Adultery Who Watches The Watchmen (continued)

[samgreenvalley]

The next morning, Menaka's phone buzzed at 9 AM.
 
She was in the kitchen, making tea, still wearing the velvet dress from the night before. Dara had already left for his shift—head watchman now, with responsibilities that kept him busy from sunrise to sunset.
 
The message was from Sharma.
 
"Good morning, Menaka ji. Can we meet? The clubhouse, 11 AM. Important to discuss."
 
She stared at the screen for a long moment, remembering the night before, remembering her confession to Dara. I want to be their slut.
 
Be careful what you wish for, she thought, and typed back: "OK."
 
---
 
Sharma was already waiting when she arrived, sitting on the same bench under the peepal tree, a kulhad of chai in his hand. He stood when he saw her, his eyes traveling over her body with barely concealed hunger.
 
She had dressed modestly—a plain salwar kameez in pale green, her hair in a braid, no makeup except a touch of lip balm. But modesty, she had learned, was relative. To a man like Sharma, anything she wore would look like an invitation.
 
"Thank you for coming," he said, gesturing for her to sit.
 
Menaka sat, keeping a careful distance between them. "You said it was important."
 
"Yes. Yes, it is." Sharma cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. "It's about Holika Dahan."
 
"What about it?"
 
"The colony has certain... traditions. Certain ways of celebrating." He paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. "And this year, some of the members have expressed interest in... including you."
 
"Including me how?"
 
Sharma shifted on the bench. His hand crept toward her knee, then stopped, hovering uncertainly. "In the spirit of the festival, Menaka ji. The burning of the old. The birth of the new. There's a... gathering. After the bonfire. Very select. Very discreet."
 
Menaka kept her face neutral. "What kind of gathering?"
 
"The kind where boundaries are... relaxed. Where adults can be adults, without judgment." He was sweating now, despite the morning cool. "I've spoken to the others. They're very interested. Very... respectful."
 
"Others? How many others?"
 
"Four. Five, if Joshi grows a spine. But four, definitely. Good men. Respected men."
 
Menaka thought about Dara's words. You'll follow my rules. But what were the rules, exactly? She hadn't asked, and he hadn't specified.
 
"I don't understand," she said, playing dumb. "What exactly are you asking me to do?"
 
Sharma leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Be with us. For one night. Let us... worship you. The way you deserve to be worshipped."
 
"You mean you want me to have sex with you. All of you. At the same time."
 
Sharma's face flushed. "When you put it that way, it sounds so—"
 
"Crude?"
 
"I was going to say transactional." He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. "It's not just about sex, Menaka ji. It's about connection. About community. About—"
 
"About five men taking turns fucking a watchman's wife while her husband is on duty." Menaka's voice was flat, emotionless.
 
Sharma winced. "You make it sound so sordid."
 
"Isn't it?"
 
He was silent for a moment. Then he said, quietly, "It doesn't have to be. It can be beautiful. We can make it beautiful. If you let us."
 
Menaka stared at him. This fat, sweaty, middle-aged man, with his paan-stained teeth and his gold-rimmed glasses, talking about beauty. It would have been laughable if it weren't so sad.
 
But beneath the sadness, there was something else. Something that stirred in her belly, warm and demanding.
 
I want to be their slut.
 
"I'll think about it," she said finally.
 
Sharma's face lit up. "Really?"
 
"I said I'll think about it. That's not a yes."
 
"But it's not a no." He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "Take your time. Holika Dahan is still a week away. Think about it. And when you're ready—"
 
"I know where to find you."
 
She stood, smoothing her salwar. Sharma stood too, his eyes following her every movement.
 
"Menaka ji," he said as she turned to leave. "Whatever you decide, know that we... I... think you're extraordinary."
 
Menaka didn't reply. She simply walked away, back toward the quarter, back toward the life she was building with Dara, back toward the fire that was already beginning to burn.