11-02-2019, 01:11 PM
Servant: But Madam let me tell you… Wait one second, let me come close to the door.
There was silence for a moment and then I heard his voice as if just beside my shoulder. I realized he was glued to the toilet door and was also talking in a low husky voice.
Servant: Madam, I am telling you a secret. If my Seth-ji had seen you as what I saw, he would not let you go easily. He does not have a good character. He might be disabled, but very cunning. Madam, please be careful.
He halted briefly.
Servant: Even Shilpa didi wears very little clothes in her room, but still not like you Madam. Aap to bilkul nangi nikli bathroom se!
I had no words to reply and stood at the other side of the door with my lips half open to say something, but I could not verbalize anything in shame.
Servant: Madam, you still tried to cover yourself seeing me, but Shilpa didi does not even care to cover her in front of me! The girl is spoilt already. What more I can say being the servant of the house.
I gathered some courage and feebly expressed a couple of words. But how long will I continue like this standing within the toilet I wondered.
Me: I see.
Servant: I am telling you Madam, but don’t tell anybody. Countless number of times I have seen Shilpa didi lying on bed not wearing a dress.
Me: What?
Servant: I mean she was not wearing a salwar or a nighty, but she wore only a brassiere and a skirt Madam. I wipe the floor and she remains on bed in that fashion. On same days, when I clean the toilet, she comes up to give me instructions. You know wearing what Madam?
He paused and probably meant I should ask him. I was getting some encouragement hearing Shilpa’s stories, which was surely only out of my womanly virtues, otherwise in this state it was rather impossible to concentrate on anything else, but to save my dignity.
Me: What?
Servant: Madam, didi had on her body a short top and just a chaddi like thing, what the girls in the city wear below their skirt. Time and again I forget the name. Madam you were also holding it in your hand. What is its name? I cannot remember it at all.
Me: I can understand. You don’t have to name it.
Servant: No, no Madam. Tell me once. I forget its name particularly. Actually one day my wife also told me that she wants to wear this below her ghagra, but I objected. These are all city styles. Madam? It starts with “P”, isn’t it? Pa… pa… ?
I had to tell him and stop this pa… pa… It was so annoyingly embarrassing.
Me: Panty.
Servant: Yes, yes Madam. Panty. I cannot remember its name I do not know why.
I was thinking that now I should ask him again to close the door so that I can get out of the toilet comfortably, but he was talking nonstop.
Servant: But Madam, it is such a small piece of dress that I wonder why you people at all wear it? You know Madam my Sethani-ji also wears it. When she gives it for a wash, I cannot stop laughing.
Me: Why?
I was slowly starting to take pleasures out of this narration and almost out of reflex action asked “why”, which the next moment I realized could have been avoided as the reply was very obvious.
Servant: You must have seen my Sethani-ji Madam. What a gaand she has! What would this little thing cover Madam? You tell me - na gaand, na choot!
I was shocked to hear such slang terms so directly and casually spoken to me and stood behind closed door speechless. I tried to console my mind by thinking he being a lower class man he must be used to talk such slang. I tried to ignore it, though honestly hearing those words from a male mouth made me feel tight and unknowingly my fingers reached skirt and rested over my ‘choot’!
But when I thought of the reality, I was feeling rather ashamed and irritated that I was tolerating such language from an unknown man, that too a low class person, the servant of the house. In our residence when I came after my marriage, there are fortunately no male servants, but before my marriage in my father’s house there was one, but never ever did I hear such direct things from him in colloquial chats. Though his language was okay, but his attitude was not. I distinctly remember he trying to grope my body when he used to bring me from my college in the hand-pulled rickshaw. I was not a small girl then, I was in Class IX or X, and could very well sense what he was up to, but could never gather the courage to protest as he was there in our house for a long time.
The servant class is like that only I thought and tried to ignore this man’s vulgar words, as I used to ignore my parental servant’s groping when I was a teenager. Now I had to come out, but as I looked down upon me I was looking disgracefully sexy in this combination of towel and skirt and if any member of the house sees me in this state would certainly think very wrongly against me. So I again decided to ask him to close the door.
Me: Have you closed the door?
Servant: No Madam. I will close it right now.
I heard the noise of the room door closing and felt somewhat relieved.
Servant: Madam I have closed the door, but how would you come out? All your clothes are on the bed!
Me: That’s none of your concern.
Servant: Madam, will you come out in the same manner as you came out earlier? I must thank God.
Me: What rubbish! What do you mean?
I lost my patience at this nonsense question and opened the latch of the toilet door and came out. I for the first time looked with proper concentration to this man. He was wearing a blue shirt and a white dhoti, dark complexioned but well built, ageing nearing 40. He had the same servant-cutting looks in his face. I noticed the man’s eyes as if lit up and he was not looking at my face but staring directly at my sexily clad matured figure. The look was so hungry and shameless that I had to lower my eyelids in uneasiness. The skirt was rather tight on my fleshy thighs and I could not walk properly, moreover I was holding with my left hand to the skirt at my waist, as the button could not be closed due to my wide waistline.
Servant: Ya Maila! Madam you are looking like Mamta Kulkarni.
I ignored his words and walked towards the bed where my sari was resting. I was aware that my back was fully naked and the loose bra strap was hanging there and so I tried to walk avoiding to display my back towards this man. But the whole scene changed for me into a hell within the blink of an eye.
Servant: Where are you going Rani?
The man jumped in front of me hindering my way towards the bed. I was so taken by surprise at his approach that my skirt almost slipped from my left hand and I lowered my eyes for a moment to gather it properly and the bastard took that advantage and simply snatched the towel off my breasts making my boobs exposed again, though this time being partly covered in Shilpa’s bra.
______________________________
There was silence for a moment and then I heard his voice as if just beside my shoulder. I realized he was glued to the toilet door and was also talking in a low husky voice.
Servant: Madam, I am telling you a secret. If my Seth-ji had seen you as what I saw, he would not let you go easily. He does not have a good character. He might be disabled, but very cunning. Madam, please be careful.
He halted briefly.
Servant: Even Shilpa didi wears very little clothes in her room, but still not like you Madam. Aap to bilkul nangi nikli bathroom se!
I had no words to reply and stood at the other side of the door with my lips half open to say something, but I could not verbalize anything in shame.
Servant: Madam, you still tried to cover yourself seeing me, but Shilpa didi does not even care to cover her in front of me! The girl is spoilt already. What more I can say being the servant of the house.
I gathered some courage and feebly expressed a couple of words. But how long will I continue like this standing within the toilet I wondered.
Me: I see.
Servant: I am telling you Madam, but don’t tell anybody. Countless number of times I have seen Shilpa didi lying on bed not wearing a dress.
Me: What?
Servant: I mean she was not wearing a salwar or a nighty, but she wore only a brassiere and a skirt Madam. I wipe the floor and she remains on bed in that fashion. On same days, when I clean the toilet, she comes up to give me instructions. You know wearing what Madam?
He paused and probably meant I should ask him. I was getting some encouragement hearing Shilpa’s stories, which was surely only out of my womanly virtues, otherwise in this state it was rather impossible to concentrate on anything else, but to save my dignity.
Me: What?
Servant: Madam, didi had on her body a short top and just a chaddi like thing, what the girls in the city wear below their skirt. Time and again I forget the name. Madam you were also holding it in your hand. What is its name? I cannot remember it at all.
Me: I can understand. You don’t have to name it.
Servant: No, no Madam. Tell me once. I forget its name particularly. Actually one day my wife also told me that she wants to wear this below her ghagra, but I objected. These are all city styles. Madam? It starts with “P”, isn’t it? Pa… pa… ?
I had to tell him and stop this pa… pa… It was so annoyingly embarrassing.
Me: Panty.
Servant: Yes, yes Madam. Panty. I cannot remember its name I do not know why.
I was thinking that now I should ask him again to close the door so that I can get out of the toilet comfortably, but he was talking nonstop.
Servant: But Madam, it is such a small piece of dress that I wonder why you people at all wear it? You know Madam my Sethani-ji also wears it. When she gives it for a wash, I cannot stop laughing.
Me: Why?
I was slowly starting to take pleasures out of this narration and almost out of reflex action asked “why”, which the next moment I realized could have been avoided as the reply was very obvious.
Servant: You must have seen my Sethani-ji Madam. What a gaand she has! What would this little thing cover Madam? You tell me - na gaand, na choot!
I was shocked to hear such slang terms so directly and casually spoken to me and stood behind closed door speechless. I tried to console my mind by thinking he being a lower class man he must be used to talk such slang. I tried to ignore it, though honestly hearing those words from a male mouth made me feel tight and unknowingly my fingers reached skirt and rested over my ‘choot’!
But when I thought of the reality, I was feeling rather ashamed and irritated that I was tolerating such language from an unknown man, that too a low class person, the servant of the house. In our residence when I came after my marriage, there are fortunately no male servants, but before my marriage in my father’s house there was one, but never ever did I hear such direct things from him in colloquial chats. Though his language was okay, but his attitude was not. I distinctly remember he trying to grope my body when he used to bring me from my college in the hand-pulled rickshaw. I was not a small girl then, I was in Class IX or X, and could very well sense what he was up to, but could never gather the courage to protest as he was there in our house for a long time.
The servant class is like that only I thought and tried to ignore this man’s vulgar words, as I used to ignore my parental servant’s groping when I was a teenager. Now I had to come out, but as I looked down upon me I was looking disgracefully sexy in this combination of towel and skirt and if any member of the house sees me in this state would certainly think very wrongly against me. So I again decided to ask him to close the door.
Me: Have you closed the door?
Servant: No Madam. I will close it right now.
I heard the noise of the room door closing and felt somewhat relieved.
Servant: Madam I have closed the door, but how would you come out? All your clothes are on the bed!
Me: That’s none of your concern.
Servant: Madam, will you come out in the same manner as you came out earlier? I must thank God.
Me: What rubbish! What do you mean?
I lost my patience at this nonsense question and opened the latch of the toilet door and came out. I for the first time looked with proper concentration to this man. He was wearing a blue shirt and a white dhoti, dark complexioned but well built, ageing nearing 40. He had the same servant-cutting looks in his face. I noticed the man’s eyes as if lit up and he was not looking at my face but staring directly at my sexily clad matured figure. The look was so hungry and shameless that I had to lower my eyelids in uneasiness. The skirt was rather tight on my fleshy thighs and I could not walk properly, moreover I was holding with my left hand to the skirt at my waist, as the button could not be closed due to my wide waistline.
Servant: Ya Maila! Madam you are looking like Mamta Kulkarni.
I ignored his words and walked towards the bed where my sari was resting. I was aware that my back was fully naked and the loose bra strap was hanging there and so I tried to walk avoiding to display my back towards this man. But the whole scene changed for me into a hell within the blink of an eye.
Servant: Where are you going Rani?
The man jumped in front of me hindering my way towards the bed. I was so taken by surprise at his approach that my skirt almost slipped from my left hand and I lowered my eyes for a moment to gather it properly and the bastard took that advantage and simply snatched the towel off my breasts making my boobs exposed again, though this time being partly covered in Shilpa’s bra.
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