Maid servants.
Now why would any wife in her right mind leave them and the husband behind? Alone, at home, while they cavort away to do god knows what (probably shopping).
It is as if a wife wishes to test her husband; in all his flaws, or does it reflect rather on her ambiguous opinion of the lowly house-maid?
Ramlal had a dusky maid servant, all wrapped up in a saree. In her mid thirties, a mother of two and hard working; a bread earning, stolid member of society.
He has watched her through veiled eyes; scrubbing away at the floor, her ample behind rotating endlessly in seemingly hypnotic, yet profoundly erotic patterns. She had that kind of body that was ample and round, just bordering on the fence of plump, yet inciting desire none the less.
As I have mentioned before - 'a bread earner' and 'stolid member of society'. Add to that 'humble hardworking housewife'. And as you would imagine, Ramlal wanted to despoil her in ways unimaginable.
Now let's not get carried away. Such things never happen to Ramlal. For one, his wife is always around. He thought it beneath his stature to go chasing after the help. But he couldn't help thinking, that he owned her in some way. He did not think of her as a slave, but he earned the money that kept her family fed, and in return he felt that she owed him something back.
What it was however he could not put his finger on. At nights his hands clawed empty space, for a certain dusky figure, his mind filled with thoughts of illicit trysts that he knew could never be.
Now hold that thought. This is important and you will soon know why.
One quiet Sunday, when you could hear the leaves rustling in the wind outside, Ramlal was alone at home. His wife had bid him goodbye and had gone away to a party of females only. He was alone with his thoughts.
The door bell rang. He opened the door and was surprised to see Susheela (the maid) standing there.
"Hello Susheela," he said, in the native tongue.
"Hello sir," she answered hesitantly.
"Why are you here Susheela, on a Sunday?" Ramlal asked.
"Sir I am on leave tomorrow, so I wanted to finish up some work today. Is madam there?"
"No," he said," frowning," madam just left."
She hesitated again before replying - "Can I come in sir?"
"Of course, Susheela of course..."
He opened the door wide and invited her in. A faint stirring passed through him, as she brushed past the entrance. He was alone in the house with the naukar (servant). But being who he was he held such thoughts back.
If you watched her walk you would think that she was a proud matron, with her sashaying hips. But that was just the way the lower class walked. He had once thought that the sashaying of her hips was to his benefit.
Foolishness.
Time and maturity had taught him otherwise. But a part of him held on to his shrewd suspicions.
He followed her with his leery eyes, until that desirable behind disappeared into the kitchen. Sighing he retired to his room upstairs.
How he wished then that his life was one long porn movie. In the porn movie, he would have been eight inches into his servant by now. But reality cut through his sexual reverie, as it always does.
A while later, he was down stairs again, as he could not resist himself. He watched her work at the kitchen. Her smooth back and bare midriff caught his taut attention. He loved watching her when she didn't know she was being watched.
He would stand stock-still for long moments, staring at his fuckable servant, with aching desire.
If she were to turn then she would have seen Ramlal, in all his sexual repression. She would have seen the unrestrained desire in his eyes; she would have seen a hint of something else as well, a primal need to make his wants happen.
Alas, she did not. The servant could feel her master's eyes on her, as she had many times. But he would do nothing, she knew. It was his nature to control himself. A sly smile split her lips. She was going to use this.
She felt rather than saw her master turning away.
"Sir..." she ventured, and he turned to her.
A small bead of sweat, trailed down his temple as he turned. There was guilt in his eyes, mixed with shame, and a slowly ebbing desire. She would use all of these.
He knew he had been caught watching. His pulse quickened.
Susheela turned pleading, beseeching eyes on her master, yet smiling in her mind.
"Sir, I am ashamed to ask you this," said Susheela eyes furtively shifting to the floor.
"No, no, go ahead."
"Sir I am not able to pay my son's tuition fees in school and what my husband earns is not enough."
"Just ask madam, she will give you an advance." replied Ramlal in an off-handed way.
"Sir I have already taken money from madam."
He raised an eyebrow at this, and was blatantly ignored by the servant.
A moment of silence.
"Sir if you can just help me this once."
"'Once'? This would be the second time wouldn't it?"
Susheela looked up once more with imploring eyes.
"Madam has already told me not to give you any more money." replied Ramlal firmly.
She did not expect this tact from Ramlal.
She was wringing her hands now, desperation, apparently, making her chew on her lips. He felt a small pang of pity for the poor creature.
"Please don't repeat this Susheela," he said, handing over a crisp note.
"Thank you sir, thank you so much. Please sir, you also please don't tell madam sir." she said.
Touching the note reverently to her forehead and making a small bow, the result of which had her breasts spilling forward in her blouse, her mangalsutra (marriage necklace) angling forward seductively, from where it nestled in the crevice between her ample mounds.
Ramlal's body trembled. He wanted to take her right then and there. If he wanted to he was sure she would have no choice. But again caution won over passion.
Ramlal sent away his servant, and even as he watched her figure grow smaller with the distance, he regretted not having taken action. After all had she not just offered herself? Or were his sexually saturated thoughts mistakenly translating her every movement as some form of sexual invitation?
But the moment had passed and the master did not think on it.
A few weeks passed, and on a similar Sunday, Ramlal again found Susheela standing at his door. He grunted his surprise. True to his word he had said nothing to his wife, about his little loan.
The one thing found resolute in the lower caste is stupidity. Mix that with a little bit of greed and desperation, and you have it all laid out. There was this ever present need to somehow get the better of your betters.
Susheela felt in her uneducated mind that she had done just that. She had managed to wring some money from, Ramlal by playing the sad house-maid, who was down on her luck. She had cleverly (in her mind) manipulated her master, showing just a little bit of skin, a small smile, a flash of belly, all completely innocuous of course.
A mans desire never left him, and it took a woman to know this with certainty. She would make use of that again.
Let us understand Susheela here, she was an honest woman, a faithful wife, and a loving mother. Emboldened by her success, she innocently took too many steps forward too fast.
She fatally underestimated her master's tumult of emotions.
Here was Susheela, at her master's place with the same excuse as last time. Her timing was impeccable. His wife had just left.
Just like last time.
The same reason followed - she was on leave the next day so could she just, work today?
At the end, there was the same beseeching for money. Even the same reason! The only things that changed were her sexual innuendos.
A cold anger was spreading its tendrils through Ramlal's senses. Anger rarely brings clarity, but in Ramlal's case it did, as now the anger dispelled his desire and he thought with his brain instead of his cock.
The odd confluence of events did not escape him.
Did this woman take him for a fool? Did she really think her foolish idea would work? She obviously knew he was interested in fucking her. That much he had gleaned from her subservient bows, her pleading doe like eyes, her hinting gestures.
What further stoked his ire was the sudden realization, that she in all probability did not really desire him sexually. She was just using him to get her money.
All this was to distract and entice him. She was making adequate use of his pity. She was banking on the fact that he would never harm her or use her in some untoward way.
Beware woman. Beware the wolf in sheep's clothing.
'Ware the terrible anger of a patient man.
A slow plan was brewing in his head, unbidden. Cold justice would prevail.
As he handed her another note of money, she bowed once again. So she did not witness the carnal, baleful regard of her master's eyes.
She did not realize that by taking what he had given her, she had just handed over her body and soul to her master.
As she excited the house, his eyes fastened with frightening acuity on her swinging hips all the way to gate. He would soon control everything, even the way those hips swayed and when and how they swayed, and to whom they swayed! Such would be the extent of his retribution.
Believe it or not, these events happened yet again. But this time Ramlal was prepared. Instead of waiting for her to make her request, he handed her the money initially. If Susheela registered surprise at this she did not show it. Needless to say, again the wife was conveniently missing.
Suspicions should have spread through her thoughts like wild fire. But we tend to relax with victory and with each victory grow more placid, so it was with Susheela. She continued her work in the kitchen blissfully unaware that a trap had already been sprung around her.
She was interrupted in the midst of her work.
Ramlal watched her for a moment savoring her. There's is nothing in this world that tastes sweeter than forbidden fruit. And Ramlal was going to taste of its sweet nectar, suckle in the sweet juices, of this ripe dusky fruit.
He entered the kitchen, soundlessly closing the door behind him.
"Susheela," he said pleasantly.
She turned slowly, a bead of sweat running down her back, the kitchen being pleasantly warm.
