29-12-2020, 11:40 AM
Next day at lunch I did not see Abida. 'Where is Abida?' I asked.
'I bet she is with Mr. Swami finishing an important assignment' Neha giggled.
Meera grinned broadly and suggested, 'Let us start our lunch. She won't be long. She can join us later'.
'Randhir did you like the room Meera showed you yesterday?' Neha asked.
'Oh Neha I am very thankful to Meera. The room is really excellent' I replied.
'Randy I have brought some special Kheer (milk pudding) for you'.
'Randy? Since when have you started calling Randhir Randy? Neha asked looking suspiciously at me. I shrugged without replying. Getting no reply from me Neha turned to Meera.
'From now. Now start eating' She replied getting irritated.
At this point Abida joined us, 'I am sorry. I am late but Mr. Swami asked me to help him finish an important assignment' she said, 'oh I see kheer. Who has brought it? I love kheer'.
'It is for Randy and not for you or me' Neha replied sarcastically.
'Randy? Now who is this Randy' Abida asked.
'Meera calls Randhir Randy' Neha clarified pointing towards me.
'Why not? Randy is a short form of Randhir. I like it. May I also call you Randy?' Abida inquired.
'Why not? Be my guest' I replied.
During lunch Neha was very quiet. I noticed that she was preoccupied with her thoughts and in between she would glance suspiciously at Meera. The name Randy stuck to me like a leach. Soon everyone in the company was calling me Randy including the MD and Mr. Swami.
Meera came to my apartment twice a week. We fucked like hell and enjoyed ourselves. She stocked my kitchenette with the basic essentials and gave me cooking lessons. I even bought a cookery book. I wrote and requested my mother to send me recipes of the dishes I used to enjoy at home.
My mother was very amused but sent them to me adding that one day she jokingly said to my father, 'Father your son is learning to cook. It is time that he got married'.
'Saraswati I think so too. I will start looking for a suitable girl for him' my father had replied seriously.
On the days when I was alone in the evenings I tried out new dishes, which I gave Meera to eat for her verdict. Many a times I took them to the office. One afternoon at lunch Abida said giggling, 'Randy now that you are such a good cook you should think of getting married'.
'I bet she is with Mr. Swami finishing an important assignment' Neha giggled.
Meera grinned broadly and suggested, 'Let us start our lunch. She won't be long. She can join us later'.
'Randhir did you like the room Meera showed you yesterday?' Neha asked.
'Oh Neha I am very thankful to Meera. The room is really excellent' I replied.
'Randy I have brought some special Kheer (milk pudding) for you'.
'Randy? Since when have you started calling Randhir Randy? Neha asked looking suspiciously at me. I shrugged without replying. Getting no reply from me Neha turned to Meera.
'From now. Now start eating' She replied getting irritated.
At this point Abida joined us, 'I am sorry. I am late but Mr. Swami asked me to help him finish an important assignment' she said, 'oh I see kheer. Who has brought it? I love kheer'.
'It is for Randy and not for you or me' Neha replied sarcastically.
'Randy? Now who is this Randy' Abida asked.
'Meera calls Randhir Randy' Neha clarified pointing towards me.
'Why not? Randy is a short form of Randhir. I like it. May I also call you Randy?' Abida inquired.
'Why not? Be my guest' I replied.
During lunch Neha was very quiet. I noticed that she was preoccupied with her thoughts and in between she would glance suspiciously at Meera. The name Randy stuck to me like a leach. Soon everyone in the company was calling me Randy including the MD and Mr. Swami.
Meera came to my apartment twice a week. We fucked like hell and enjoyed ourselves. She stocked my kitchenette with the basic essentials and gave me cooking lessons. I even bought a cookery book. I wrote and requested my mother to send me recipes of the dishes I used to enjoy at home.
My mother was very amused but sent them to me adding that one day she jokingly said to my father, 'Father your son is learning to cook. It is time that he got married'.
'Saraswati I think so too. I will start looking for a suitable girl for him' my father had replied seriously.
On the days when I was alone in the evenings I tried out new dishes, which I gave Meera to eat for her verdict. Many a times I took them to the office. One afternoon at lunch Abida said giggling, 'Randy now that you are such a good cook you should think of getting married'.
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