19-06-2019, 04:30 PM
Chapter 40
The big brute, Haripada, sat on the owner’s chair, his hairy sweaty lined over the armrests and his hideous face sporting a wicked smile, as he beckoned my mom and Bahadur to take their seats on the chairs across the large wooden table.
“Aap pehle baithie, memsahib.” (“You have seat first, madam.”), said Bahadur, as he slowly pulled the left chair out like a supposed gentleman and requested my mother to sit. However, this was no gentlemanly gesture. As my sweet innocent mother obliged his gentlemanly request and was sitting down, Bahadur who was standing right behind her got a good glimpse of her deep creamy provocative cleavage from the top. Haripada looked towards his friend and bared his gruesome teeth in a smile, while my mother remained oblivious to their dirty stares.
The driver took his seat as well, soon thereafter, and then Haripada began to speak, “Acha, Boudi. Apnar garir oil change, break check, power steering aar labor charge miliye apnar darachhe mot naw-hajar-nawsho-aath-athor taka!” (“Okay, Bhabhi. Combining your expenses for the oil change, break check, power steering and labor charge, I estimate that you owe the garage about nine-thousand-nine-hundred-and-seventy-eight rupees!”)
My mom was shocked to hear that. “Eto taka kiser! Mote ek-ghontar toh kaaj chilo! Ami ki eto takae ghor theke niye beriechi naki” (“Why so much! It took you barely an hour! Do you think I come out of the house carrying that much money”)
“Seta ami abar ki kore janbo apni koto taka niye ghor theke beron Ja hisheb hoeche tai bollam. Apni Bahadur ke jigesh korun.” (“How will I know how much money you carry outside the house I only told you what I calculated. You can ask Bahadur if you want.”). He brought out some papers from the drawer and handed them over to our driver who looked at them patiently and replied, “Haan memsahib, hisab toh ekdum sahi hain.” (“Yes, madam. The calculations are perfect.”)
“Kintu amar kache toh eto taka nei ei muhurte. Amra ghore giye taka niye asle osubidhe ache” (“But right now”), she asked nervously. Beads of sweat, as pure as silver, were starting to form on her pretty white forehead now. It was so erotic to watch her helpless condition on the video. Her begging, albeit discreetly, was slowly making my crotch itch.
“Na Boudi. Eta amader garage er polishy. Kono customer bina payment kore ekhan theke jete parbe na…othoba amra security officer ke dakbo!” (“No, Bhabi. This is our garage policy. No customer can leave without proper payment….unless they want us to call the security officer!”), Haripada warned.
My mom was horrified. “security officer! Please erom bolo na. Amar bhai Bapi sunle or sorir aaro kharap hoye jabe. Acha ekta kotha bolo, ami ki kichu korte pari, khoroch ta komanor jonno” (“security officer! Please don’t say that. If my brother Bapi comes to find out then he will become even more ill. Okay, tell me something, is there anything I can do to cut down the price”)
Haripada gave a fleeting glance and a momentary victory smile towards Bahadur, and then turned towards my mom. “Mane” (“Meaning”), he asked with a serious face, “Ki korte chan apni” (“What do you want to do”)
“Ja tumi bolbe.” (“Whatever you say.”), she replied. The innocent look on her face suggested she had no idea what she was getting herself into and that was strangely arousing for me to watch. I wondered what these perverted brutes would make her do.
Haripada put his fingers under his chin and gave a deep thought to my mom’s proposition for about 2-3 minutes and then said, “Hmmm, acha Boudi...kichu mone korben na, kintu apnar ki shei diner kotha mone ache jedin apni Kakababu’r dokane apnar dress er map dite eschilen” (“Hmmm, okay Bhabi…don’t be alarmed, but do you remember the day when you came into Kakababu’s tailor shop to give your measurements for the dress”)
My mom’s pretty eyes suddenly broadened in shock and she inadvertently adjusted her saree-pallu over her heavy blouse-covered bosom. “K-Ki bolcho es-eshob” (“W-What the hell are you s-saying”), she stuttered in fearful shock.
“Aha, apni bhoy pachen keno Ami toh khali apnake ekta proshno jigesh korchi.” (“Hey, why are you getting scared I’m only asking you a simple question.”), he said with a creepy perverted smile on his ugly face. “Ki Boudi, mone ache” (“So, do you remember”)
“H-Hain.” (“Y-Yes”), she nodded her head nervously.
“Hmmm, darun. Apni janen apnar oi sexy petticoat aar blouse e dhaka kamuk poripokko deho aar apnar mukher rashi te lokano chapa uttejona dekhe amar mon aar dhon duto kil-bil-kil-bil kore uthechilo!” (“Hmmm, good. You should know that after watching your lusty mature body stuck inside that sexy blouse-and-petticoat and seeing the expression of hidden lust in your beautiful face, my heart and cock started twitching wildly in anticipation of when we would meet again.”), Haripada subconsciously licked his dirty lips as shamelessly described how he felt during that day when he was taking my mom’s measurements inside the confines of that sordid trial room. “Tar por apni jokhon dhire dhire apnar petticoat ta amar samne khule fellen…,” (“And then, that day, you slowly opened your petticoat…”), his voice was going slow now as if he was enjoying slowly taunting my mother by openly narrating this incident in front of her low class driver, “….Aha! Amrito!” (“….Aha! Sweet honey!”), he was literally drooling now, as his mouth began to foam with whitish saliva while he licked his lips.
The big brute, Haripada, sat on the owner’s chair, his hairy sweaty lined over the armrests and his hideous face sporting a wicked smile, as he beckoned my mom and Bahadur to take their seats on the chairs across the large wooden table.
“Aap pehle baithie, memsahib.” (“You have seat first, madam.”), said Bahadur, as he slowly pulled the left chair out like a supposed gentleman and requested my mother to sit. However, this was no gentlemanly gesture. As my sweet innocent mother obliged his gentlemanly request and was sitting down, Bahadur who was standing right behind her got a good glimpse of her deep creamy provocative cleavage from the top. Haripada looked towards his friend and bared his gruesome teeth in a smile, while my mother remained oblivious to their dirty stares.
The driver took his seat as well, soon thereafter, and then Haripada began to speak, “Acha, Boudi. Apnar garir oil change, break check, power steering aar labor charge miliye apnar darachhe mot naw-hajar-nawsho-aath-athor taka!” (“Okay, Bhabhi. Combining your expenses for the oil change, break check, power steering and labor charge, I estimate that you owe the garage about nine-thousand-nine-hundred-and-seventy-eight rupees!”)
My mom was shocked to hear that. “Eto taka kiser! Mote ek-ghontar toh kaaj chilo! Ami ki eto takae ghor theke niye beriechi naki” (“Why so much! It took you barely an hour! Do you think I come out of the house carrying that much money”)
“Seta ami abar ki kore janbo apni koto taka niye ghor theke beron Ja hisheb hoeche tai bollam. Apni Bahadur ke jigesh korun.” (“How will I know how much money you carry outside the house I only told you what I calculated. You can ask Bahadur if you want.”). He brought out some papers from the drawer and handed them over to our driver who looked at them patiently and replied, “Haan memsahib, hisab toh ekdum sahi hain.” (“Yes, madam. The calculations are perfect.”)
“Kintu amar kache toh eto taka nei ei muhurte. Amra ghore giye taka niye asle osubidhe ache” (“But right now”), she asked nervously. Beads of sweat, as pure as silver, were starting to form on her pretty white forehead now. It was so erotic to watch her helpless condition on the video. Her begging, albeit discreetly, was slowly making my crotch itch.
“Na Boudi. Eta amader garage er polishy. Kono customer bina payment kore ekhan theke jete parbe na…othoba amra security officer ke dakbo!” (“No, Bhabi. This is our garage policy. No customer can leave without proper payment….unless they want us to call the security officer!”), Haripada warned.
My mom was horrified. “security officer! Please erom bolo na. Amar bhai Bapi sunle or sorir aaro kharap hoye jabe. Acha ekta kotha bolo, ami ki kichu korte pari, khoroch ta komanor jonno” (“security officer! Please don’t say that. If my brother Bapi comes to find out then he will become even more ill. Okay, tell me something, is there anything I can do to cut down the price”)
Haripada gave a fleeting glance and a momentary victory smile towards Bahadur, and then turned towards my mom. “Mane” (“Meaning”), he asked with a serious face, “Ki korte chan apni” (“What do you want to do”)
“Ja tumi bolbe.” (“Whatever you say.”), she replied. The innocent look on her face suggested she had no idea what she was getting herself into and that was strangely arousing for me to watch. I wondered what these perverted brutes would make her do.
Haripada put his fingers under his chin and gave a deep thought to my mom’s proposition for about 2-3 minutes and then said, “Hmmm, acha Boudi...kichu mone korben na, kintu apnar ki shei diner kotha mone ache jedin apni Kakababu’r dokane apnar dress er map dite eschilen” (“Hmmm, okay Bhabi…don’t be alarmed, but do you remember the day when you came into Kakababu’s tailor shop to give your measurements for the dress”)
My mom’s pretty eyes suddenly broadened in shock and she inadvertently adjusted her saree-pallu over her heavy blouse-covered bosom. “K-Ki bolcho es-eshob” (“W-What the hell are you s-saying”), she stuttered in fearful shock.
“Aha, apni bhoy pachen keno Ami toh khali apnake ekta proshno jigesh korchi.” (“Hey, why are you getting scared I’m only asking you a simple question.”), he said with a creepy perverted smile on his ugly face. “Ki Boudi, mone ache” (“So, do you remember”)
“H-Hain.” (“Y-Yes”), she nodded her head nervously.
“Hmmm, darun. Apni janen apnar oi sexy petticoat aar blouse e dhaka kamuk poripokko deho aar apnar mukher rashi te lokano chapa uttejona dekhe amar mon aar dhon duto kil-bil-kil-bil kore uthechilo!” (“Hmmm, good. You should know that after watching your lusty mature body stuck inside that sexy blouse-and-petticoat and seeing the expression of hidden lust in your beautiful face, my heart and cock started twitching wildly in anticipation of when we would meet again.”), Haripada subconsciously licked his dirty lips as shamelessly described how he felt during that day when he was taking my mom’s measurements inside the confines of that sordid trial room. “Tar por apni jokhon dhire dhire apnar petticoat ta amar samne khule fellen…,” (“And then, that day, you slowly opened your petticoat…”), his voice was going slow now as if he was enjoying slowly taunting my mother by openly narrating this incident in front of her low class driver, “….Aha! Amrito!” (“….Aha! Sweet honey!”), he was literally drooling now, as his mouth began to foam with whitish saliva while he licked his lips.
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