10-01-2019, 04:45 PM
She was on the third floor, looking at children's clothes, which she loved doing. Just as he saw her, he was standing next to the women's western clothes section. he looked at a few of the dresses and mannequins.
"May I help you, sir?" a smart young saleswoman walked up to him.
"Yes, I need some nice dresses and skirts for...her." he pointed at Mansi who was busy looking at girls' frocks.
"Absolutely, sir. Do you know her size?"
"No, you can just go measure her."
Dutt turned around and started looking at the clothes on display, trying to decide what would look good on Mansi. A little while later, she was next to him, with the saleswoman next to her with a measuring tape in hand.
"Duttsahab." she said in a soft voice.
"Yes, Mansi?"
"Did you tell this lady that you want to buy clothes for me?"
"Yes." he said. "We were talking about it earlier. I think if you have to accompany me to such events, it would be good for you to have some western clothes."
"I am fine with saris." she diffidently said.
"You might be fine with saris. But I am not." he raised his voice a little and she was taken aback.
"Don't I get a say in it?" she asked.
"Tchh, don't create unnecessary drama, Mansi. You saw how those women were dressed. It won't kill you to own a couple of western clothes." he almost scolded.
"Fine." she said, sulking a little. She wasn't too used to arguing with authoritative men.
The saleswoman pulled out the tape and measured Mansi's waist, bust, and hips. She had overheard the entire conversation. She assumed that this young woman was the rich old man's mistress. And he seemed to be calling the shots. So once the measurements were done, she didn't ask the lady as she usually would, but turned to the old man.
"And what dresses would you like ma'am to try, sir?"
Dutt looked around at the clothes. He would have loved nothing more to have Mansi try on something sexy like a tube top or a mini skirt. But he didn't want to push her too much too soon.
"Let's try that pinstripe skirt suit."
"Very good, sir. Please come with me, ma'am."
Mansi walked obediently with the saleswoman who picked up the garments in her size and showed her the trial room. The store's manager, who had a keen eye for customers, recognized a millionaire when he saw one.
"How do you do, sir? Would you like something to drink while you wait? Tea, coffee, cold drink, beer?"
"Beer would be nice." Dutt said. And soon he was holding a big mug of imported German beer.
Dutt sipped the beer and felt like he had waited an eternity for the young housewife to return. After all, she had to take off her sari, petticoat, blouse, and try this unfamiliar clothing on. When she walked out of the trial room uncomfortably, the old man almost felt a twitch in his pants.
It's not like the dress was too revealing or anything. It was a very formal and elegant skirt suit, with the skirt ending slightly below the knees. She was wearing a formal blouse, fully buttoned up, and a jacket. But the fabric hugged Mansi's curves so well, that this was the first time Dutt got a look at how perfectly shaped her body was.
"Gorgeous, isn't it, sir?" the saleswoman asked in her best salesy voice. She was looking forward to a fat commission from this old guy.
"Beautiful!" Dutt agreed.
But Mansi felt very uncomfortable at the way the old man, beer in hand, was staring at her. She was squirming around a little, and said,
"I don't like it much. It seems very..."
"Turn around." Dutt simply said taking a big gulp.
And was delighted when she obeyed. The fabric accentuated her perfectly shaped buttocks even better than he had imagined. They always looked good in a sari, but thinking of them in such well fit contours was delightful.
"Hmm...not bad." Dutt said, doing his best to hide the excitement in his voice. Reena had told him to push Mansi out of her comfort zone. This was perfect.
Mansi was having a bizarre almost out of body experience as she saw herself in a nearby mirror. She could not believe how good she looked. But she also looked like a stranger. It was like watching someone else standing there in that skirt suit, turning around to show a man over twice her age her ass in the tight skirt.
"Should I pack it up, sir?" the saleswoman suggestively asked.
"Not yet. I'd like her to try on a few more colors and patterns."
"This is okay." Mansi tried to protest, but Dutt just waved his hand dismissively.
Why am I unable to say no to what this man is saying, Mansi asked herself in the trial room as she stripped off the pinstripe and tried a beige suit. I could and I should just put my foot down and say, no, I don't want to wear western clothes. He is like an employer, not her master or husband. But despite this mental soliloquy, she changed into the other suit and walked out.
For the next half hour, Dutt chugged beer and Mansi modeled different skirt suits for him. The more clothes she tried, the more comfortable she felt. And the more beer Dutt had, the bolder he felt.
"You don't shave your legs." he noted when she was on the fourth dress. Her perfectly shaped calves looked pretty, but they did have a thin covering of hair, which did not look good with the formal western clothing.
"Why would I?" Mansi asked, a little offended.
"From now on, if you want to wear these clothes, you will need to shave your legs."
Mansi dumbly nodded, and again wondered why she was letting herself be pushed around like this. The saleswoman was noting all this. It was clear to her that the young woman was some kind of a mistress. So when Mansi went to the trial room again, she walked up to Dutt discreetly.
"Excuse me, sir. I was wondering what you think of that dress?" she pointed towards a mannequin.
Dutt saw what she was pointing at. He had noticed it before. It was a tight red mini dress which ended halfway to the knee, was low cut, and had spaghetti straps.
"It might be a little too short for her tastes." he said.
"What about your tastes, sir?" she flirtatiously asked, hoping to maximize her commission.
"I don't think she will even try it on."
"She doesn't have to. I know her size well by now." the girl said. "You can gift it to her as a surprise some other time."
Dutt imagines the curvaceous young housewife in that dress and felt a twitch in his loins. He finished another beer and nodded.
"Alright, we'll get one."
--
Mansi sat in the car looking out the window, wondering why today had unfolded so differently from previous days. Duttsahab, usually so nice and polite, was ordering her around. It was technically true that she was his employee. And he paid her well. But still, it seemed like he was crossing some lines. What amazed Mansi was that she wasn't able to summon the will to say no to him. It's like he had a hold over her that went just beyond the money.
Next to her in the car was the bag of clothes. It had two formal skirt suits that Dutt had bought for her. The price had been so exorbitant, that she thought it would end up eating into her "salary" for a few more days. Dutt had a different bag by his legs, the one with the mini dress. Mansi hadn't asked what was in it and he hadn't told her.
He had downed a few beers in the store. In the limo, he opened another bottle and was sipping it as the car sped towards Borivali. They had been riding in silence since leaving the store. Suddenly, Mansi felt the bags next to her being moved. And Dutt's leg was touching hers. Before she knew it, the big bulky man's arm was on her shoulder. Again, despite herself, she felt a small thrill run up her body.
"What's wrong, Mansi?" Dutt asked in a slightly slurring voice, his face right next to hers. She could smell the beer on his breath.
"Nothing." she said, squirming a little, hoping that he would take his hand away.
"Are you upset?"
"A little."
"Why?"
"Could you...could you please move a little?" she uncomfortably said.
"Okay."
And he moved literally, just a little. He still had his arm around her.
"Don't you like me, Mansi?" he asked in a slightly sulky voice.
"I think you have had too much to drink." she said, finally raising her hand to move his hand away from her shoulder. He moved it so he wasn't touching her but his arm was still on the backrest behind her.
"I like you, Mansi. I like you a lot." he said.
"I like you too, Duttsahab." she felt compelled to say lest she seem rude and cold. And then added. "But as a friend."
"Yes, we are friends." he gently patted her shoulder and then moved away. "If you like, we could be something more. But only if you like."
"What do you mean by something more?" she nervously asked.
Dutt looked at her petrified face and thought carefully about what to say. He didn't want to proceed too fast and scare her away. At the same time, he did want to keep testing her comfort zone. So he started speaking, picking his words carefully.
"See, Mansi, I think you are a wonderful person. Very talented and smart with a lot of potential. But being born where you were and the life you have, the potential hasn't been tapped fully. But I can help. Haven't you find our time so far interesting and fun?"
"May I help you, sir?" a smart young saleswoman walked up to him.
"Yes, I need some nice dresses and skirts for...her." he pointed at Mansi who was busy looking at girls' frocks.
"Absolutely, sir. Do you know her size?"
"No, you can just go measure her."
Dutt turned around and started looking at the clothes on display, trying to decide what would look good on Mansi. A little while later, she was next to him, with the saleswoman next to her with a measuring tape in hand.
"Duttsahab." she said in a soft voice.
"Yes, Mansi?"
"Did you tell this lady that you want to buy clothes for me?"
"Yes." he said. "We were talking about it earlier. I think if you have to accompany me to such events, it would be good for you to have some western clothes."
"I am fine with saris." she diffidently said.
"You might be fine with saris. But I am not." he raised his voice a little and she was taken aback.
"Don't I get a say in it?" she asked.
"Tchh, don't create unnecessary drama, Mansi. You saw how those women were dressed. It won't kill you to own a couple of western clothes." he almost scolded.
"Fine." she said, sulking a little. She wasn't too used to arguing with authoritative men.
The saleswoman pulled out the tape and measured Mansi's waist, bust, and hips. She had overheard the entire conversation. She assumed that this young woman was the rich old man's mistress. And he seemed to be calling the shots. So once the measurements were done, she didn't ask the lady as she usually would, but turned to the old man.
"And what dresses would you like ma'am to try, sir?"
Dutt looked around at the clothes. He would have loved nothing more to have Mansi try on something sexy like a tube top or a mini skirt. But he didn't want to push her too much too soon.
"Let's try that pinstripe skirt suit."
"Very good, sir. Please come with me, ma'am."
Mansi walked obediently with the saleswoman who picked up the garments in her size and showed her the trial room. The store's manager, who had a keen eye for customers, recognized a millionaire when he saw one.
"How do you do, sir? Would you like something to drink while you wait? Tea, coffee, cold drink, beer?"
"Beer would be nice." Dutt said. And soon he was holding a big mug of imported German beer.
Dutt sipped the beer and felt like he had waited an eternity for the young housewife to return. After all, she had to take off her sari, petticoat, blouse, and try this unfamiliar clothing on. When she walked out of the trial room uncomfortably, the old man almost felt a twitch in his pants.
It's not like the dress was too revealing or anything. It was a very formal and elegant skirt suit, with the skirt ending slightly below the knees. She was wearing a formal blouse, fully buttoned up, and a jacket. But the fabric hugged Mansi's curves so well, that this was the first time Dutt got a look at how perfectly shaped her body was.
"Gorgeous, isn't it, sir?" the saleswoman asked in her best salesy voice. She was looking forward to a fat commission from this old guy.
"Beautiful!" Dutt agreed.
But Mansi felt very uncomfortable at the way the old man, beer in hand, was staring at her. She was squirming around a little, and said,
"I don't like it much. It seems very..."
"Turn around." Dutt simply said taking a big gulp.
And was delighted when she obeyed. The fabric accentuated her perfectly shaped buttocks even better than he had imagined. They always looked good in a sari, but thinking of them in such well fit contours was delightful.
"Hmm...not bad." Dutt said, doing his best to hide the excitement in his voice. Reena had told him to push Mansi out of her comfort zone. This was perfect.
Mansi was having a bizarre almost out of body experience as she saw herself in a nearby mirror. She could not believe how good she looked. But she also looked like a stranger. It was like watching someone else standing there in that skirt suit, turning around to show a man over twice her age her ass in the tight skirt.
"Should I pack it up, sir?" the saleswoman suggestively asked.
"Not yet. I'd like her to try on a few more colors and patterns."
"This is okay." Mansi tried to protest, but Dutt just waved his hand dismissively.
Why am I unable to say no to what this man is saying, Mansi asked herself in the trial room as she stripped off the pinstripe and tried a beige suit. I could and I should just put my foot down and say, no, I don't want to wear western clothes. He is like an employer, not her master or husband. But despite this mental soliloquy, she changed into the other suit and walked out.
For the next half hour, Dutt chugged beer and Mansi modeled different skirt suits for him. The more clothes she tried, the more comfortable she felt. And the more beer Dutt had, the bolder he felt.
"You don't shave your legs." he noted when she was on the fourth dress. Her perfectly shaped calves looked pretty, but they did have a thin covering of hair, which did not look good with the formal western clothing.
"Why would I?" Mansi asked, a little offended.
"From now on, if you want to wear these clothes, you will need to shave your legs."
Mansi dumbly nodded, and again wondered why she was letting herself be pushed around like this. The saleswoman was noting all this. It was clear to her that the young woman was some kind of a mistress. So when Mansi went to the trial room again, she walked up to Dutt discreetly.
"Excuse me, sir. I was wondering what you think of that dress?" she pointed towards a mannequin.
Dutt saw what she was pointing at. He had noticed it before. It was a tight red mini dress which ended halfway to the knee, was low cut, and had spaghetti straps.
"It might be a little too short for her tastes." he said.
"What about your tastes, sir?" she flirtatiously asked, hoping to maximize her commission.
"I don't think she will even try it on."
"She doesn't have to. I know her size well by now." the girl said. "You can gift it to her as a surprise some other time."
Dutt imagines the curvaceous young housewife in that dress and felt a twitch in his loins. He finished another beer and nodded.
"Alright, we'll get one."
--
Mansi sat in the car looking out the window, wondering why today had unfolded so differently from previous days. Duttsahab, usually so nice and polite, was ordering her around. It was technically true that she was his employee. And he paid her well. But still, it seemed like he was crossing some lines. What amazed Mansi was that she wasn't able to summon the will to say no to him. It's like he had a hold over her that went just beyond the money.
Next to her in the car was the bag of clothes. It had two formal skirt suits that Dutt had bought for her. The price had been so exorbitant, that she thought it would end up eating into her "salary" for a few more days. Dutt had a different bag by his legs, the one with the mini dress. Mansi hadn't asked what was in it and he hadn't told her.
He had downed a few beers in the store. In the limo, he opened another bottle and was sipping it as the car sped towards Borivali. They had been riding in silence since leaving the store. Suddenly, Mansi felt the bags next to her being moved. And Dutt's leg was touching hers. Before she knew it, the big bulky man's arm was on her shoulder. Again, despite herself, she felt a small thrill run up her body.
"What's wrong, Mansi?" Dutt asked in a slightly slurring voice, his face right next to hers. She could smell the beer on his breath.
"Nothing." she said, squirming a little, hoping that he would take his hand away.
"Are you upset?"
"A little."
"Why?"
"Could you...could you please move a little?" she uncomfortably said.
"Okay."
And he moved literally, just a little. He still had his arm around her.
"Don't you like me, Mansi?" he asked in a slightly sulky voice.
"I think you have had too much to drink." she said, finally raising her hand to move his hand away from her shoulder. He moved it so he wasn't touching her but his arm was still on the backrest behind her.
"I like you, Mansi. I like you a lot." he said.
"I like you too, Duttsahab." she felt compelled to say lest she seem rude and cold. And then added. "But as a friend."
"Yes, we are friends." he gently patted her shoulder and then moved away. "If you like, we could be something more. But only if you like."
"What do you mean by something more?" she nervously asked.
Dutt looked at her petrified face and thought carefully about what to say. He didn't want to proceed too fast and scare her away. At the same time, he did want to keep testing her comfort zone. So he started speaking, picking his words carefully.
"See, Mansi, I think you are a wonderful person. Very talented and smart with a lot of potential. But being born where you were and the life you have, the potential hasn't been tapped fully. But I can help. Haven't you find our time so far interesting and fun?"
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