Mysterious Hands

Getting jostled and rubbed against in a densely packed subway car during the morning commute was normal, even expected. And, no doubt, somewhere in that throng of humanity was the occasional pervert getting a low-level thrill from a quick touch of flesh.

But this inadvertent contact was different. Different enough to make Charu Sharma look up from her Anne Rice novel and search the car for a face to put with the hand that had just copped a feel of her thigh.

No. That's not right. The hand didn't cop a feel. That hand lingered, caressed her in an almost loving way. Her eyes moved from one person to the next, women all.

Please, thought Charu. A woman wouldn't be so gauche.

A strange thought settled into her mind but she quickly filed it away, deeply away, and went back to her novel.

Walking up the stairs at Park St. Station, Charu felt the hand on her again. The touch was firmer this time, resting heavily on her ample backside, pressing the nylon of her pantyhose against her cotton skirt. In the onrush of people moving up the stairs, Charu could not stop to see who was taking liberty with her body. She quickened her pace; the hand remained. Just before she reached the first landing, the hand lifted and her skirt swung free. She stepped onto the landing and looked around. Men and women moved rapidly past, all in business attire, all toward some unknown destination.

Whoever it was with a case of the touchy-feelies was gone.

Or was he? Less than twenty minutes later, as Charu stood in line at the coffee shop in the lobby of her office building, she was pinched. He got a two-inch portion of her fleshy rump between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed. Charu stifled a cry and lurched into the man standing in front of her. In the few seconds it took to apologize to the gentleman, Charu's molester had disappeared into the crowd.

She was on her guard now. The elevator up to the twenty-third floor was crammed full of business suits. Charu squeezed tightly among them. Everyone touched everyone else but all eyes watched the numbers light up over the door. Charu rubbed arms with the gentleman next to her, her silk against his tweed. She smelled his cologne. Expensive. Was he leaning into her? She couldn't be sure.

But she was sure of one thing: she leaned into him.

Once in her office, Charu absently tapped her Mont Blanc against her wedding band and replayed the peculiar events of this morning's commute. A new sensation awoke in her, opening from a hidden place above her navel and spilling its delicious warmth up to her neck and then down her arms. She could never speak this desire aloud; never let any of her friends know that she enjoyed being fondled by mysterious hands.

Not fifteen minutes later, she told her administrative assistant that she had an appointment across town and left the building.

This is insane, she thought as she moved through the crowds in the shopping district. I'm only asking for trouble. And now that she thought about it, that cream-coloured skirt she wore did fit a little too tight over her broad backside -- a clear enticement to anyone with roaming hands. Likewise, her fuchsia silk blouse, although not exactly form fitting, did little to conceal her voluptuous breasts. And her dirty blonde hair was cut just below her shoulder blades, a length, so her husband said, that most men found desirable. The sedentary lifestyle of the corporate executive had amplified her sumptuous curves with a supple cushion of luxurious fat. "A handful," her husband Brijesh would purr as he nibbled her neck and stroked the slight roll of her belly.

Such talk usually embarrassed Charu. But today she understood a new quality of desire. In the Men's department of the Basement Store, she casually perused the vast array of dress shirts. It did not take long: the sturdy caress of her bottom as she leaned forward to check the price of a Pierre Cardin. This time she spied the culprit -- a tall, dark-haired man in a grey business suit. He did not look back, although Charu watched him make his way out of the department.

In that absent moment she strayed into the centre of the aisle where another man, not looking where he was going, bumped into her. Charu jolted forward and would have kept going all the way to the carpeted floor had not two strong hands grabbed her by the waist and held firmly until she could regain her balance. The man apologized profusely, took full responsibility for the accident and kept one hand on her lower back as he asked if she was all right.

Acting upon a newly minted instinct, Charu smiled, rested her hand on his broad shoulder, thanked him for being so kind and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, taking care to press her lush bosom against his chest. The man blushed but did manage to give her behind a comforting pat as he departed.

What was happening to her? A clean, upright product of twelve years of Catholic school did not indulge in such illicit behaviour. Then again, so much of that education devoted itself to the mysteries of the body. How many snide remarks had Sister Hope made to Charu, accusing her of being a hussy because her body got a jump-start on the bodies of the other girls in eighth grade? How obsessed were those priests and lay teachers that she not risk temptation in the backseat with some boy after a high school dance? Even those trips up the stairwell informed her about the boys' fascination with the female body and the unfortunate shortcomings of above-the-knee plaid skirts. Yes, sin rested with the body; now her body was restless for a little sin.

Charu made her way out of the store and onto the street, strolling over to the Public Garden, at once deliberately and accidentally bumping into and rubbing against several pedestrians. A few took advantage of her offering; gently letting their hands glide over her thigh, her bottom, and, in one daring case, her belly.

By the time she reached the Gardens, Charu was heady with sensual delight. There was a bench that she liked, just off of the main path; a secluded spot framed by two weeping willows and a horseshoe-shaped hedgerow. She took a seat and tried to calm her breathing. It was as if there was a secret world, spread out before her, that only few could see. I've been blind, Charu thought. I've shut my eyes to this whole part of me. Her friends always told her she needed to be more receptive toward new physical experiences. Guilt pierced her heart as she folded her arms. Her routine sex life had become as exciting as the weekly trip to the supermarket. But it was true. Brijesh was steadfast, loyal, even kind to a fault, but his interest in sex extended little beyond his physical satisfaction. That, coupled with his considerable weight gain, had made the act of love nearly impossible. Charu had difficulty straddling his girth, and the only position that was comfortable was when he took her from behind, a style she always found alienating.

In the past few hours, Charu had been reminded of her sexuality, that she, in fact, was desirable. In some odd way, those mysterious hands told her this was true. It was a new world. How much of it would she explore?

A light touch of fingers on her shoulders caused Charu to cry out. But she silenced herself when she heard a soothing voice say, "Don't shout, I won't hurt you." The voice was slightly husky and the fingertips danced up and down her arms as the person spoke. "I'm so sorry, but you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and, well, I couldn't help myself."

Against all instincts, Charu relaxed. She settled back into the park bench, closed her eyes and let the stranger's stroke electrify her flesh. The hands caressed her from the wrists to the tips of her shoulders, stopping occasionally to give the soft flesh of Charu's upper arms a snug squeeze. The fingers felt thin but strong, confident in their touch. Half of Charu wanted to open her eyes, turn around and have done with this game. But her other half wanted to keep her eyes closed in hopes that this massage would continue indefinitely.

And when the stranger removed his hands to her hair, softly lifting handfuls and letting them fall against her back, Charu dropped her chin to her chest and decided this was the greatest dream she had ever known.

"I saw you in the Basement Store and followed you over here to the Gardens," the stranger said with a voice that wasn't natural, a voice lower than it wanted to be.

"You touched me in the store didn't you?" Charu asked, her voice tinted with accusation.

The hands paused. "Did you like it?"

"Oh, yes," Charu murmured.

She inhaled quick as she felt a hand cup her breast. The stranger touched bra and breast gently, as if more interested with the play of silk on lace. "Such a well endowed lady," said the stranger. "The fabric of your bra is pulled so tight over your bosom."

"I've always been ashamed of their size," Charu confessed. Why had she said that? It didn't matter; she would tell him anything if he asked her.

"Don't be ashamed." The stranger's voice dropped lower; the quiver of excitement almost palpable. "Never be ashamed. There are men who are so cruel. They tease and taunt a woman until she thinks everything about her is a defect."

Charu took a deep breath and thrust out her chest. "Not all men."

With one stealthy move, the stranger slipped a hand under her shirt, into her bra and kneaded her full breast.

"Oh, God," Charu mumbled. She forgot how sensitive her breasts could be, especially when touched the right way. Fingers found her hard, ruby-sized nipple and pinched and twisted it rhythmically, sending minute tremors cascading across her body. Certain muscles tensed while the rest of her body sank into deep relaxation. Another hand lifted her hair and let it fall. Part of her wanted to float away and then her nipples received a sharp squeeze that rooted her to the bench. A heavy, stuttered sigh escaped her lips. Then another. She tilted her neck to one side, inviting the stranger closer.

"Do you like that?" the husky voice whispered, close enough for the breath to warm her neck and send gooseflesh down her arms. The fingers pinched and twisted a little harder.

Charu hummed an affirmative as her breathing shortened.

"God, you're sexy," said the stranger as the hand tussled her hair, a little rougher now.

Charu rolled her lips to fight back a smile. Well, those hands sure made up for what that mouth lacked, that's for sure. The stranger scooped her breast out of the cup and kneaded it rigorously. The surges of pleasure strengthened. She felt hot; her body shuddered; she had no control.

"Christ," she whispered.

"Cum for me, baby," the voice whispered, fingers still pinching and twisting her nipple.

Pleasure flowed through Charu, the contractions causing her to lose all sense of time and place. She heard the stranger speak to her; the voice grew distant. Her orgasm blotted out everything. It wasn't until the waves subsided that Charu realized she was alone.

She opened her eyes and found herself staring at a woman in a broad-shouldered business suit, her red hair cut in a fashionably severe bob.

"Did you doze off?" the woman asked. Her voice was sharp and penetrating.

Absently, Charu touched her neck. "I must have," she said. Her cheeks felt hot as she looked around, everywhere but at the woman.

"You better watch it," the woman admonished. "I know its midday, but there are still a lot of freaks around here."

Charu rose, adjusted her blouse, mumbled something to the woman and walked quickly away.

The pulsating delight that Charu felt a few moments ago was replaced by an onrush of embarrassment. She sped up the path as questions peppered her mind. What were you thinking? Do you know what danger you put yourself in? What if someone from the office saw you? Jesus, Charu, what are you doing?

As she crossed Charles Street and stepped into the Commons, a smile born of wicked satisfaction broke across her lips. "I know exactly what I am doing," she whispered, and reached into her pocketbook for her cell phone.

She didn't go back to the office. Instead, she cut across the Common, crossed over Tremont and walked down the street until she arrived at the entrance to the Ritz and went inside. She took the elevator to the fifth floor and strode down the corridor until she found room 534. She dug around in her handbag and produced a credit-card-sized room key, unlocked the door and entered.

The extra sixty pounds on the man who sat on the king-size bed did not diminish his good looks. He stood when Charu entered and smiled.

"Your call surprised me," he said as he heaved himself off the bed. "I still had a few more calls on my itinerary."

He barely had time to get this out because Charu came right up to him and kissed him hard on the lips.

"Your handiwork was a success."

"Was it?" Brijesh asked, kissing her back. He let his hands run down her back to her lush posterior.

"More than you know." She slipped her tongue past his lips until it flicked against his.

After a long kiss Brijesh pulled his head back and opened his eyes. For a split second, Charu saw that they were slightly unfocused. "Gees, I guess you did," he said.

"You have a way with words, Brijesh," she said huskily. "Did I ever tell you that?"

"Well, I am a marketing guru," he said with false modesty.

She reached around, lifted his hands off her behind and placed them on her breast. "Shut up and fuck me."

Brijesh responded to Charu's force with force, spinning her around and bending her forward. His hands were all over her, an onslaught of passion, roaming, exploring, squeezing, feeling, petting, rubbing, patting. He flipped up her skirt and then pulled down her panties and nylons to mid-thigh. Charu thrilled to the feel of his touch and felt wild, unbridled, and free.

"Take me," she said, her voice barely audible. "Take me now." Usually such phrases sounded hollow and empty to her, but not today, not now.

She braced herself on the bed and thrust her rump in the air. This wasn't her favourite position, but today it felt right. Brijesh ran one hand over her flesh, as though surprised she'd offered it, and then unbuckled his pants. He entered her hard, faster than Charu was used to and she drew in a quick, sudden breath. The steady rhythm of Brijesh's urgent thrusts, the way she could feel every part of him, generated jolts of pleasure from deep within her.

Twice all power left her arms and twice she fought to stay up and not collapse on the bed. There was nothing else she wanted except to sustain the moment. The ecstasy that had been building in her all day forced its way out in moans of delight. And all the while she focused on his two hands gripped firmly around her ass. She fantasized about the myriad hands that had teased and massaged her body, the echo of each touch coaxing her deeper and deeper into a new-found excitement until her muscles of dark joy began to contract with such shuddering force, that her lover climaxed just as Charu's own orgasm began its slow recede.

Afterward, they lay on top of the bedspread, Charu on her left side, nuzzled against her lover's warm, oversized body. She ran a fingernail across his apple-round belly while he idly stroked her hair.

"Well, how'd that work for you?" he asked drowsily.

Charu wrapped her arm around his girth and squeezed. "You don't get them too often, but when you get a good, idea, baby, it's a really good idea."

"Gee, thanks," Brijesh said, mild sarcasm in his voice.

"I'm not fooling," Charu protested. "I mean, when you proposed this little experiment, I had serious doubts."

Brijesh opened one eye and looked at his wife. "I really pulled it off, huh?"

"Big time," Charu said. Her body was coming down off its high and she let herself feel its slow fall.

"Did you spot me at all?"

"Only when I wanted to," Charu said as she laid her leg over his and enjoyed the warmth coming off his upper thigh. "I didn't look too hard for you on the train because that was too easy and I figured if I saw you there, that would have killed it."

"Probably," Brijesh agreed. "That's why I did only passing glances; ease you into it."

"But you got me good coming up the stairs at Park St."

"I took advantage of the crowd."

"And again at the coffee stand."

Brijesh reached his hand down and gave her ass a pinch just they way he did that morning. "Weren't expecting that one," he said. "I saw how you fell into that guy in front of you."

Charu pinched Brijesh's nipple. "Freak," she said.

"You love it," Brijesh replied as he gave her bottom a full goose followed by several smart slaps.

Charu lifted her leg off him. "I did see you in the Basement Store."

"I knew you would," he said. "Not much of a crowd there to camouflage myself. But I used them to my advantage as you headed back to the office."

Charu feigned a yawn, catching herself before saying that she didn't go back to the office. She felt a small, chilly spot in the middle of her chest.

"And right as I was getting ready to make another pass at you, I walked into this old lady and knocked the shopping bags out of her hands," Brijesh said with a laugh. "I was so hepped up on giving you another fat pinch that I wasn't watching where I was going. By the time I squared things away with the old gal you were gone. Not that it mattered," he said as he slapped Charu's ass again. "Had your motor revving already, huh?"

"Mm-hmm," Charu hummed.

Brijesh, too far gone in his triumph, didn't pick up the distant tone in his wife's reply. "It wasn't too long after that I got your call to meet here."

"Yup," Charu said. She rolled away from her husband and stood up.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I have to use the bathroom," she said as she walked away.

"Don't be long," Brijesh said as he gently fondled his scrotum. "I'm just about ready for round two."

"Round two?" Charu said in mock surprise. "Darling, round one was perfection. Why spoil it?"

Brijesh lifted his head off the pillow to answer her, only getting to "But," before the bathroom door clicked shut.

Charu sat on the toilet, elbows pressed into her naked thighs, head resting in cupped hands. She replayed her encounter in the Public Gardens over and over in her mind, recalling each touch, each sensuous stroke of those mysterious hands. She remembered their skilfulness and care and how unlike Brijesh's pawing they were.

After awhile she remerged from the bathroom and gave Brijesh a second round. She rode him reverse cowgirl, working his shaft with all the care and devotion she had to offer, but she fucked him with her eyes closed and her mind fixed on the bench tucked away in a hidden corner of the park. Tomorrow she would return there and she would be sure to keep her eyes open.