10-01-2019, 04:41 AM
And the topic ended there
Or at least it ended our conversations about the topic. Over the next few days, the seed of suspicion in my mind started growing. Had Ketaki been completely honest with me? Wasn't it too much of a coincidence that of all the cars in all the world, this guy had been assigned to mine as a driver? What if he had come here searching for her? Ketaki had always been a gorgeous little minx. Having Pintu had only accentuated her figure. Her boobs had gone from C to D cups. Her ass had grown, but not obscenely so. It retained its heavenly shape, only added a layer or two. And her waist, slightly thicker than when we got married, was still in control, giving her a well-padded but still hourglass figure. She was still worth lusting after, and I feared Fahim might have come to lust after her. Especially if they had more of a history than she told me.
Did she go farther with him than she had told me? The other guys she had told me about had come later, when she was in college. Which meant Fahim was her first boyfriend. Did she still have feelings for him? Is that why she was so awkward around him?
I tried in vain to bury all these doubts. Finally I decided I needed to verify the truth somehow. But how? I could not just ask Fahim point blank if he had come here looking for her. I could of course change drivers. I decided to eventually do that. But first, I hatched what was a very weird and clumsy scheme to figure out if Ketaki had been telling the truth. And this is how the scheme unfolded.
Two weeks later, after lunch, I took out a bunch of files from my cabinet. Then I called Fahim to my office,
"Fahim, I need to work on these files at home tonight. But I have to go for a meeting later, in Mr. Shah's car. So I need you to just drop off these files at my home right now."
"Right now?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Will anyone be home?" he asked.
"Yes, my wife Ketaki will be home. I'll call and tell her to expect you."
"Okay, sir." Fahim picked up the files and left the office. I then called up Ketaki.
"Ketaki, I will be late today. I need to go meet a client with Mr. Shah. In fact I am headed towards a meeting right now and will be in meetings till later. And I may not be able to have dinner at home."
"Okay, Samir." she said.
I then told the receptionist that I would be busy in an important call, so was not to be disturbed. And I shut the door to my office, and sat in front of the computer. I put the headphones on and turned the monitor on. My living room came into view and I could hear Ketaki humming some song out of the camera's view.
Yes, in a display of extreme creepiness and paranoia, I had set up the workstation in our living room with a webcam and a powerful omnidirectional mic. I had woken up early before Ketaki to set it up. I had hooked up the webcam and the mic to a chat client. Then I did a remote login to my office computer, and started the same chat client from there on another ID. And that's how I had a direct video and audio feed of whatever was happening in my living room. I had turned the monitor off, and told Ketaki that something was wrong with the display, so she should use her laptop if she needed to check email.
With the headphones on, and my eyes on the screen, looking at the empty furniture in my living room, I waited for Fahim to eventually show up. My house was about half an hour away from office, so it would be another 20 minutes or so before Fahim turned up at my door. I spent those twenty minutes just staring at the screen. Ketaki passed by the screen a couple of times, humming a song like she always did. She was wearing a shin-length skirt that she often wore at home, and a t-shirt.
As the minutes ticked by, I started panicking a little. What if Ketaki found out I had gone to all these lengths to snoop on her? What if she had been telling the truth? Maybe I should just call this whole thing off. I vacillated between self-doubt and guilt as the time passed. And finally, after several minutes of tension, the doorbell chimed in my headphone. And I watched Ketaki stride past the screen, towards the door.
The door was just outside the view of the camera, so I could only heard the voices for a while.
"What are you doing here?" Ketaki asked in Hindi in a worried voice.
"Sir told me to drop off these files." Fahim replied, also in Hindi, in a very flat voice.
"What?" I heard her voice going higher.
"Sir told me to drop off these files." Fahim repeated himself.
"He didn't say anything to me when he called a while back."
There was silence for a few seconds.
"Come in. I'll call Samir." Ketaki walked towards the phone on the table which was in view of the camera, followed by Fahim who was holding the huge stack of files very effortlessly. I reached for my cellphone. Within a few seconds, my cellphone started ringing. I pressed the silent button.
"He is not answering. Is probably in a meeting." she said. "Okay, just put them on the dining table over there."
Fahim walked out of the camera's view, and Ketaki just stood near the phone, fidgeting with her hands, staring in his direction. A few seconds later, Fahim came back into view.
"Do you......want some water?" Ketaki tentatively asked.
"Yes, that would be nice." Fahim said.
"Have a seat."
Fahim sat down on the couch right opposite to the webcam, facing the screen. He looked around the living room curiously. Ketaki returned with a tray that had a glass of water and a glass of orange juice.
"Have some juice as well." she said, placing the tray on the coffee table in front of him. She sat down on the couch with a couple of feet of space between them.
"Very nice house you have here. And a very cute son as well. And a nice husband. You have a great family, Ketaki." Fahim said politely, and I started leaning towards thinking that I had been too paranoid after all.
"Thanks. Do you have....are you....." Ketaki stammered.
"Married? Yes. Two wives. Five kids. Three live with my first wife in the village. Two live here with my second wife and me." Fahim said.
"You have two wives?" Ketaki said, sounding surprised. For some law allows to have up to four wives.
"Yeah, well, you know me." Fahim said and started laughing. Ketaki smiled. That confused me a little. What did he mean by 'you know me'.
Fahim finished off the water and picked up the juice glass and leaned back.
"But Ketaki, I must say." he said, taking a sip of the juice, "Neither of those two compare to you."
"Fahim!" Ketaki said, sounding a little upset.
"It's the truth, sweetheart. There was never anyone before or after you that matched up." Fahim said, and then added, "In every way possible."
"Fahim, you can't talk to me like that!" Ketaki said admonishingly, "I am a married woman, a mother....I am your boss's wife for god's sake!"
Fahim moved on the couch until he was right next to her, brought his face close to hers and said,
"I am just speaking from the heart." he said, and then tried to put his hand on her hand. She slapped it away and got up.
"I think you should go."
"I am just talking, Ketaki!" Fahim said, also getting up.
"Just leave, Fahim, or I'll tell Samir."
"Tell him what?" Fahim said and laughed. "Have you told him about us?"
"Yes."
"Really? You have told him EVERYTHING about us?" Fahim said,
"I have told him enough." Ketaki said, folding her arms emphatically. What did that mean? She had told me "enough" but not everything?
"Haha, still folding your arms in that adorable way. You haven't changed a bit in ten years, Ketaki." Fahim said. That rang another bell in my head - ten years? I thought Ketaki said it had been sixteen years. Ten years was how long we had been married.
"You seem to have gotten a lot more obnoxious though." Ketaki said defiantly.
"Ouch." Fahim said, putting his hand on his heart, feigning an injury, "This is one thing you have that no other woman does. Your attitude. Your sharp tongue."
"Fahim, I am..." Ketaki started saying, but suddenly he took to rapid steps, and in a flash had her in his embrace. And had put his lips on hers.
Ketaki struggled, but my 5'3" wife was no match for his hulk-like strength. I watched, awestruck as my driver continued to kiss my wife. Sirens of panic were going off in my head. He was forcing himself on her. I should do something. Maybe call home. That would put a stop to this.
I reached for my cellphone and was about dial my home number when I saw the scene on the screen change. My wife had stopped struggling and now had her hands around his back. She was no longer being forced into the kiss, but was a willing, even enthusiastic participant. I watched, undeniably angry as well as turned on, as the kiss continued. The fire of fury in my head was matched only by stirring in my loins. What was wrong with me, I wondered. I was watching a man kiss my wife, and I was feeling turned on? I finally sorted out of my feelings and was about to dial the home number, when I saw Ketaki finally break the kiss and push him away. This time, he let go.
"Damn it, Fahim!" she said, sounding angry. "Why did you have to do that?"
Fahim laughed in response, and then said,
"Just as I thought. It's the same story as with those college boyfriends of yours. When I had to come to Delhi every few months to satisfy you on the side."
"No, this is different!" Ketaki almost screamed. "Samir is the best, He is perfect. He is not like those idiots."
"Isn't he? Then why did you..."
"Just get out, Fahim. Get out at once." this time Ketaki did scream.
"Alright, alright. Calm down. I'm going." Fahim said and started walking away.
Ketaki plonked herself on the couch, put her face in her hands, and started crying. I heard the door click shut as Fahim left. As I watched my wife cry her heart out, I was overcome with a sense of guilt. I was responsible for this. I had orchestrated this whole situation, even when she had specifically told me she didn't want to meet him. So what if she gave in to desire and kissed him? If I met again the girls I had a crush on in high college, and got an opportunity to, who is to say I wouldn't have done the same? Overcome with guilt, I decided to call up Ketaki. Console her. Maybe even apologize. But how could I do that without giving away the fact that I had set up this whole situation to spy on her? Maybe she'd tell me herself. Would she?
My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing again. Ketaki quickly wiped her face with her sleeve and said,
"Who is it?"
There was no answer.
"Who is it?" she repeated.
Still no answer. She clucked her tongue, got up and went towards the door. I heard the door open. A few seconds later, I heard the door close.
I could hear some muffled noises for a while. A good minute or so, there was no one on the screen. And then I was Fahim walk into view triumphantly, carrying my wife in his arms. And the two of them were kissing. He walked past screen, when I heard Ketaki's voice say off-camera.
"No no, don't." the relief of hearing my wife refuse his advances lasted only half a second, because then she said, "The couch. Take me to the couch."
Fahim came into view again, and he gradually lowered her down on to the couch. My wife propped herself up by the elbows as she lay on the couch, watching Fahim as he stood straight. He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off, and threw it on the floor. He then took off his wifebeater and threw it on the floor as well, revealing a hairy muscular chest. I felt a pang of jealousy as my wife let out a moan of delight at the sight of his chest. I was not unfit by any means. I exercised regularly. But I was no match for Fahim's body.
Or at least it ended our conversations about the topic. Over the next few days, the seed of suspicion in my mind started growing. Had Ketaki been completely honest with me? Wasn't it too much of a coincidence that of all the cars in all the world, this guy had been assigned to mine as a driver? What if he had come here searching for her? Ketaki had always been a gorgeous little minx. Having Pintu had only accentuated her figure. Her boobs had gone from C to D cups. Her ass had grown, but not obscenely so. It retained its heavenly shape, only added a layer or two. And her waist, slightly thicker than when we got married, was still in control, giving her a well-padded but still hourglass figure. She was still worth lusting after, and I feared Fahim might have come to lust after her. Especially if they had more of a history than she told me.
Did she go farther with him than she had told me? The other guys she had told me about had come later, when she was in college. Which meant Fahim was her first boyfriend. Did she still have feelings for him? Is that why she was so awkward around him?
I tried in vain to bury all these doubts. Finally I decided I needed to verify the truth somehow. But how? I could not just ask Fahim point blank if he had come here looking for her. I could of course change drivers. I decided to eventually do that. But first, I hatched what was a very weird and clumsy scheme to figure out if Ketaki had been telling the truth. And this is how the scheme unfolded.
Two weeks later, after lunch, I took out a bunch of files from my cabinet. Then I called Fahim to my office,
"Fahim, I need to work on these files at home tonight. But I have to go for a meeting later, in Mr. Shah's car. So I need you to just drop off these files at my home right now."
"Right now?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Will anyone be home?" he asked.
"Yes, my wife Ketaki will be home. I'll call and tell her to expect you."
"Okay, sir." Fahim picked up the files and left the office. I then called up Ketaki.
"Ketaki, I will be late today. I need to go meet a client with Mr. Shah. In fact I am headed towards a meeting right now and will be in meetings till later. And I may not be able to have dinner at home."
"Okay, Samir." she said.
I then told the receptionist that I would be busy in an important call, so was not to be disturbed. And I shut the door to my office, and sat in front of the computer. I put the headphones on and turned the monitor on. My living room came into view and I could hear Ketaki humming some song out of the camera's view.
Yes, in a display of extreme creepiness and paranoia, I had set up the workstation in our living room with a webcam and a powerful omnidirectional mic. I had woken up early before Ketaki to set it up. I had hooked up the webcam and the mic to a chat client. Then I did a remote login to my office computer, and started the same chat client from there on another ID. And that's how I had a direct video and audio feed of whatever was happening in my living room. I had turned the monitor off, and told Ketaki that something was wrong with the display, so she should use her laptop if she needed to check email.
With the headphones on, and my eyes on the screen, looking at the empty furniture in my living room, I waited for Fahim to eventually show up. My house was about half an hour away from office, so it would be another 20 minutes or so before Fahim turned up at my door. I spent those twenty minutes just staring at the screen. Ketaki passed by the screen a couple of times, humming a song like she always did. She was wearing a shin-length skirt that she often wore at home, and a t-shirt.
As the minutes ticked by, I started panicking a little. What if Ketaki found out I had gone to all these lengths to snoop on her? What if she had been telling the truth? Maybe I should just call this whole thing off. I vacillated between self-doubt and guilt as the time passed. And finally, after several minutes of tension, the doorbell chimed in my headphone. And I watched Ketaki stride past the screen, towards the door.
The door was just outside the view of the camera, so I could only heard the voices for a while.
"What are you doing here?" Ketaki asked in Hindi in a worried voice.
"Sir told me to drop off these files." Fahim replied, also in Hindi, in a very flat voice.
"What?" I heard her voice going higher.
"Sir told me to drop off these files." Fahim repeated himself.
"He didn't say anything to me when he called a while back."
There was silence for a few seconds.
"Come in. I'll call Samir." Ketaki walked towards the phone on the table which was in view of the camera, followed by Fahim who was holding the huge stack of files very effortlessly. I reached for my cellphone. Within a few seconds, my cellphone started ringing. I pressed the silent button.
"He is not answering. Is probably in a meeting." she said. "Okay, just put them on the dining table over there."
Fahim walked out of the camera's view, and Ketaki just stood near the phone, fidgeting with her hands, staring in his direction. A few seconds later, Fahim came back into view.
"Do you......want some water?" Ketaki tentatively asked.
"Yes, that would be nice." Fahim said.
"Have a seat."
Fahim sat down on the couch right opposite to the webcam, facing the screen. He looked around the living room curiously. Ketaki returned with a tray that had a glass of water and a glass of orange juice.
"Have some juice as well." she said, placing the tray on the coffee table in front of him. She sat down on the couch with a couple of feet of space between them.
"Very nice house you have here. And a very cute son as well. And a nice husband. You have a great family, Ketaki." Fahim said politely, and I started leaning towards thinking that I had been too paranoid after all.
"Thanks. Do you have....are you....." Ketaki stammered.
"Married? Yes. Two wives. Five kids. Three live with my first wife in the village. Two live here with my second wife and me." Fahim said.
"You have two wives?" Ketaki said, sounding surprised. For some law allows to have up to four wives.
"Yeah, well, you know me." Fahim said and started laughing. Ketaki smiled. That confused me a little. What did he mean by 'you know me'.
Fahim finished off the water and picked up the juice glass and leaned back.
"But Ketaki, I must say." he said, taking a sip of the juice, "Neither of those two compare to you."
"Fahim!" Ketaki said, sounding a little upset.
"It's the truth, sweetheart. There was never anyone before or after you that matched up." Fahim said, and then added, "In every way possible."
"Fahim, you can't talk to me like that!" Ketaki said admonishingly, "I am a married woman, a mother....I am your boss's wife for god's sake!"
Fahim moved on the couch until he was right next to her, brought his face close to hers and said,
"I am just speaking from the heart." he said, and then tried to put his hand on her hand. She slapped it away and got up.
"I think you should go."
"I am just talking, Ketaki!" Fahim said, also getting up.
"Just leave, Fahim, or I'll tell Samir."
"Tell him what?" Fahim said and laughed. "Have you told him about us?"
"Yes."
"Really? You have told him EVERYTHING about us?" Fahim said,
"I have told him enough." Ketaki said, folding her arms emphatically. What did that mean? She had told me "enough" but not everything?
"Haha, still folding your arms in that adorable way. You haven't changed a bit in ten years, Ketaki." Fahim said. That rang another bell in my head - ten years? I thought Ketaki said it had been sixteen years. Ten years was how long we had been married.
"You seem to have gotten a lot more obnoxious though." Ketaki said defiantly.
"Ouch." Fahim said, putting his hand on his heart, feigning an injury, "This is one thing you have that no other woman does. Your attitude. Your sharp tongue."
"Fahim, I am..." Ketaki started saying, but suddenly he took to rapid steps, and in a flash had her in his embrace. And had put his lips on hers.
Ketaki struggled, but my 5'3" wife was no match for his hulk-like strength. I watched, awestruck as my driver continued to kiss my wife. Sirens of panic were going off in my head. He was forcing himself on her. I should do something. Maybe call home. That would put a stop to this.
I reached for my cellphone and was about dial my home number when I saw the scene on the screen change. My wife had stopped struggling and now had her hands around his back. She was no longer being forced into the kiss, but was a willing, even enthusiastic participant. I watched, undeniably angry as well as turned on, as the kiss continued. The fire of fury in my head was matched only by stirring in my loins. What was wrong with me, I wondered. I was watching a man kiss my wife, and I was feeling turned on? I finally sorted out of my feelings and was about to dial the home number, when I saw Ketaki finally break the kiss and push him away. This time, he let go.
"Damn it, Fahim!" she said, sounding angry. "Why did you have to do that?"
Fahim laughed in response, and then said,
"Just as I thought. It's the same story as with those college boyfriends of yours. When I had to come to Delhi every few months to satisfy you on the side."
"No, this is different!" Ketaki almost screamed. "Samir is the best, He is perfect. He is not like those idiots."
"Isn't he? Then why did you..."
"Just get out, Fahim. Get out at once." this time Ketaki did scream.
"Alright, alright. Calm down. I'm going." Fahim said and started walking away.
Ketaki plonked herself on the couch, put her face in her hands, and started crying. I heard the door click shut as Fahim left. As I watched my wife cry her heart out, I was overcome with a sense of guilt. I was responsible for this. I had orchestrated this whole situation, even when she had specifically told me she didn't want to meet him. So what if she gave in to desire and kissed him? If I met again the girls I had a crush on in high college, and got an opportunity to, who is to say I wouldn't have done the same? Overcome with guilt, I decided to call up Ketaki. Console her. Maybe even apologize. But how could I do that without giving away the fact that I had set up this whole situation to spy on her? Maybe she'd tell me herself. Would she?
My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing again. Ketaki quickly wiped her face with her sleeve and said,
"Who is it?"
There was no answer.
"Who is it?" she repeated.
Still no answer. She clucked her tongue, got up and went towards the door. I heard the door open. A few seconds later, I heard the door close.
I could hear some muffled noises for a while. A good minute or so, there was no one on the screen. And then I was Fahim walk into view triumphantly, carrying my wife in his arms. And the two of them were kissing. He walked past screen, when I heard Ketaki's voice say off-camera.
"No no, don't." the relief of hearing my wife refuse his advances lasted only half a second, because then she said, "The couch. Take me to the couch."
Fahim came into view again, and he gradually lowered her down on to the couch. My wife propped herself up by the elbows as she lay on the couch, watching Fahim as he stood straight. He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off, and threw it on the floor. He then took off his wifebeater and threw it on the floor as well, revealing a hairy muscular chest. I felt a pang of jealousy as my wife let out a moan of delight at the sight of his chest. I was not unfit by any means. I exercised regularly. But I was no match for Fahim's body.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)