Oggbashan Stew Pt. 03

I would have surfed the net while I waited but I didn't want to pay that ridiculous charge. I went to the library and sat down with a detective novel. I had nearly finished it when the butler announced that the ladies would be joining me shortly.

I still wondered why the widow had returned to her native village. Her husband had borrowed against his insurance to set up a company but even so the payment had been enough to keep her apartment in Mumbai and live frugally. With my help her husband's company had survived the crisis that followed his death. Now she was comfortable by most people's standards. She lived in her husband's village house and her cousins managed the land that she owned outright. Absentee landlords owned most of the village lands. The headman owned his land. Everyone else had to pay rent.

Absentee landlords did not improve the land or do anything for the village except force it to grow cash crops to pay the rent. There was no electricity, no running water and no telephone in the village. The women walked to the tank to draw water. Just before the rains came the water was very low and very polluted. I could do something but it wasn't my village. A stranger's interference would be resented.

The ladies came down to dinner in understated sarees and their jewellery. They looked magnificent. I was pleased to have them staying with me. The widow made my pulse race. She is slightly plump and her breasts strained against her blouse. I looked more than I should.

After the evening meal the widow retired early to bed leaving me with Desi. She was happy to be back in Mumbai. She intended to meet most of her friends after the graduation ceremony and behave like a modern girl instead of the simple village maiden she pretended to be when home with her mother. I enjoyed her chatter but she noticed that I was preoccupied.

"What's the matter, uncle?" she asked.

I explained that I had trouble with my computer. Gradually she persuaded me to tell her all. She thought my predicament was amusing.

"You are an innocent, aren't you?"

She gave me a hug.

"Show me the computer and leave me to it. I'll tell you when it is fixed."

I showed her. She asked what I had done just before the problem started. I told her that I was in a Yahoo group and had clicked on a link in a message. She wanted to know the name of the group and the content of the message. I was reluctant to admit that the group was about women's armpits. She wormed it out of me. And that I had clicked on a link that promised sweaty armpits.

"Don't worry, uncle. I am not wholly innocent. I might take advantage of the knowledge that you like armpits but I won't share it. It can be our secret."

The little minx lifted her arms and clasped them behind her head giving me a full view of her blouse covered armpits. Despite myself I felt an instinctive reaction. She saw it too. She kissed me.

"Uncle. I know that you treat me like a daughter but I am NOT your daughter. We are not related so you should not be ashamed that I can arouse you. I ought not to. You might be my stepfather one day."

That was true. I did like my friend's widow. I might enjoy being Desi's father now that she was an adult woman. I knew nothing about children or teenagers except those things that she had taught me. I had had the advantages of being a father without the disadvantages.

Desi fixed my computer and sorted out the internet access in a few minutes. I watched fascinated as the mouse whirled around, screens came and went, files vanished into the recycle bin and then into oblivion. I admit it. I was impressed by her skill.

"Uncle, I have sorted your computer out and set it to do some housekeeping overnight. Please leave it switched on until I look at in the morning. You will do that for me, won't you?"

"Of course, Desi. You know what you are doing. I don't."

I paused for a couple of seconds.

"I do know what I am doing in most fields but not with computers. Will you indulge an honorary uncle if he asks a question he shouldn't?"

Desi looked as wary as a startled fawn.

"It depends what the question is."

"That is fair. You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I'll understand. I know that your mother and probably you want to ask me for something while you are here."

Desi nodded slightly.

"You know that I love you both."

The nod was more emphatic this time and accompanied by a cautious smile.

"Then you know that I will try to do what I can. I think I can guess what your mother wants to ask for you. Could it be possibly illegal?"

Desi's eyes opened wide in surprise. Then she nodded slowly.

"Yes, uncle. I think you have guessed right. I am to marry but his family wants me to have a dowry. They don't really need it but it is a question of tradition and status. He is from the same village, the headman's second son. Although we knew of each other in the village we actually met at university here in Mumbai. His family spent a lot on his education and want to see some return on their investment. They will of course when he starts his career but they want visible evidence now. Marrying a girl with a "good" dowry would do that." I held up my hand to interrupt her.

"What do you think about it? About providing a dowry, I mean." "I think that is nonsense," she replied "but he is part of his family and I want him. If that means pleasing his family with your help then I would like to."

"One of my colleagues had the same problem recently. He solved it by setting up a trust fund controlled by his daughter, her husband and the husband's mother. Only if all three agreed could any money be spent. That is legal. It looks like but isn't a dowry. Would that work for you and your intended?"

"I think so. I'd have to talk to him ..."

"No you won't. I'll talk to his parents. We must observe the proprieties."

"Yes, uncle," Desi said demurely. I knew that she was laughing at me. She knew who she wanted and she would twist him round her little finger.

"What about your mother? She hasn't asked for the favour yet. Will you talk to her?"

"Yes. Shall we three discuss it tomorrow?"

That was it. Everything worked out. The groom's father wanted a large sum. We compromised and finally agreed on a figure that was large enough for his family's pride and small enough not to affect my assets. I'd had to make two journeys to the village. I enjoyed their hospitality but their living conditions were very basic. Desi and her husband would live and work in Mumbai but they would have a village house as a holiday home. I didn't want Desi carrying all the water from the tank. She could hire someone to do it for her but that would set her apart from the rest of the village and she wanted to be one of the community, not a rich visitor.

Her uncle and her future father-in-law worked together. With technical help from a charity skilled in such things we arranged that several wells would be dug in the village and each would have a pump. The water was clean and sweet. The wells were deep enough never to dry out and with several of them there would be alternatives if one failed. The wells would be a present from Desi and her husband to the village. That present gave the headman's family far more status than the "dowry" that wasn't and in fact was remarkably cheap. I gave the charity enough money to install wells in five more villages. The money was tax-deductible so actually I didn't pay anything. The government did.

+++

Story 045

The Plastic Maiden of Maidstone

The carnival committee were discussing whether to hold other events during the year. Was it possible? We had the organisation, a workshop, willing volunteers, surely we could manage more than just the carnival parade on one evening a year?

Nicola and I were committee members but we were keeping quiet during the discussion. That wasn't usual for us. What was different was that we were drifting apart and talking to each other had become a strain. We were trying to maintain the appearance that we were still a happily married couple although our close friends knew it was now a sham.

Even our friends had begun to split into two camps, hers and mine. Several had tried to mediate between us, without success. Nadine's champion was Colin. I could barely speak to him now. He saw Nadine's point of view without considering that there might be two sides to the arguments between husband and wife. I felt that Colin was betraying my friendship. He had been my best man ten years ago. At that time Nadine hardly knew who he was. Now they were in each other's company far more than Nadine and I, except at night and perhaps including that as Nadine and I slept in separate beds in separate bedrooms.

My friend and confidante was Hazel. She supported me and was a willing ear ready to listen to my side of the dispute. She had been one of Nadine's bridesmaids. Initially I had been wary of Hazel until her outspoken comments on Nadine's behaviour convinced me that Hazel was as unhappy about the way our marriage was going as I was.

My mind was dragged back to the committee meeting by the mention of our names. Colin had suggested that Nadine and I could make something. What was the context? The chairman made it clear.

"Is that agreed? We consider preparing a float for Halloween and a procession to accompany the float? Everyone in favour?"

Several hands were raised.

"Anyone against?"

No hands.

"Abstentions?"

Nadine's hand and mine were raised.

"OK. That is agreed. Now, Nadine and Peter, will you two consider what might be done for the float and report back to our meeting in two weeks time?"

What could we say? The Chairman still thought we were a couple. 'Considering' and 'reporting' shouldn't be too onerous. Both of us are reasonably creative and intelligent. We should be able to produce some ideas even if we were fighting about our domestic life. I looked at Nadine, shrugged my shoulders, and waited for her response.

"OK, Chairman," she said. "We'll consider it and report back."

That was it. The meeting closed. On the way out Nadine spoke to me in a reasonable voice.

"Sorry about that, Peter. I didn't know that the Chairman would suggest us. We can do it, can't we?"

"I don't see why not, Nadine," I replied. "Coming up with a few ideas and reporting back should be easy enough for us. We've done similar things before."

"Thank you, Peter. See you later."

Nadine climbed into Colin's sports car and was gone. My shoulders sagged as I realised that I had to walk home. I had come back from work, straight from the station to the meeting, expecting Nadine to drive. Now I was three miles from home with no car and no bus due for at least an hour.

+++

Story 046

Playsuit

Text messages have been expanded.

"Excuse me for a second, Sandra," I said. I walked back about twenty yards.

My phone had beeped for an incoming text.

"You OK? You're out of sight."

I hit speed dial and rang our leader.

"No, Robert. Plan C - one." I said.

"You're sure, Malcolm?"

"Yes, Robert. She won't make it."

"OK. John will take over as back marker. See you at the pub."

I put my phone back in my jacket pocket. I caught up with Sandra in a few strides.

+++

It was our first beginners' ramble of the year. The younger members of the rambling club, including me, had finally persuaded the committee to let us organise this year's first walk.

We had advertised it as suitable for people who didn't walk very far. The committee members had been annoyed. To most of them, anything less than twenty miles in a day was a short stroll. Last year the three beginners' walks organised by the committee had been disasters. We had had to send people off to get cars to transport exhausted first time ramblers back to civilisation. The shortest route had been ten miles but had several steep parts up and down the North Downs. The next shortest had been in foul weather over very muddy paths.

This time we youngsters thought we were being much more realistic. We had planned and tested a circular route for a total of five miles. If that was too far we could take short cuts to make the walk two miles or three and a half miles. We would meet in a village by the country bus stop from the town where we were based. We had given details of the bus timetable and the trains to the station about three hundred yards from the bus stop.

The weather in late February would be the deciding factor. If it was bad we would stick to surfaced paths and roadside footways. If it was reasonable we would use country footpaths that didn't get muddy. Our potential routes had no difficult stiles. We thought any of our planned walks would be feasible for reasonably active pensioners.

I was to be the back marker, the one who looked after and encouraged the stragglers. Unlike the committee's walks when the back marker could have a hard time, I thought my role would be easy. The leader, Robert, would have to decide which route to take and whether to shorten it. All I had to do was stay with whoever was at the back of the group. There were two other assistant leaders who could talk to any new faces.

Our intention was to get new recruits to the rambling club and gently ease them into the longer walks that the committee organised. We thought that might take nearly a whole season of walks if the new people were unused to rambling.

We had been pleased to see a dozen new faces when we met at the bus stop. All of them looked sensibly dressed even if the weather deteroriated but the forecast was a dry if cold day. We set off only five minutes after the due time.

Half a mile on Sandra was obviously struggling. I couldn't understand why. I had known Sandra as one of my cousin Janis' friends for years but hadn't seen her for months. She was the same age as me, slightly overweight but not obese. Her boots were in good condition and showing signs of use. I wouldn't have picked her to be one of the new people to have difficulty. She was in obvious pain. The strain was showing on her face.

I had intended to use my mobile to tell Robert that I would be aborting the walk with her when we reached my car but he texted me first. I had parked my car about a mile from the start. The other assistant leaders had parked at other points further on during the walk in case we had to ferry people back to the start point, or the public house halfway.

"Sandra? What's wrong?" I asked when I finished the phone call.

"I thought I was healed..."

"Healed?"

"I had a ski accident in January, Malcolm. I had a broken leg. The plaster came off three weeks ago. I have been walking without crutches for a fortnight. I had thought I was OK for this short walk. I'm not."

"I can see that, Sandra. Can you walk another two hundred yards?"

"Two hundred yards? But the walk is much longer than that."

"It is. But my car is two hundred yards away. I think you should stop and rest."

"I can make two hundred yards, Malcolm, I think."

"Put an arm on my shoulders. That might help."

Sandra rested her left arm across my shoulders. I took a significant part of her weight off her left leg, the one that had been broken. Sandra is taller than me.It was simple for her to rest her arm across me. It took us nearly a quarter of an hour to reach my car.

I helped her to take her calf length padded coat off. I put it on the back seat. I eased her into the car. I had to lift her leg into the footwell.

She was wearing a denim playsuit or dungarees with a sweater under the bodice. Her breasts were straining the shoulder straps.

"OK, Sandra?" I asked. "You have a choice. I can take you home now, or to the pub where the group is having lunch and then home. Your choice."

"If you don't mind, the pub for lunch. I'll catch the bus home."

"You won't take the bus, Sandra. Janis wouldn't forgive me. I'm taking you home to your front door."

Sandra smiled weakly.

"Janis does order you around, doesn't she?"

"It's an act between us, has been for years. Cousin Janis plays the big sister because she's two inches taller and three days older than me."

"And I'm even taller than Janis, Malcolm."

"I know. I'm the short-arse of the family."

"But strong enough to prop me up for that two hundred yards. Thank you."

+++

Story 047

Practice Trans

"Ian? You like my friend Paula, don't you?"

"Yes, Sonia, you know I do." I answered.

I couldn't understand why my wife Paula had asked. She knew I liked Paula, who had been one of her bridesmaids at our wedding.

"If I asked nicely, would you help her?"

"I'll do almost anything if you ask nicely," I retorted. "Is her need something that could be difficult for me?"

"Difficult? Probably not. Awkward? Embarrassing? Possibly."

"OK, Sonia, out with it. What does Paula want from me?"

"She knows, Ian."

"She knows? What does she know? What sort of answer is that?"

Sonia hesitated before answering.

"Um... She knows... She's known as long as I have... She knows you are a bedroom transvestite, Ian."

"Oh."

Sonia looked at me carefully before putting her arms around me and kissing my forehead.

I was embarrassed. Sonia had found out almost as soon as we became boyfriend and girlfriend. On our third date she had seen a couple of waist slips in my bedroom, and I didn't have any sisters. I hadn't expected Sonia to come to my bedroom on her first visit to my parents' house. My parents were watching a television soap and my mother suggested Sonia and I could 'go upstairs'. I was startled when Sonia agreed immediately.

I was even more startled when Sonia took the lead. Almost before I knew what had happened we were both naked in bed. Sonia had fitted a condom to my erection and was riding me.

Sonia had decided she wanted me. I was her target, her victim. I was walking around for days in a happy daze after that first evening. Ever since then Sonia had organised and run my life, with love, compassion but determination. I trusted her. She trusted me. But she was the dominant partner. She didn't mind my mild version of being a transvestite. She would let me dress up for sex and would help with my clothing purchases.

I'm heterosexual. Being dressed as a transvestite excites me to an insistent erection. I don't want to be female, nor appear in public as a female. Silky, slithery underwear around my body is arousing and if Sonia is with me wanting to claim my erection? I experience bliss, and she knows I do. 'Asking me nicely' is a code phrase to mean she'll make love to me when I'm wearing silk and satin. There are other codes for more sexual activities. The ultimate is for Sonia to tie me up in the lingerie, wear a silk nightdress herself, and at the point of release suddenly smother me with some of her own underthings. That is a reward for something exceptional I have done for her.

Did I mind that Paula knew? I thought about it. Paula was a friend, our friend, probably Sonia's closest female friend. Sonia trusted Paula. It was mutual. If anyone except Sonia was to know I was a transvestite, I would have chosen Paula as the person who would keep my secret.

"What does Paula want me to do?" I asked.

"You know she's been training at a Hair and Beauty Salon in the High Street?"

"Yes..."

"She's now qualified. That means they should pay her the full rate, instead of a trainee pay. As usual, they can't afford that, so she will lose her job."

"That's unfair."

"It is, but most women's hairdressers work like that. They have a couple of qualified stylists, usually the owners, and a succession of cheap trainees. She has had an unusual offer."

"Unusual, Sonia?"

"Yes. Unusual, perhaps odd but if it works it could be worthwhile for her."

"And? Why does she need my help?"

Sonia kissed me. That meant she was going to ask something major.