Adventures of Venkat Pt. 02

"This is a very exclusive club. They take only couples." He paused and then he continued. "It is a dress optional club." He looked keenly at me wondering if I had caught the point.

"Nudists?"

"No. Just people wanting to relax."

"Optional means that if you want to be dressed you could."

"Not quite. Topless is minimum. Are you comfortable with it."

"I think I can manage being topless. If the company is right the other too." He smiled.

"Partner exchange?" I asked.

"Not in the club agenda anyway. If there are couples wanting it then I suppose it could happen."

We got ready for a swim.

"Do we know anyone here," I asked.

"No. We would get acquainted; most of the members are not known to each other."

I removed my dress and covered myself with a large towel. Tarun wore bathing trunks. Four couples were on divans under umbrellas. The lady at the counter, who was in a two-piece herself, (the three employees of the club were all women) introduced us to them. The men were in bathing trunks. Two women, both Indian, were topless but had knickers on. The other two, one Chinese, and one Japanese were nude. A white man and a girl were frolicking in the pool. The counter lady introduced them too, and they waved.

The Japanese couple smiled and we went and stood by them. I removed the towel and sat down. Tarun did not gasp as I thought he would, but smiled with a bit of wryness in it. I was blushing all over. I must be a natural exhibitionist for I found it a thrilling experience to be nude in public. I darted a glance at the Japanese man. He was discreetly enjoying the sight of me. I turned as if not on purpose and spread my thighs to give that man a good view of my vulva. When he was enjoying the view he looked up and was mildly shocked to make eye contact with me, but he managed a smile. I smiled back and widened by thighs a wee bit more, and then put my feet up and spread still more. The Japanese woman was smiling and so was Tarun.

We chatted of this and that. The Japanese man said they were business tourists. The white couple came out of the pool. The girl, a beautiful blond, came dripping, towel in hand. She wiped herself in front of us. She was nude. She had luxuriant pubic hair; so luxuriant that her nudity was hidden. I suppose that was how Lady Godiva covered her nakedness rather than with the tresses of the hair on her head. Tarun turned away. He liked women to be clean-shaven. The Japanese man suggested that we have some fun in the pool. We agreed. Both the Indian couples also were by now in the water. The Indian ladies, probably after watching me, were now totally nude.

We were frolicking in the water when one Indian woman nudged me. 'Just glance landward,' she said. I did. On the divan the whites were making love. Though I could only have short glimpses between spurts of swimming I could see all. He was on top and she lay on her back with thighs spread. We could see her hold his penis and insert it in. And then they pumped and soon it was all over. They went to a tap nearby and washed in the open and were back on the divan in a cosy huddle. The men were watching too. 'Nice,' said the girl who had drawn my attention to it. 'I am hot,' she said. I was hot too. I swam towards Tarun. 'Did you see,' I asked. 'Hmm,' he said. 'I am hot,' I said. 'So am I,' he said. As we swam towards the steps I turned to my informant and jerked my head as if to say 'we are going to, are you?' She waved as if to encourage us. We got out and wiped and then moved to a divan five feet from the one where the whites were lying. I was hot and defiant.

We sat and kissed on the lips. Tarun's hand went to my breast. He kissed my cheeks and jaw, and then neck, and then over the collarbone, and then on the valley, and then ran his lips on the surface of a breast, and then his lips plucked a tit. It was so thrilling that a moan escaped me. When he hears a moan he gets into frenzy. I never try to deceive him by false moans. I held up my breast mother-like as I always do, and he bit it. It was exhilarating. I took his head in my hand and moved it to the other breast. I turned to look at our neighbours on the divan. The couple were resting after the exertions of a short while ago. The man was lying face down and the woman was laying on top of him also face down. Both the heads were turned in our direction. To be watched as one is making love is a thrill that one has to go thorough to appreciate to the full. It is a pity that, thanks to false conceptions in human culture, one of the purest of thrills is lost to us.

Soon my tits lost sensation and my clitoris tingled. I took my hands to his bathing trunks and pulled it down and caught his penis in my hands. I pushed his head down and he licked as only he can. I came in an orgasm that cascaded like a waterfall, and then he plucked my clitoris between his lips and bit in quick succession till I almost screamed from the aftershocks. And then he got on top of me and he inserted. When I came to my third orgasm I could faintly hear clapping sounds. Our friends were watching the show and applauding. I did not have the energy to take the bow.

Vaguely I was able to see my fellow guests. The couple on the divan next to us still had their faces turned towards us. Their eyes were glittering with appreciation. One of the Indian couples after some kissing and fondling went in. Apparently they were not ready for an open show yet. The Japanese's were cuddling legs intertwined. The other Indian couple were not in my line of vision.

More couples joined us. The two days we spent there was enthralling. The best time was at night after supper in the hall. The whites, who were from Denmark, had hot music from their native land, and all the couples including the ones who did not participate that morning had imbibed the sprit of the place and lost their inhibitions. The Indian couple that had retired to their rooms in the morning were fully converted, and like new converts they were rather more uninhibited than the others. We were watching TV when they switched off the set and lay in front of the set and coupled with the woman on top. The woman looked towards us and moved up and down so that we could all see that she was well and truly impaled. She made eye contact with as many as possible and smiled unabashedly. We lost count the number of times Tarun and I had it, but every time it was in the presence of an appreciative audience. We were proud that we did not let down the traditions of Kama Sutra country. We returned two more times in the next two months to that haven of lovemaking.

A year and six months later one weekend Tarun stayed overnight as he always did. I kissed him at the head of the stairs the next morning as he took leave. He got into the car. He waved to me from the car as it turned the corner. That was the last I was to see him. He had a heart attack in the office that afternoon and died before they could take him to hospital. The watchman got to know of it and told me. I called his office and they confirmed the news. I wept bitterly. That was all I could do.

The funeral took place the same day. I sat at home. I had no idea what was in store for me. Three days later one morning his car driven by his chauffeur came down the drive. A man of about fifty got down. I met him in the drawing room.

"Are you Yamini," he asked.

"Yes," I said. He then spoke as if he was a newsreader.

"I am Mr. Tarun's lawyer. He has not made a will but he has written a letter in which he has listed what he wants us to do to you in the event of something happening to him. Please read the letter." It was the original written in his own handwriting. All that he had got for me including the jewels and dresses are to be mine. In addition he gave rupees one hundred thousand in cash. "We are of course honouring his decisions," said the lawyer, "this house is rented. We would be paying the rent till you find another accommodation. Would three months be adequate?"

''I may not need more than a few days to vacate this place," I said. The lawyer handed me a cheque for one lakh. I collected my possessions in two large travel cases and left a day later. On the train I decided that my good looks were no blessing but a curse.

I had a classmate staying in the workingwoman's hostel in Coimbatore and there I took a room. I got a job as a receptionist in a hotel and stayed for almost a year. My intention was to be single, but soon I found it impossible to live without a male companion. I was not missing sex; I needed male protection. A pretty young divorcee is just too much for the men young and old to resist. Their attentions were just impossible to bear. I found an ad in the papers attractive. A widower with two boys wanted a mother for the boys and a companion for himself. Matrimony was one of his conditions. I agreed straightaway. We were married and I came to live in Munnar where my husband worked.

Chapter VI

Venkat meets Yamini and the curse is neutralised

I am Venkat again. You might have read the first part of my story titled 'Adventures of Venkat'. The story is of how one aunt, and then another, no doubt attracted by my good looks, seduced me and dashed my hopes of ever becoming a graduate engineer. I continue that story where I left off. I became supervisor of the processing plant in a tea estate in Munnar. I met Yamini there.

Munnar is a summer resort in South India next only in popularity to Ooty and Kodaikanal. A bit too much of rain in the monsoon season, but for the rest of the year it is just fine. The estate that employed me was 15 kilometres from the town. The senior engineer and I had to keep the machinery of the tea factory working. As the junior it was my duty to attend to night calls if the need arose, and in compensation, depending on how long the call lasted, I could go for work late in the morning or not go at all.

I was popular with my colleagues, and I thought that I was much admired by the girls I came across. I did not fancy the many young pretty things that crossed my path. I began to suspect that like a former King of England my liking was for older woman with living husbands.

The company gave me a bungalow on the slopes of the hill surrounded on three sides by tea gardens. There were two houses in that corner. The accountant of a neighbouring estate occupied the bigger of the two. He had a wife, and two sons who were in school. The boys were seven and eight years or thereabouts. The school was in the town and a bus came every morning to take them at eight, and they came back home at five in the evening. The husband was a nine-to-five pen pusher.

One strange thing I noticed about my neighbour was that all the windows on my side were closed. On the other side they were wide open. The second morning after I had taken up residence I saw my neighbour walking to the company bus. I wished him. He waved his hand and at the same time grimaced—an unfriendly twist of his face. The same happened the next day. A surly fellow I concluded and I decided to leave him alone. His boys were an interesting age. They played in the compound on the other side of my house. One day their ball fell into my compound and both the boys came running into my house to fetch it. I asked them their names, and the father who was in the veranda shouted in a language I did not understand, and the boys took the ball and without even looking at me rushed out as if afraid of reprimand from their father if they answered me. I had to leave them alone too. As for the mother of the boys I had not clapped eyes on her even though I was living next door for almost 10 days. On the eleventh day my luck changed.

I had a night call that kept me on duty till dawn. I was hence exempt from attending duty that day. I got up late. I was at the window drinking coffee when I saw the neighbour's window on my side open. My neighbour's wife was standing at the window polishing a brass idol. She was a beauty. She had thin nightdress on and I could see the clear outline of her sagging breasts. Ever since attaining manhood under my lactating aunt's tutelage I have been an admirer of sagging breasts. I watched enthralled. Soon she closed the window.

My next free morning came ten days later. I took a plate of toast and eggs and set it on the patio table. It was a cold sunny day and I thought I would spend some time sunning myself.

I heard the opening of the door in the next compound. I turned and saw the rear door of my neighbour's house open. The lady came out. She was in her nightdress but not the one she was wearing in our first encounter. This one was not of thin material but it did not in any way make her breasts less attractive.

"Good morning," she said, "I am Yamini."

"Good morning," I responded, "I am Venkat."

"If you are from the plains Munnar can be quite cold," she said.

"I am from Conjeevaram. Yes I find it cold here."

"Sunning yourself in the tropics I believe is not good. I would advise you to go in. I am going to polish some brass icons. If you are at your window we can talk." The door closed.

The window opened. She was holding an icon in one hand and some cloth in the other. I noticed with some excitement that she had changed to the thin nightdress. I went to my window closest to her and spoke.

"But why are you keeping the windows shut. Cold breeze?"

"Hot breeze rather," she said with a serious face. I did not get the joke if indeed it was a joke. "Your home town is of course famous for its saris," she said to change the subject."

"Yes."

"Are you in any way connected with it?"

"Yes my grandfather used to weave them, and my father used to market them."

"Famous for its temples too. I have visited those temples. I come from a temple town too"

"Where?"

"Kumbakonam."

"Then you must be a Tamil girl," I said quite excited. Munnar is in Kerala and the language spoken there is Malayalam.

"Through and through," she said speaking in Tamil of the purest Tanjore accent.

"Your husband speaks a language that is different," I said.

"He speaks to his sons in a Konkani dialect," she said. His sons indeed. Then she is not the mother. The sag of her breasts if it is not owing to suckling then it must be owing to amorous use—considerable amorous use. She surely had an interesting past. She enjoyed talking in her native tongue and I was too. We talked of Conjeevaram saris, and Kumbakonam temples, and Tamil movies, and so on for a long while. She had stopped the pretence of polishing the icons long ago. I could hear her phone ringing and she closed the window and left.

Saturday afternoon and Sundays were off days for me and so were they for the man next door. The only time I got to chat with my neighbour was on days I had night calls. The next chance occurred a week later. The window was open even when I woke up. Later as I was having coffee Yamini was standing at the window.

"How did you know I would be going to factory late," I asked.

"I heard the company car fetch you and then leave you several hours later, and I knew you would be going to office late or not at all," she said. We spent the next hour chatting. The phone rang. She asked me not to go away. She was at the phone for less than five minutes.

"My husband. He always calls to check if I am calling anyone." We were silent for a while.

"Don't you have anything to say?" she asked.

"Its your personal matter and not a pleasant one. I think it is best for neighbours not to probe."

"You are wise. How old are you?"

"Twenty four."

"Wise beyond your years."

"Thanks."

"But some thoughts would have passed through your mind."

"Surely."

"But you prefer to keep them to yourself."

"Yes."

"Suppose I tell you why he does so, would you mind?"

"Not at all."

"His first wife, the mother of his two sons, ran away with the manager of the estate where this man was accountant."

"Leaving the children."

"Yes, the older was then only four years old. He had no notion that his wife had developed a relationship with the neighbour. When he came home and saw the letter he fainted."

The phone rang. She went and came back almost immediately.

"My husband again. He thinks that once his call has come I would be free to make calls on my own. He hence calls randomly. Mood out," she said, and closed the window.

The next chance we got a week later. She told me the story of her marriage, and how it ended, and her days as a mistress and how that ended, and her second marriage. She said that her husband wanted a reliable housekeeper and not a wife. His interest in sex, she hinted, was minimal.

I told her my story. My love life tickled her.

"Aunts?" she asked. I nodded.

"Older married women?" I nodded. "With living husbands?" I nodded again. "You deserve some sort of prize," she said and giggled. She then became serious. "Venkat, both of us are living under a curse of good looks. We must find a way out." I said I had independently come to the same conclusion.

I had no night calls for ten days. On the eleventh day during lunch break I had a call. It was Yamini. She was speaking from a local workingwoman's hostel. She said she has left her husband and was on her own. I was not surprised. Though she had not told me anything about leaving him I could make out for the tone in which she spoke of him that the marriage could not last long. She said she was leaving town that evening and would be back in her old hostel in Coimbatore. I asked her to call or write from there. She called after three days. I took down her address and phone number. We had known each other but casually. I should have forgotten her, but I did not. I missed her.

This was new experience for me. I never missed the two aunts with whom I had had sexual relations. In fact I have never met them after parting. But now even though I had not so much as touched Yamini I missed her sorely. I called. She sounded excited to hear my voice. I called every day—a relationship was developing. A month later I had to go to Coimbatore to collect some spares for our motors. I met her in the lounge of the hostel. We were together for almost an hour. When we took leave of each other quite spontaneously we hugged and for the first time kissed. A fortnight later I took leave and went to Coimbatore to meet her. We went to Top Slip resort. In the forest glade I told her that I couldn't live without her. She said she felt the same way. I proposed marriage.

"Marriage?" Yamini was surprised.

"Yes," I said.

"Don't be funny. You have never been married but you known what two very respectable married women did to their husbands. I was twice married and both my husbands married me with the intent of exploiting me. I have known a man before the first marriage, and was mistress to a man before the second. I have had sex when others were watching many times and I enjoyed that experience. Many would call me a slut, which by any definition of the term I am. You are young and very handsome; you can choose a spouse from a sheaf. Why should you want to marry a barren woman who is four years your senior?"

"I have thought of all that," I said.

"I refuse to consider such an absurd request. Please remember that when I am forty you would be a blooming thirty-six. Impossible Venkat, quite out of the question. We'll be friends. The only time I was happy was when I was a mistress. I want to be your mistress. When you get an urge to marry and have a family I will gracefully go away." We discussed for a long time and then finally we decided that there was no hurry to decide.

We went round the forest glades and then we were back in the room. I was lying on the cot reading the morning paper. She came and stood by the bed. She loosened my pyjamas tape, took out my penis, and kissed the glans. The paper dropped from my hand as I watched her plopping it in and out of her mouth, and then stand back and inspect the results of her efforts with satisfaction. She then slid out of her nightdress and climbed up and stood looking down on me.