Taken For a Spin

"Remember, Ashish! Clay's meteor shower party is tonight. Don't get too drunk at your PhD happy hour."

My wife Sarika reminded me for the tenth time in two days. It was starting to get a little annoying.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I am not a goldfish." I said, putting my shoes on before heading to my university office.

Why exactly a spin class instructor was an authority on meteor showers and astronomy, I had no idea. But that's how all these Clay "cultists" as I jokingly liked to call them, tended to behave. Like not only was he an expert on cycling and other physical activity (he was an ex track athlete and a certified trainer in various disciplines), but also on astronomy, philosophy, politics, economics, the environment, love, morality...it seriously felt like a cult.

Part of it was Clay's personality. He was a big tall broad shouldered black man who reminded me of Idris Elba in both his looks and his charm. Almost like he was consciously trying to model himself after Idris. Even though he had grown up in Detroit, he spoke with a slight British accent from "all my years in ole blighty".

Joining his spin class had been a point of friction between us from the start. The thing is, I was on a grad student stipend in a midwestern state university. Sarika, who had joined me recently after our arranged marriage in India, could not work. She tried to get involved with other Indian spouses in the area, but their wavelengths never quite matched. The other wives talked about Indian soap operas and babysitting and school districts. We had postponed our family plans until I finished my doctorate and got a job. So there really was little in common.

Sarika was also different from the typical Indian grad student's wife in the US, in that she had been a very active social butterfly in India from what I heard. She was involved in classical dancing, singing, Rotary events, sports, and a bunch of other stuff. In a few weeks after our marriage, i realized that my wife was a very high energy individual and staying cooped up at home was starting to drive her crazy. She was a 25 year old woman, forced to be a housewife, with nothing to fill her days other than watching TV and reading books. Which really was not her nature.

So when she first showed me this video she came across on Instagram of a very energetic looking spin class, I was happy. At least she had finally found something about the US to get excited about. Otherwise everyday she had been whining about how she missed her life in India.

"That looks great." I said after the video ended.

"I want to join if you're okay with it."

"$50 per class."

"Whoa! Honey, you can use my university's gym for free. It's part of the grad student benefits."

Her face went glum. This was another thing she was having trouble getting used to. Budgeting our expenses. She came from a family that, while not filthy rich, was certainly well off enough that she had never been denied any wish. I could have afforded that lifestyle if I had stayed on in my job in India. And I would after my PhD. But for now, we had to make do with running the house in less than $2000 after taxes.

"It just looks so fun. The first class is free with a Yelp check-in. Could I do just that?"

Sighing, I nodded. I felt bad to deny her such simple pleasures.

The next couple of weeks, I was busy with some exam preparation, so I spent almost every waking hour in the office or library studying with other students. I only saw Sarika before and after bed. I did notice a regular addition of workout clothes in the laundry basket. So one morning, I asked her,

"Have you been going to the university gym? I saw all the clothes."

Her light Kashmiri skin immediately turned pink in embarrassment. Uh-oh, I knew that look.

"Ashu, don't be mad. I took that free spin class. And I really loved it and the people there. And when I mentioned I was a grad student's wife, they gave me a 50% discount. So...I went for 4 classes after that. Are you mad?"

I was a little annoyed, but also feeling a little guilty.

"$100 in 2 weeks...$200 a month...it's okay, Saru. We will manage. Just fewer uber-eats orders."

"Yes, yes, promise." she smiled happily.

After that, I kept getting more and more updates about the awesome Clay and all the awesome people there. I had only started by joking about it being a cult, but with each passing week, Clay seemed to be playing a bigger and bigger role in our lives.

It started with Clay motivational posters all over the house. Then an audio file of him chanting some buddhist hymns that we had to fall asleep to. A bunch of brochures. And additional socializing events. It seemed like the spin class had pretty much become her social life. And her social media was full of videos and pics from spin class. Which initially, I had been happy with. Finally I did not come home to an antsy wife whining about missing India, but rather filling me in about all the fun (and cheap) stuff she had been doing with Clay and her new friends.

So the first time I was invited to a Clay party a few months prior, I was curious and also nervous. I am not an extrovert by nature. If anything, the opposite. I am usually the shyest guy in the room. A big reason I gave up my tech job and went for a PhD was I liked the seclusion it gave me, just working on my own research. So meeting a party full of strangers, that too foreigners, was a little anxiety inducing for me. So I had a few too many at the PhD happy hour before the party.

When we reached Clay's place, it was a very sedate homely dinner party. I made a beeline for the coffee, but it was obvious to everyone that I had shown up a bit drunk. Some judgmental looks were exchanged. Which made me feel even more nervous. These were all people in tip top physical shape. I am no fatty, but my build is average. I could not carry off cycling shorts the way this 50 year old man genially talking to me was.

"I even find Clay's help useful in policy making on the city council." he said.

Almost every interaction had been similar to Sarika's gushing about Clay at home. This dude, apparently a city council member, relied on the man for political counsel! Was there anything the magic man could not do?

He had cooked an elaborate 7 course meal by himself and was serving it one at a time with some charming story. Dumplings from his travels in China, pasta from his backpacking in Italy, and so on. After the third course, he cornered me. I felt the imposing presence of the man. I am 5 ft 10, so not exactly short, but he towered over me. And his intense brown eyes pierced into mine as he said,

"I don't think we've met. You're Sar's husband, right?"

Sar? I wondered. They were on first syllable basis?

"Yes, I am Ashish." I shook hands with him. His palm almost engulfed mine.

"She is a real bundle of energy, huh?" he smiled.

"Very much so."

And for the next five minutes, we chatted and I realized why people were so taken with him. He seemed to know almost everything. Our conversation ranged from my research to politics to technology to soccer and every time, Clay made me feel like my opinion was very important to him.

He went back to the kitchen and I turned to face Andrea, a gorgeous woman of Colombian descent who was notionally Clay's Admin Assistant, but seemed more like his right hand woman. Almost like Ma Anand Sheela to his Osho. She was also charming and was wearing just the perfect neckline for me to get a constant peak at her ample cleavage. Sarika was busy in the kitchen helping clay. I was enjoying a few moments of boyish pleasure as this gorgeous woman spoke to me.

By the dessert course, I was feeling sleepy with the combination of all the drinks and the rich food, and I didn't realize when I passed out on a couch while having a dessert liquer.

When I came to, I was surprised to find myself in an Uber next to my wife.

"Whoa...what happened?"

"You passed out drunk." my wife's seething voice said in Hindi. "And Clay had to pick you up like a baby and bring you to the Uber."

"Oh fuck, I am so sorry."

"You should start coming to the class. It will improve your...stamina."

There was a sarcastic tone to her voice that I found challenging and also tough to handle.

We were husband and wife, sure, but the fact is, I barely knew the woman. We did meet a few times before getting married and had veto power in the match picked by our parents, so it was not a completely old fashioned blind arranged marriage. But we were in just our second year of marriage and just 6 months of living together by ourselves. We still weren't exactly "in love" and our rapport could get uncomfortable sometimes.

I often got the feeling I was not "alpha" enough for Sarika. She had not dated anyone before we married, coming from a reasonably orthodox family. So her ideas of romance were all from romance novels and movies, I realized. Very tall dark handsome types. And while I wasn't effete or anything, I was just a regular guy. Not a muscle bound giant who could dunk a shot standing. My preferred exercise was playing squash with one of my fellow students between research. The idea of being in the company of more people was unnerving, with my body issues.

I got the feeling that Sarika cared about her spin class cultists' opinion than mine. I however was the kind of person who would bottle it all up.

"Yeah, maybe." I said.

And I did attend a couple of classes. Clay was again very charming and friendly. But it was not my thing. At even at $25 a class, the money we were paying that cult started adding up.

So when this meteor shower party was announced, I was relieved that it didn't come with a cover charge. Sarika seemed really excited about it. She told me she was going to a friend's place before the party to get hair and make-up done, as if she were going to a wedding. I was to meet her directly at Clay's huge house at 10 PM. The peak of the meteors was going to be around 1:30 AM so I did indeed very much moderate my drinking.

But still, i got caught up in philosophical debate with a friend and it was almost 11 PM when I reached. On the way, I had checked Sarika's instagram and found it full of pictures from the party. Whoa! I had never seen her in a dress this short. And she was looking like a bombshell among bombshells!

At this point, I suppose I should describe my wife. She stands at about 5 ft 5, which is tall for an Indian woman. She has a very textbook curvy Indian body, with ample breasts. Much of my stipend was spent buying sports bras for those double D's. She is neither slim nor fat. And being physically active since childhood in sports, has a body to show for it. In the first few months after coming to the US, she had put on some pounds. But spin class had led to shedding them all. Her looks were a big reason she was hot property on the arranged marriage market in our community. I could not believe how hot she looked! I was hoping we could leave the party soon and I could take her home and ravage her.

Our sex life had been...okay I guess? We both came from backgrounds where dating was uncommon or at least frowned upon. She had been a virgin on our wedding night. I had only had sex twice before, when visiting Amsterdam for a work trip. As you can imagine, those two women in Amsterdam had not been my girlfriends.

So our sex life was also growing slowly like our rapport. I liked that Sarika never turned down my request for sex. She was not exactly a tigress in bed, but not shy either, which I liked. At about 6 inches and reasonably thick, I was sure that I was endowed reasonably well. And I could usually last well over 10 minutes my first time. And over half an hour the second time. From whatever I had read and seen online, our sex life was pretty good. While Sarika never quite gave me rave reviews, she seemed satisfied every time. Or so I thought then.

"Hey, Ash, you made it!"

Andrea, that mysterious right hand of the cult leader, opened the door to let me in. She was dressed in a very tight tube dress that barely hid anything. Entering the place with her, I noticed a very different vibe from the dinner party.

The lights were dim. There were way more people, almost two dozen. Smell of marijuana and other substances was in the air. In a corner, I saw someone preparing coke lines. And there were bottles and cans of booze everywhere.

"Where's Sarika?" I asked, trying to resist the intensely erotic scent wafting from Andrea.

"She's probably with Clay. Can I get you a drink?" she asked, leading me towards the bar.

"I should watch it. I don't wanna pass out like last time. Sarika was not happy last time." I said.

"Oh, I don't think she was as mad as you think." Andrea added with a mysterious half smile. "Anyway, so, how have you been?"

When saying this, she slid so that her body was touching mine and ran her fingers up my back. Wait, what was happening?

"Good, I guess." I said, not sure about what to do as her other hand stroked my hair.

"You know, Ash, you are kinda like my type from the younger days."

Okay, this woman was coming on to me. Wait. This woman, who could have walked off a Miss World Stage with a crown, was coming on to me? I saw a slight sheen n sweat on her cleavage and felt my dick twitch.

"I'm...thank you?" I said like a dork.

By now a few folks around us were stealing glaces at us, because Andrea, who was kinda like the house mother here, was starting to wrap more and more of her limbs around me at the bar.

"Would you like to play around a little?" she huskily whispered in my ears.

"Ahhh...Hmmm."

There was a sound next to us. Sarika was standing there with Clay, with her eyebrows raised. Andrea saw them, laughed, and waited two seconds before letting me go.

"Don't be mad at him, Sar. I ambushed him. Just for fun."

And she patted the crotch of my pants before walking away. And I realized, much to my embarrassment, that I was sporting an erection. I instantly turned away to hide it against the bar counter.

"Hey Ash." Clay said, throwing ony a brief look at my crotch. But Sarika was staring at it and looking at me oddly.

"Hi. What's up?" I said, trying to think of research questions to make my boner go away.

"Oh man, what is that crap you're drinking? Jameson? Forget that. Come with me. I got this great single malt you should try."

And he almost dragged me away by my arm. My wife stayed behind without exchanging a single word with me and started talking to Andrea.

Soon we were in a man cave type room. Clay poured out two drams from an expensive looking scotch bottle, and handed me one.

"Ash, have a seat. I wanna discuss something with you."

I sunk into a plush leather chair. He stayed standing, towering over me.

"You like Andrea, huh?"

"What?" I protested. "No, I mean, she's nice. But yeah. That is what I mean."

"Tell it to your pants, dude." she said and smiled. I blushed.

We sipped the scotch in silence. It was a bit too strong for my taste but Clay was already halfway through.

"You know, you can have her if you want. Right here. Pour yourself another drink. I'll send her in. She was telling me you are her type."

"What?" I could not believe what I was hearing.

"You wanna get your dick wet in Andrea? Go for it. You have my blessings." he winked.

"I..." and I actually thought about it for a few seconds. "No, we are very traditional."

"Are you?" he asked. "There is nothing wrong with some no strings attached fun, my friend. Love is a natural resource, to be shared, not monopolized."

More of that cultish mumbo jumbo. I had gotten the sense before that Clay slept with many of his "students". And that the sexual norms in this cult were perhaps a bit more permissive than our society back in India.

"Thanks, but no thanks. And I am assuming you want my permission to pursue Sarika?"

"Oh, Ashish Ashish Ashish." he laughed, refilling my scotch. "I don't want that at all."

"No?"

"Or rather, I don't need it at all. if I want to, I will go for it. She is an adult, much like you."

That made me feel a little angry, but he said it so suavely, plus the guy was so much bigger than me, that I didn't know what I could do about it.

"So you will pursue her?" I asked.

"Probably. I have been laying the groundwork already. I am sure it comes as no surprise to you, Ashish, that most women are very happy to go to bed with me. I can sense that Sarika wants it too. I think she is primed to be taken if I tried. But I am not some sadist who takes pleasure in cuckolding husbands. I am a free love type guy. So I am trying to set you up with Andrea. So you are not left holding your dick at the end of the night. Or any of my other girls. But I think you have eyes the most for Andrea, I can see why. She is like a bigger version of Sarika."

It took me a while to process what he was saying. He was saying that he very much wanted to bang my wife. And Andrea was like...a sexual barter? Until he said it, I had not noticed the fact that Andrea was sort of like a 20% blown up version of Sarika. Both had big brown eyes and straight noses and pink-white complexion. Both were curvy. But Sarika was like a petite version of Andrea's J-Lo meets Beyonce presence. Maybe that's why, instead of the many typical white women in that group, I was more attracted to Andrea.

"Think about it, Ash." he said, finishing his second drink. "There really is no difference whether she gets hot and sweaty riding one of my bicycles or riding me, as long as she goes home with you. And you could have some fun in the process."

"And if I say no?"

He shrugged his huge shoulders!

"Hey, the door isn't locked. You can take your wife and walk out any time. I am just saying that tonight, there is going to be a lot of casual sex in this house. Some already happening. And I am giving you a gentlemanly heads up. That if you decide to stay, I will try to bed Sarika tonight. And while nothing is a sure thing, I believe I will succeed if she has your tacit approval. Which you can give in exchange for my best girl at your disposal, whenever you like."

I should have been bothered by the "my best girl" part and it would come back to haunt me later.

He left me holding a refilled scotch glass and walked out briskly. I stepped out a minute later, feeling a little light headed from the strong scotch that I had now been downing more easily.

I walked out and surveyed the scene in the living area. Almost every small group of people had some amorous activity going on. Some people were just making out. In the corner, a man seemed to be getting his dick sucked by a young blond woman. I recognized him as the cycling shorts clad city councillor dude from the previous party. Now he was just wearing an under-shirt.

Clay was talking with Andrea and Sarika. When they saw me approach, the other two walked away leaving me alone with my wife. She was in a cocktail dress showing off several inches of her cleavage and nicely highlighting her round butt.

"Okay, what the fuck?" was all I could say.

"What did he say to you?" Sarika asked in a meek voice, which betrayed nerves. I had never seen her look so diffident.

"Essentially that he is going to try to fuck you. And I can have Andrea as compensation."

"Oh." her response suggested that there was some new information here.

She didn't say anything.

"Well?" I asked.

"I mean...Ashish...do you want to sleep with Andrea?"

"Me? No!" I said. "Do you want to sleep with Clay?"

She shifted uncomfortably.

"Cards on the table, I have been fantasizing about him. And he talks about these things in such a profound and honest way."

"I know what you mean. But you didn't answer my question."

She reached into her purse and took out a pack of cigarettes. This was new. I didn't know she smoked! But I didn't say anything.