12-02-2023, 08:49 PM
They rode in silence for a while. The champagne did calm her down a little. But she was still not completely at peace.
"Why am I doing this?" she said out loud.
"What?" Dutt looked at her.
"Why am I here? Why did I just lie to my husband, leave my daughter at home, and come here?"
"You know why." he smiled.
"It's not all about money." she said, more to herself than to Dutt.
"I didn't mean it was about the money."
"Then what did you mean?"
"What do you think I meant?"
"Duttsahab, please! Stop playing games with me." Mansi said, reaching for the bottle to refill her glass.
Dutt said nothing, started looking out of the window and sipped champagne.
"Where are we going anyway that is so important? Another corporate event? Another exhibition?"
"Neither of those." he said.
"Then?"
"We are just going to my suite in Reena's hotel. Like I told you, I won't be in the country for a couple of months. So I just wanted to spend some quality time with you. You know by now that I love spending time with you."
Mansi was a little taken aback by this revelation. Until now, all the time they had spent together had been in public. And now he was just simply taking her to his hotel suite? To what end?
"What are we going to do in the hotel suite?"
"We can do whatever we want." Dutt cryptically said.
"Will Reena aunty be there?"
"Not unless you want her to be."
Mansi clammed up and thought some more. Finally she said,
"What if I ask you to just drop me home right now?"
"I will drop you home right now..."
"But?"
"You know but what?"
"We will never meet again?"
He just shrugged.
"So I don't really have a choice." Mansi said.
"Everyone always has a choice, Mansi."
The car sped through the relatively empty Sunday streets and was soon in Malad. At the hotel, a valet opened the door of the limo and the two of them stepped out. Every step Mansi took through the foyer and into the lobby made her seem like she was wearing shoes made of lead. Dutt walked alongside her, feeling nervous and excited himself. After Reena reported her conversation back to him, he decided that the time was ripe. Clearly, Mansi had at least some feelings for him. The ultimate test would be an ultimatum. It was a big gamble, but it had paid off.
He still wasn't sure how far he should go though. Over the last few weeks, he had slowly but surely increased moments of tender physical intimacy between them. And now, without making up any ruse, he had told this young housewife that he was taking her to his hotel room in the middle of the day. Even she wasn't innocent enough to not realize the implication of that. And yet here she was. A little upset, a little scared, but still, willingly walking with him.
They walked into a suite that was even more plush and fancy than Reena's. But unlike that time, Mansi barely noticed the expensive decorations and fittings. Her mind was preoccupied with a struggle. She was still replaying his line about everyone always having a choice in her mind.
"So what next?" she asked.
"Have a seat."
"Where?"
"Anywhere."
She walked to the single seater love seat in the living area and sat down in it.
"More champagne?" he asked.
"Just a little. I get a headache if I have too much." she said.
"Only cheap regular champagnes they serve at those events cause headaches. Not this one. This is really special. I have been saving it for a special occasion."
He went to the bar area and took a bottle from a ice bucket where it had been left by the hotel staff at his orders. Mansi looked at the bottle. It didn't look too special or different from the other champagne bottles she had seen.
"It is one of the most elite champagnes in the world. Moet and Chandon Dom Perignon. Costs about 40,000 rupees in India."
"Oh, I see." she knew him long enough to know that money was no object to him.
"Look at the year."
She read the label.
"1988." the champagne had been bottled in the same year that she had been born. She wondered if it was just a coincidence. But knowing him it had to be a deliberate decision.
Dutt unwrapped the foil and then using his thumb, deftly pressed the cork upwards. It flew up and landed on the floor. Fizz came out of the bottle. he quickly poured it in two flutes, handing one to Mansi.
"What shall we drink to?" he asked.
"I don't know."
"To special creations from 1988." he expansively said. That confirmed for Mansi the deliberateness of the selection. She took a sip, trying to calculate how much the sip cost, if the whole bottle was 40,000.
"It's really good." Mansi said.
"Of course it is. It is from 1988. Just like you."
Mansi smiled. Although she was still torn about even being there, the attention starved side of her found the gesture very grandiose and romantic. They sipped in silence for a few minutes. Then Dutt reached for a remote and the stereo in the room started playing some western classical music. He was going all out in this seduction attempt.
"Would you rather have the TV on instead?" Dutt asked.
"No, the music is fine." Mansi said, the expensive alcohol starting to have a slow effect on her. What am I doing, her brain cried out again. Why am I just calmly going along with this?
A few more minutes passed, with the music creating a romantic atmosphere. The room was already dimly lit. The champagne was flowing through their bloodstream. Mansi's heart was beating a thousand miles a minute. She was in the single love seat. He was at the close end of a couch perpendicular to her seat. Their knees were almost touching.
"What am I to you, Duttsahab?" she asked, the alcohol making her a bit bolder than usual.
"What do you mean?"
"The question is simple."
"You are someone very special that I want to make a part of my life."
"And of course, you want to make love to me?" Both she and Dutt were taken aback by the directness of that question.
"I do want to. Very much. Do you want to?" he turned the question back on her.
"I don't know. A large part of me finds the very idea too horrific to even contemplate. I have a husband, a reasonably happy life, a daughter I care about a lot."
"And yet you are here. So then the question is, what am I to you?" Dutt asked.
"I wish I knew." she shrugged and looked down.
Dutt leaned over until his face was very close to her. She thought he was about to try and kiss her. And she was trying to decided if she should back away.
"Give me your hands." he said instead, surprising her.
She put the champagne flute down and held out her hands. Dutt wrapped his own hands around hers and stared at her soft palms.
"They say you can read a person's entire life story in the lines of their hands. Do you know what I read in yours?" he softly asked.
"What?" she whispered.
"I read a life that is crying out for more. More happiness, more enlightenment, more pleasure, more love."
She thought about what he said. And before she could respond, he had slid down from the couch and grabbed her left foot.
"What are you doing? Please don't touch my feet." she was horrified. The conservative upbringing she had been through had hammered in this strange principle in her - that an older person touching a younger person's feet is not good. It should be the other way round.
"Relax, Mansi. Don't be so traditional. Just like your hands, your feet are god's creation. And they also tell a story."
Dutt slowly raised the foot in his hand and lowered his face to stare at them.
"Such beautiful feet. Elegant toes, with the toe rings. I have never told you this, Mansi, but one of the things I find the most beautiful about you are your toes."
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING???"
Mansi cried out in shock as Dutt opened his mouth and sucked on her left toe.
"Just relax, Mansi." he said and then kissed the top of her foot. With one hand, he started massaging her calf gently.
Mansi's brain was a vortex of chaos. Touching feet itself was weird. he was now licking and kissing them. What made her feel especially confused was that she liked what he was doing. After the initial shock of the big burly old man crouching at her feet and taking them in her mouth wore off, she actually found herself finding it a pleasant experience. Dutt had a foot fetish for many years, so he was adept at how to play with women's toes.
"Duttsahab..." she sighed. But then the tenseness of her body subsided.
He slowly rolled her sari and petticoat up to her knees, admiring her smooth shins. Mansi instantly contrasted this with the hurried artless way in which Amar would hitch her sari up. With half open eyes, she noticed Dutt reach for his champagne flute. And then she had an odd experience as he held her foot up tilted, put his open mouth at the toes, and poured the champagne down her shins. The cold liquid tickled her, and also made her feel a little aroused. She watched, as if a spectator outside her own body, as the champagne was poured down her leg and into Dutt's mouth.
He pushed the coffee table away and got on his knees in front of her. And then holding both her legs up by placing his palms under her calves, he started kissing and sucking her toes again. Mansi felt small waves of pleasure run up her body, emanating from her toes of all places. She was still too taken aback by his unusual approach to make sense of it. he hadn't kissed her or groped her breasts or fondled her butt. Here he was, giving her incredible pleasure by just manipulating her toes.
As Dutt noticed the last bit of trepidation and discomfort melt away from Mansi's body language, he knew that she was his.
---
"Why am I doing this?" she said out loud.
"What?" Dutt looked at her.
"Why am I here? Why did I just lie to my husband, leave my daughter at home, and come here?"
"You know why." he smiled.
"It's not all about money." she said, more to herself than to Dutt.
"I didn't mean it was about the money."
"Then what did you mean?"
"What do you think I meant?"
"Duttsahab, please! Stop playing games with me." Mansi said, reaching for the bottle to refill her glass.
Dutt said nothing, started looking out of the window and sipped champagne.
"Where are we going anyway that is so important? Another corporate event? Another exhibition?"
"Neither of those." he said.
"Then?"
"We are just going to my suite in Reena's hotel. Like I told you, I won't be in the country for a couple of months. So I just wanted to spend some quality time with you. You know by now that I love spending time with you."
Mansi was a little taken aback by this revelation. Until now, all the time they had spent together had been in public. And now he was just simply taking her to his hotel suite? To what end?
"What are we going to do in the hotel suite?"
"We can do whatever we want." Dutt cryptically said.
"Will Reena aunty be there?"
"Not unless you want her to be."
Mansi clammed up and thought some more. Finally she said,
"What if I ask you to just drop me home right now?"
"I will drop you home right now..."
"But?"
"You know but what?"
"We will never meet again?"
He just shrugged.
"So I don't really have a choice." Mansi said.
"Everyone always has a choice, Mansi."
The car sped through the relatively empty Sunday streets and was soon in Malad. At the hotel, a valet opened the door of the limo and the two of them stepped out. Every step Mansi took through the foyer and into the lobby made her seem like she was wearing shoes made of lead. Dutt walked alongside her, feeling nervous and excited himself. After Reena reported her conversation back to him, he decided that the time was ripe. Clearly, Mansi had at least some feelings for him. The ultimate test would be an ultimatum. It was a big gamble, but it had paid off.
He still wasn't sure how far he should go though. Over the last few weeks, he had slowly but surely increased moments of tender physical intimacy between them. And now, without making up any ruse, he had told this young housewife that he was taking her to his hotel room in the middle of the day. Even she wasn't innocent enough to not realize the implication of that. And yet here she was. A little upset, a little scared, but still, willingly walking with him.
They walked into a suite that was even more plush and fancy than Reena's. But unlike that time, Mansi barely noticed the expensive decorations and fittings. Her mind was preoccupied with a struggle. She was still replaying his line about everyone always having a choice in her mind.
"So what next?" she asked.
"Have a seat."
"Where?"
"Anywhere."
She walked to the single seater love seat in the living area and sat down in it.
"More champagne?" he asked.
"Just a little. I get a headache if I have too much." she said.
"Only cheap regular champagnes they serve at those events cause headaches. Not this one. This is really special. I have been saving it for a special occasion."
He went to the bar area and took a bottle from a ice bucket where it had been left by the hotel staff at his orders. Mansi looked at the bottle. It didn't look too special or different from the other champagne bottles she had seen.
"It is one of the most elite champagnes in the world. Moet and Chandon Dom Perignon. Costs about 40,000 rupees in India."
"Oh, I see." she knew him long enough to know that money was no object to him.
"Look at the year."
She read the label.
"1988." the champagne had been bottled in the same year that she had been born. She wondered if it was just a coincidence. But knowing him it had to be a deliberate decision.
Dutt unwrapped the foil and then using his thumb, deftly pressed the cork upwards. It flew up and landed on the floor. Fizz came out of the bottle. he quickly poured it in two flutes, handing one to Mansi.
"What shall we drink to?" he asked.
"I don't know."
"To special creations from 1988." he expansively said. That confirmed for Mansi the deliberateness of the selection. She took a sip, trying to calculate how much the sip cost, if the whole bottle was 40,000.
"It's really good." Mansi said.
"Of course it is. It is from 1988. Just like you."
Mansi smiled. Although she was still torn about even being there, the attention starved side of her found the gesture very grandiose and romantic. They sipped in silence for a few minutes. Then Dutt reached for a remote and the stereo in the room started playing some western classical music. He was going all out in this seduction attempt.
"Would you rather have the TV on instead?" Dutt asked.
"No, the music is fine." Mansi said, the expensive alcohol starting to have a slow effect on her. What am I doing, her brain cried out again. Why am I just calmly going along with this?
A few more minutes passed, with the music creating a romantic atmosphere. The room was already dimly lit. The champagne was flowing through their bloodstream. Mansi's heart was beating a thousand miles a minute. She was in the single love seat. He was at the close end of a couch perpendicular to her seat. Their knees were almost touching.
"What am I to you, Duttsahab?" she asked, the alcohol making her a bit bolder than usual.
"What do you mean?"
"The question is simple."
"You are someone very special that I want to make a part of my life."
"And of course, you want to make love to me?" Both she and Dutt were taken aback by the directness of that question.
"I do want to. Very much. Do you want to?" he turned the question back on her.
"I don't know. A large part of me finds the very idea too horrific to even contemplate. I have a husband, a reasonably happy life, a daughter I care about a lot."
"And yet you are here. So then the question is, what am I to you?" Dutt asked.
"I wish I knew." she shrugged and looked down.
Dutt leaned over until his face was very close to her. She thought he was about to try and kiss her. And she was trying to decided if she should back away.
"Give me your hands." he said instead, surprising her.
She put the champagne flute down and held out her hands. Dutt wrapped his own hands around hers and stared at her soft palms.
"They say you can read a person's entire life story in the lines of their hands. Do you know what I read in yours?" he softly asked.
"What?" she whispered.
"I read a life that is crying out for more. More happiness, more enlightenment, more pleasure, more love."
She thought about what he said. And before she could respond, he had slid down from the couch and grabbed her left foot.
"What are you doing? Please don't touch my feet." she was horrified. The conservative upbringing she had been through had hammered in this strange principle in her - that an older person touching a younger person's feet is not good. It should be the other way round.
"Relax, Mansi. Don't be so traditional. Just like your hands, your feet are god's creation. And they also tell a story."
Dutt slowly raised the foot in his hand and lowered his face to stare at them.
"Such beautiful feet. Elegant toes, with the toe rings. I have never told you this, Mansi, but one of the things I find the most beautiful about you are your toes."
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING???"
Mansi cried out in shock as Dutt opened his mouth and sucked on her left toe.
"Just relax, Mansi." he said and then kissed the top of her foot. With one hand, he started massaging her calf gently.
Mansi's brain was a vortex of chaos. Touching feet itself was weird. he was now licking and kissing them. What made her feel especially confused was that she liked what he was doing. After the initial shock of the big burly old man crouching at her feet and taking them in her mouth wore off, she actually found herself finding it a pleasant experience. Dutt had a foot fetish for many years, so he was adept at how to play with women's toes.
"Duttsahab..." she sighed. But then the tenseness of her body subsided.
He slowly rolled her sari and petticoat up to her knees, admiring her smooth shins. Mansi instantly contrasted this with the hurried artless way in which Amar would hitch her sari up. With half open eyes, she noticed Dutt reach for his champagne flute. And then she had an odd experience as he held her foot up tilted, put his open mouth at the toes, and poured the champagne down her shins. The cold liquid tickled her, and also made her feel a little aroused. She watched, as if a spectator outside her own body, as the champagne was poured down her leg and into Dutt's mouth.
He pushed the coffee table away and got on his knees in front of her. And then holding both her legs up by placing his palms under her calves, he started kissing and sucking her toes again. Mansi felt small waves of pleasure run up her body, emanating from her toes of all places. She was still too taken aback by his unusual approach to make sense of it. he hadn't kissed her or groped her breasts or fondled her butt. Here he was, giving her incredible pleasure by just manipulating her toes.
As Dutt noticed the last bit of trepidation and discomfort melt away from Mansi's body language, he knew that she was his.
---
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