I watched the events in my house being broadcast from three separate rooms. Vimla walked to the kitchen where here her kurta had been stripped off and thrown on the floor. She first went to the kitchen sink and washed her face. Then the petite maid slipped the kurta on and walked out to the living room, gathering her salwar on the way.
Dara who was sitting on the couch, his legs and arms spread like he owned the place, looked at her.
"Don't put that on yet." he barked a command. "In fact take the kurta off."
Vimla sighed but complied. Naked again, she uncertainly walked towards Dara.
Meanwhile I turned my attention to my naked wife in the bathroom. She had been using the tap water to clean the remaining jizz from the pussy and also washing her face. Once she was done with that. she wiped herself dry with the towel and picked up her phone.
She sat on the toilet seat and started doing something on the phone.
In a few seconds, my phone buzzed. It was an SMS from Menaka.
- U have reception? Can u talk?
I looked at the message for a good one minute, trying to decide if I should talk to her or not. I didn't want to say something that would accidentally reveal that I was in Bombay, and was aware of what had happened. On the other hand, she had lied to me and hidden things from me and maybe her first ever threesome was the tipping point that would make her tell the truth.
I sat thinking, looking at Menaka's naked heaving breasts on the screen. She was staring at the phone waiting for a response. I weighed the pros and cons of the decision for a couple of minutes.
That's when there was a sharp rap on the bathroom door that gave Menaka a start. I hadn't noticed that Dara, still naked, had walked to the bathroom door. Naked Vimla was behind him.
"What?" she asked in an annoyed tone.
Dara didn't say anything, just rapped the door sharply again.
"What is it?" my wife asked in a louder voice.
But the response was again a sharp knock.
Menaka clicked her tongue. She put her phone on top of the toilet tank and got up. She opened the door slightly and poking her head out, asked,
"What is it?"
Dara just shoved the door hard making Menaka take a couple of steps back and walked in.
"What were you doing?" he asked forcefully.
"What do you think I was doing?" Menaka replied equally forcefully. "What do you want?"
He walked towards the side of the bathroom where the shower was. He turned the knob and the cold water hit his chest hard.
"I wanted to shower." he responded matter-of-factly.
The water washed over the old watchman's wiry but tight body. He reached for a the soap and started rubbing it over his chest. Menaka and Vimla both stood there naked, looking uncertain. Dara soaped his face and while washing it with one hand held out the soap in another hand.
"Soap my back!" he said.
The two married ladies looked at each other. It wasn't clear whom the instruction was meant for. They both seemed to think it was meant for the other.
"Quick!" Dara said with an edge to his voice. His eyes were still closed under the falling water, and he was looking away from them, holding the soap out.
The maid, habituated to subservience, instantly moved towards him. She took the soap from his hand and started rubbing it on his back.
"Vimla." he said with his eyes closed.
"Yes?" she answered meekly.
"Nothing. I was just guessing it was you." He opened his eyes and turned around, facing her. "I wanted to see which one of you would respond. Whoever did would get rewarded by staying here and showering with me. Whoever didn't would get a task."
"Task?" Menaka asked, a little nervously.
But Dara stayed silent for a minute or so as Vimla moved behind him and started washing the soapy foam off his back. He didn't even look at Menaka, and kept her in anticipation. I could see a smile on Vimla's face.
"Your hands are so rough!" Dara said in a slightly annoyed voice. "Look at memsaab's. So smooth and perfect."
The man was a master at mind games. He was toying with the psyche of these two women who both clearly had strong feelings for him and craved his approval. One minute he built up Vimla and put down Menaka, the other minute, the exact opposite. How does a measly watchman get so conniving? Maybe his military training, I thought. I saw Menaka suppress a shy smile, even at such a minor compliment.
"I have to work with my hands for a living." Vimla bitterly replied. "I'm not some rich memsaab living off her husband's salary."
"Fair enough." Dara said, turning around and embracing Vimla. Their two naked bodies were now tightly wrapped like one as the cold water flowed all over them.
I looked at Menaka's face. There was an obvious flash of jealousy to see the two snuggled like a couple. She turned around and started walking out.
"Wait!" Dara said. "Hear your task first."
"Go to hell." Menaka said, but did stop.
"At least hear me out. It's nothing major. You were going to do it anyway. Your task is to make breakfast for us while we take a nice comfortable shower here."
"Make it yourself!" Menaka countered and walked out of the bathroom. I noticed she had forgotten her phone behind.
She almost stomped to the bedroom and started getting dressed. She first put on regular bra and panties. Then it was interesting to see her be a little uncertain about what to wear. First she reached for a sari and petticoat. She held them in her hand for a while, as if thinking about something. Then she put them away and reached for salwar kameez. Same few moments of thought followed. Finally she decided one something I had rarely seen her wear.
It was one of just a couple of full length household gowns she owned. A lot of women preferred them in the Bombay heat. They covered everything, providing modesty, while also being loose and thin enough to not make women sweat. Menaka always said she hated them because they seemed very old-fashioned and "aunty"like. But here she was, wearing a blue gown.
I had a guess about her rationale. She was still feeling resentful and maybe even shy enough to not be on display after such a long time spent naked or near naked. There was a distinct possibility that someone might ring the bell - a salesman or delivery boy. The gown kept her respectable. At the same time, it was easy enough to just slip off if things got hot and heavy with Dara again. very practical.
Meanwhile in the bathroom, Dara and Vimla were making out naked like horny teenagers. They kept soaping each other and washing it off, relishing the feeling of a shower. Both were too poor to have access to showers otherwise.
Menaka got dressed, straightened her hair and tied it in a bun, and then looking distinctly housewifely, walked out of the bedroom. She stopped by the bathroom for a second, only to overhear the watchman and the maid giggling with each other. And then she went to the kitchen. And started cooking, as ordered by Dara.
Menaka slaved in the kitchen, remaking tea and roasting parathas. Meanwhile in the bathroom, Dara was down on his knees, going down on Vimla as the skinny maid stood under the water. He kept going on and on, bringing her to orgasm after orgasm.
After about fifteen minutes, Menaka got done cooking and carried the food and the tea to the dining table. She looked annoyed that her first extra marital lover and first lesbian lover were still in the bathroom. She went to the door and rapped on it hard while Vimla in the middle of another orgasm.
"Coming!" Dara yelled, over the sound of Vimla's loud groans.
Finally the two of them walked out, drying their bodies with our towels. Dara still looked like he owned the place. Vimla also had a spring in her stride, probably the result of all the orgasms.
"You can get dressed." Dara said to Vimla. She did as was told, but Dara himself, only slipped on his boxer shorts. Menaka looked meaningfully at her lover as he took a seat at the table so scantily clad.
"Smells delicious!" Dara said, reaching for a paratha.
Vimla looked a little uncertain. She picked up her plate but was just standing there. Dara looked at her with his eyebrows raised.
"Should I...sit on the floor?" she nervously asked, looking at Dara and Menaka turn by turn. The question was understandable. In India, domestic help is expected to sit on the floor, not on the furniture.
"It's okay." Menaka grudgingly said, taking a seat opposite Dara.
"Sit on the chair." Dara said, and then chuckling, added, "She was on top of you for so long while she got fucked. I am sure she won't mind you sitting on her precious chairs."
Both ladies blushed at the recollection of the vulgar threesome they had experienced with him.
The three of them starting eating hungrily. Clearly they had built up an appetite after all the sexual exercise. It was such a bizarre sight I was looking at, one that would have been unimaginable just weeks ago. My wife was sitting meekly at our dining table, being treated on par with a lowly maid. And sitting in the chair I usually sat in, wearing just his undies, was this old gurkha watchman, who probably earned less in a year than I did in a week. And yet he was in command of the situation while I sat spying on all this just a couple of minutes away.
"You have to decide a time." Dara said, finishing his first paratha and reaching for another one.
