Old Man and Indian Wife Ch. 01

They were about 30 feet away from me so I couldn't hear what was being said. But the expressions on his face were very lecherous. I found the idea hilarious that such an ugly old man was actually even thinking of chatting up someone as gorgeous as my wife. She was used to the attention of hunks like Jeff, after all. I was sure she'd slip away from him politely very soon.

"Sir, would you like to take a look at our dessert cart?" I heard the waiter say and I looked away from the pool. The dessert cart looked interesting. It had a chocolate souffle which I knew Shipra liked. So I ordered it for her and a cheesecake for myself. The waiter made some small talk with me and put the dessert on the table and left.

I looked back and was surprised to see that the old man was still chatting up Shipra. She seemed to have an amused expression on her face and was saying short sentences herself. The conversation seemed to go on and on. Now she would occasionally giggle! I decided to put an end to the pathetic old man's desperate flirting attempts, so got up and walked towards the side of the pool they were at.

"Shipra!" I called out over the din of kids playing nearby. She was about 10 feet away from the edge. She looked at me. "The dessert is here. I ordered you souffle."

Shipra nodded and glided through the water towards me. I noted with annoyance that the old man swam after her.

"What did you say?" Shipra put her elbows on the edge and asked me.

"The dessert. I ordered you..."

"And who might you be? Her father?" the old man came to a stop in the water right next to Shipra and interrupted me.

"Hehe..I told you he's my husband!" Shipra giggled. "Pavan, meet Alan."

"Pleased to meet you." Alan reached out his wrinkly hand towards me and I bent down in the waist to shake it.

Alan grabbed my hand firmly, and without letting go, said,

"So you're the lucky son of a bitch who gets to take this gorgeous little pixie home every night huh?"

Gorgeous little pixie? This old geezer was at least a couple of inches shorter than her. I snorted a little and tried to free my hand. But Alan's grip was surprisingly strong, and I found myself standing there crouching at his mercy.

"Why did a spicy bombshell like you settle for an old fart like him, huh?" Alan said and started cackling. Still grabbing my hand. My ears went red with rage and embarrassment. I looked at Shipra who actually had an amused expression on her face.

"Hehe...I don't remember actually." she said and started giggling.

Finally Alan released the vice-like grip on my hand. It relieved me, but only temporarily, because he put that arm around Shipra's shoulder and pressed it gently, and started cackling loudly.

I noticed him put his arm around her but Shipra either didn't notice or ignored it on purpose. She was still giggling. I was on the verge of jumping in the water and kicking this old man's ass. How dare he touch her in front of me? They had just met! But I resisted my instinct.

"Shipra, the dessert." I said in an annoyed voice.

She nodded and Alan finally took his arm off her shoulder. Shipra put her palms on the side of the pool and pooled herself out of the water. As she got out, I saw Alan staring at her butt rather shamelessly and with a smile on his face. I walked back with Shipra to our table. She took her seat and so did I. And, a few second later, much to my consternation, so did Alan!

"Yeah, their souffle is the best." he said, moving his chair right next to Shipra's. "I have eaten at the most expensive restaurants in this country. And the souffle here is the best."

"Is that so?" I sarcastically asked. I found it hard to believe that this uncouth old geezer was an expert in fine dining.

"Oh yeah, I'm loaded. Got a dozen real estate companies all over the country."

"Really?" Shipra asked in what sounded like an awe-struck voice. And that annoyed me even more. The old man was clearly trying to impress her with talk of his wealth and she was buying into it!

"Yup! Ole Alan's got a lot of cash in case you ever wanna leave this old fart." Alan said and winked at Shipra who started giggling again.

This was the second time he had called me an old fart and it was beginning to piss me off. I might have been close to 50, but this geezer was close to 70, if not older. Where did he get off calling me an old fart? And why the fuck was my wife laughing at his boorish comments?

"Yeah, ole Alan knows all about livin' it up in Vegas. In fact, why don't I take you to dinner to a real fancy place tonight? And then some fine cocktails?" Alan said looking at Shipra, and then without looking at me said, "Ponaav, you can come too."

I was sure he had mispronounced my name on purpose. But before Shipra could say anything, I said,

"Sorry, but we're busy tonight. We have a lot of plans. Right, Shipra?"

I expected Shipra to concur with me. But instead she was silent, and was looking at Alan with an odd expression on her face. That caused an awkward silence.

"Right, Shipra?" I said a little louder.

'Oh..umm...what's our plan for tonight?" she asked.

"You mean you ain't got plans?" Alan said, turning around to finally look at me. "It's settled then. I'll see you two in the lobby at 8!"

I glared at Shipra, expecting her to turn him down. Instead, she said,

"Okay, 8 it is."

"Splendid." Alan said stroking Shipra's bare shoulder. "See you then, little pixie. Bye Ponaav."

"It's Pavan." I said in a brusque voice.

But he acted like he hadn't heard me. Instead he slowly got up, and while he slid away from the chair, his crotch moved just inches away from Shipra's face. I noticed Shipra's head turn at once as she looked at the enormous bulge in his speedos for a split second and then looked away. I thought I heard Alan chuckle as he walked away.

I was fuming silently until we got back to the room. Once we entered the room, I let loose,

"What a slimy pathetic old geezer! Why the fuck did you accept his invitation?"

"You could've said no." Shipra said calmly, unwrapping her sarong.

"I did. But you gave him a chance to put his foot in the door." I yelled.

"Come on, Pavan. He's just a silly old man. What harm can it do?" Shipra said, walking towards the bathroom. I thought I detected a hesitant tone in her voice.

I started saying something in return, but I heard the bathroom door slam shut. A few moment later, I could heard the shower being turned on. So I turned the TV on and sat on the bed watching it. It was over twenty minutes when Shipra finally stepped out of the bathroom wearing a bathrobe.

"Pavan, did you notice Alan's.... you know....swimming costume?" she asked in mischievous tone.

"Huh?" I feigned ignorance although I knew exactly what she was referring to.

"You know, the size of it? You probably didn't notice. It was huge!" she said with a curious look on her face.

That pissed me off even more. I have always considered myself reasonably well-endowed at 6 inches. But whenever I read about men with really big dicks, I wonder if women care about it. Shipra had never before mentioned any other man's size. So this unexpected comment got me a little upset. But not wanting to seem insecure, I said,

"Well, it's probably an enlarged prostate or something." And went back to watching TV. Shipra shrugged and started getting dressed.

I would have argued with Shipra about her behavior with Alan more, but we had a web conference planned. With our son. So as soon as Shipra got dressed, I took my laptop out, logged into skype and called Shipra's sister. Chintu was eagerly waiting for us, and we had a long conversation with him. he filled us in on every little detail of his two days with his aunt, from everything he had eaten, to the games he had played to what he'd seen on TV. It was almost two hours by the time we got done with the call.

After I closed my laptop, Shipra announced she was feeling a bit tired so wanted to take a short nap. I suspected this was just a ruse to avoid the Alan topic, but I nodded and joined her for the nap.

----

At 8 pm when we walked down to the lobby, Alan was already there.

"Wow, you look absolutely ravishing." he said, staring at her up and down. He completely ignored my presence.

Shipra did look quite ravishing. She was wearing a pleated skirt that stopped an inch above her knees. And a sleeveless top with a bold neckline tat showed about an inch of her ample cleavage. I had thought of making a sarcastic comment about how she was getting all dolled up, but had decided against it. The end result was, she looked fabulous, something that pleased me but also bothered me.

Alan's full attire further made me doubt his claims of being wealthy. His pants looked fairly worn-out and his blazer seemed like one of those cheap tawdry ones you get for 50 dollars at Walmart. He was also wearing a really horrible cologne, which he had clearly sprayed a lot of. This tawdrily dressed paunchy puny bald old geezer, was a stark contrast next to my wife who with her high heels, easily stood a head above him. But it didn't seem to bother him.

He led us to the restaurant which was on the same block. It did seem very swanky. When the waiter led us to our table, he pulled out a chair for Shipra. As soon as she sat down, Alan swooped in, taking the chair next to her, forcing me to sit across from them. We started with small talk. Well, Alan and Shipra started with small talk. I was being ignored once again.

Suddenly, the sound of music filled the air. I noticed that the band was positioned quite close to us and they had started playing. As the music started, I could barely hear anything Shipra and Alan were saying. Alan had his elbow on the table and was sitting almost facing Shipra completely. At one point of time, I noticed that he put his hand on her bare knee, and looked at Shipra with my eyebrows raised. She stared back with a slight shrug, as if saying, it was my job to stop him.

I did consider stopping him. But this old geezer was acting in such a lewd and disgusting manner, that I decided to let Shipra extricate herself from the situation. It's not like it was Jeff touching her there. Even at this stage, with all the bravado Alan had shown, I did not consider him an actual threat, but an inconvenience. So if his raspy wrinkly hands were bothering my wife, well, my wife should tell him to stop.

The drinks arrived. Shipra and I had both ordered a beer, and Alan had ordered a double scotch on the rocks. He said something to her, which obviously I couldn't catch because of the music. She nodded. Then I almost fell off my chair as Alan picked up his glass of scotch and put it to her lips. She took a small sip and coughed. Shipra hated scotch. She'd tasted it once many years back, and decided it was too potent a taste for her. As she coughed, Alan laughed and put the glass to her lips again. This time she took a sip without coughing.

Alan's hand had now come off her knee. But it was instead around her shoulder. Again, Shipra and I played the who-blinks-first game. I threw her a dirty look which she returned. The right thing to do would have been to rescue her from his leery grip by putting an end to this all. But this had now turned into an ego tussle. She was the one who should push him away, I decided.

Soon the waiter came to take our orders. I noticed that Shipra didn't say anything to the waiter, which meant the old fart had ordered for her. This bugged me even more. Shipra is very finicky about ordering food in a restaurant. Even when we go out in groups, she likes to order for herself. And here she was letting a practical stranger order food for her? I seethed in silence throughout dinner. Shipra and Alan kept talking, his hand rubbing her shoulder when it wasn't rubbing his knees or thighs. By the end of the meal, his hand had pushed her skirt a couple of inches higher, and much more of her thigh was on display then at the beginning.

I had refused to blink, but was feeling very disgusted. I fought my disgust by switching from beer to scotch as well. And downing a few of them in haste as dinner progressed. Maybe it was the booze having its effect on her, but I thought that Shipra didn't look as uncomfortable as before. She had gone from being a little squeamish of his touch and having a hesitant look of alarm on her face to now wearing a blissful smile. She was barely touching her food although Alan was wolfing his dinner down.

Finally dinner got done. I thought this was it, but instead, Alan got up and said to me,

"We're gonna dance a little."

I looked at Shipra, but she was avoiding my gaze. Instead she got up from her chair and followed Alan to the bar area of the restaurant where a handful of couples were dancing. From our table, I could only see part of the dance floor. Alan and Shipra first started dancing in that area, with a foot of distance between them.

The contrast between them was stark. Shipra - beautiful, voluptuous, elegantly dressed, and tall. Alan - half a foot shorter than her, dressed in cheap threads, bald, ugly, puny but with a paunch that stuck out from his blazer. Shipra moved gracefully, Alan plonked around like a frog. But even with this mismatch, what bothered me was that the two kept their gazes locked into each others. And Shipra, far from looking bothered, wore a happy smile as they danced.

Sonds started and finished but they kept dancing for a good twenty minutes or so. Meanwhile the waiter had come and placed the check on the table and had made a few meaningful visits to look at it. Finally I put my credit card in the check folder and the waiter took it away. I was about to get up, interrupt the dancing and take Shipra home, when the song changed to a romantic ballad. An ideal slow dancing song.

I watched in horror as Alan pulled my wife into a clumsy embrace and the two of them started gently swaying to the music. Alan started off placing his hands on the small of her back, but then gradually slid them downwards. Until both his hands were on her shapely butt. He then started gentle kneading her butt, without any resistance from her. I looked around and saw a few people around them snickering and pointing. Even in Vegas, watching such a clumsily dressed old codger feeling up an exquisite beauty like my wife wasn't a common scene.

I watched with disgust, but also with a sense of vindication. This dirty old man was skillfully putting the moves on my wife. Right in front of me. And she was doing nothing to stop him. Obviously, I had been correct in my suspicions about Jeff and the other guys. If she let this old sack of dough go this far, who knows what she had done with Jeff when I was away? I felt my ears burn in anger as I watched them. Finally the dance came to an end. And the two of them started walking back to the table.

When Shipra took her seat, she looked into my eyes with a defiant expression. I was doing nothing to hide my rage. But it didn't seem to bother her. She looked away. I then looked at Alan. As he sat down, I almost spat out my drink in shock. There was a huge tent in his pants. He was sporting a rather substantial erection. And, it dawned on me, this beast of an erection had obviously been rubbing against my wife when they slow danced. Or maybe it was a result of their slow dance.

The three of us sat wordlessly sipping at what remained of the last of our drinks. The waiter came back with the credit card slip and I signed it. Alan looked at me and smirked, as if to say - "I was going to take you two to dinner, and instead you're paying while I rubbed my dick against your wife." I looked away from him towards Shipra who now wore a look that was all too familiar to me. After many a night on town, when we got home, she would sport this look - that of being drunk as well as being horny. Alan's monster erection rubbing against her had clearly had an effect.

Alan must have noticed it too, because I sensed a movement of his hand. And when I followed it, I saw it was headed towards his thigh again. Except this time, he didn't stop at just rubbing her thigh. It disappeared under her skirt. I looked up at Shipra who had now closed her eyes and had tilted her head back a little. Slowly her lips parted and I saw another familiar look. And alarm bells started going off in my head.

I realized that just a couple of feet away from me, Alan was fingering my wife. Was he doing it over her panties? Or had he slipped his finger inside? There was no way for me to know. What I did know was, I was at a crossroads. Either I get up, throw a fit, and kick this old man's ass. Or I continue to be what I had been until then. A silent accomplice.

I don't what what made me opt for the second option. Maybe I was getting turned on by this ugly old man handling my wife like putty. But at that moment, I rationalized my non-action by telling myself, it's up to her to stop him. If she wants to prove me wrong and show me as a jealous paranoid husband, she should do something. I didn't realzie though that Shipra was probably too drunk to think straight.

Alan noticed that I had noticed, and flashed me a triumphant smile. He then poked her thigh with his other hand, and she parted her legs even more, providing him better access to her cunt. Shipra's face now wore an overtly sexual look. her eyes were now half open, but she didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. Her nipples were obviously erect because they were poking through even her bra and top. Her face had gone all red. And she seemed to be breathing heavily.

This scene lasted five minutes or so, until the band stopped playing and there was a minute of silence. Alan took his hand out from under Shipra's skirt. Shipra let out an audible moan of disappointment. Her eyes opened completely and met mine. She looked away in shame. I wondered if she would end it now. But it wasn't in her hands.

Alan got up. His erection seemed to have subsided by now. He said to me very matter-of-factly,

"I am taking her to my suite back at the Venetian. You can come along too if you want."

I tried to search for words, but couldn't come up with any. Alan held out his hand for Shipra. I expected her to take it. But instead, she was looking at me.

"Pavan." she said in a breathless voice.

"Hmm?" I said.

"What should I do?" there was a plaintive tone of genuine conflict in her voice. Looking back, I now know that was the last chance I had to put an end to the depravity. I just stared at her.

"What should I do, Pavan?" she asked, once more in that gut-wrenching voice.

A dozen different sentences sprung up in my head. "Don't go." "Let's go back to our room." "Leave this old fart here." "Stop the madness."

I didn't say any of them. I just shrugged. Shipra exhaled loudly. Alan was still holding his hand out for her. She took it and got up. Alan put his hand around my wife's waist and led her away. I got up and followed them, as if in a slumber.

I walked behind Alan and Shipra as we left the restaurant and went back to the Venetian. I followed them into the elevator. Alan slid his key and pushed the button for the top floor. once the elevator door closed, he stood there, again kneading her butt. The elevator reached his floor and we walked to the suite.

Alan led us to the "living room" of the suite and turned on just one small lamp. The room was mostly dark, with just the one lamp illuminating it. Alan headed to the minibar and poured three scotches, without ice. He handed one to Shipra and another to me. Shipra took her drink and sat down on the small couch. She took a sip and then looked at me, with a petrified expression. Again, she seemed to be crying out for help. For me to rescue her. But I felt helpless. I sat down on a chair across from her. Alan took his glass and sat down next to her.

Alan then reached for the remote and turned the TV on. He turned it to one of the movie channels, and sat there, with his hands around Shipra, who seemed like she would run out of the room at any moment. We all sat there staring at the TV. Even Alan, for the first time ever, seemed a bit nervous.