The Women of Rishi Ch. 01

I was spellbound. I was pleasantly shocked. Kristine laughed.

"I am natural. Did you see it? Like?"

"Wow! What can I say. Didn't see it properly, though. The first glimpse for me. Never seen one except in porn."

"You are kidding me! I can't believe that."

"Came close to but failed! I'll tell you my story if you have the patience."

"I am all ears." She reclined on a couple of pillows and patted the bed beside her "Make yourself comfortable."

I moved next to her and began my story. She was close to me and turned towards me. "Hmm..."

I had to mentally pinch myself to ensure that this was not some delusional dream in a mind soaked in testosterone. Her suggestive talk, her posture and body language and now that half a second peep of her pussy were simply from fantasy world. This was so different from my experience in India. I feared I might wake up and pop the glorious bubble. But no! This was real.

This is my story before I moved to Toronto. I told her most of it.

Just call me Asha

I was an immature and inexperienced nineteen-year-old college student. I lived with my parents in an affluent suburb of a big town in the state of Kerala in South India. There was big, bad news one afternoon that exploded across the neighborhood. Mr. Praveen Nair, a forty-six-year-old accounts manager and the father of a friend of mine had died on the spot when a bus hit his motorcycle. My nerdy friend, Sandeep was in his first year at the Indian Institute of Technology, and his sister, Sangeetha was in her final year in high school. They and their mother, Asha Nair were obviously devastated and the whole town grieved with them.

The Nair family were not exactly very close friends, but the commonality was that we were the only non-Christians down the street. While the others were often occupied socially with church related worship services and functions, we hung out at the rare temple festivals and exchanged sweets and savories on Hindu religious occasions. Mom was a friend of Asha Nair and there were some visits back and forth but not much else. Soon after her husband's death, naturally we were there to help the bereaved family but that petered out in the following months.

Two years went by and I was a final year student in Pharmacy, nurturing dreams of greener pastures. Preparing for examinations happened side by side with reviewing prospects of study and work in the west.

It was on one of those days that I was walking by the Nair home when I saw Asha trying to unload something heavy. The gate was open, and I walked in to offer help.

She was pulling out a large white box from her small Hyundai's trunk. "Hi aunty, can I help?" In this part of the world older people are called aunty and uncle even when unrelated.

"Hi Rishi. Thanks. This thing is heavier than what it looked like when the shop guy loaded it." She smiled brightly with her face red with exhaustion and heat.

I helped her unload it and she opened the front door and stepped in. "You can leave it here." She said. "Thanks so much."

I looked at the packing and it was a laundry table. "Where does it go?" I asked helpfully.

"It's OK. It goes upstairs." She answered. "I will get help tomorrow and we can get it up there."

"No. I can do it now." I had to help her as even her daughter had left for medical school in another state, and she was alone.

Together we went up the steps and a landing and then to a small room which had a washer and dryer. I put it down with a grunt.

"Thanks so much. You want something to drink?"

"Thanks. May be some water."

We went down and Asha ran down quickly.

"Sit down," she called from the kitchen, "I have some nice coconut water; ice cold."

"Nice. Thanks, aunty." Her beautiful Persian cat Milo gave a quizzical look and then curled up on a rug.

She brought a tall glass with the whitish turbid juice with a few delicious flesh bits floating. As I picked up the drink something hit me quite forcefully, yet pleasantly.

I was looking right at Asha and I realized how beautiful she was. She had a rounded face with a clear light brown complexion that would be termed fair in these parts, shiny shoulder length black hair, regular sharp features, expressive black eyes and a charming smile. As she walked away, I noted her very modest walk in her cream chiffon sari with large blue flowers. There was no exaggerated attention seeking sway or swing of her hips, but they looked well rounded though modestly covered.

I shook myself out of these thoughts about my friend's mother and my mother's friend. How depraved of me!

"When are your exams?" She broke into my thoughts.

"In six weeks." I gulped down the glass of juice in inexplicable hurry.

"Good luck!"

I thanked her again and she expressed gratitude for the help, and I left.

At the dinner table that evening at home, I shared this little episode and, perhaps a bit abruptly I asked: "How old is Asha aunty?"

"May be forty-one or forty-two." Mom thought a bit in between two mouths full, "I think she may be even forty-three as she said she was twenty-one when she had Sandeep and he is a few months older to you."

"Yes, Swarna," dad chipped in, "she was forty-one when Praveen passed."

"She looks young, doesn't she? She is taking care of her looks, I think. Cut her hair short as well. May be looking around."

"Hey! That's not a nice thing to say!" Dad admonished mom and the conversation ended.

About two months later I had just received my degree final exam results and my parents and I were overjoyed to learn that I had done very well. Mom had asked me to go to the temple and I complied even though I was not religious. I guess I figured that there was some divine intervention that helped me perform better than expected. Thus, the willingness to thank the deity and seek further blessings!

I was happy I did go to the temple walking through the bare field across from our street as I saw Asha there. She was in a baby pink Salwar Kameez and a bright pink shawl. After we did our bit of worshipping, she turned to me.

"Congratulations!" She shook my hand. Her palm felt petal soft. "Swarna told me and I didn't have your email or phone number to wish you."

I thanked her and we exchanged contact information.

"Did you come to thank Goddess Saraswati for the success?" I didn't have a clue what that was about.

"Oh, that's the Goddess of education, right?"

She nodded with that pursed lip smile. "I actually came to thank Lord Krishna as Sandeep has fallen in love." She was still smiling, a bit now with a shade of pride.

"Oh nice! Wish him well from me." I glanced at her pretty form, ambling by me. "Did you walk, aunty?"

"Yes, I did, across the field. Now I have your company to walk back."

"True!" I grinned back at her, hopefully not revealing too much of my puerile excitement.

During that ten-minute walk back home, we talked about many things; my future plans in Canada or Australia, Sandeep's new Kashmiri girlfriend, our neighborhood with its good and bad and our respective families.

It was a brief but pleasant conversation. I was unusually thrilled by her mere presence and was more and more awestruck by her mature beauty and cultured elegance. This time her attire was clingier to her body and I couldn't help admire the shape of her beautiful breasts. There was nothing in her words, posturing or behavior that suggested anything other than an innocent and civil conversation but unconsciously and even involuntarily clandestine lustful thoughts entered my sex starved brain.

In the next few months that followed, I continued to work three jobs on most days of the week to save some money, played a little badminton with my friends a couple of times a week and wrote, communicated and discussed a lot about my future. I didn't lose my focus on my career abroad. I was young and still unexposed. I had a close friend in college, a girl called Maya, that I liked and the feelings were mutual, apparently. Somehow it never progressed to an affair and with the end of our courses, she receded into cyberspace. Later I heard she married. I remained a virgin.

Then, here was Asha Nair, pretty, single, experienced and possibly making herself attractive to be desired again. She must be wanting a man and also wanting sex that was brutally taken away from her. She must be starved of intimacy!

Unless she was seeing someone secretly.

These were presumptions that were infused into me largely because of my uninformed state. Why these naughty thoughts occurred to me, was obvious. I was starved too, at an age when male hormones flowed freely in my veins.

A few days later I received a text from Asha that quickened my heartbeat.

'Can you come help with the assembly of that laundry table, please?'

I was doing nothing, and I was excited. 'Sure' I replied and was at her gate in minutes. There was a car parked outside that I recognized. It was Dr. Johnny Thamby's maroon Renault SUV. Slightly perplexed I walked in and was introduced to the fifty something years old gray balding man seated on a sofa. I knew him but he obviously didn't know an ordinary youth that I was, living nearby. He seemed to be a bit nervous sitting on the edge of his seat. He was not exactly friendly towards me. Asha gestured towards the stairs and requested me to please proceed.

"The instructions manual is there by the box." She called out when I was going up the stairs. Entering the laundry, I stood rooted and shocked.

The table was already assembled!

Did I hear wrong? Was I in some trance? I didn't move an inch, but I heard soft footsteps coming up the stairway.

It was Asha, looking all apologetic and slightly flustered. "I am sorry. I need you here to be with me. I don't like that man. He has bad intentions." She confessed in a whisper, panting a bit and with a blush. "Ah, the drawer is not sitting or sliding properly. Maybe you can fix that. Sorry and thanks!" She waved and smiled and went unhurriedly down to her visitor. I watched her walk away and noted the jeans that she wore revealed more of her hips. She had a good butt.

I was a bit shaken by the odd situation I was in. I thought through this scenario for a few minutes, and I had heard that Asha Nair was being hounded around by the likes of this doctor. He was married but I knew his wife travelled a lot abroad. I had a thrill run through me when I realized that I was chosen as the preferred chaperone. I sobered myself by appreciating that there may be none else for her to call on.

Fixing the drawer onto its sliding rails aligned to the little wheels on the sides was easy and I had it done in minutes. I could hear the conversation downstairs without deciphering the words uttered. It was interspersed with the occasional half laugh by the man and mainly humming in agreement by Asha. I wished I could eavesdrop.

I guessed I needed to kill some time. I saw a few clothes hung to dry. There was a house coat, a shirt and a salwar kameez I had seen her wear. I was tempted to touch the fabric and I couldn't resist. Once I touched it, I was drawn to get a scent of the woman that wore it. They were freshly washed and what remained was only the fragrance of the detergent. There was a basket on the floor, and it had some clothes in it. They looked unwashed. I checked if the two downstairs were still in conversation and quickly picked up what was in the basket. A towel, a blouse, an underskirt, a bra and panties emerged. I held the bra to my chest and fantasized with a glorious blend of human and deodorant aroma passed my nostrils. I then picked up the panties with the obvious discoloring of the crotch area and the musty female scent of sex was unmistakable. Many perverted thoughts popped up, but I held myself back for fear of being discovered. I dropped the pieces of clothing back and made sure they looked like they lay like when I saw them.

I peeped downstairs just enough to see the back of Asha's head. I heard nothing of what was said but I saw her shaking her head in obvious and repeated refusal. That went on for over a minute and at least on one occasion I heard her saying 'no'. This bastard was asking her for something that she was denying. I had a good inkling what that might be. I could kill the motherfucker! Milo slept on the sofa next to the doctor oblivious to the anxiety the visitor seated next to her was causing her owner.

Then he left and even as he got to the door, he gave Asha a friendly pat on the shoulder. I saw her shuffling with an imperceptible sidestep and a body bend away from his hand. She shut the door and ran upstairs, and I met her halfway down.

"Thanks." She panted. "Gosh, he is awful. We went to him as a patient and he tried his pranks with me, years ago." She brushed that aside mentally and looked at me with the sweetest smile. "I am really grateful and sorry for the trouble."

"No worries, aunty." As I passed her, she touched me on my shoulder with the gentlest of pats.

I went back home and recollected all that had happened between Asha and me recently and thought about her beautiful face and sexy curves and masturbated calling out her name softly into my pillow.

I was now longing to see Asha every day and every hour if I could. As expected, what you desire has an uncanny way of not happening. I met her unplanned at a grocery store where we simply exchanged greetings and left together when we saw Dr. Thamby driving by. He glanced in our direction nonchalantly. She was at a dinner party of a common family friend. I hung out with my friends while Asha was with my mother a lot. I wondered what they shared. When Asha left, I made a move swiftly after her to have a word.

"Why are you leaving so early?"

"Why do you want me to stay?" She laughed making a mockery of my question. "You have your friends." She smiled in the moonlight as she began walking towards her car.

"OK. Goodnight!"

"I have something in the morning." She waved and left.

A few days later I had this text message 'Rishi, can you accompany me to the car repair shop, please? This is on Thursday at five.'

I replied almost immediately without even thinking: 'Sure'.

I was relatively free now. I was winding down my work and I had narrowed down my search to Toronto where I was accepted for a one-year course. I was on time at her gate on Thursday and again I heard that the workshop manager was hitting on her and she wanted company. We sat on a bench in the waiting room when the oil change was performed and we talked of our college days; the boys, the girls, the affairs and other exploits. Though nothing was mentioned of our own experiences I wanted to ask about why she was so weary of Dr. Thamby.

"Johnny was like our family doctor. A few years ago, as a routine checkup I needed to get a mammogram and he had to order it. He wanted to examine me, and I trusted him as a friend and a professional. Praveen was seated outside as well. He fondled me way beyond the limits of a clinical examination and then pinched my... you know, my nipples one by one until I said it was hurting me and that I had enough and got dressed. Then he suggested a gynecological internal examination and I flatly refused and went out." She put a hand on my arm. "Please Rishi, no one should know this. I didn't even tell my husband as I did not want their relationship to suffer. Now this man inside..." She pointed to the office with a sour face, where the portly, bespectacled, oily faced manager sat. "It's tough to live as a single woman."

"What did he do?" The way she looked at me, I regretted asking. It may have sounded like I was deriving some morbid carnal pleasure out of her misadventures. That may have even been true. "I am sorry!" I offered softly and very humbly.

"No, no. It's just that he touched my butt when I was here about six months ago. He made it look like an accident, but he really felt me up."

"Oh! I am sorry."

When I got back, it was the first day I realized what my feelings were for her were. She had even confided in me that she hadn't shared with her late husband; and those were quite intimate details. Was I in love with this woman who was twenty years older? I certainly desired her in a sexual way but beyond that, what?

To add to that, my mother one morning warned me: "Son, I know you are very friendly with Asha. It may be innocent. But she is a widow and young. People will talk."

I understood. This is a gossip infested society, lacking in any program for entertainment or engagement. I went to the club to play badminton that day to take my mind of the mini turmoil in my life.

The very next day, I had a text message from Asha. 'I need to go to Kochi for a day and stay overnight. Can you feed Milo in the morning, please?' Of course, my immediate reply was 'Sure, aunty.' Her reply was 'Just call me Asha.' She handed me the house keys on her way to the bus station and gave me some instructions and left.

The next morning, I went into the house and greeted Milo and petted her for a while. She rubbed herself around my feet and mewed a couple of times as if to ask me where Asha was. I went up the stairs to pick up the feed and her bowl and did as was instructed. She started crunching her food hungrily. Finally, I checked on the litter box to see if it needed cleaning and was ready to leave when the devil tempted me to take a walk in Asha's bedroom. That was quite unoffensive if not completely correct. But what I did next would make me feel ashamed of for months afterwards. I started looking in the drawers until I found a hand massager. It didn't look like a vaginal massager, but it certainly looked like the clit vibrators seen in porn. I turned it on, and it whirred to life. I touched it to feel the tingly sensation it gave and put it back thinking this could well be something used innocuously for a body massage.

Or not!

As luck would have it as I went out at the gate there is Dr. Johnny Thamby again. He asked me if Asha is in and when I replied in the negative and where she had gone, he said: "Oh, that's why she didn't answer my calls." Then he snarled at me "So, what are you fucking around here then?"

"I came to feed the cat."

"Oh, you came to feed this pussy, huh?" He snapped back sarcastically.

"No need to be rude, Dr. Thamby. I did nothing bad to you."

He got in, slammed the door of his car and took off.

That really got me going. This guy gave me a challenge to live up to what he thought I was up to. I haven't as much as touched Asha. True, I liked her. I may even be in love with her and, damnit I secretly lusted for her beautiful and sexy body. But I did nothing!

I planned. My parents were going to be away next weekend. I will visit her on Friday evening, giving myself a buffer of another day. I am going to invite myself. Why not? She is the one that called me over so many times. She has given me all the signals. She even asked me not to call her aunty. She smiles and touches my arm so lovingly. She had that vibrator in her drawer. Yes, she needs love, intimacy and sex. I am the only one she interacts with the way she does. I have no experience, but my instincts will guide me. My gosh, this is the time for me to act and I have very little time left before I leave.

According to my master plan I texted her at five in the evening.

'Hi! Can I come over?'

'Oh yes. You heard?' The reply came in a minute or two.

'Heard what?' What had happened? Is this going to ruin my plot?

'No, nothing. You come over we'll chat.'

I wasted no time and in ten minutes I rang her doorbell. When she opened the door, she looked so different from her normal cheerful self. It looked like she had been crying and she was in her wrap around house coat sans make up, even the very little she wears. She clutched at the top of her dress to keep it from opening in her typical modest ways. Even then, she looked very attractive.