"What is this Dance X?" I asked my agent Sachin. He was sat across from me at a five star restaurant.
"If you ever watched regular television you would know this is the number one dance show on TV. This is your chance to get back in the limelight, Rima."
"Sachin, are you sure? TV is usually career suicide for a Bollywood starlet. What will people say about me?" I asked in dread at the idea of being some TV personality.
Once upon a time I was the fresh new thing on the Bollywood circuit and from the first day I tried to build a brand around my name. Every movie I took and even who I married was to enhance my brand. My reputation took a significant hit two years ago when details of my divorce came out. My in laws were powerful and used their connections to besmirch my name. I was in bed with powerful people and I was learning why people avoid sharks. A lie goes around the world before the truth has put its shoes on. Since then I had to play the doting mother with the limited access I had to my child and dating was no longer an option as I would be labeled a slut. It is a man's world and my husband was enjoying the fruits as I tried to salvage my reputation.
There was a suspicion that my family had blacklisted me from the industry. If I said this out loud I would just sound like a delusional paranoid crazy woman so I had to keep playing the game and working out my best options. I was pregnant when my husband divorced me but it was not released officially to the world until I gave birth and then the first rumor was spread that the divorce was because I would abandon the child to go partying.
"Girl, how do I say this? I have put your name out to everyone and no one is interested. Literally, I have called every production house personally. We need to face facts. You are 36. Bollywood is seemingly over for you to any respectable degree. You will not get a female lead and will need to take supporting roles as a mother or aunty. You can go down to B grade and even C grade movies but it will just damage your brand and there is no real money in those movies. All of the big stars have done TV at some time. You need to get back in the spotlight and these shows have big audiences. Dance X is the next stage of your brand and it will get you back in the spotlight."
I was in deep thought for a moment as I contemplated the move. In reality I had very limited choices and Sachin had a way of reading the industry.
"This has to work. I am trusting you, Sachin." I reply.
"I will schedule your first guest appearance and then depending on the success of the appearance and the audience reaction to you, then we will negotiate the terms of the permanent residency on the show."
I watched a few episodes of the show before my appearance. It was a mix of high octane dance routines and pantomime judges. Dev was the creator, executive producer and head judge. He had a fake colonial English accent, that defied the logic that he had rarely stepped foot out of India. Dev was proof that perception is nine tenths of reality for the masses. He was known for his cutting put downs and he was known as the nasty judge and the netizens had coined the name Dirty Dev for him. The other Judge was Gaurav, he had the role of being the young hot judge with the big muscles and six pack. In truth he was in his 30's but men never aged as women did in the industry. Sonakshi was the one that appealed to the young females and she provided the young generation's female voice. She was only 21 and watching her youthful exuberance made me envy her at times.
They wanted to add an older woman's voice to appeal to the housewives. It hurt my ego that I was being cast as some 'older' woman. After the birth of my son many young men would refer to me as a milf in my social media comments. I cringed with disgust at reading the comments but there was a dark part of me that found it flattering at the same time. I worked hard to maintain my slim figure after my pregnancy and at my age this required daily maintenance and work. I was an item number girl at my peak and it was one of the reasons they had coveted me as a star judge. Many men had fallen under the trance of my rhythmic hips over the years.
The truth was that financially this opportunity was coming at the right time. I didn't come from money but married into it and my money came from the work that I did. I was no stranger to the hustle. It had been a barren 24 months since my divorce and I had struggled to earn so this was an ideal opportunity as my savings dried up.
The show is held in theaters across the country in front of a live audience. This was the charm of the show as it connected with local audiences across the country in the remotest of regions.
I have been given a sari to wear by the costume artists. The sari is hanging up and I am to dress before they will come and set the costume and do my makeup.
I like to wear relaxed clothing when I am unlikely to get papped or seen. Today I had arrived in sweatpants, sports bra and a track jacket. I was rather dressed for the gym than a live show.
I had stripped down to my small thong and I was walking around barefoot in the privacy of my dressing room. I was always a bit of a nudist when I was alone and at the moment this suited me as my breasts had been sensitive since giving birth so I liked to give them as much freedom as possible. They had grown more painful in recent months. I had not breastfed since the birth and the small dribbles of milk had ceased recently. I had presumed I had stopped producing milk as I was not breastfeeding. The doctor had prescribed some painkillers but it was not really solving the problem. I would massage and fondle them to relive some of the pressure but it only offered momentary relief and would lead me to becoming aroused due to how sensitive they are.
I had 30 minutes before I was to be disturbed by one of the make up artists. I had locked the latch on the door to ensure I was not disturbed. I made it a rule on any set that anyone below producer or director level was to not make eye contact with me or speak to me. It was part of my brand and let everyone know immediately that I was a VIP.
I was reading through the notes for the show. It is heavily scripted and the producers control the narratives and story lines. There is some room for improvisation but we were on a leash.
All of a sudden, I heard the lock click and in rushed Dev with a piece of paper. He closed the door behind him. The latch did not seem to hold as he easily opened the door.
"Rima, I have the lines that you must say during the show. Why are the juniors so afraid to approach you?" He had been looking at the papers and not seen my naked form yet. In a panic I grabbed the pallu from the rack and wrapped it around me.
As he saw my naked body behind the see through pallu he locked the door behind him and double locked it. I had realized my mistake.
"What are you doing?" I asked trying to keep composed.
He came up close to me and handed me the paper.
His body was close to mine and he was uncomfortably in my space. I backed up slightly until my back was pressed against the wall. He was short, maybe 5'5 or 5'6. I was taller than him by at least two or three inches and if I had heels on, then a lot more. The shortest heel I wore was 3 inches. He was in his late 50's and he had a rotund belly.
His eyes bore a hole into my stiff and thick nipples which were visible through my pallu. They were in a constant state of being engorged and I knew just how obscene they would look to a man.
"The assistant producers and runners are too afraid to knock on your door. They get nervous around stars. So I came to deliver the message personally. I like to be hands on," he said as his hands snaked on to my hips under my pallu. He was playing with the waistband of my thong with his fingers from his right hand. I swallowed the saliva in my mouth.
"Dev, please," I begged. I wanted him to stop of his own accord and I did not want to cause a scene by screaming.
"Many men fantasize about what you wear under your clothes. I doubt many men would be creative enough to imagine just what a slut you are under those clothes," he said as his fingers followed the thin material of my thong in between my ass cheeks. His left hand moving up my stomach to caress and squeeze my breast. His fingers trap my thick nipple between them and he pinched my thick nipple.
My breasts were sensitive and I had to bite the inside of my lip to stop myself from moaning. My lip curled inwards as I bit it.
"Your nipples are begging to be sucked!"
It dawned on me that he would not stop unless I stopped him. My face went red with anger as I slapped him with all my might and pushed him off me.
