The Young One

Previously

: Hans, a fresh graduate from the IESE Business School in Barcelona, Spain was now a young recruit at an European multinational firm with an assignment in a small Asian town; little more than an overgrown village. For eight months, he had endured the rigours of his posting and the continuous efforts of his veiled provocative attempts at seducing a 45-year old housemaid. Finally, the social and language barriers between them had succumbed to the libidinous desires that both had surreptitiously harboured towards each other. The 24-hour tryst with the raw, rustic, voluptuous and hirsute maid had brought him to the pinnacle of hedonistic and decadent carnality. And for her, Matty (real name Maitri,) years of dormant sensuality and lust had erupted into a climactic apogee of sexual release.

***

Now:

Hans waited. It was Saturday again, almost 11:00 a.m. and he was expecting her at any moment. Sitting on the first floor balcony that overlooked a large meadow, he was ruminating about a series of random thoughts that haphazardly ran through his mind. His thoughts went to Matty (he had difficulty pronouncing her actual name Maitri) as he lit his second cigarette after breakfast, taking a tentative sip of the steaming hot coffee he had just made for himself.

Since the previous weekend, Hans had been summoned to his regional headquarters in the capital city for his quarterly review. They had sent him his electronic air ticket on Saturday morning and told him to catch the afternoon flight. His stay at HQ had gone well but he had a lot of difficulty keeping his mind off Maitri. He returned to his little town of work two days earlier and had been waiting impatiently for the time he would see her again, and of course the promise of things to come. His hormones, it seemed, had never raged as much as they had over the previous 48 hours; he had refrained from masturbating, wanting to hold it all back till he had her in his bed.

As he took a last sip of his now tepid coffee, his heart leapt when he spied a figure walking across the meadow about half a kilometre away. He knew Matty often took a shortcut across the green field but not when it was raining, as it had done intermittently in long stretches for the last ten weeks since the start of the monsoon season. He tried to identify the individual crossing the pasture, approaching his house, but could see only from the waist down on account of the large black umbrella that obstructed his view. As the person got closer, he saw the long dress and knew she was a female. But his heart sank when he noticed that it wasn't a saree, the traditional apparel that his maid always wore. Instead, it looked like a long flowing skirt, the fringe of which lightly grazed over the wet grass on which the woman walked.

She also seemed to have on a man's shirt, buttoned down the front and not tucked into the waistband. The shirt was white, and the skirt seemed to be a faded blue; his first impression was that she was wearing some sort of hand-me-down uniform. The hem was a darker shade of blue, probably because it was wet from skimming over the grass. As she got closer, the umbrella covered more and more of his view till all he could see from his first floor lookout was the orange coloured thongs of rubber slippers on rather dainty feet.

Disappointed and with heavy heart, Hans got up from the rattan cane chair and carried his coffee mug back into the airy living room. At the far left corner was the entrance to his flat; on his right was an access door to a short corridor into which he turned. Directly in front was the bathroom, to the left his bedroom, and to the right was the dining room. He walked through it into the kitchen and placed his mug in the sink along with all the breakfast dishes he'd used that morning. Full of pathos and a deep sadness, he aimlessly wandered back to the bedroom and threw himself on to the unmade bed, rested his head on the pillow and stared blankly at the ceiling.

But after a couple of minutes he decided to shake himself out of his torpor and get on with his day. He got off the bed and went to the bathroom where he washed his face with warm water and then lathered it with shaving foam. Matty would come when she would come; she wasn't the most consistent with her timings, Hans thought to himself, so why spend the morning brooding. He worked up a rich lather and inserted a fresh cartridge into his razor.

When he was half way through the first stroke with the new blades, he heard a key turning in the door lock at the entrance to his apartment. The exultant thrill that ripped across his chest almost made him drop the razor. But he decided to act nonchalant at Matty's arrival, thinking that she must have taken the long road to his house while he was observing some stranger cross the meadow outside his balcony. He heard shuffling sounds from the living room as he wondered how his maid would react on seeing him after a whole week; flashes of the previous weekend's torrid lovemaking went through his mind.

"Namaste, Hans bhaiya!"

This time he did drop the razor. That wasn't Matty. It didn't sound like her and she never used the generic term for brother, "bhaiya"

/bʱə̯i.jɑː/

, to address him; she always called him Hansa. He picked up the shaving equipment from the floor and peered around the bathroom door which allowed him to see past the corridor and through the living room. He took a sharp intake of breath when he saw a woman wearing a white collared shirt and a faded blue long skirt. He couldn't see her face as she was positioning the dripping umbrella on the landing outside; what he did see was her backside as she bent over and placed her slippers in the corner.

When she straightened up and turned around to come into the flat, Hans' mouth fell open at the astounding beauty of the face as she spoke.

"Good morning, Bhaiya," she smiled, "my mother cannot come today, my name is Rupali. But you can call me Rupa."

Hans finally gathered himself and managed to respond, saying "Good morning. Why hasn't your mother come today? Is she well?"

"Oh yes! Thank you. She's fine but she had to go out of town to her uncle's house, along with my younger sister. She took a bus this morning but gave me the key to your flat so that I could come and do the cleaning. And I can also do some cooking," she smiled that beatific smile again.

"Ah! OK. Let me just finish shaving and I'll show you where everything is," he said, still very confused and mentally disoriented at this sudden turn of events.

"That's alright," Rupali said, "I've come on a few occasions with Mama to help her so I know where the cleaning things are, and also I know my way about your kitchen."

As Hans continued with his ablutions, he was trying to unravel the myriad thoughts that ran through his mind. His initial reaction was one of deep disappointment; he had thought incessantly of Matty all week and his body craved hers. But mixed with these thoughts was the effect on his brain of the dreamlike stunner he had just seen. There was nothing rustic or primitive about her demeanour, not like her mother who was voluptuous and wild and raw. Although he had only seen her for a few seconds, Rupa seemed alluring and graceful and elegant; there was a charming delicacy to her overall mien. Somewhere deep in his subconscious mind, there may even have been the first seed of guilt being planted, which he tried to fend off.

After he'd finished his shave, he rinsed the razor and then bent low over the washbasin to splash his face. As he was cleaning away the suds, his eyes shut, he felt a presence between his legs and the cabinet beneath the sink.

"Sorry, Bhaiya", he heard Rupali, "I need the floor cleaning liquid which I think is kept here." As she fumbled around, Hans heard the sounds of bottles being moved around but he also felt some part of her body, probably her back, rub against his knees and thighs. He was wearing an old t-shirt and lounge pants but no underwear; his immediate thought, when her body rubbed against his limbs, went to the slight bulge of his well-hung penis even though it was limp at that moment. He hurried through his washing and quickly stepped away from her crouching form as he grabbed a small dry wash towel to wipe his face.

He left her rummaging around in the storage area and walked to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Although he hadn't yet had a shower, he changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a clean blue collared Lacoste t-shirt. He stood between the wardrobe and the side of his bed, a small space within which Matty and he had first fucked nine days ago. Now, her daughter was in the same house as him and he could already feel the flush of something. Could it be desire? Lust? He dropped down on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands, sighing deeply as he tried to sort out the confusing emotions.

Hans was a well-built strapping young man; athletic and strong, every muscle on his 6'2" frame was toned. Since high school and during his university years, he had kept a strict exercise regimen and a busy sports calendar. A lot of that had fallen to the sidelines ever since he came to this small town eight months ago, although he did go for regular morning runs on most days. His sexual organs were equally impressive; a penis that was five inches when soft and listless grew to eight inches when erect with a girth of almost six centimetres. His testicles and scrotum hung heavy and full between his legs, growing even larger when he was aroused.

Although he'd had a couple of girlfriends in college, his sex life after taking this job and being transferred to Asia had been dismal; in fact it had become non-existent. Till Matty happened. Right there, between the wardrobe and the bed when he banged her for the first time from behind; then later on in the balcony where he fingered her to a climax, and finally when he brought her to the bedroom and they did it well into the night. With his hands still covering his face, he sighed deeply and wondered if he should just let Rupa finish her chores and leave while he stayed in the bedroom. But he was not yet 25 years old, youthful and full of vigour; his libido was at its prime and there was the prettiest woman he had seen in a long time right outside the door.

"Merde!" he exclaimed silently, "Fuck it!" He got off the bed and went out; it was his house after all; why should he sit cooped up in a room and be scared of confronting his feelings. Hans exhaled loudly and walked towards his living room. She was outside in the verandah with a broom, sweeping the floor. He stood in the doorway between the corridor and the drawing room and looked at her.

Indeed, she had on a man's shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her upper arms. Bent over to sweep with the broom made of grasses or reeds, she provided him with a profile view of herself; her hair was tied in a knot from which a pony tail hung upto her waist. The white shirt looked like it was buttoned up to her chest but the huge bulge hinted at how massive her breasts were; he hadn't quite noticed that in the brief seconds that he'd seen her earlier. Again, he remembered her mother and visions of her colossal boobs blazed across his brain as he blinked.

The balcony wasn't too large and Rupa soon turned around to gather all the dust into one corner before brushing it into a hand-held dust pan and straightening up. She stopped briefly and looked out over the railing, staring at the rain that was still pouring. The daylight in front of her filtered through the long faded blue skirt and Hans looked at the faint silhouette of her legs against the backlight, shadowy blurs that etched out her thighs and lower limbs. His eyes took in the curvaceous shape of her hips and the contoured roundness of her bottom. Her shirt, though not tucked into the skirt, was tailored and cinched around the waist, before it flared out over her hips. It wasn't really a man's shirt, he thought.

She turned around to come into the living area and Hans, with a detached look of aloofness, continued on his way to a cushioned armchair that faced the wide windows overlooking the verandah. "Rupa, could you please shut the balcony door; I want to turn on the air-conditioner. It's getting warm and muggy now."

"Yes, Bhaiya," she said as she turned around, dust-pan and broom in one hand while she shut the double fly doors and latched them shut.

It hadn't struck him till then but Hans suddenly realised she was speaking English, and very fluently at that. "Rupa, how come you speak English so well?" he asked as she was about to disappear into the recesses of the house.

She stopped to face him and spoke. "Oh! I went to school, and now I'm in my third year at college. I took special English language courses and I also did an online programme. Why?"

"Uhm! No! I just wondered. Your mother doesn't speak any English and you have a better command over the language than anybody that I work with in the office. I'm just surprised. So why do you work as a housemaid?"

"No, no, I don't work as a housemaid," she replied rather forcefully. "I'm just helping Mama since she was unable to come today. She will be back only on Tuesday so I'll come tomorrow and on Monday as well."

He didn't want her to leave so he asked a follow-up question as he used the remote control to switch on the cooling. "So, what are you studying in college and what do you plan to do after you graduate?" he asked, wondering where exactly her college was since this little hick town certainly didn't have one.

"I'm studying commerce for a B.Com degree," Rupali started to tell him. She was hoping to graduate early next year and maybe go to one of the big cities and get a job with an accounting firm or any other good company. Maybe even to the capital; she had a cousin sister who was living there and married to an officer that worked for the government.

She was very animated in her monologue and eager to talk to someone whom she believed was a very educated and successful career person, even though he was a foreigner. While she spoke, Hans stared at her lips moving and gradually began to take in the composite elements of her breathtaking beauty. Without any hint of make-up, her skin was clear; not dark like her mother's but more like that of a golden wheat field. She had a wide forehead and a thick crop of hair, nicely shaped eyebrows and long eye lashes. Her nose was delicate, a little on the flattish side as he had noted in many people who lived in his area; he had been told that they had tribal origins and were indigenous to the region.

She played with her pony tail, absently running her fingers through the strands as she continued her spirited discourse. Hans looked at the open collar of her shirt and her slim neck resting on nicely rounded shoulders, the clavicles visible through almost translucent skin. The shoulders of her shirt were a little puffed, adding a soft feminine touch to her top. As he had noticed earlier, the garment was trussed at the waist, highlighting her hourglass figure.

The top two buttons down the front had been left open, the third one binding the placket at the point that would be horizontally aligned to her nipples, thus revealing a considerable amount of cleavage. He didn't recall that from when he first saw her some minutes ago; had she undone those buttons afterwards, he wondered. For a few moments, he was unable to look away from the large mounds of her boobs, globular and stretching her shirt to what seemed like a dangerous extreme, the lower buttons struggling to hold her bosom in. Through the cotton white shirt, he could discern the not too subtle outline of her brassiere, its demi-cup shaped cups plunging down and the straps that went over her shoulders.

Hans couldn't help but compare Rupali's breasts to those of her mother's; both had massive tits but the daughter's looked larger, possibly because she was slimmer. If Matty wore a 38DD bra, he thought maybe Rupa's size was a 36F. He remembered the slight sag in his elder maid's boobs while the one in his present field of vision looked firm, but that could be on account of the underwire brassiere. As he briefly allowed the rather reprehensible thought of pawing her breasts enter his mind, he felt the first twitch of a stirring in his groin.

"Hans bhaiya, you're not listening to me!" he heard her slight admonishment, forcing him to tear his eyes away and look at her face.

"Of course I am; I was just pondering how hard working and diligent you must be to have followed your dreams so far. I'm very impressed," he said, trying to keep a straight face as he watched her lips, the hint of a smile playing at the corners. Had she seen him ogling her, he wondered rather nervously.

"OK! Now let me finish my work now."

"No! Wait!" Hans said, rather cloyingly. "The house is clean enough. You don't have to do the mopping now. I like talking to you; I haven't had a prolonged conversation with anyone outside the office ever since I came here at the start of the year. Please!" he pleaded.

"Really?" Rupa asked with surprise in her voice. "If you think it's ok...."

He wasn't sure whether she was surprised at the fact that he couldn't have a proper conversation with anyone at the office or whether he actually wanted her to stop her chores and spend time dallying with him. But he said "Yes! I'm sure. Why don't you sit down," pointing at another chair in the living room. Opposite him, just below the large bank of windows that looked into the balcony and beyond to the pastures, was a floor-seating of cushions and bolsters. She pointed a finger at that area and waited for him to nod his head before gathering her skirt and sitting down on the zabutons.

"So!? What do you want to talk about, Hans Bhaiya?"

"Umm! Nothing in particular. Anything. Tell me about your life," Hans replied rather obtusely.

"My life? Haha," she guffawed, "Bhaiya, I think you just want to flirt with me."

"What!? No!" Hans responded vehemently, but then he smiled and said "Well, actually, maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?"

She leant back against the section of wall below the window and hitched up her skirt, revealing her legs from the knees to her toes, tucking in the folds so that she didn't reveal the underside of her thighs. It was a spontaneous gesture, like she was used to sitting on the floor and protecting her modesty. She hugged her knees and rested her chin on top of them, looking up at him before replying.

"The college has mixed students, you know; like a .... what's the word? Co-ed, right?" It was a rhetorical question and she continued, "I have many friends, both boys and girls; but no, not really. I don't have a boyfriend in the sense that you mean it. Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked as she straightened up.

Hans again glimpsed the cleavage through her open shirt front and the smooth hairless legs from her knees down, which ended in those dainty feet he had spied while she walked across the field earlier. He observed a thin silver chain around her left ankle, a tiny heart shaped pendant hanging near the little bump of the fibula; or was it the tibia? He tried to peer between her bare knees but she held them close together, leaving his imagination to conjure up a vision of her thighs if she ever parted her legs; perhaps the distinct contrast of white panties over her crotch.

"Bhaiya!!!! Again you're not listening to me! Where does your mind keep drifting?" She had a teasing smile on her lips and a knowing look in her eyes as she glared mirthfully at him.

"Uhhh! No. I was thinking. No, no... I don't have a girlfriend. I did when I was in college but I got this job immediately after graduation and they sent me here. No chance of a girlfriend here, right? Ha!" He briefly thought of Rupa's mother, but let the thought drift away as he focused on the young beauty in front of him.