Mayūra

She leaned her head back, her hair dangling off the side of the couch, and moaned. She ran her fingers through her hair, adding to the sensations running through her body. She felt her top riding up her body, knowing she was showing Christopher her stomach and a hint of her breasts.

She did not care.

Christopher applied pressure to her arches and then put his fingers between her toes. Thank God he knew what he was doing. And if he was good at this, what else might he be good at, she wondered.

She felt him put her foot down and groaned in disappointment. He picked up her left foot and repeated the process, continuing whatever spell he was casting on her feet.

She wasn't sure how long Christopher continued to work on her feet. He would switch back and forth between them, touching and massaging. He could add no more lotion. Now it was just sensual. Then she felt her right foot lifted higher. She felt the tickle of hair against her foot and then lips surrounding one of her toes. Her eyes shot open and she looked down the couch to see Christopher kissing her foot.

"Oh my God," she moaned. She noticed her skirt was now well up past her knees. Her top had slid further up, so the bottom of her bra was now visible. Christopher looked down at her and then glanced at the anklet.

"May I?" he asked. Pallavi nodded, not trusting herself to use words at the moment. He picked up the anklet and wrapped it around her ankle, working to secure the hasp. Then he took the ring and dragged it down the top of her foot. He placed her middle toe in his mouth, making her gasp. Then he slid the ring over it.

"Beautiful," he said. And the part of Pallavi's brain capable of processing things noted the anklet was, in fact, beautiful. She was also sure he wasn't talking about jewelry. She saw the hunger on his face and knew this was the moment she'd been waiting for. Soon he would kiss her lips, her breast, her pussy. Soon he would take her.

Which is precisely when there was a loud bang from upstairs.

Both of them startled. Whatever spell was going on shattered like a vase falling on the floor. Pallavi lept off the couch, adjusting her skirt and top. She hoped Ro was too drunk to notice how flushed her face was.

"I can come up..."Christopher started. Pallavi waved at him to sit down. The last thing she wanted was for Ro to see her and Christopher standing over him, looking guilty. She went upstairs, walked into the bedroom, and sighed in relief. Christopher had deposited him on the bed. Ro had rolled over and hit the nightstand, knocking the stack of books he kept there to read onto the floor.

Pallavi restacked the books, but left them on the floor to avoid a repeat incident. She then moved around Ro's dead weight, undressing and leaving him in his underwear. She tucked him in and, for reasons she didn't understand, kissed him on the cheek. He didn't react. She turned off the light and left the room.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and looked into the living room. Christopher sat there, looking uncertain. She stared at him for a moment and then, not sure of what else to do, turned and went to the back of the house. She opened the back door onto the deck, overlooking the neglected garden. It was dark, except for the moon peaking through the clouds.

Her neighbours claimed it was a warm fall, but stepping out into the night air felt like walking into a freezer. Still, it felt like it brought some rationality back into her brain. Right until she heard the door open behind behind her. Christopher said nothing, but she felt his coat slip over her shoulders. What came down his thigh dipped to her knees.

She wrapped the coat tighter around her, grateful for the warmth. It wasn't until she inhaled and realized it smelled like him that she felt dizzy again. He stood beside her, leaning on the deck's railing, looking out, not saying anything at first.

"Have you been home recently?" he finally asked.

"No, not since we got married," she said, trying not to think of home and its warmth.

"Why not?"

"My mother strongly suggested there wasn't much sense making such a long trip if I wasn't bringing a grandchild," she said.

"Jesus," Christopher said, shaking his head. "I like to think I'm a well-educated man. I've travelled, seen, and experienced many different cultures. But I still don't know about arranged marriages. Doesn't it bother you?"

"All marriages are arrangements, Christopher. I understand the rules better than those who marry for love," Pallavi said. She looked at him for the first time since he joined her outside. She saw the skepticism on his face. "My parents have an arranged marriage. They've been together for over 45 years. They grew to love each other. They have seven children together, run a successful business, and are as happy as any married couple I know.

"So for them, it works. It is an imperfect system. But it has better odds than getting married in Las Vegas."

He laughed, which she was glad to hear. As she shifted the coat, she felt something in his pocket. Reaching in, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She held them up and looked at him. He shrugged.

"I smoked for years and then stopped. On travel days, I allow myself one cigarette at the start of the journey and one at the end. It's my good luck, tradition," Christopher said.

"Have you indulged since landing?"

"I haven't had the chance. Do you mind? Wouldn't want to break tradition," he said.

"Only if you don't share," she replied.

He reached into the coat and pulled out a disposable lighter. He put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. He inhaled and showed the enjoyment of a former smoker enjoying something he shouldn't. He then passed the cigarette to Pallavi. But instead of handing it to her, he placed the cigarette against her lips. She opened them and felt his fingertips run against them. She shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold.

"When did you smoke?" he asked.

"When I was in university," she said, coughing as she exhaled. She was out of practice. "When my parents arranged things with Ro's family, my mother took me aside and told me to quit. That no bride should reek of cigarette smoke on her marriage day."

Christopher looked at her as she passed it back to him. He shook his head but said nothing, choosing to inhale instead.

"No comment?" she said, handing him back the cigarette.

"If I've learned anything on my time spinning around the globe, you don't ask a woman her age or any of her measurements. And you absolutely do not get involved between her and her mother."

That did make Pallavi laugh softly. "Wise man. All that education has served you well."

After several inhales of the cigarette, Christopher turned and faced Pallavi. He placed the cigarette back on her lips. But rather than back away, he stayed close to her. His fingers brushed her cheek while the other hand went under his coat and rested on her hip. Pallavi felt herself flush despite the temperatures outside.

"Have you been with married women before?" she whispered.

"I don't talk about other lovers."

"I'm not asking for names, dates and locations, Christopher. I want to know if you've been with other married women."

"Yes."

"And how did that work? Clandestine meetings? Secret hotel rooms? Sneaking out the windows when the husband returns home early?"

He sighed and took the cigarette back from her. "Never that. A couple had an arrangement where the other was ok with their partner having a lover. I once ate supper with a woman, her husband and his mistress. It was...odd," he said, laughing at the memory. "Other men didn't care what their wives did as long as it didn't embarrass them. When you make this choice, you always have to be responsible."

He passed the cigarette back to Pallavi, only one or two inhales left. His arm slid across her lower back, pulling her closer. They were only inches apart from one another now.

"Were...were any of them in the last year? Since you met me?" she said, and then, realizing it sounded foolish, turned her head away. She tossed the cigarette off the deck, watching the lit end fade into the night.

"There's been no one since I met you a year ago," he said.

Maybe it was true. Perhaps it was a line. Pallavi found she no longer cared. She leaned up, and their lips met. Tentative at first, but then she felt his hand running up her back, under her top and along her bare skin. She shivered again at the sensation and moved forward, pressing her body closer to his. Her lips opened and her tongue darted quickly into his mouth.

She then felt his hand at her bra, and as if like magic, he undid it.

"Oh," she gasped in surprise. Christopher looked at her and smiled. But it was not cruel or mocking. She found herself smiling back at him.

"Perhaps...perhaps we should go back inside. It's dark, but still...."

He nodded. "Of course. Back to the living room?"

Pallavi shook her head, her hair waving around her face as she looked up at Christopher.

"No, the guest room. Your room. The couch is no place for what I need," she said.

"Are you sure?" he asked. Pallavi knew all the meanings behind that question.

"Yes," she said, kissing him once more before stepping out of his grasp. She opened the door back into the house, no longer feeling the night chill. She removed his coat and hung it back in the closet. There was no need to look behind to see if Christopher was following. She walked up the stairs, feeling the skirt swish and her breasts bouncing free of the bra.

The door to her bedroom was closed and Ro was snoring. She never looked towards it and instead walked into the guest room. Christopher followed and closed the door behind him.

It was the smallest room in the house. There was a queen-sized bed, a nightstand with a light on it, and a small closet. Some pictures of India hung on the white walls. It was nothing fancy. The hope was it would one day be the baby's room.

She turned to face him. He stood with his back to the door and looked at her. It didn't require much imagination to think of how many women melted when Christopher looked at you the way he was looking at her. She was no exception but still wanted some control. Pallavi stepped back and reached under her top, removing the already-released bra. She dropped it on the floor by the side of the bed. Then her hips moved back and forth as the skirt slid down her legs, pooling at her feet.

She only had on her black top and a pair of black lace panties she purchased last week, just in case. She took her foot, the one with the anklet, and flicked the skirt towards him. She momentarily held the foot in the air, and it looked like he might get on his knees to kiss it.

Tempting, but she pulled it back.

"Pallavi," he whispered and took a step forward. She held up her hand, stopping him in his tracks. She grabbed the edge of her top and pulled it up her body and over her head. It was inelegant, but she doubted he cared. She pulled it free of her hair and threw it near her skirt. She shook her hair so it curled around her face and draped down over her breasts. Only her eyes peered out through the hair. It hid the lust on the rest of her face. She was naked except for her panties, which were soaked.

She sat on the edge of the bed and was grateful they got a new bed last year. At least it didn't squeak. Pallavi crossed her legs, leaving her foot with the anklet dangling in front of her.

"Now you can come over, Christopher," she said.

He didn't rush over and drop to her feet, to his credit. The desire for her was etched on his face, but there was also restraint. He knew what she wanted. Needed. Haste was not one of them. He pulled off his shirt, showing a chest laced with grey hair and the body of a man who took care of himself. Not one chiselled with muscles, but also not much paunch. Despite being 15 years older than her husband, he was in better shape than Ro. He pulled down his jeans, leaving on a pair of black boxers.

He knelt in front of her and took her foot in his hand. But he took a moment to take in all over her.

"Beautiful," he said, kissing her foot again.

Last time, the shock of the sensations overwhelmed her. This time, she was ready. Pallavi watched Christopher kiss her foot, running his lips over the top of it, kissing around the chain connecting the anklet to the toe ring.

"It's a lovely piece of jewelry. Where did you get it, Christopher?" she asked. Her voice waivered now.

"Istanbul."

"When were you in Istanbul?" she asked.

"Last February," he said, and then sucked her big toe into his mouth to get her to stop asking questions. It nearly worked, as it felt like a lightning bolt was going from her foot to her brain with a stop at her pussy. She had no idea why her feet were such an erogenous zone. She did not care as long as she had a skilled lover who showered them with the appropriate attention.

Her head snapped back, and she closed her eyes. Her hair draped back down her back, leaving her breasts uncovered. The sight of them for the first time distracted him. She could understand why. They were a C-cup. When she wore tight clothing outside, a man's gaze quickly slid from her face to her breasts.

Their eyes met and she uncrossed her legs, leaving her foot in his hand, but inviting him to continue.

"You've carried that with you for almost eight months?"

He began kissing his way up her legs. He started with her ankles, then moved his towards her knee. Then, when reaching there, switched legs and began the process all over again. It was heavenly torture, she thought.

"I saw it in a market in Istanbul and knew it was perfect for you," he said between kisses. "I saw how you moved and wanted someone touching your feet. And I knew you saw me looking. All these months I've wanted to put it around your ankle."

Pallavi gasped, both at the realization and that Christopher was now working his way past his knees, moving up her thighs. His kisses and the texture of his beard made thought almost impossible. But one last sentence came to her mind.

"It's beautiful. I will think of you whenever I wear it," Pallavi said.

"Well then, let's make it a good memory of me," he said. His hands slid underneath, cupping her ass. He took hold of the fabric of the panties and began to pull them down. She lifted her hips, helping him. Once it cleared her foot, he stood back up. She had a moment of self-awareness. For the first time in a long time, she was naked in front of a man who was not her husband. She had a momentary urge to hide. Drape her hair back over her breasts. Place her hand over her pussy.

Then she realized it was a foolish thought. She was not some naive 18-year-old. She opened her legs further, inviting Christopher to continue what he started. He smiled, and then dropped his underwear. Then it was her turn to smile. It was a lovely cock. She was not one for measurement, but it was larger than she'd previously had. She ached to feel it inside her, stretching her out. But first things first.

Christopher dropped back to his knees, kissing her inner thighs. So close to where she needed him, but teasing her first. She admired his commitment, even if she wanted to grab his head and redirect him.

Finally, he paused, torturing her some more. Her bush was trimmed and tidied. Again, she was not some girl who shaved everything off. Finally, she felt his tongue slide along the edge of her pussy. Not on her clit, of course. It was a hint of things to come.

"Oh, Christopher," she whispered. Pallavi desperately wished to scream her passions to the world, but it would be foolish. There were limits to what being in an alcohol coma would cover.

She grabbed his head and tried pulling it forward. Pallavi could swear she could feel him grin at her attempts to direct him. Attempts he resisted. She pulled him to the centre, and he would move up. Or to the left. Or to the right. Anywhere but where she wanted him.

Finally, she knew what he wanted and gave it to him.

"Please, Christopher," she moaned.

Those were the magic words. Pallavi felt his lips over her clit, and his tongue sliding across it.

Pallavi flopped back on the bed, grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. It wasn't just her feet that Ro had ignored since their marriage. She could not remember the last time a man went down on her. The sensation of Christopher's tongue on her clit threatened to drive her mad. And then she felt two of his fingers gently push inside her soaking pussy. Their presence inside her was one thing, but then she felt them curl and slide along the top of her pussy. Seeking, and finding, her g-spot.

It was almost too much. Pallavi wanted to explode out of her body. She took the pillow off her face and considered asking Christopher to stop, that it was too much. But then she took a couple of deep breaths. Pallavi felt like she might explode but no longer wanted to crawl out of her body.

"Oh yes, Christopher," she found herself whispering. "Make me cum."

He didn't tease. He never took his head up and grinned smugly at her. But he also didn't change what he was doing. He was confident his skill with his tongue and fingers would give her what she needed.

And he was right. She sat up, grabbing his head, her breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps. Everything was building. The sensations on her clit melded with what his fingers inside her were doing.

And then, years of pent-up frustration and desire broke over her and she came. Her hands flew to her side, gripping the bed as her back arched. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her scream would have woken the neighbours if her voice had matched what she felt inside.

She lay there for a few minutes, sweat cooling on her body as she tried to catch her breath. She felt the bed shift and then looked with unfocused eyes to see Christopher had gotten into bed with her. She adjusted and moved so her head could rest on his chest. She smiled as she enjoyed the afterglow of the orgasm, the texture of his chest hair, and the feel of his arm wrapped around her—all of it.

"My, that was worth the wait," she finally got out.

"We had to wait a year. You had a few things pent up."

"Oh, it was longer than that," she said. "I'll explain another time. I'm enjoying this far too much to think sad thoughts."

They said nothing then for few moments. Christopher's hand ran through her hair, playing with it, then touching her back. She rubbed her face on his chest but then used her fingers to play with it. She was curling it and teasing it. It was a pleasant diversion for a few moments.

But then she noticed his cock. So very hard. Circumcised. Lying there within reach. She smiled. It would be the easiest thing in the world to straddle him, feel that hard cock slide inside her. But where was the fun in that?

She moved away from his grasp and leaned over him. Her nipples ran across his chest, causing her to shiver in delight before she kissed him. She could have happily spent the rest of the night doing that. His arms around her, cupping her ass, as her breasts pressed against his chest. But she broke the kiss and looked at him, her hair shielding their faces from the rest of the world.

"Did you really not have any lovers last year?"

There were... opportunities," he said. "But I couldn't get you out of my mind."

Pallavi smiled.

"Well, patience like that requires a reward," she said and slid downward, kissing his chest.

"Being with you now is all the reward I need," Christopher gasped. Pallavi's lips, tongue and fingers danced across his body. Slowly moving downwards.

"Let's agree to disagree," she said between kisses. Even the taste of his skin made her ache. She continued moving down, her hair trailing behind her mouth down his body. She could hear him groan and smiled. Until finally, she reached her prize. She rubbed her cheek against his cock first, making him gasp.