Shyam moved in to the house next to ours. I knew Shyam vaguely from a few company conferences. He used to work in the Ahmedabad factory, and had risen from being a common daily wage worker in the factory to manufacturing supervisor. He was about 40, older than me, but would be working under me. I showed him around the factory, explained him all the details and called up Bela to tell her he'd be dining with us tonight.
That evening when I reached home with Shyam, I saw that Bela was back in a sari after many days. She welcomed us home, and served us some drinks and snacks. After taking a few things off the stove, she joined us in the living room. The conversation between Shyam and Bela was very limited. She never really talked too much with men outside the family. Shyam too seemed like a conservative guy, and except for briefly praising the snacks, didn't even look at Bela, much less talk to her. Bela was back to her docile self, just sitting silently, while Shyam and I talked.
Shyam told us that his family was back in Ahmedabad, and they would not be joining him for at least a year. He had one son who was in Class 12th and it being such an important academic year, his wife was going to stay back with their son. In a year, after their son was off to college, his wife would move here. So I told him not to bother with cooking. Bela would pack two lunch boxes everyday and for dinner, he should join us. He protested, saying he did not want to impose, but I waved off his protests. Even Bela broke her silence and said it would be no trouble for her at all. Soon we finished our drinks and went to the dining table.
With Shyam's arrival, Bela seemed to have gone back into her shell. She stopped wearing western clothes altogether, even when we went for evening walks. On our walks, if I tried to kiss or fondle her, she would not stop me, but I could sense the passive resistance, so I stopped trying, and our walks soon became completely uneventful. They were often cut short too, because Shyam would be coming to dinner and Bela had some more things to finish in the kitchen.
Shyam started having dinner with us every night. Bela and Shyam still didn't talk very much, beyond the pleasantries and compliments about the food. Once in a while, Shyam and I would drink together. Some times, we'd buy some movie DVDs and watch them all together. In some ways, I have glad to have some company. But in other ways, I was frustrated at how Shyam's arrival had messed up things. How Bela had taken many steps back.
And the effects started showing in the bedroom too. Before he arrived, Bela had been showing signs of becoming a regular tigress in bed. Now she was mostly back to her pliant obedient self. We still had regular sex, but that honeymoon-like spark was missing. A few nights after Shyam left, I got Bela to change into skimpier clothes, and it did help a little. But most nights, she'd be too tired with all the cooking and cleaning and I didn't have the heart to make her do much more.
So I started coaxing her gently to dress a bit more liberally when Shyam was around. Nothing too revealing. To start off, I asked her to wear jeans. Which she did. And Shyam barely noticed it. That night I said to Bela, see, you are making too big a deal. Nothing wrong with dressing comfortably just because Shyam is around. And she agreed. For the next week or so, Bela wore jeans and tshirts when Shyam came over without any more fuss.
Almost immediately, I sensed a slight improvement in her attitude in bed, and I realized something. My shy wife is a bit of a closet exhibitionist. Even the slight change from saris to jeans got her worked up. And of course, I remembered how wild she had been in bed after that fruit seller woman had caught us. Maybe all Bela needed was a little more coaxing. So I coaxed her into wearing shorts. I reasoned with her that jeans are fine, but not really as comfortable for cooking and housework as shorts might be. She agreed.
The next day when Shyam came over, Bela was in knee-length loose shorts and a tshirt. Her perfectly shaped milky white calves were on display. Over the course of the evening, I noticed Shyam, for the first time ever, sneaking a few glimpses at Bela. He did it artfully when she was not looking, and when he thought I was not looking either. But I noticed it anyway. That intrigued me.
That night in bed, I casually mentioned to Bela that I had seen Shyam look at her legs. She blushed a little, but said nothing. I asked her the same question I had asked her before. If she liked others admiring her. She blushed again, and buried her face in my chest shyly without saying anything. She stayed like that for a few minutes as I rubbed her back. And then she jumped on top of me and started getting naked. We had some awesomely passionate sex that night.
The next day, Bela's shorts got a little shorter. And Shyam's staring became a little more blatant. The day after that, she switched from t-shirts to tank-tops. And Shyam was positively loving it. He started making more conversation with Bela, probably because that would give him an excuse to look at her. One night Bela told me she had also noticed Shyam staring at her legs. And this made our sex life better with each passing night.
Then came the day when things went to a different level for the first time. It was a Saturday, and like we did on most weekends, Shyam and I were drinking. Both of us were a few drinks down and Bela had been working in the kitchen, making snacks for us. She was wearing shorts which, while not quite hotpants, were still skimpy enough to show her smooth and fair thighs. Shyam had by now dropped any pretense and used to admire my wife quite openly. He had probably realized that I wasn't saying anything, so it was okay to look.
Since there were a lot of snacks, we were sitting on the dining table, drinking. Both of us were a bit tipsy. Bela was about ten feet away, her back towards us, cooking. The shorts were not skin-tight, but they did outline the shape of Bela's ass really well. As we were talking, Shyam kept looking at her ass every couple of minutes. I had been thinking of doing something for a few days. The alcohol in my system gave me the impetus to actually do it. The next time Shyam turned his head to look at Bela, I said,
"What are you looking at so much, Shyam?"
Shyam jerked his head straight and looked at me,
"Hmmm? What?" he said, slurring a little.
"I asked you what you were looking at there" I said, pointing my thumb in Bela's direction.
"Nothing, Sir. Sorry, Sir." he replied. Although he was my subordinate, he was almost a decade older than me, so I had told him to address me by my name. But he was a little old-fashioned and insisted on calling me "sir".
"Nothing or sorry? If it was nothing, no need to be sorry. If you are sorry, it can't have been nothing." I said, pointing my finger at him.
Shyam looked at me, panic dripping from his face. I saw a couple of beads of sweat appear on his forehead. He stayed silent. I stared at him for a few seconds, letting him panic a little more.
"Tell me something." I said "Do you think my wife is hot?"
"Sir?" he blurted out, now shaking a little.
"It's a simple question. Do you think my wife is hot? Is she beautiful?"
"No sir....yes sir..." he said.
"No sir or yes sir? Can't be both, Shyam. Just answer me honestly. I'm not going to eat you alive, you know. Is Bela beautiful?"
Bela could hear all this, but she had kept on cooking, without stopping or looking back.
"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." Shyam said, wiping his forehead.
"There's nothing to be sorry about, Shyam. Of course she is beautiful. Relax. I am not offended that someone finds my wife hot." I said, and downed the drink.
Shyam's drink was almost finished too. So I took the bottle and poured us both some more.
"Have a drink." I said. "You look like you need it."
Shyam gladly took the glass and downed about half of it in one gulp. I started sipping mine and started talking about something at work.
Five minutes later, I asked him nonchalantly,
"Shyam, don't you think that Bela has the most amazing ass you have ever seen?"
