from that enlightened perspective and you will see that what I am suggesting is the best of both worlds." Reena paused to finish the last of her food. "Anyway, I have said what I had to say. What follows is up to you."
Mansi thought about all these things on her way back home. She was in an Uber. Before meeting Reena, she almost exclusively traveled by locals. But she had gotten so used to the air conditioned car rides with Dutt, that she had started using cab services regularly.
She herself did not realize how access to easy money was changing her. When others made a lot of money, it was through their careers or business. They spent most of their free time working to make that money and got very little time to spend it. Here. she was making 25-30 thousand rupees for just a few days work, that too for a few hours. And had the rest of the days free, even with her household chores. She found herself shopping a lot more, indulging a lot more, and not just for Pinky. For herself too.
In addition, Dutt made sure that every other day they spent together involved shopping as well. he wanted to get her almost addicted to materialistic life.In addition to the skirt suits, he had bought her a sari, some earrings, a bracelet, and many toys for Pinky. And when she checked the bank account, she realized that everything he bought her were genuine gifts, not compensation. Because even after buying her expensive gifts,there was still anywhere from 5 to 8 thousand rupees added to the account every time she spent a few hours with him. His hold over her was strengthening. He got the first sign of it the first time she wore the skirt suit at an event. He noticed that as instructed, she had shaved her legs. Shaving body hair was an alien concept to the demure middle class housewife. She had to go online and check how exactly women shave their legs. It seemed so odd and weird. But Duttsahab had told her to do it, so she felt compelled to comply.
Then there was the fact that she really was enjoying his flirtatious behavior a lot more than she cared to admit to Reena aunty or even to herself. When in the car, he started sitting closer and closer to her, and she did not stop him. Once while returning from an event in South Bombay, he had a few too many drinks, and dozed off on her shoulder. She did not know that he was pretending to be asleep, just to test her comfort zone. The entire way from King's Circle to Borivali, his head was resting on her shoulder, and she could feel his warm breath on her skin. Later that day when she scolded herself for allowing that to happen, she rationalized it by saying that she herself had downed a couple of drinks, so it was an honest mistake.
His touching also became more prolonged and bold than she found comfortable describing to Reena aunty. Once at an art exhibition, when she was wearing a sari, he had casually slipped his arm around her and placed his hand on the naked skin above her waist. She had almost jumped out of her skin, but didn't push his hand away. For about ten minutes, they walked like that, with a lot of the visitors around noting to themselves that the old millionaire seemed to have a young hot girlfriend.
Almost everyday, Mansi felt tempted to just talk to Amar about all this. Tell him the true nature of her "job", tell him about the flirtatious generous benefactor behind the uptick in their lifestyle. But she couldn't. She couldn't talk to anyone. She had no real friends to speak of. She couldn't discuss such things with her parents or relatives. And the only one she could talk to, Reena aunty, had in fact suggested she forge ahead. What was that term she used? Friends with benefits? Mansi fished out her phone and googled the term. And read the description wide-eyed.
The next Sunday, Mansi was cleaning up the kitchen after lunch, when Pinky walked in with her phone that she had left in the living room.
"Mamma, it's ringing."
Pinky handed it over and then ran back to the living room where she was watching TV with her father. Mansi recognized the number. She answered after making sure Amar was still in the living room.
"Hello."
"Mansi, it's me. The car is on the way. Be ready in ten minutes." Dutt casually said.
"What? I can't come today. It's a Sunday! My daughter is home."
"So what? Your husband will be home too, right? He can take care of her."
She was a little pissed at how casually he was dictating what she should do with her family life.
"Listen Duttsahab, this is not acceptable. I have a family, a life of my own. I am happy to meet you tomorrow. But I can't just drop everything and..."
"Don't argue with me, Mansi." Dutt sternly said. "Besides, I am leaving for Europe tomorrow. Will be gone for a couple of months. So today is the only day I have."
"Then we will meet after you come back. I really can't come today."
"Either you meet me today as I have instructed. Or then we are through. I will never call you again, and you never call me again."
"Fine." she angrily said and hung up.
Mansi was a little breathless with tension and anger. Who did he think he was, ordering her to just come to him like she was his property? He had been acting a bit more demanding recently but this was the absolute limit. He wanted to cut off all contacts over this? Fine. She was getting by with life okay before she met him. She would get by fine after too. Thinking these thoughts, she angrily scrubbed the kitchen counter clean.
Then she walked out to the living room and saw Pinky watching TV while playing with the new Italian dolls Dutt had bought for her. She saw the look of pure joy on her daughter's face.
"Amar." she said.
"Hmmm?" he replied, still looking at the TV.
"I need to go help out at the hotel. It's an emergency. A couple of people who were supposed to help out got food poisoning."
"But today is a Sunday." Amar sourly said. "Pinky is home."
"I know. It will just be a few hours. You can look after her."
"Me...look after her?" Amar sounded almost shocked.
"She is your daughter too, you know?" Mansi sarcastically replied.
"Okay, okay. If you have to go, then go." Amar was taken aback at her feisty response.
Mansi went to the bedroom to get ready.
Dutt sat waiting in the car, checking his watch every few minutes. He was afraid he had pushed her too far out of her comfort zone. And that threat to never call her again if she didn't come...seemed like a good idea at first but maybe it was a mistake. Ten minutes turned to fifteen and then to twenty. Maybe she wasn't coming. He almost told the driver to start driving when there she came, around the corner. Dutt smiled with self-assurance. She was wearing a dark red sari, and carrying an imported purse he had bought for her. She seemed to be scowling. But the important thing was, she was here.
"Hi." he said when she opened the door.
She just pouted and got in, shutting the door a little too hard.
"You're unbelievable." she said in a surly voice, folding her hands across her chest.
He just shrugged. She saw that he had a champagne bottle open. He poured some in a flute and held it out for her.
"I don't want it."
"Have some. You know you like it. And it'll calm you down."
"I said I don't want it."
"Mansi!" he said harshly. "Stop acting like a petulant child and spoiling the mood. I told you to have it, so have it."
Reluctantly, she took the champagne and sipped some. Over the last few weeks, she had developed a taste for alcohol. She still had enough self-control to not get too drunk like at the art gallery. But most of the events they attended had alcohol being served. Whenever she got back home, she was usually a little buzzed. Amar once even smelled alcohol on her breath and asked her about it. She said it was just a celebratory toast. After that, she started brushing her teeth and using mouthwash before he got home.
They rode in silence for a while. The champagne did calm her down a little. But she was still not completely at peace.
"Why am I doing this?" she said out loud.
"What?" Dutt looked at her.
"Why am I here? Why did I just lie to my husband, leave my daughter at home, and come here?"
"You know why." he smiled.
"It's not all about money." she said, more to herself than to Dutt.
"I didn't mean it was about the money."
"Then what did you mean?"
"What do you think I meant?"
"Duttsahab, please! Stop playing games with me." Mansi said, reaching for the bottle to refill her glass.
Dutt said nothing, started looking out of the window and sipped champagne.
"Where are we going anyway that is so important? Another corporate event? Another exhibition?"
"Neither of those." he said.
"Then?"
"We are just going to my suite in Reena's hotel. Like I told you, I won't be in the country for a couple of months. So I just wanted to spend some quality time with you. You know by now that I love spending time with you."
Mansi was a little taken aback by this revelation. Until now, all the time they had spent together had been in public. And now he was just simply taking her to his hotel suite? To what end?
"What are we going to do in the hotel suite?"
"We can do whatever we want." Dutt cryptically said.
"Will Reena aunty be there?"
"Not unless you want her to be."
Mansi clammed up and thought some more. Finally she said,
"What if I ask you to just drop me home right now?"
"I will drop you home right now..."
"But?"
"You know but what?"
"We will never meet again?"
He just shrugged.
"So I don't really have a choice." Mansi said.
"Everyone always has a choice, Mansi."
The car sped through the relatively empty Sunday streets and was soon in Malad. At the hotel, a valet opened the door of the limo and the two of them stepped out. Every step Mansi took through the foyer and into the lobby made her seem like she was wearing shoes made of lead. Dutt walked alongside her, feeling nervous and excited himself. After Reena reported her conversation back to him, he decided that the time was ripe. Clearly, Mansi had at least some feelings for him. The ultimate test would be an ultimatum. It was a big gamble, but it had paid off.
He still wasn't sure how far he should go though. Over the last few weeks, he had slowly but surely increased moments of tender physical intimacy between them. And now, without making up any ruse, he had told this young housewife that he was taking her to his hotel room in the middle of the day. Even she wasn't innocent enough to not realize the implication of that. And yet here she was. A little upset, a little scared, but still, willingly walking with him.
They walked into a suite that was even more plush and fancy than Reena's. But unlike that time, Mansi barely noticed the expensive decorations and fittings. Her mind was preoccupied with a struggle. She was still replaying his line about everyone always having a choice in her mind.
"So what next?" she asked.
"Have a seat."
"Where?"
"Anywhere."
She walked to the single seater love seat in the living area and sat down in it.
"More champagne?" he asked.
"Just a little. I get a headache if I have too much." she said.
"Only cheap regular champagnes they serve at those events cause headaches. Not this one. This is really special. I have been saving it for a special occasion."
He went to the bar area and took a bottle from a ice bucket where it had been left by the hotel staff at his orders. Mansi looked at the bottle. It didn't look too special or different from the other champagne bottles she had seen.
"It is one of the most elite champagnes in the world. Moet and Chandon Dom Perignon. Costs about 40,000 rupees in India."
"Oh, I see." she knew him long enough to know that money was no object to him.
"Look at the year."
She read the label.
"1988." the champagne had been bottled in the same year that she had been born. She wondered if it was just a coincidence. But knowing him it had to be a deliberate decision.
Dutt unwrapped the foil and then using his thumb, deftly pressed the cork upwards. It flew up and landed on the floor. Fizz came out of the bottle. he quickly poured it in two flutes, handing one to Mansi.
"What shall we drink to?" he asked.
"I don't know."
"To special creations from 1988." he expansively said. That confirmed for Mansi the deliberateness of the selection. She took a sip, trying to calculate how much the sip cost, if the whole bottle was 40,000.
"It's really good." Mansi said.
"Of course it is. It is from 1988. Just like you."
Mansi smiled. Although she was still torn about even being there, the attention starved side of her found the gesture very grandiose and romantic. They sipped in silence for a few minutes. Then Dutt reached for a remote and the stereo in the room started playing some western classical music. He was going all out in this seduction attempt.
"Would you rather have the TV on instead?" Dutt asked.
"No, the music is fine." Mansi said, the expensive alcohol starting to have a slow effect on her. What am I doing, her brain cried out again. Why am I just calmly going along with this?
A few more minutes passed, with the music creating a romantic atmosphere. The room was already dimly lit. The champagne was flowing through their bloodstream. Mansi's heart was beating a thousand miles a minute. She was in the single love seat. He was at the close end of a couch perpendicular to her seat. Their knees were almost touching.
"What am I to you, Duttsahab?" she asked, the alcohol making her a bit bolder than usual.
"What do you mean?"
"The question is simple."
"You are someone very special that I want to make a part of my life."
"And of course, you want to make love to me?" Both she and Dutt were taken aback by the directness of that question.
"I do want to. Very much. Do you want to?" he turned the question back on her.
"I don't know. A large part of me finds the very idea too horrific to even contemplate. I have a husband, a reasonably happy life, a daughter I care about a lot."
"And yet you are here. So then the question is, what am I to you?" Dutt asked.
"I wish I knew." she shrugged and looked down.
Dutt leaned over until his face was very close to her. She thought he was about to try and kiss her. And she was trying to decided if she should back away.
"Give me your hands." he said instead, surprising her.
She put the champagne flute down and held out her hands. Dutt wrapped his own hands around hers and stared at her soft palms.
"They say you can read a person's entire life story in the lines of their hands. Do you know what I read in yours?" he softly asked.
"What?" she whispered.
"I read a life that is crying out for more. More happiness, more enlightenment, more pleasure, more love."
She thought about what he said. And before she could respond, he had slid down from the couch and grabbed her left foot.
"What are you doing? Please don't touch my feet." she was horrified. The conservative upbringing she had been through had hammered in this strange principle in her - that an older person touching a younger person's feet is not good. It should be the other way round.
"Relax, Mansi. Don't be so traditional. Just like your hands, your feet are god's creation. And they also tell a story."
Dutt slowly raised the foot in his hand and lowered his face to stare at them.
"Such beautiful feet. Elegant toes, with the toe rings. I have never told you this, Mansi, but one of the things I find the most beautiful about you are your toes."
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING???"
Mansi cried out in shock as Dutt opened his mouth and sucked on her left toe.
"Just relax, Mansi." he said and then kissed the top of her foot. With one hand, he started massaging her calf gently.
Mansi's brain was a vortex of chaos. Touching feet itself was weird. he was now licking and kissing them. What made her feel especially confused was that she liked what he was doing. After the initial shock of the big burly old man crouching at her feet and taking them in her mouth wore off, she actually found herself finding it a pleasant experience. Dutt had a foot fetish for many years, so he was adept at how to play with women's toes.
"Duttsahab..." she sighed. But then the tenseness of her body subsided.
He slowly rolled her sari and petticoat up to her knees, admiring her smooth shins. Mansi instantly contrasted this with the hurried artless way in which Amar would hitch her sari up. With half open eyes, she noticed Dutt reach for his champagne flute. And then she had an odd experience as he held her foot up tilted, put his open mouth at the toes, and poured the champagne down her shins. The cold liquid tickled her, and also made her feel a little aroused. She watched, as if a spectator outside her own body, as the champagne was poured down her leg and into Dutt's mouth.
He pushed the coffee table away and got on his knees in front of her. And then holding both her legs up by placing his palms under her calves, he started kissing and sucking her toes again. Mansi felt small waves of pleasure run up her body, emanating from her toes of all places. She was still too taken aback by his unusual approach to make sense of it. he hadn't kissed her or groped her breasts or fondled her butt. Here he was, giving her incredible pleasure by just manipulating her toes.
As Dutt noticed the last bit of trepidation and discomfort melt away from Mansi's body language, he knew that she was his.
The last bit of tensions left Mansi's body and she laid back in the seat, relaxed, as Dutt expertly played with her feet and calves. The old man, despite waiting so long to finally get to this point, was very patient. He had decades of experience with such things. After all, he had been seducing women longer than Mansi had been alive. He stroke and gently scratched her shins, occasionally fingering the top part of her calves right behind the knee, which he knew as an erogenous zone for many women. And he was glad to see it have an effect on the young housewife. Her eyes were still half open, staring at his half bald head over her legs, and her breathing was getting deeper.
He kept licking, sucking, kissing, and biting her toes one by one as his hands slowly traveled upwards. His curled fingers gently caressed their way past her knees and stroked in inside of her right thigh. Mansi shivered at this touch, and it took her a while to note that it was moving gradually upwards. And it was only then that the end destination of his fingers struck her.
"No...wait! Not there!" she protested, starting to sit up as his fingers were almost at the top of her inner thighs.
But then she stopped mid-rise, and her torso crashed back on the seat again. And her hips bucked slightly. Dutt's fingers had reached her crotch. And the experienced old man, sensing some resistance from her, quickly moved his thumb to find her clit over her panties. And pressed it firmly with his thumb.
The sensation this created in her body was unknown to Mansi. Amar had never bothered to find her clit and stimulate it. She herself had led such a sheltered and orthodox life that she had never explored her own body much. From magazines and TV shows, she vaguely knew the concept of clitoral masturbation. But nothing in her life had ever led her to experience it.
"What are you...what how...what...wh...mmm" Mansi tried to form a sentence but her mind was too caught up in the new pleasant sensation. She just sat back again and enjoyed what was happening.
As Dutt played with her clit over her panties, he smiled at a realization. A short time ago, he had used this very thumb to uncork an exquisite item from 1988. And that same thumb was doing it again.
He put her ankles on his knees and started swirling the tip of his thumb over her clitoris faster and faster, as he turned his face to one side and other to kiss her calves. Mansi's hands, which until then had hung limply by her sides, reached up and tightly grabbed the two armrests of the seat. Dutt noticed her tightly her nails were digging into the fabric. He looked up at her beautiful face. Her eyes were now fully closed. Her lower lip was being bitten down by her upper teeth. Her nostrils were flaring. And her hips were making a slight up and down motion, in rhythm with Dutt's finger movements.
"HUUUU...let go!" Mansi suddenly said as she felt the unfamiliar overwhelming sensation of an approaching orgasm.
"Relax." he calmly said.
"No...please...this is...strange!" she begged and tried to push his hand away.
"Just enjoy it." Dutt said and held her down by her hips.
He increased the swirling pace of his thumb ever so slightly and pushed a bit upwards. And that did it.
"HNNNNN...HNNNN...HNNNN" Mansi started moaning loudly as she experienced the first ever orgasm of her life.
Her hips bucked wildly up and down, almost flying off the seat. If Dutt hadn't been holding her down with his other hand, she would have. Her body twisted sideways, first to the left and then the right. It was shivering, and then with a loud yell, she screeched her way through the top of the orgasmic wave as Dutt's thumb never lost the spot.
Once the crescendo had passed, Dutt was experienced enough to know he should take his hand away. He did and sat up straight on the floor. Mansi was still shuddering and moaning, curled up on the seat. She still couldn't think straight. What had just happened? And what was this unfamiliar tornado of thrills still coursing through her senses, although it was ebbing?
And then she thought to herself - whatever just happened...was that considered cheating on her husband? Reminded of her husband, she felt sad and guilty.
By now, Dutt could read the expressions on her face well. He decided to give her a little space. Leaving her splayed sideways on that loveseat, he got up and sat on the couch. He refilled both their champagne flutes and sat sipping quietly. In a couple of minutes, Mansi slowly sat up. Her sari and petticoat rolled down from over her knees. She kept staring at the floor, unable to make eye contact with the man who had just given her the greatest pleasure of her life without removing a single piece of clothing.
"Here."
Dutt held up her champagne. She took it and started sipping slowly, sitting in the loveseat with a blank expression and shoulders slightly slumped. She wondered if all this had happened because she had been drinking. What was she doing? Should she just leave? She suddenly stood up.
"I have to go home." she said.
Dutt frowned. He considered being assertive and making her stay. But he also understood the turmoil she must be going through. He had already crossed the biggest hurdle. He knew she had enjoyed what she did. He also guessed, correctly, she she had never experienced an orgasm before. He had a hold over her now. he could afford to relax the line a little, like a skilled fisherman.
"Ok." he nodded. "Should I call the driver?"
"No, I'll just take a taxi." she said, still not making eye contact.
Mansi picked up her purse, and taking uncertain steps, walked towards the door. Dutt stayed seated where he was, and watched the beautiful young housewife leave. A part of him wondered if she was guilt stricken enough to just cut off all contacts from now on. But from experience, he knew that the more likely outcome was that she would come back for more.
Mansi was in somewhat of a daze as she took the lift down to the lobby. Her mind was a hot cauldron of conflicting emotions - guilt, shame, pleasure, anticipation, doubt and many more. In the lobby, she fished out her phone from her purse. Then opened the Uber app.
"No need." a voice next to her said. "I'll drop you."
She looked up. It was Reena aunty, smiling at her. Reena didn't know the exact details of what had happened. But she was aware that Dutt had planned to make his move. She assumed that he had gone all the way. So she had told her staff to notify her whenever Mansi came down again.
"It's...okay." Mansi sullenly said.
"I insist. Come."
A while later, Mansi was in the passenger seat staring out of the window as Reena drove, talking almost non-stop.
"I know you must be feeling guilty. Conflicted. Used. But think of it this way, Mansi. You have been used your entire life. Tell me...did you enjoy it?"
Mansi didn't make eye contact, but started sobbing a little. Reena had asked her the question that was troubling her the most. She had indeed enjoyed it. Those moments Dutt gave her goosebumps by just playing with her toes and calves, she gave in to it completely. When he touched her in the most private of places, she didn't think about being a married woman and him being essentially a stranger over twice her age. She didn't think about her husband or her daughter, or what was right or wrong. She just gave in. Gave in to her deeper baser desires.
"Mansi...remember that time we had lunch. And I ordered that dessert for you. How much you loved it. You told me that you almost always ate at home. But you took pleasure in that occasional eating outside. Doesn't mean you don't like homecooked food. Think of this as something similar. You always sleep with your husband. Today was like...the occasional eating out experience. Doesn't mean you love your husband any less. And you make even more money to improve your lives."
That little speech somehow made Mansi feel even worse.
"Please stop the car." she said, wiping her tears.
"What? Don't be silly. I'll drop you home."
"No, please stop the car. I don't want to go home yet."
"Okay, we can go shopping."
"No. I want to be alone. Stop the car NOW!!" she yelled.
Reena stopped the car. Mansi got out without saying goodbye. She was still in a bit of a daze, still lost in a storm of emotions. She had no idea where exactly she was, although it seemed like Kandivali. She started walking in the general direction of her house, trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings.
"Oh you're finally back." Amar said sarcastically as soon as Mansi walked in the door. He was playing chess with Pinky.
She had spent almost three hours just walking around aimlessly until she regained some semblance of self-control. She still hadn't fully sorted out the situation in her head. But she at least had enough composure to face her family.
"Mamma, I'm hungry!" the little one whined.
"You didn't give her anything to eat?" Mansi asked, surprised.
"I gave her some biscuits." Amar shrugged.
"You could have made her a sandwich or ordered delivery or something."
"But you said it would only be a few hours, so I assumed you would come home and make dinner."
Mansi felt a slight surge of anger. This is the man she was feeling guilty about betraying? Someone so self-centered and insensitive that he couldn't even arrange their dinner while she was away?
"Mammaaaaa!" Pinky whined again.
"Yes beta, I will make you something right away."
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