Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

Prakash decides it is time. 

He has waited long enough. It is after six in the evening, and the garage is almost empty. Just a few stragglers left, no doubt  burning the midnight oil in the office, the poor schmucks.


He is feeling tired, but also angry. It has been over thirty-six hours, perhaps more, since he last slept. He is still angry and resentful about the way his father and brothers have treated him. His thoughts have been churning, and if he slept at all, it must’ve been no more than a few minutes here and there on the bus. 

Now, all he can think about is his next steps. Swati. 

He had retuned to the chawl in the morning, from the bus stand, changed into his uniform and headed straight to work. Management is very strict with attendance. 

The day has been a drag, not that sitting in a kiosk all day is exactly fun. It is all he has been able to do to stay awake. There have been a couple of times when he’s had to do something, exit his kiosk and help people, but he hardly remembers any details. 

But now, it is end of shift and he has had enough. He is feeling more awake after a cup of tea that the friendly boy from the tea shop brings every evening. 

He is sharp, eager for the next steps. He is ready to go see Swati, the bitch. 

And this time, he is determined to succeed.

He strolls around to the front of the building and through the lobby. He walks past the guard in the front who waves a languid hand at him, and returns to his phone. Prakash recognizes him, but doesn’t know him. 

There is a card reader on the elevator bank. Now for the test. He tries his own card, and the light remains stubbornly red. He knows this because he has tried it before, but he tries again anyway. He knows he doesn’t have the clearance to enter the main building. The stairs are likewise guarded by the same security system. Again, he knows this because he had tried. 

Two weeks ago, he had decided that he was going to see the show that so far Ramesh was the only spectator of, and it hadn’t worked.
 
This time however, he has a new weapon, something he hopes will be the Rambaan, the panacea for the current situation. 

He has only a foggy idea of how the security system is set up. He has no notion of the fact that every entry, whether successful or not is logged in the computer system, to be reviewed at leisure by whoever wanted to.

He pulls out the Systems Engineer card from his pocket. 

He wipes the card on his pants leg to make sure there is no dust on it, and then swipes the card. 

He waits an interminable moment. 

Then the light turns green, and there is a click of the lock mechanism opening. 

The elevator doors open, and he walks in with a sense of relief. He has a moment of panic as the elevator doors take forever to close, but close they do, and soon he is on his way.

#

Inder quickly checks the logs of who has entered the building in the last half hour. 

There are a couple of failed attempts by a certain Prakash Majhi, a garage security guy. 

He frowns. The man should know better. He has no business in the building and therefore should not be even trying to get in. Curious. He remembers the man. This was the same guy that was talking to Ramesh the other day. He has no strong memory of the man other than that. He looks at the man’s photo on his screen.

An ordinary face, thin mustache, vestiges of pimples. The man has a few days worth of stubble on his cheeks, although they are sparse. The man can’t probably grow a full beard, even if he tried. There is nothing else in the face that Inder can draw any conclusion about. Except that the man is probably not very educated. There seems to be an animal cunning in the man’s eyes, but perhaps he is mining too much from a headshot taken by HR at the time of hiring.

He turns to the log again. A systems engineer called Prashant Kakkar has entered elevator C, it seems. His log in came right after Prakash. They must have come in right after each other. What is Kakkar doing here at this time? He pulls Kakkar’s file. The man is a consultant, probably comes in once a month or so. 

Hmm, a mystery.

In the meantime, there is some action going on in the conference room. The man has just entered the room. It doesn’t look like Kakkar, and yet, his security system tells him it should be the man. Then it clicks. 

Just about a week, perhaps two weeks ago, he signed off on a replacement card, and it must’ve been Kakkar. He has forgotten to cancel the earlier card. Prakash must’ve found the card somewhere and that’s what he is using.