When Sunita saw the postman come up the walkway, she had no premonition that her safe, contented little world was about to collapse at her feet. Despite the bleak February skies, the dark- haired young woman's spirits were sunny that fateful morning. Humming a carefree tune, Sunita dried her hands on the kitchen towel and went to get the day's mail. The voluptuous beauty felt only mild curiosity when she saw the envelope addressed to Mrs. Sunita. Probably just some ad, she thought, placing the rest of the mail on top of the television set.
It wasn't until she tore open the envelope, and its contents spilled out, that a horrified gasp escaped her throat. Sunita's hand flew to her mouth and her face flushed crimson. Her heart hammered like that of a captive bird as she clutched the letter with trembling hands.
DO YOU WANT YOUR HUSBAND TO SEE THESE? the scrawled message read. THINK ABOUT IT, SWEET SUNITA. BECAUSE YOU'LL SOON BE HEARING FROM ME AGAIN!
A strangled sob tore from her throat as she bent to retrieve the photographs that had fallen to the floor. Pictures Sunita had hoped, desperately, that she would never see again, that she had tried to shove into some dark and distant corner of her mind. Still, there had always been that nagging fear that someday, they would turn up again to threaten her happiness. As Sunita lifted the lurid photos, her hands trembled, for she knew that that dreaded someday had arrived! The sordid past she had tried to escape had finally caught up with her, threatening to rob her of all that she held so dear. Her beloved husband Vishal and their precious daughter Jaya.
Vishal loved Sunita, trusted her, held her on a pedestal. "Meree pyaree Sunita," he often whispered as he held her close. "Tumhare jaise patni milke mujhe bahut kushee hai!"
Every time Vishal uttered those words, Sunita felt a wave of guilt ripple through her, for she was not as sweet and innocent as her husband imagined. And the tall, shapely brunette whispered a silent prayer that her past would remain buried. She feared that Vishal would be hopelessly disillusioned if he ever learned the ugly truth, that the wife he held in such high esteem had posed for pornographic photos before they were married! Sunita had agonized countless times over the possibility of Vishal's discovery of her sordid past, wondering what would happen if that fearful day should ever arrive. And she always came up with the same frightening answer.
"He'll divorce me," she whispered to the empty room, her hand clutching her constricted throat. "And take my darling Jaya away from me, declare me an unfit mother!" The mere thought of that occurring made Sunita's lips tremble and her green eyes fill with tears. She loved her husband and daughter with all her heart. They were Sunita's whole world now. They had completely filled the emptiness that had settled after her mother's death five years before. Sunita had not really begun to live until she met Vishal. The four years of their marriage, despite its problems, had been the happiest Sunita had ever known. And little Jaya was the precious living product of their love. The twenty-three-year-old felt her heart wrench with pain as she clutched the anonymous letter in her shaking hand, for she could not bear to lose either one of them.
Who could have sent the letter? she wondered, her mouth dry as she stared at the lewd poses she had participated in before she met Vishal. Who had finally unveiled the ugly truth about her, unearthed the dark secret that Sunita had tried, all these years, to keep hidden? That she had needed money so desperately during the final months of her mother's lengthy illness, that she had reluctantly agreed to perform lewd sex acts in front of a camera.
Sunita had not wanted to resort to pornographic modeling, but she had no other choice. Her modest secretarial salary just would not stretch to cover the skyrocketing bills resulting from her mother's illness. When she had tried out for fashion modeling, tall and curvaceous Sunita was told that she was not at all suitable for modeling clothes, for her eye-catching figure was far too voluptuous.
Not long afterward, Sunita saw the newspaper advertisement for a photographer's model. MUST BE ATTRACTIVE AND HAVE GOOD FIGURE, the ad stated. Sunita answered the ad eagerly. When she heard how well the job paid, her spirits soared. Especially when the photographer assured her that she was perfect for the type of modeling he needed. The new medicine that the doctor had prescribed for her mother's pain was so expensive that Sunita worried about how she was going to manage to have it refilled. There were no other relatives to turn to for financial assistance, and her mother was solely dependent on Sunita. Landing this lucrative modeling job was the perfect answer to her financial problems.
It was not until she actually showed up for her first session before the camera, that Sunita discovered just what type of modeling the job entailed. At first, she was tempted to walk out and never return. The things she was expected to do made her cheeks flush crimson. Then she remembered, with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, that she had just received another lofty medical bill the day before for laboratory tests her mother had required. To add to her problems, she was almost out of the expensive pain-killing drug that her mother needed to lessen the agony of the dreaded killer disease ravishing her wasted body. And Sunita knew, with a heavy feeling of resignation, that she had no choice in the matter. She needed money desperately and this was the only way she could get it. I'll do it for mother, she told herself as she started to remove her clothing. And no one need ever know!
That had been five years ago. Death had claimed her mother just a few months after Sunita had begun her secret, part-time modeling. When her mother died, Sunita quit her extra job immediately. With her mother's insurance money, she was able to clear up the remainder of the staggering medical bills. Trying to put what she had done out of necessity out of her mind, Sunita never stepped in front of the camera again. She was not proud of what she had done, but Sunita knew that it had been unavoidable. She would do it again, if she had the opportunity to go backward in time, because she received some small comfort from the knowledge that her beloved mother had suffered far less because of the money Sunita had earned from her secret and sordid job. It's all in the past now, Sunita tried to tell herself, as she concentrated solely on her secretarial position. And no one need ever know!
Six months later, she had met Vishal and he more than compensated for the unhappiness she'd known during the trying time of her mother's terminal illness. After a whirlwind courtship, they became husband and wife. Now, after caring for her mother for so long, Sunita finally had someone to look after her. Six years her senior, Vishal treated her as though she were made of spun glass. He proved to be everything a woman could ask for in a husband. Well, almost everything.
The only quality really missing from their relationship was sexual fulfillment. Although Sunita found her two-hundred-pound, six-foot husband extremely attractive, something was definitely lacking in their marriage bed. Vishal was a gentle, considerate lover, but not very demanding or adventuresome. He treated Sunita like some fragile china doll, and somehow Sunita longed for more. Although she hated herself for her lustful thoughts, the pretty woman found herself thinking, longingly, about some of the lewd sexual activities she'd engaged in during her brief, secret modeling career. The men who were her partners had been strangers to her, but still, Sunita recalled with ripples of both excitement and shame, she had responded to their touch. She had been instructed to portray pleasure in front of the camera and Sunita did as she was told. Only she knew that the response she displayed was often genuine, that she secretly enjoyed the lustful acts she was performing for money.
I must be oversexed, Sunita often thought, her cheeks burning with shame.