Adultery My Struggles with Trupti by urbanslut

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Story :- My Struggles with Trupti

Written by urbanslut

[Ramesh_Rocky]

My Struggles with Trupti Ch. 01

There I sat, naked and bound to a chair. The rope was tightly bound over my boobs, digging into my nipples, hurting them, making my massive boobs look like four globes instead of two. A rope ran over my crotch too, digging into my labia, rubbing against my clit, creating a painful yet pleasant sensation.

Trupti stood a few feet away from me. Also completely naked. Not completely naked. She was wearing high heels. And she had a knife in her hands. Smiling that manic smile. Her tits, as big as mine, standing confidently taut.

"Why won't you just give in?" she asked, striding close to me, and placing the tip of the knife between my boobs.

"I can't." I say. "I wasn't raised like that."

"That's what's stopping you? How you were raised?" Trupti threw her head back and laughed. She then brought her face close to mine and said, "For fuck's sake. Can't you see we're on the edge of something important here?"

"It's still wrong." I said.

I closed my eyes and struggled to free myself from the restraints. I knew that if I tried hard enough, I could go free. I just wasn't trying hard enough. Maybe if I tried to distract her.

"Wrong, huh?" Trupti said, and threw the knife on the floor. She then held up her right index finger and smiled at me. She decided to distract me.

"No, please don't." I implored.

"You know you like it." she said and bent in the waist in front of me.

"Please..." I said, now feebly, as Trupti's fingers slid under the rope, and found my clit. Accurately. Instantly. The way only she could. The way no one else could.

"You know you want more." she whispered in my ear.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh..." I moaned in response to what her fingers were doing.

"You know we have to do this." she said, rubbing faster.

"Mmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhh..." I groaned.

"Can't do this without you. I would've done it myself but you know it isn't possible anymore." Trupti said and her fingers went into overdrive.

And I could sense that despite not wanting to, I was about to orgasm. And I would, in all probability, join her in the plan. And help her finish it. Because I did start it with her.

But how did it start?

====

Six months ago. Friday afternoon. I am looking over a Pottery Pen catalog under my desk when Jan walks in.

"Busy, huh?" she cattily says, eyeing the catalog as I stuff it into a drawer.

"Sorry, Jan."

"You're being paid for your time here, you know?" she says, sliding into the chair opposite me.

"Yes, I was just..."

"I don't care what you were just." Jan coldly says. "You need to realize that as women in this field, we have a higher standard to live up to."

"Yes, Jan." I say, staring at my hands.

"Particularly, someone like you, from a foreign country. You should know better than to drool over catalogs during company time."

"Sorry Jan."

Jan shakes her head in disappointment and reaches into her bag.

"Anyway, you have to go to Baltimore tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, Jan? But tomorrow is a Saturday and..."

"And what? It's not like you have a boyfriend or anything." she derisively says. "Go to Baltimore, meet with the Starlight folks, and sell them on our new financial services bundle."

"Ok, Jan." I meekly say.

"Make sure you take a bus. It's just a couple of hours away. No flights or Acela Express."

"But Jan, the travel policy allows me..."

"Doesn't matter what the travel policy allows you. It finally gets counted under my budget. Why do you want to waste an hour getting to La Guardia, then an hour checking in and waiting, then another hour flying to Baltimore when in the same time, a bus can get you there? For a tenth of the price? We all need to tighten our belts."

"But Jan, at least a train will..."

"Don't be such a prissy princess! Take a bus! And stay in a motel this time, not some fancy Marriott. We're still technically in a recession." she admonishes me. "You should embrace austerity. You come from a poor country."

"Jan please... I hate buses..." I say, feeling sick at the thought of being in a bus. "Let me take a train. I don't need the Acela. Even a regular Amtrak will..."

"What's there to hate about buses?"

I just stare at my desk silently, unable to articulate my morbid abhorrence of buses.

"Maybe buses in India are shitty. Buses here are nice. You must take a bus! Show some discipline, for cryin' out loud!"

I feel like saying to her - you bitch, you fly business class and stay in five star hotels whenever you travel. And I am the one who has to talk to all the clients into closure. So why should I have to take a ratty bus and stay in a dingy motel? But instead I say,

"Yes, Jan."

Jan pushes the Starlight file towards me, gets up, and walks away. After she leaves, I wait for a few minutes. Then defiantly reach for the Pottery Pen catalog. And order some new sheets for my bedroom. And then, I immerse myself in the Starlight file.

Is this why I slogged through high school and then college in India? Worked extra hard to get into an American grad school with full funding, because my parents couldn't afford to pay the full tuition? Got a job on Wall Street? To be pushed around by another woman, who kept implying all the time how, by being Indian, I was somehow inferior to her Caucasian self?

---

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Later that night. In the event hall of a Ramada in Iselin, NJ. I am decked up in my newest salwar kameez, and wearing jewelry that my mom left me. My hair is in a braid like it usually is. I am not as trendily dressed as some of the other women here.

Yet another Indian singles mixer. I have no illusions of meeting anyone with any real future with me. I am here just for the fun of it. To see their jaws drop at my answer to their very inappropriate question, "So what is your salary?". Indian men, even if they have grown up in America and American accents, are usually not ready for women who earn more than them. Which is why I try to assert my professional success.

Usually I am diffident and meek around people I know, like Jan or my relatives or even the very few people who consider me a friend. But in front of these strangers, I find myself able to be a lot more assertive, blase, even a little cruel sometimes.

This mixer has a speed-dating type thing set up. I am seated on a chair in front of a dinky table, with men spending a couple of minutes at each table. With all of them, it's the same story. I assert my success. They squirm. They ask if I cook. I say no. They ask me about my family. I tell them my parents are dead. They spend a minute more and then feel saved by the bell.

And then HE sits down. My heart sinks. Where did he come from?

"Hi. Nice to see you again." he says politely. "I am Malay."

"Hello." I say, nodding my head.

"Remember me?"

"No!" I say a little too defiantly.

"You're not really here to meet a prospective groom are you?" he asks, with a smile on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I have seen you in so many of these events all over the country. In California, Chicago, Houston, Dallas, Seattle, Miami, and even Phoenix."

"So?" I defiantly say.

He flashes me a charming smile.

"So, it means you are just like me. A tourist. Here for the fun of it. To make other Indians squirm. I have seen how guys look after they meet you."

"Oh yeah?" I argue back. "And how about the girls who meet you? They look like they've seen a ghost."

"I am not denying that. I just want you to admit it." he says. "Like you've just admitted that you've noticed me too."

"I admitted nothing." I say and fold my hands. And I sit leaning back.

He flashes me another smile, and says

"I am based out of New York. I get the feeling you are too. Here's my card if you want to meet some time." he slides a card across the table. And I look at it. Malay Singhal. Works for a top media firm.

"Ok." I say.

"What's your number?" he asks.

I stare at him. Then I tell him. And then add,

"But don't call me. Ever."

"Sure. That's why you gave me your number." he smiles, saving it in his cellphone.

I sit there glaring at him. He sits there smiling at me. For what seems like ages. The bell rings. He moves to the next table. And another guy replaces him.

This guy, Malay, he is not there to find a match. Neither am I. But I find it offensive to see someone else like me. He ruined everything. He ruined the illusion. He ruined the fun.

"Hello, Myself Romesh Mehta. Motel owner in Hastings, Nebraska. Your good name please?" I am shaken out of my reverie. Ah yes, this guy uses the phrase "your good name". Perfect!

I flash him an evil smile. And set about freaking him out.

-----

[Ramesh_Rocky]

This is what my life has been reduced to. Yes, I have a 6-figure income job at a reputed Wall Street firm. But it comes at the expense of long hours in the office, and most weekends spent traveling to random locations to sell clients the services of our firm. Something my boss Jan should do. Something I should make Jan do. Maybe complain to her boss, who is also a woman. But I am too insecure about my career to do that. I am too much of a wimp to do that.

Socially, I was always handicapped. My late parents, may god have mercy on their souls, were the textbook definition of "old-fashioned 20th century Indian middle class". Any contact with boys was shunned. But I was expected to do well academically. My dad was not happy to just have me coast through school and marry me off. As his only daughter, he expected all the achievements of me that he would expect from a son. But I was placed under social restrictions no son would ever have to face.

After slogging my ass off in school, I made it to a decent American public university in the Midwest for grad school. Some boys, Indian and otherwise, did hit on me. I tried to stave off their advances, in the name of focusing on my career, as dad always taught me to.

"Focus on studying hard and building a great career. These crucial years will never come back." my dad would lecture me every week. "Boys and romance and marriage will happen in its own time. I will find you the perfect man. Leave that to me. You just keep your focus on studies."

But eventually, one guy broke through. He was perfect for me. Smart, reasonably good looking, from a decent family, and a very nice person. He was the one I lost my virginity to, on a second hand mattress on the floor of his bedroom in an apartment he shared with 3 other Indian grad students. We were the perfect couple. Our future was set. Or so we thought. Or so I thought.

We weren't from the same caste, but I didn't expect that to be a problem for a guy like him. How wrong I was! His parents wanted him to marry a girl from their caste. And from a rich family. One whose parents owned several businesses that he could inherit. What hurt me the most was, he didn't even put up a token fight against them. Abandoned me as soon as they raised a stink. And moved on with ease. Married the girl his parents chose and posted pictures of him beaming with her on Facebook. As if all I ever meant to him was a fuck buddy, a welcome distraction while he completed his Masters program.

I thanked my stars I hadn't mustered up the courage to tell my parents about him. They were happy I had finished my Masters. Got a job in New York City, the business capital of the world. And then, a week before they were about to visit me in the US to attend my graduation, they were in a bus that slammed into a truck on the highway. And that was that.

I went back to India. Cremated what was left of them. Sold off what little property they owned. Spent some token time with relatives who had never been too close to us anyway. Took whatever money was left, and came back to America. Moved to New York City. Started my job. That is, started doing Jan's work for her. And focused on filling my tiny upper west side apartment with Pottery Pen stuff.

I tried dating. Meeting men through acquaintances, through friends, some from work, and even some from online dating sites and apps. Some Indian, some non-Indian. But as a 24 year old with no prior dating experience at it, I always struck out. It's not like I was ugly. I mean, yeah, I didn't wear make-up, didn't wear the trendiest clothes, and I did braid my hair for convenience. I knew I was not ugly. But looks didn't matter. What did me in was my awkwardness. I did not possess the flirting skills an average NY woman possesses. I would usually clam up. And guys never really went past a couple of dates. There were a couple of awkward booty calls but that was it.

Which is why I resorted to these Indian singles mixers all over the US. My job required me to travel everywhere anyway. And Jan was always inconsiderate enough to schedule my travel on weekends and make me take cheaper red-eye flights that I had to wait for till late at night. So I would look up what the latest Indian events, or the latest Indian singles mixers were. And attend them. A way to spend my evenings in unknown cities.

The first few times, I was genuinely looking for a good match. But after a couple of those mixers I realized they were filled with 2nd or 3rd generation dorks, who were looking for an arcane idea of what an Indian wife should be. Career? What's the need for that? Do you cook? How about laundry? How soon would you like to have kids? They didn't want a wife. They wanted a maid with a womb.

Disillusioned, I started treating these mixers as sport. Instead of trying to find someone, I started focusing on freaking the guys out. And it provided me with some comfort. Some recreation, apart from my Pottery Pen shopping. I was usually very diffident, but my pent up aggression and frustration at the world found an outlet in these mixers. If there was an Indian singles mixer happening around me, I was there. And I never thought anyone noticed. Until Malay. Whom I had also seen around all over the country. Whom I also knew to be in a similar game.

From now on, I decided, if I see Malay, I would sneak out of the event early.

====

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Sunday night. The Baltimore deal is almost through. I only need to send them a confirmatory fax. Such dinosaurs, still hung up on fax. I am waiting downtown for the bus back to New York. It's an hour before departure time so I decide to do some window shopping. I walk into a designer clothing store, feeling decidedly frumpy in my loose business casuals. I admire the low cut evening wear and cocktail dresses. Look longingly at the skirts and tops.

The sales girl is hovering around to see if I need any help. I need help, but not the kind she can give me. I am severely conscious about my body. I am not fat or anything. I just don't feel sexy. I never have. I could get into one of these dresses. I am just not sure I could carry it off. I look around for a while and then leave the store.

Next, I browse around in a book store, a cute chocolate shop and an antique store. The next store I see brings me to a standstill. It's an adult bookstore with neon silhouettes of naked women. I have heard about these places. Seen them all over Manhattan, especially in the touristy areas. Never had the courage to go into one. But this time, curiosity gets the better of me. I open the door and walk in.

There's a middle aged lady behind the counter and a young black man stocking the shelves. Neither of them casts me a second glance. It is a big breakthrough for me to cast off years of conservative upbringing and walk into this Gomorrah, but for them, I am just another customer.

Doing my best to not be too scandalized, I look at the wares they have on offer. Nudie magazines and videos, with buxom naked women on the covers. God, how can these women be so comfortable naked and on display? Even when I was sleeping with a guy, I preferred to have the lights off. I browse some more. Dildos and vibrators. Lingerie, some of it edible. Whips, handcuffs, creams of various kind. All kinds of toys I have only read about but never seen up close. And then more dildos.

I start wondering about how dildos are made. Do they cast molds from actual penises? Do guys get hard and stick their penises into plaster of paris? Or does someone sculpt them independently? Is there a production line for them? What material works best? Is there such a thing as an artisan handmade dildo? I wonder how the pay is. That'll be an interesting line of work. Designing and selling dildos. Sounds more fun than selling financial services.

Some of the stuff intrigues me. I consider buying a dildo and a vibrator. I even take one of each off the shelf. But then the thought of actually plonking them down in front of another person, signaling I need those aids...it sounds too much for my middle class Indian sensibilities to bear. I put them back. Maybe I can order them online later. I still feel a little conflicted though. Why am I so ashamed of buying this stuff right here? Maybe I should. I reach for the toys again, when there's a sound of the door opening. Reflexively, I pull my hand back.

It's a woman about my age, carrying a couple of pink bags. She looks brown, maybe Hispanic. She confidently strides up to the aisle I am standing in and picks up an assortment of goods, including dildos, vibrators, handcuffs, and a lot of other stuff I can't even look at without blushing. She sees me staring at her, nods, and walks to the register. I slowly head towards the door myself. As the clerk is ringing her up, I walk out the door.

I see the bus is now here. I head for it, heart pounding. I think about delaying boarding till the last minute but then decide to just get it over with. Soon I am inside on an aisle seat. Half the bus is empty. The window seat next to me is empty.

This is the first time I have been in a bus since my parents died in one. On the way here, I had taken the Amtrak at my own expense. But I can't afford to keep doing that even with my salary, if Jan isn't going to reimburse it anymore. I need to get used to being in buses.

My heart is about ready to jump through my chest. I keep having visions of how my parents' remains looked after the accident. How mangled and twisted the bus chassis was in the pictures. That smell of human flesh being cooked with butter in the crematorium seems to waft back from my memory bank. That acute awareness of how utterly alone I am in this world now. I am praying for my parents' souls.

I am also praying for the seat next to me to be empty. So I can sit comfortably, maybe stretch out and sleep when the bus gets going. Not exactly sleep. Close my eyes and rest them.

Sleep has been hard to come by ever since mom and dad died. I keep popping Advil PM pills at night, but even that doesn't help sometimes. In fact today, I have been without sleep for almost 48 hours straight. So I am hoping the motion of the bus will put me to sleep for the 4 hours it takes to get to New York.

I keep staring at the trickle of people walking down the aisle, hoping none of them will sit next to me.

An older gentleman stops next to me, shoves his bag into the overhead bin, and then sits in the row behind me. Phew, dodged a bullet. A few more people walk by. The trickle of people ends. Yes, I smile, two seats to myself.

Just as I am celebrating my spatial conquest, I see her again. The woman from the adult bookstore. She strides in through the door. Glides down the aisle. Heads turn. And why wouldn't they? She looks gorgeous. Her thick silky black hair flowing down her shoulders. Definitely a Latina, I decide from her confident body language and easy way of dressing sexy. Her cleavage suggestively peeping through her tank top. And her smooth mocha legs visible under her short skirt. She moves with the grace of a tigress hunting for her prey.

She smiles at a few people as she walks down the aisle. And then she stops, right next to my row. Puts one dainty pink bag in the overhead compartment. And slides past me to sit down on the window seat next to me. Flashes me a smile, and then examines the window carefully, and checks out the red handle on it..

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"We're next to the emergency exit window. We gotta know where to pull to open it. In case there's an accident." she says to me cheerfully, in an accent I have trouble placing.

"Oh yeah." I say. Thanks for pointing out one accident related thought that I had somehow managed to ignore. "Major responsibility, huh?"

"I guess." she shrugs. "Imagine if we crash going at 80 miles an hour, the bus is on fire. And the only way to escape fire is to properly open this window."

I cringe and look away. I feel like slapping her. Angry as if she is bringing up this topic on purpose just to torment me. But she doesn't know me. How could she?

She puts her other bag under the seat.

I continue, "So what do you do?"

"Excuse me?" she says, cocking her eyes.

"I mean, what do you do for a living?" I ask.

She looks at me with an amused expression on her face.

"You know." she says. "I can't help but think you're asking me this just so you can tell me what you do. Like your career is the only thing you have going for you."

"What? No! I was just..."

"I do lots of things but currently, I am here for dildos." she says, reaching for the other bag she has just put under the chair.

"Ummm...what????" I ask, scarcely able to believe my ears.

"I make dildos." she says and opens her bag. I see a couple of dozen dildos of different kind laid out neatly. "You know, devices to help women achieve satisfaction."

"Oh." I say, squirming in my seat. It is so weird that I was just thinking about the antecedents of dildo making, and here I am seated right next to a professional. At least she is a woman. If it had been a man talking about dildos, I probably would have jumped out of that emergency exit window.

"Didn't I see you in that sex store earlier?"

I blush and nod.

"I am also considering making other stuff. So I was picking up some samples. You didn't buy anything, did you?"

"No."

"Too shy? Well, that's the driving force behind my business. Selling dildos online. Many women are like you, uncomfortable with their sexuality. They want to shop online but don't trust the websites. So I have a partly online partly offline business model. I advertise my stock online, but deliver it discreetly by myself. Payment only on delivery. Women feel comfortable buying such stuff from another woman."

"Oh." I am surprised again that she is running the very business I was thinking about earlier.

"You seem like the type. Here's my card if you ever need anything." she says, handing me a card from a stack in the side-pocket of the bag.

"Trupti Darshan." I read, and am taken aback. I steal a quick glance at her and look at the card again.

"You're surprised I am an Indian like you." she says, with an all-knowing smile.

"No..." I say, then, "I mean...yes. I had you pegged as a..."

"As a what? Latina?" she asks, closing the bag.

"Yes."

"Just because I haven't braided my tresses and dressed like a matron? And I am showing cleavage?"

"No, of course not."

"All Indian women don't have to be like you, you know. Uncomfortable about their sexuality, timid, unsure, relying on some corporate job to prove their self-worth." she non-chalantly says, putting the bag under the seat again.

"Excuse me!" I say, looking very offended. I took enough crap from Jan at work. The last thing I needed was some stranger treating me like shit.

"How is your life working out for you by the way?"

"It's good."

"You look like shit. I don't mean you are bad looking. You have bags under your eyes, stress on your face, and thin red veins all over the white of your eye. I think your life must be shit."

"You don't know me." I say defensively. Her face softens and she smiles. She puts her hand on my shoulder and rubs it.

"Alright, I am sorry. Anyway." she says. "I am like you. Got a masters degree after college, got a well-paying stuffy corporate job. But then I realized that wasn't the life I wanted to lead. So I changed course."

"By selling dildos?"

"Yeah, want one? Free sample!" she takes a dildo out of the bag and offers it to me. A couple of people around the bus look at us with surprise. My face is flushed with embarrassment.

"Trupti, please!" I whisper. She starts laughing and puts it back in the bag.

"You're a walking cliche of voluntary repression. So where are you from?"

And that is how I met Trupti Darshan. On a nondescript bus back from Baltimore to New York City. She was occasionally arrogant and dismissive, but had this good listener quality too. And I couldn't help but speak to her. I really needed someone to listen to me. We spoke throughout the bus ride. It was mainly me speaking about my job. My frequent travels. Trupti just listened. With a faint smile on her face. Some time during that conversation, I must have nodded off.

Because the next thing I remember, my head was on her shoulder as we pulled in to the Port Authority bus terminal in New York. We parted ways with a quick peck on each others' cheeks. She told me to stay in touch. I am thinking, I will never probably see you again in my life.

-----

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I reach my apartment. Dig into my purse for my keys. Can't find them! Where the heck are the keys? Ten minutes of intense search, and I still cannot find my keys.

"Sorry ma'am." the security guard of my building says. "They don't give us night shift guys the extra keys. You'll have to wait until morning when the daytime guards come."

Great! What am I supposed to do now? I walk to a hotel close by, with my bags in tow. Sold out. Not a single room available. Fucking tourist season. Seven more hotels in a 4 block radius. All sold out. No vacancy.

I walk out of the eighth hotel, dragging my bags behind me, my arms starting to hurt. Maybe I should call someone and crash with them. But who? I have no close friends in the city. Or in any other city to be honest. I reach into my purse, and pull out a card. Malay. I consider calling him. Worry about how it would look. It would look like I was looking for a booty call. Would that be so bad? He isn't a bad looking guy. I let my mind drift, then pull it back. That's not how I was raised, I scold myself.

See the next card. Trupti Darshan. The woman I had just met. Still, a woman nonetheless.

"Hello, Trupti here."

"Hi Trupti. It's me. We were just on the bus from Baltimore together."

"Oh yeah. Braided hair. I remember you." she says, laughing softly. "What's up?"

"Ummm... you wanna meet somewhere for a drink?"

There was silence for a few seconds.

"Trupti?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Where are you?"

"Upper west side"

"Okay. Meet me at 69th and Amsterdam in 20 minutes."

--

Half an hour later, we're sitting at a corner booth in a bar-and-grill. Trupti enthusiastically sipping on her long island ice tea. Me, sipping on a diet coke. I have had a few drinks socially in the past at work events, mostly red wine, but that was only to not stick out from the crowd. I never really enjoyed drinking. Dad always said that alcohol is the gateway to hard drugs and a wasted life. So even as Trupti is relishing her booze, I decide to stick to diet coke.

"I think I left my keys at the hotel in Baltimore. Or maybe I dropped them in the bus." I tell her.

"Hmmm... so you're locked out of your own apartment?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"And your biggest worry is...will you be in time for work tomorrow, right? For your Wall Street job?" Trupti asks.

I only smile sheepishly in response.

"So, do you have a nice Indian guy you're gonna marry? Someone your parents chose for you?" she asks, completely changing the subject.

"My parents are dead." I say. I don't add that if they were alive, yes, I would probably have married a guy they chose.

"That is so COOL!! So are mine!" she says, excited, as if we both just found out we belonged to the same sorority.She raises her hand for a high five.

"I wouldn't say it's cool."

"Oh come on. I mean yeah, it sucks that they died. But didn't their death free you?"

"Free me?"

"Yes, free you. From their value system. Their rules. Their expectations. Their emotional shackles. I know it did for me. When I was growing up in India..."

"You grew up in India?" I ask, surprised.

"Yeah. You think just because I don't have a fobby accent, I was born in the US? I came to the US after college, just like you." she says.

"Wow, I had no idea." How can someone sound so elegant even after growing up in India? I still struggle differentiating my V's and W's.

"We're very alike, you and me. In a lot of ways. Both weighed down by what our parents think is right and wrong. Forced to live by an outdated code in a changing world. Except that I have started abandoning the code. You, braided hair, are clearly sticking to it."

"That's not entirely true, Trupti. I mean I..." I protest.

"Let me ask you this. When was the last time you got laid?" Trupti asks, finishing her drink and beckoning for another one.

"Excuse me?" I say, looking scandalized.

"You know what I am asking you. When was the last time you got a man between your legs? Had your clit played with? Got your cunt plowed? Had sex? Got laid?" Trupti asks as the waitress comes with her drink. The waitress shoots me a puzzled look, and walks away.

"That's personal." I say, looking offended.

"That pretty much answers the question." Trupti says.

I say nothing. Trupti starts laughing. She then changes the subject to something less offensive and we start talking again.

That's how Trupti operates in conversations with me. Switching rapidly between being a sympathetic listener and an arrogant bitch putting me down and ridiculing me. Is it any surprise we ended up like we did, knife threats followed by fingering?

---

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Two hours later, Trupti and I are in an alley behind the bar. She, five drinks down and visibly drunk, is smoking a cigarette. I am standing next to her with my luggage.

"Yes, you can." she says.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"Yes, you can stay with me tonight. That's why you called me, right? You wanted a place to stay for the night and you have no friends except for someone you just met on a bus?"

"Trupti! No, I mean..." I start stringing together words of protest in vain.

"Come on. It's okay. You can stay with me. Us Indian women need to have each other's back."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yeah, come on. Maybe I could even teach you a thing or two."

Trupti says and starts walking west along the alley. I follow her with my luggage. We walk two blocks to a dark secluded area and she stops. There are two homeless guys across the street from us, drinking something out of a paper bag and talking in whispers. She looks at them and says,

"But there is one condition for you to live with me. I want you to do something for me."

"Okay?" I ask, putting my purse on top of my suitcase.

"I want you to tear off my clothes. Strip me naked."

"What???" I say so loudly that the homeless guys start staring at us.

"You heard me. I will put my coat here." She keeps her long coat on my luggage and said, "You, tear off my clothes. Strip me naked."

"Why???"

"Have you ever been naked outdoors?" Trupti asks.

"No...have you?" I ask, curiously.

"No, but I have always fantasized about it. I'd never have the nerve to do it myself. So you need to do it for me."

"Trupti, I don't know if I..."

"Oh come on. Don't be such an old maid." Trupti says and shoves me hard. I stumble a little.

"I am not being..."

"Yes, you are. Okay. here's an idea to motivate you. Either you tear off my clothes, or I will tear yours off." Trupti says, advancing towards me.

"What????"

"Yes, strip me naked. Right in front of these two homeless guys. Or I do it to you." Trupti says, breathing heavily.

"Okay...I don't want to do this, Trupti. I think I'll just go to a hotel." I say, backing away.

"Too late!" Trupti says and lunges towards me.

I gasp in shock as I feel Trupti's arms wrapped around me, pushing me to the ground. She starts tugging at my shirt, exposing my stomach. I fight back, and she breathlessly says,

"All you have to do is, take off my clothes."

I try resisting her, but she is overpowering me. I finally decide to just do what she wants. It is her wish after all. Trupti is still wearing the tank top and the mini-skirt. I reach for the neck of her tank top with my flailing arms and pull hard. There is a loud ripping sound as the flimsy tank top tears down the front, revealing that she isn't wearing a bra. Trupti's big tits, almost exactly as big as mine, break free and are visible to me and to the homeless guys.

"Good, very good." she says. And then yanks at my shirt really hard. I hear its buttons pop and soon, it is in her hands. I am lying there on the pavement just in my bra.

"Trupti, you're crazy!" I say, trying to push her off, and simultaneously trying to hide my nearly naked boobs.

From the corner of my eye, I see the two homeless guys approaching us. They are staring at the spectacle in surprise and delight. Two topless women, wrestling on the pavement.

"She's crazy." one of them says to the other.

"Yes, she is." I say, doing my best to fight Trupti off, and they smile.

"Hot bod on her though. Are we gonna get some tonight, you think?" the other guy says.

"Damn, look at them titties! She is stacked!"

Trupti, still pinning me down, smiles at them and winks.

"Now, take my skirt and panties off before I get you naked." Trupti says, and starts tugging at my pants.

"Me?" one of the homeless guys asks, excited.

"Not you!" Trupti says derisively, looks at me and repeats what she said.

"Trupti, please, stop." I shriek. The homeless guys are now just a couple of feet from us. And staring in delight but still looking nervous.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"I'll only stop when I am naked." Trupti says and keeps tugging at my pants.

I finally decide to play her game. Put my fingers in the waistband of her skirt and yank hard. It comes apart without any resistance, and Trupti is now fully naked except for her panties.

"Good job. Now the panties. Get them off before I get you naked."

The homeless guys, both of them kinda old, are now standing right over us, staring in amazement. I am very conscious of the fact that they are staring at my boobs along with Trupti's shapely body. I know that if I don't do what she's asked me to, they will be staring at my naked body before hers. That is motivation enough.

I yank at her panties. They slide down her thighs, exposing her trimmed pubic hair.

"Good going." Trupti breathlessly says, resisting my attempts nevertheless. Is this woman bipolar, I wonder. Says she wants me to strip her naked but keeps fighting it.

A minute more and her panties are in my hand. Both of us are breathless. Trupti, bare-ass naked, sitting on the pavement laughing. Me, topless, with her panties in my hand.

I am about to reach for my coat to cover myself up, when I hear Trupti say,

"You guys like what you see?"

I turn around and see Trupti talking to the two homeless guys. The two nod. She gets up, still naked, and touches each of their bearded cheeks with her hands. Her hands then go down to their crotches which are bulging visibly.

"Trupti, what are you doing?" I say, putting my coat on cover my nakedness. but she ignores me.

"Both you guys are getting blowjobs tonight. How does that sound?" she says. The two men make guttural sounds of approval. "But just blowjobs. You try anything else and I'll scream so loud, Commissioner O'Neill will come running."

"Deal, miss."

Trupti then reaches into their pants with either hand and takes out their dicks. The dicks look hairy and dirty, but very very erect. I watch in fascination as she gets on her knees, takes one of the dicks in her mouth and starts sucking hungrily.

"It tastes so awful. But it feels good." Trupti says, looking at me. "Want a taste?"

"I don't roll that way." the other guy says.

"I wasn't asking you." she says, looking at me.

I shake my head. The men thankfully are now ignoring my presence altogether, focusing their attention on Trupti. Both of them are playing with one boob each as she continues to suck their dicks one by one. I try to look away, but I cannot. Here is a beautiful young woman, fully naked, in the back alleys of New York City, sucking the dicks of two old filthy homeless men.

As grotesquely erotic as the sight looks, it does not last too long. Both the men come very soon, spraying their jizz all over Trupti's big boobs. One of them then reached for her ass, but Trupti thankfully slaps his hand away, reminding him of their deal. She meticulously licks their dicks clean, and then gets up. And walks away, leaving their spent dicks hanging. Walks past me, picks up her coat and puts it on, covering her nakedness.

"Alright, let's get going." she says to me and starts walking.

I stare at her for a few seconds, unsure of whether to go with her. But then I start following her. Despite myself, I had enjoyed the perverted scene that had just unfolded in front of me, and I am curious to see what would happen next if I stick around with her.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

My Struggles with Trupti Ch. 02

Trupti's "apartment" turns out to be the basement of a half-empty building by the Hudson river. In fact we have to go in through the back entrance. Only two small bulbs come on when Trupti flips the switch. And the place looks like a complete mess, like no one has lived there in ages. It reminds me of one of the properties my company bought during the real estate crash that I had to do some assessment work for. For all I know, it might be one of those properties.

"I know it looks a bit run down." Trupti says, leading me into it. "but it's functional."

"Are you sure you're legally allowed to be here?" I ask cautiously.

"Stop worrying about the law. I live here. That should be good enough. Squatting on someone else's property is what this country was built on."

She leads me to a small bedroom with a queen sized bed. It has a dirty mattress with no bed sheet.

"This is where we sleep I guess." Trupti shrugs and says. "You can put your luggage wherever you want."

She takes off her coat and flings it in one direction, standing naked in front of me. I sit down uncomfortably on the bed. She lays down next to me.

"Where can I change?" I tentatively ask.

"You can change right here. I am naked, aren't I? Besides, I have already seen those D-cup tits." Trupti says, laughing.

"No, I'd just..."

"Okay fine. Just change in the next room."

I go into the next room with my night clothes and flip the light switch on. It stays dark. I sigh and get out of my coat and clothes. I am standing there naked, about to reach for my jammies, when I feel the touch of a finger, precisely on my clit.

"What the hell...Trupti?" I yell, trying to slap the hand away but it stays there.

"Shhh... you know you need this."

Trupti says and her fingers start playing with my clit expertly, making me go weak in my knees. I do need this.

"Please, don't..." I feebly say in protest, but she has found the spot so well, I slump to the floor and in her arms. "why...are you...doing...this?" I say between the bursts of pleasure her fingers were sending through my body.

"Because you need it." Trupti whispers in response.

Seated on the floor, my legs part as she continues to finger me, sending tidal waves of pleasure surging through my entire being. And just as I am getting used to the feel of her fingers, I feel something poke against my pussy lips. Even in the darkness, when I look down, I can make out the outline of a dildo being inserted into my pussy.

"Ahhhh...Truptiiiiiiiii" I shriek in please as she forces the dildo deep into my pussy even as her fingers kept playing with my clit. My body is swept up in a burst of pleasure it has never known.

---

Monday. I wake up with a start. Naked. On the dirty bed with no sheets. It takes me a few moments to register where exactly I am. I reach over with my hand, but the other side of the bed is empty. Empty except for a note that reads -

"Sorry, had to run out for some work. Seeya tonight.

xoxo

Trupti"

I check the time on my cellphone. Ten a.m.! I am two hours late for work! I run to the bathroom, and take a shower standing in the spotted and mildewed tub. I come out, get dressed. Then consider dropping my luggage home. The day guard must have the key. But I look at the time again and decide I'll come back for it later.

I run out the door a few minutes later, on my way to work.

---

Monday night. A little after 9 p.m. I walk out of my office building, and see Trupti standing there. She is wearing a halter top with a short wrap around skirt. Looking gorgeous as always. And with a wide smile on her face.

"Trupti, what're you doing here?" I ask.

"Do you always work this late?" she asks.

"No, sometimes."

"Your boss was a bitch about you coming in late?"

"Yes."

"Any words of praise for getting the account?"

"No."

"Come with me. We're going to get drunk."

"I don't really drink, Trupti."

"Just come with me." she says, and hails a cab.

--

An hour later. Central Park. When Trupti said we're going to get drunk, I thought she'd take me to a bar like yesterday. Instead, she stops by a liquor store, gets a big bottle of schnapps, and takes me to the northern end of the park. Where we sit, in the darkness slightly illuminated only by the bright lights of the surrounding buildings, and drink out of the bottle concealed in a brown paper bag. Well, she does most of the drinking. I take only the occasional polite sip.

"Is this really the life you want? Getting pushed around, living alone in a dingy apartment, getting no sex?"

"Sex is overrated." I slur. Even with the few sips, my body, not used to alcohol, is feeling its effects.

"Really? Sex is overrated? The way you were shrieking last night when I was..."

"Trupti!" I yell, and she starts laughing. "Please don't remind me of that."

"Why not?"

"I am not a lesbian." I say, lowering my voice although there is no one around.

"Lesbian?" Trupti says and starts laughing again. "You think what happened last night made you a lesbian?"

"Didn't it?"

"If getting your clit fingered, and having a dildo up your cunt makes you lesbian, then all women are lesbian." Trupti says.

I stay silent, a little surprised at how effortlessly she uses dirty words. Trupti passes me the bottle. I take a big swig.

"We Indian women have been brought up to hate fun. Stay away from pleasing ourselves in any way. Live by the rules others set. Usually men. First fathers and then husbands. And we are just supposed to toe the line."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Things are changing." I say.

"For better or for worse? Your mom went from living in her parents' house to marrying your dad at...what age?"

"Twenty one."

"Twenty one. So at twenty one, she was getting regular sex. Here you are, considerably older than she was, and how's your sex life?"

I say nothing.

"I am not asking you to get married. I am just asking you to live. There's more to life than making lots of money and collecting Pottery Pen crap. You are in New York. The greatest city in the world. The most exciting city in the world. This isn't Delhi or Bombay where you'll get castigated as a harlot. This is the city of Sex and the City."

"So that's what I should do? Just sleep around?"

Trupti laughs out loud.

"There's sleeping around and there's sleeping around. I am not asking you to be one of those women with low self-esteem who sleep with men just to feel appreciated. I am asking you to recognize your own needs, and fulfill them while recognizing the power you wield."

"What power, Trupti?" I ask.

Two young men, barely out of their teens are walking by. Trupti smiles at me and calls out to them.

"Excuse me. Excuse me for a moment."

They stop and come close to us.

"Hi. How much would you gentlemen pay to get a look at these tits?" Trupti points at my chest and I take a deep breath in shock.

"Hmmm...they look big. What size are they?" one of them calmly asks.

"36D." Trupti says.

"Umm... fifty bucks?"

"Not bad. But we're not interested in money." Trupti says. "Here's the deal. You two are friends, right?"

"Yeah." the other one answers.

"Close friends? Best friends?"

The guys nod.

"You two fight. Right here in front of us. And I am talking about a real, hardcore fight, where the guy who gets beaten needs help walking. You two fight like that. And whoever wins, not only get to see the boobs, but also gets a topless blowjob."

"Are you serious?" One of the guys says.

"Totally and completely serious."

"Hold on." the other guy, the smaller of the two says. "I ain't gonna fight you just to get a blowjob from a Central Park whore."

"It's up to you. You can walk away, and we'll find the next two guys who come along."

"Fine, we'll just..." he starts speaking but is knocked off his feet by the other guy. "Sean, what the fuck, man?"

He starts fighting back. And pretty soon the two of them are trading blows, right there in front of us.

I have just been staring dumbstruck this whole while. I keep staring at the two men fighting each other for a look at my boobs. And of course a blowjob.

"Trupti, I am not doing any of that."

Trupti doesn't say anything. Just keeps watching the men fight. Despite one of them being bigger than the other, the fight is even. They fight brutally for a good five minutes or so, neither of them dominating the other one, when.

"What's going on here?"

Two security officermen walk up from the bushes. Each of them grabs one of the fighting guys and separates them. Trupti immediately flings the schnapps bottle away into the bushes.

"Are they bothering you, ma'am?" one of the cops asks me.

"No." I quietly say.

"Come along." the cops grab the two guys and drag them away. "Be careful of such punks. And go home!" One of the cops says.

A few seconds later, it's just Trupti and me sitting there.

"What the hell was that, Trupti?" I ask, aghast.

"That's the power you hold. The power to make two men fight like mortal enemies. For what? A promise to take a look at two big bags of fat hanging off your chest. Imagine what more you could do. That's the power you are letting simply rot." Trupti says.

"What's the point of making someone fight?" I ask.

"It's just an example. Anyway, let's get going. You don't wanna be late for work again tomorrow."

---

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Half an hour later, I am at Trupti's place again. I did not have time to get the keys from the day guard. So I am locked out of my apartment again.

I am sitting in what serves as the living room plus kitchen, looking at a file. Trupti is taking a shower. That's when my cellphone rings. It's an unknown number, but it's 212, so has to be from New York.

"Hello." I answer.

"Hi. Malay here." a cheerful voice says.

"What do you want?"

"Just wanted to call up and ask you... you wanna meet for a drink?"

"No, I do not."

"Come on! I am sure you're just sitting at home alone with nothing to do."

"I am not alone."

"Who are you with? A guy?" Malay asks, sounding a bit jealous.

"None of your business." I say. "But no, not a guy. A girlfriend."

"Get her along too. The more the merrier."

"Malay, I am busy. Please don't call me again." I say and hang up.

A few seconds later, the phone rings again. I disconnect it. It rings again. I put the phone on silent and go to the bedroom.

"Trupti." I call out.

"Yeah?" she answers from the shower.

"I am going to bed." I say.

"Okay. I might step out for some action though."

I lie down on the bed and close my eyes. And try to sleep.

Tuesday.

I wake up on the stinky living room couch. How the hell did I get here? I scratch my head and try to remember. I have vague dream-like recollections of Trupti asking me to move to the couch, because she had a guy with her. I look at the bedroom door. It's closed. I look at the time. Half past six in the morning. At least I won't be late again. In fact I have a few more minutes to sleep. I close my eyes, when I hear the bedroom door open, and I hear a male voice humming a song.

I keep my eyes shut. This must be the guy Trupti was with.

"Sorry, I need to run. Have an early meeting." a familiar voice says.

I open my eyes. It's Malay! Standing over me, buttoning his shirt.

"What the hell, Malay?" I ask angrily. What is this asshole doing here?

"Sorry, I really need to get going." he says and starts tying his shoelaces.

"Why the fuck are you here?" I shriek.

"Keep it down out there." I hear Trupti sleepily yell from the bedroom. I stare at the bedroom door. Malay follows my stare, and looks at the bedroom door too.

"Oh please. Don't tell me." I whisper in disgust.

"Don't tell you what?" he asks. "And why are you whispering?"

"Trupti..." I whisper.

He smiles and shakes his head in amusement.

"Trupti...true to the name. Trupti means satisfaction, right? Or contentment? I gotta say, I am really satisfied. And I'll tell you..."

"Just shut up and get out." I whisper, and throw a pillow at him. It hits him harmlessly on the head.

"Huh?"

"I don't care what the hell you did in there. But I can't stand the sight of you. Get the fuck out." I say, raising my voice.

"Okay, okay." he says, looking puzzled. "I am in a hurry anyway. You're weird."

He starts walking towards me, but I yell,

"Don't come near me. Just get out!"

Malay shrugs and walks out. I hear the door close behind him and Trupti walks out of the bedroom, clad in a bathrobe.

"Nice guy. Good technique in bed." Trupti says, lighting a cigarette.

"Trupti, you...you slept with him?" I ask.

"Yeah. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, I mean..."

"Did you want to bang him first?" Trupti says, winking.

"Not at all. I hate him. How...where...when...how did you meet him anyway?"

"Oh, after I got done with my shower last night and came to the living room, I saw your phone buzzing. I thought it might be important, so I answered. It was this guy. He sounded interesting. So I met him. And you know... don't you remember moving the couch?"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I say nothing.

"Anyway, really good in bed. Especially for an Indian. Nice thick dick too. You should try him out some time." Trupti says and walks into the bathroom.

-------

That afternoon, torn between feelings of disgust about Malay and loyalty towards Trupti, I take an hour off from work after pleading with Jan. I get my stuff, go to my apartment, get the guard to let me in. And then I go back to work.

Three days roll by with me immersed in my work. No word from Trupti. I start feeling guilty that I left without saying goodbye or thanking her. Maybe she is upset, and rightfully so. But the idea of her sleeping with Malay is too much for me to take. I don't know why. I don't like him. Don't like him at all. But still, what she did bugs the crap out of me.

At the end of the fourth day, Friday, I am thinking of calling up Trupti myself. I reach for the phone when it starts ringing.

"Trupti?" I say happily, "I was just..."

"You were just about to call me? Yes, I am sure you were. Meet me in half an hour at Penn Station."

Half an hour later, Trupti, dressed in a short off shoulder dress, meets me on 34th Street with a bag in her hand.

"Hi, what's up?"

"You're coming on a sales call with me. Kinda." she says, and hails a cab.

"A sales call? For what?"

"You know what I sell."

It takes me a few moments to remember.

"Dildos?" I whisper as we get into the cab.

"Yes, dildos." Trupti says and the cab driver looks at us in surprise.

"Where to?" he asks. I can see he's an Indian cab driver. The name on his ID on the glass partition says Piyush something.

"129th and Malcolm X" Trupti says.

"Who lives there?" I ask, but she ignores my question and reaches into her bag. She pulls out a big thick dildo. The cabbie sees it in her hand and suppresses a smile.

"Okay, so here's the thing. Either you strip me naked in this cab and make me cum using this dildo, or I will do it to you." Trupti says in a very serious tone.

"What? Not this again, Trupti." I say, but she is already pulling at my top.

"Just give in to it. You know you need this."

I can only hear Trupti. Can't see anything because she's already got my top off my torso and it's stuck in my arms, covering my eyes.

"Trupti, stop."

"Madam, what are you doing?" the cabbie asks in Hindi in a worried voice.

"Just keep driving and enjoy the show." Trupti admonishes him, also in Hindi. "If you don't like what you see, pull over and we'll get another cab."

The driver stays silent and keeps driving. Trupti turns her attention back to me. She has my arms pinned down. Now she reaches for my skirt and tugs at it. It has an elastic waist, not buttons or hooks, so it slides down easily, leaving me in my panties. Which she almost tears apart in rage. I fight back and pull at her dress which slips off easily. I am surprised to see she isn't wearing any underwear.

"There. Totally naked. Now just lie back, and enjoy." Trupti says in a commanding voice, and I whimper and do so.

The cabbie adjusts his rearview mirror, and I can see his face in it, which means he can see mine. He is watching with a hungry expression as Trupti, completely naked, starts fucking my cunt mercilessly with the dildo.

"Ohhhhh...Truptiiiii...ahhhhh..." I start shrieking at the dildo's assault on my cunt.

"Yes, you like it, don't you? You need this."

"Ummmmhhhhhhhh." I say, bucking and thrashing in response to the dildo ramming me.

The cabbie is clearly having trouble concentrating on the road and watching what is going on. Even as she keeps fucking me with the dildo, and I wail, Trupti says to the cabbie in Hindi,

"You seem to be having trouble driving."

"No, it's fine." he says in a worried voice.

"How long have you been driving a cab in Manhattan?"

My wail, as I feel an orgasm approach interrupts his answer.

"Five years."

"Do you know any secluded place where you can park the taxi for a while without anyone being around? Cops or anyone? Maybe in Central Park?"

"Yes absolutely."

I shudder and thrash around on the seat as a massive orgasm hits me, and I shriek. My orgasm takes a minute or so to subside, and I am lying there, spent.

"Take us there."

The cab swerves as it changes lane, and he turns into one of the transverses into Central Park. He drives for a little while more and pulls his cab onto the grass, into some bushes. I am slouching on the seat naked, breathless, with my pussy juices glistening under the dim light. The cab comes to a stop. The driver looks at us expectantly.

"Ok madam, we are here." he sounds very excited.

Trupti pulls me closer to her as she moves towards the door and leans on it.

"Okay, come to the back seat and do whatever you want." Trupti says.

The driver almost trips getting out of the door in a hurry.

"What the hell, Trupti? I don't..." I start protesting, when Trupti puts her fingers on my clit and gives it a flick. Immediately, shivers run through my body.

I am staring at Trupti when the door opens and the driver jumps in, breathless. I am relieved to see his gaze fixed on Trupti, not me. I am also a bit disappointed that he didn't even spend a second trying to decide. But I can understand why. She is so much hotter than I am.

"You are so beautiful." he says, unbuttoning his pants. As he slides them down, I see his dick is already fully erect. Trupti is now leaning on the seat back, her legs open, her cunt in full view. I sit up and try to move away but she grabs me and holds me in place.

The driver puts one leg on the cab floor, and the other knee on the seat, just under her right thigh. He bends over and starts massaging her boobs, as his dick rubs against the entrance of her cunt. He then buries his face in her boobs and starts shaking them about.

"Like them?" Trupti asks in Hindi, running her fingers through his hair.

"Oh yes." he responds, looking into her eyes. "I could play with them all night."

I am worried that he might reach over and play with my boobs too. Luckily, his attention seems completely devoted to Trupti. Then I feel a little resentful that he doesn't deem my boobs worth even a fondle.

"Just playing with them? Nothing else?" Trupti says.

He smiles and then bites her right nipple. Trupti moans and I see it getting erect. Her hands are now under his shirt. Soon she has it unbuttoned, revealing a moderately toned hairy chest. She runs her fingers over his chest and back as he keeps biting and slobbering all over her boobs. I look down and see his dick is flailing and pushing against her cunt. Trupti notices my gaze, smiles, and asks me,

"You want it?" I tentatively shake my head.

"Yes!" the driver responds and straightens up.

He puts his hands under Trupti's knees and pushes them upward till they are resting against her shoulders. She makes a really perverted sight, with her cunt lips slightly parted by the pressure on her thighs. She looks as exposed as a woman can ever look. I am embarrassed to see her like that. But her face wears a naughty smile.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The driver looks down and moves his hips to make sure his dick is perfectly aligned. Trupti's right hand lets go of my arm and reaches down to guide him in. And then it happens.

"AAAHHHHHH!!" Trupti moans as his dick swiftly enters her cunt in one motion. It must have been very wet. Mine sure was.

"HNNNGGGG!" the driver grunts and starts fucking Trupti rapidly, his hands still pressing her knees to her shoulders, her ass hanging off the seat. Her boobs are pressed under her thighs but they're big enough to still jiggle.

"Ummm... nice dick. Nice and thick. I can feel my cunt walls stretching." Trupti says looking at me.

"Shut up!" the driver takes his left hand off her knee and with it, turns her face so she is looking at him. He then lowers his face onto hers and kisses her. I can see their tongues playing with each other as their lips occasionally separate. Trupti is also biting on his lower lip. He is fucking her hard throughout the kiss. Finally he breaks the kiss and straightens up.

"Not a great kisser. Slobbers too much. Should just keep fucking and not try kissing." Trupti looks at me and says.

He grabs her face again and says,

"Stop with the running commentary, you slut."

He lets go of her knees. Trupti straightens her legs and wraps them around his waist, pulling him in deeper. He puts his hands on her boobs and mauls them as he fucks her even harder. I can hear the sound of his balls slapping against her thighs. I am sitting there, feeling as turned on and excited as if he were fucking me. I imagine being in her place, imagine every stroke of his thick dick in my cunt. And as I look at Trupti's smiling face, I can't help but marvel at the situation I find myself in. In some dark corner of Central Park, naked next to a stranger fucking her. That too a cab driver.

"Ohhhh..." he says, giving hints of an impending orgasm.

"No no, don't cum inside me. Empty your load in my mouth." Trupti immediately says.

He withdraws his dick from her cunt and pulls her up by the hair. Her big tits swing forward as she keeps her hands on the couch seat between his thighs and opens her mouth wide. He shoves his dick in and starts bucking his hips. Trupti's cheeks swell to accommodate him. He shoots his load in her mouth for a good fifteen seconds or so. He finally withdraws his dick and then pushes her back, collapsing on top of her. I look at Trupti. Her cheeks are still puffed. and her lips pursed, indicating that she still has his cum in her mouth.

Suddenly, she reaches out and grabs me by the hair bringing my mouth close to hers, over the wheezing cab driver's shoulder. I am so surprised that I don't even realize when she presses her lips against mine and spits his load into my mouth. I immediately feel the salty goo in my mouth, and am taken aback. I take a loud breath of air and cough, spilling the semen on the driver's shoulder and on Trupti's face. Trupti blinks and starts laughing.

"What the hell?" the driver immediately gets up and starts rubbing the semen off his shoulder. I sit back, a little alarmed at the annoyance on his face. He is glaring at Trupti.

But Trupti is laughing like a maniac, using her fingers to gather gobs of his cum from her face and put them in her mouth. She then gets up and lowers her lips to the driver's shoulder. He stands on his knees confused as she licks the cum off his shoulder between bursts of laughter. I just sit there, taking in this bizarre sight.

"Okay, you've had your fun." Trupti says matter-of-factly once she gets done licking his shoulder clean. "On to 129th and Malcolm X. Quick. I have an appointment to keep."

She then slides next to me and kisses me on the cheek. The cabbie groans, reluctantly pulls up his pants and starts putting his shirt on.

"You're a weird woman." he looks into my eyes and says.

I am suddenly conscious of being naked in front of him. Which is bizarre, considering I've been naked in front of him for a while. but this is the first time since he got in the back seat that he's staring at me and not Trupti.

"Sorry, I was just taken aback by the whole thing." I cover my boobs and say.

"YOU were taken aback?" he laughs and gets out of the back seat and onto the driver's seat.

"Get dressed." Trupti says, gathering her own clothes from the floor.

I get dressed and am sitting next to Trupti. She is looking out the window. The cab is passing 110th street.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

My Struggles with Trupti Ch. 03

The cab stops at the address. Trupti and I, now fully dressed, get out of the cab. The meter was blank. Presumably, he turned it off. I take out two $20 bills and extend them towards the cabbie.

"No, it's not necessary." the cabbie winks and squeezes my hand.

"Please take it." Getting the ride for free in exchange for whatever happened in the cab would make it seem like prostitution.

"No, I can't"

I press the 20s in his hand anyway and turn around. Trupti starts walking up a stoop and I follow her.

"Hey, you want to give you me your number?" he calls out behind us. "We could do this again."

"Just ignore him." Trupti says to me and presses a buzzer on the intercom.

"Yeah?" a female voice says, much to my relief.

"It's Trupti. I emailed you before."

"Come on up."

The door buzzes open.

A couple of minutes later, we are in a small one bedroom apartment. The woman living there is a heavyset white woman in her late 40s. She's dressed in a robe.

"I usually don't do barters like I told you." she says. "What you have better be worth it."

Trupti opens her bag and takes out two big dildos and two metallic vibrators. The woman examines them one by one.

"So what do you think?" Trupti asks.

"Not bad. I don't know if I need them all. And I could always go online."

"Why don't you decide what you want to keep and then give me what you want?"

The woman picks up a vibrator and turns it on. Then right in front of us, she opens her robe and puts it on her naked pussy. I look away in shame. For the next minute or so, all I hear are the vibrator's buzzing sounds and the woman's appreciative moans.

"Okay. Not bad." she says. "Stay here. I'll be back."

She walks to her bedroom.

"What's going on here, Trupti?" I whisper.

"Just a barter."

"For what?"

"You'll see."

"How do you know this woman?"

"Craigslist."

The woman comes back with a small brown paper bag in her hand.

"Did you say something to me?" she asks. Trupti and I shake our heads. She puts the bag on the coffee table. "This is the best I can do. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it." Trupti says, picks up the bag without opening it and walks out. I follow her.

"Next time, cash only." the woman says behind us.

Half an hour later, we are back at my place. We took a cab again. We got an Indian cabbie again, and I am glad Trupti didn't feel like doing it with him. I have had enough sexual scandalization for the night. Little do I know that I am in store for some non-sexual scandalization. And some more sexual too.

Once we are in my apartment, Trupti makes sure the door is locked. Then she opens the living room window. And then puts her hand in the paper bag and fishes out what looks like a hand-rolled cigarette.

"What do you think?" Trupti asks me, beaming.

"About what?"

"Our agenda for the night?"

"What agenda? Smoking a hand-rolled cigarette?"

"A hand-rolled cigarette?" Trupti throws her head back and starts laughing. "Oh you really are miss goody two shoes, aren't you? This is a joint. Marijuana. Weed. Pot. Ganja."

"WHAT???" I am shocked. "ARE YOU INSANE? YOU BROUGHT DRUGS INTO MY HOUSE???"

"Oh relax!" Trupti says, examining the joint. "It's just weed. It's not like I bought heroin or crack."

"Trupti, take that thing and get the fuck out of my house!" I say, pointing to the door.

"Or what?" she says, fishing out a lighter from her purse.

"Trupti, I am serious. If I knew you were a drug addict..."

"Drug addict?" Trupti smiles again. "Have you ever done weed?"

"No!"

"Me neither! So I wanted to try it." Trupti says, playing with the lighter and staring at the joint. "Haven't you ever been curious?"

I stay silent. I am still shocked at the liberties this woman is taking. And a bit pissed at myself for letting her take those liberties. She is bullying me and I am letting myself get bullied. Story of my life.

"Remember I was telling you about getting out of the notional cages our parents and their beloved values built for us? We were always told drugs are bad. Weed is bad. And yet, look at all the monks at the Kumbh mela. All stoned out of their minds. How many pictures of Saibaba have you seen sucking on a big blunt like his life depended on it? Or countless such babas and gurus?"

"That's different. That's spiritual."

"It's not different. Weed is essential to the cultural mores of the Indic civilization. It is part of our culture. We should not shun our culture because of some Victorian norms our colonizers thrust upon us and Jeff Sessions thinks it's bad."

"And where in our culture is there any reference to getting fucked by strange men in the back of the cabs?" I ask, still peeved about it.

Trupti laughs at my question.

"I was as surprised as you were. I had no idea you were so depraved."

"Me? You stripped me forcibly! And you're the one who got fucked!"

"Fine! If that's how you choose to look at it. But that adventure is over and done with. Don't get so hung up on the past. I am interested in this now." Trupti puts the joint between her lips.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Don't do it, Trupti! I am warning you! I will call the cops!"

She cocks her head, smiles and lights the joint. There is a loud sound of a wheeze as she inhales and then starts coughing really hard.

"Wow!" she says between fits of coughing "it burns the throat!"

I am just staring at her, shocked at what is happening. Drugs being smoked, right under my roof! If my dad were alive, he would give me a lecture about falling in bad company. And Trupti was the worst company I had ever been in.

She takes another drag, which leads to another fit of coughing. I can smell the acrid scent of the smoke as it fills the room.

"Try it." Trupti offers me the joint.

"No thanks." I shake my head resolutely.

"Come on! Just one hit!"

"NO!" I say angrily. "And I would really appreciate it if you got the fuck out of my apartment!"

Trupti snorts derisively and takes another drag. The smoke is swirling all around me. Some of it goes in my nose. I am thinking about calling the security officer. But I feel a little disoriented.

-----

"...so you see, if Sita was really faithful and chaste, why did Rama banish her? The whole public outcry thing makes no sense. It's obvious to me. Sita slept with Ravana. Rama thought he could get over it but he couldn't. Over the years, it led to fights. So they separated. You see what I am saying?"

I nod my head in agreement. What she says makes a lot of sense. I take another big swig of water from the bottle in my hand. God, my throat is parched. I can't remember ever being this thirsty.

"And don't even get me started on the Mahabharata and Draupadi. Five husbands taking turns through the week. And two of them together. Threesome! As if that weren't kinky enough, there is the vastraharan which is like ancient strip poker! And a husband staking his wife while gambling? How common is that story in erotica? Think about it..."

"Yeah...that's like the...the..." I say, struggling to pin down the words floating around in my head "the original cuckold husband's fantasy story about sharing his wife!"

"Precisely!" Trupti says. She takes the bottle of water from my hand and empties it. We're both sitting on the floor leaning against the wall under the open window.

"We should also talk about why Rama banished Sita if she was really chaste." I say.

"Yeah because...no wait..." Trupti raises her hand "...didn't we just talk about it?"

"No, that was about Draupadi."

"No...wait...oh wow, I am so high!" Trupti says and picks up something and looks at it. "At least that's what I think I am."

I stare at the object in Trupti's hands. To my shock, I realize it's a joint.

"WHOA! Have you been smoking weed in my apartment?"

"Yeah..." Trupti replies.

"Where did you get that?"

"You don't remember? Wow, you are high too without taking a single hit." Trupti lights up the joint. "Maybe it's all the smoke. Or contact high. Maybe you should take a hit anyway."

"NO!" I shake my head. "I do not do drugs!"

Trupti shrugs and takes another hit.

"You are high?" I ask.

"Yes, very high." she responds.

"But you are not slurring."

"I know! Amazing, right? This is so much better than booze!"

The smoke wafts around us.

"I am starving!" I say.

"Me too!" Trupti says. "Order pizza. And cookies. Do you have any milk?"

She gets up and walks to the kitchenette. I reach for my phone to look for my usual pizza delivery place's number. Trupti comes back empty-handed and sits down next to me again.

"You don't have any orange juice."

"Oh okay."

"The vastraharan is totally ancient erotica. Duryodhana was such a cuckold!"

"Yudhishthira..." I correct her.

"What did I say?"

"Duryodhana."

"No I didn't! Duryodhana is the one Yudhishthira wants to share his wife with."

"I know. But you said Duryodhana."

"No, you did!"

I stare at my phone in confusion. Why is it in my hand with the contacts list open? I notice a name. Malay Singhal. That smug bastard! Who fucked Trupti. I put my phone back on the floor before she can see his name.

"Maybe..." Trupti says "...the way they woke up Kumbhakarna was by having Sita play with him?"

"Wait, we're talking about the Ramayana again?"

"We were always talking about it!"

"But you were talking about Duryodhana!"

"No...wait...was I? Yeah I was!" Trupti starts giggling. I start giggling too.

"I am so hungry!" I said.

"Didn't you order pizza?"

"Yeah, where is the pizza?"

"Ask them!"

I dial my usual pizza place.

"Hello! Yeah hi! We ordered pizza a while back. It's not here yet."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"What's the address?" a guy with a thick Russian accent says. I tell him. "Sorry, we have no order from that address."

"What? But I called and ordered...ages ago!"

"Sorry ma'am, I have been here all night answering phones. You never ordered. But if you tell me the order now, I'll have it sent over fast."

"Hmm...what should I order?" I ask Trupti.

"A large supreme." she says.

"A large supreme." I say

"Garlic bread."

"Garlic bread."

"Two...no four chocolate chip cookies."

"Four chocolate chip cookies."

"Ma'am, you don't have to say it twice."

"I'm just asking my friend here!"

"Okay ma'am. Anything else?"

"Anything else?"

"Nothing else."

"Nothing else."

"That'll be 31.35. You should get it in fifteen minutes."

I put the phone on the ground. Trupti is now leaning against me. We sit silently for a few minutes. I am trying to remember what we were talking about.

"What were we talking about?" Trupti asks.

"I don't know...something to do with... strip poker?"

"I thought it was about waking someone up with a blowjob."

"What???" I giggle. "You're silly."

"No, I'm hungry."

"Me too."

"And thirsty."

"Me too."

"And horny."

"Me too."

"Ah ha!" Trupti laughs. "I knew it! You are horny! You should have had sex earlier with that guy."

"What guy?" I ask, not sure who she is talking about.

"The guy...that guy...I had sex with earlier" Trupti scratches her head. "Wait...didn't I have sex earlier?"

"You did. With Malay." I say trying to mask my bitterness.

"Who?"

"Malay. The guy I met in Jersey. You had sex with him."

"I did?????" Trupti sounds surprised. "Oh yeah...I did. But I meant tonight. Who did I have sex with?"

"Maybe the pizza guy. That's also a common theme in porn and erotica. Paying the pizza guy with sex. Is there a parallel to that in the Mahabharata?"

"Maybe when Bhima was the cook in Virata's palace? He must have banged someone."

"Yeah, maybe someone had sex with him for food. Like you had sex with the pizza guy instead of paying him."

"I had sex with the pizza guy?" Trupti looks around. "Where is the pizza then?

I look around. She has a point. There is no pizza. Why is there no pizza? I am so fucking hungry! I pick up my phone.

"Hello! I ordered pizza a while back. It still isn't here."

"Ma'am I JUST took your order a couple of minutes back. Please be patient."

"It's been almost an hour!" Trupti says.

"It's been almost an hour!" I repeat, frustrated.

I hear the guy on the other end inhale loudly and then sigh.

"I apologize for the delay, ma'am. The pizza is on its way."

I hang up the phone. Trupti now has her head on my shoulder. She has lit up the joint again and is taking a couple more hits. From this close, the fumes go all the way up my nose.

"You should relax." Trupti says, stubbing out the half-smoked joint. She puts her hand on my thigh and strokes it.

"I am quite relaxed actually."

"And horny?"

"No..." I shake my head. "Okay...maybe a little."

Trupti and I sit leaning against each other for a couple of minutes. Then I feel her hand go under my skirt.

"Trupti!"

"Shhhhhh!" she puts a finger on my lips.

Within seconds she has my panties off, and my skirt rolled up around my waist. And her fingers are deftly playing with my clit. Her other hand goes around my back, slips into my top and starts tweaking my nipple.

"Ummm..." I moan in pleasure. A part of me wants to fight her off but what she is doing feels really good. I close my eyes, and lay back, letting her have her way with me. And my mind seems to be drifting away.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

I open my eyes. I have no idea how much time has passed. I just remember that Trupti got me off three times successively. I tried to fight her off after the first orgasm, but she overpowered me with ease. Then she used a dildo and brought me off twice. As the bell buzzes, she has a vibrator buried in my cunt and we both are completely naked. She takes it out and runs to the intercom, making her perfect butt jiggle. I feel jealous of how perfect her body is.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Who is it?" she presses the button and asks.

"Pizza delivery." a male voice says.

"It's about time. Come on up!"

I look around for my clothes. They are strewn around on the other side of the room. Trupti runs to them and slips on my panties. Then she gives me a wink.

"What are you doing?"

"Fulfilling your fantasy."

I stare, stunned, as there is a knock on the door and Trupti heads for it, clad in just my panties. What is she doing? Is she trying to seduce the pizza delivery guy? And I am still naked, forget what she wants to do. I quickly crawl behind the couch. From there, I am hidden but I can see and hear what's happening.

"Hello." Trupti opens the door and says seductively.

"Pi...urk..." I see the delivery guy's eyes go wide as he sees Trupti's big tits hanging just a few inches from his hands which are holding the food.

"Thank you." Trupti takes the food from his hand, and slowly, swinging her hips, walks to the coffee table and puts the boxes on it.

"It's...umm...ummm...31.35." the guy says in a hoarse voice. He is a young white guy, probably in college. Average looking, average build, with red hair peeping out from under a Mets cap.

Trupti reaches for my purse and pretends to look around inside it.

"Oh silly me!" she says in an overly falsetto voice, as if impersonating Marilyn Monroe. "I don't have any money."

Which isn't true. There is a lot of cash in my purse.

"Umm..." the delivery guy stands there, still tongue-tied at the sight he is seeing.

"Maybe..." Trupti walks back to the door, her boobs swaying, "...we can reach some other agreement."

She takes his right hand and puts it on her left breast. I see him gently squeeze it. There's an erection forming in his pants.

"Would you like to come in?" Trupti throatily says.

"Ma'am...god!" he pulls his hand back. His voice is cracking as he then says, "I have to be back to make more deliveries. And I really need this job to pay for school. And...and I have a girlfriend."

"What?" Trupti says with a sharp edge to her voice.

"I'm...this is...I mean...really, you have no idea what a dream come true this is." he continues earnestly, rubbing his crotch, seemingly to make the erection go away. "But...I am sorry."

"FINE!" Trupti turns around, marches to the purse. I see her take 40 dollars out and fling it in his direction. He takes a couple of steps in, picks up the cash.

"Ma'am, I am sorry. You are very beautiful..."

"Just get the fuck out!" Trupti pushes him out and slams the door behind him. "FUCK!! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"

I hear her scream. She shakes her head, opens the box and starts eating the pizza. I come out from behind the couch and start eating the pizza too. She seems upset so I don't say anything. The pizza tastes REALLY good. Better than I ever thought it could.

"Of all the ungrateful thankless impotent..." Trupti mutters under her breath.

"He wasn't impotent. He obviously had a boner." I say.

"You slut! Checking out the pizza guy's junk!" she laughs. I laugh too.

After we are done eating, I feel very full and sleepy. I lay back on the couch with my eyes closed, when I feel Trupti's vibrator invade my cunt again.

"We don't need ungrateful little pricks delivering pizza do we?" she whispers.

"No we don't." I whisper back.

Having satiated my hunger for food, I lay back and let Trupti work on my hunger for orgasms.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

My Struggles with Trupti Ch. 04

I wake up, sweating and with a rapid heartbeat, as if I have just been working out. It's dark in my bedroom. The radio clock says 3:41 AM. I look around. No one. And then I hear noises. Muffled noises of skin slapping, and grunts and moans, male and female. Coming from the living room I think. As I get off the bed, I notice I am still naked. I wrap a robe around myself and tiptoe to the bedroom door. Open it slightly and peek out. The noises get louder.

The living room is mostly dark. But some street light is streaming in through the curtains. Silhouetted against that light is the naked body of Trupti, on top of someone on the fold-out couch, riding him hard, as her hair flies around.

"YERRRSSS! YERSSSSS! RIGHT THERE YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!"

Trupti is screaming loud enough for the whole building to hear. And she is bouncing up and down like she is possessed. From where I am standing, I can only make out two sturdy male legs stretching out from under her, and two palms on her ass. I can't make out who the man is, but my guess is the pizza delivery guy regretted his decision and came back. Watching Trupti get fucked so thoroughly turns me on and for a moment I consider going out there and joining in. But only for a moment. I close my eyes and return to bed. I try to go to sleep, but the loud noises make it difficult. It's a long time before I am finally in dreamland again.

I wake up a few hours later. My body aches. My head aches. It is a little past 9 AM. I am still naked under my robe. I get up, slip on underwear, sweat pants, and a t-shirt, and replay the previous night's events in my head. I am ready to give Trupti a piece of my mind and kick her out of my life. She stripped me naked in front of a cabbie, almost had me seen naked by the pizza delivery guy, smoked illegal drugs in my apartment and gave me a second-hand high, and merrily fucked a guy on my beloved pottery pen couch-bed while I slept. I do not need her destructive influence in my life anymore.

I walk out into the living room, and am aghast to see it is a mess. The place mats from the dining table are scattered around the floor, one chair is knocked over, and I notice some crusty dried stuff on my usually clean table. Yuck! I don't even want to know what that was, although I have a sordid guess. There are a couple of pillows strewn around. There are a couple of dildos, velvet handcuffs and a whip on a chair. Pizza crusts and pieces of cookies are scattered all over the floor. But the biggest shock is when I walk to the couch bed. Not only is it open and a complete mess with dirty crumpled sheets, but there is someone sleeping on it. Completely naked on their stomach, full round butt cheeks on display. Face on its side visible with drool spilling out from the lips. And it isn't Trupti.

It is Malay!

I snap! This is the last thing I need. This guy was the one in my apartment, on my couch, fucking the brains out of the woman who is messing up my life? I really do not need this.

"Hey you!" I shake him by his shoulder.

He just mumbles something and rolls over on his back. It takes me a couple of seconds to pull my eyes away from his dick. Even in a limp state, its obviously generous proportions are evident. Cradled on top of his balls, it looks like it is resting confidently.

"WAKE UP!!" I yell and shake him again, taking care to avert my eyes from his crotch.

"Hmpff?" he opens his eyes halfway. "Whuh...what time is it?"

"It is time..." I say in a seething calm voice, "for you to get the FUCK out of my apartment! NOW!"

Malay sits up, rubbing his eyes. My eyes drift to his impressive dick again.

"And cover up your privates, you fucking pervert!"

"Pervert? What are you..." he says, wrapping a sheet around his waist and getting up off the bed.

"Shut up! I don't want to hear anything!" I flash him an angry look and take a couple of steps towards the phone "If you're not out of my apartment in one minute, I am calling 911!"

"Okay okay! Jesus! Relax!" he says, holding the sheet around his waist and advances towards me.

"DON"T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!" I scream, reaching out and picking up the first thing my hand can grab to use as a weapon. It turns out to be the remote control.

"What the fuck would I want to touch you for, you crazy bitch?" Malay glares back at me. That question stabs at my heart a little as somewhere inside me a voice says, that's right, he was here to be with Trupti, not you. He may have shown some interest in you in the past, but you can't compete with someone like Trupti.

Malay points behind me.

"You can stop brandishing remote control weapons. I was just coming to get my clothes which are near the door, not coming to touch you or anything."

I see that he is right. His clothes are bunched up there close to the door. I guess Trupti jumped him as soon as he walked in. A glimpse of that image flashes through my head, as if I had actually been there. I fight it off, and walk away from where he is. I turn away from him as he starts dressing.

"I wouldn't touch you with a barge pole after this." I hear him mutter as he pulls on his pants.

"Just get dressed and leave." I say wearily.

"You know, when I saw you at all those events around the country, I thought sure, she seems weird. But then I am weird too. And you seemed cute under your frumpy matronly exterior. But now..."

"Stop babbling and leave." I yell.

"Listen, this whole Trupti thing seemed like a lot of kinky fun initially. But now it's getting really..."

"I will deal with the Trupti thing on my own, thank you. Will you just shut up and get out?"

"I am about to." he is kneeling down, tying his shoelaces.

"And don't come back!"

He lets out a hollow laugh.

"As if I'm masochistic enough to come back here! That couch mattress is a lumpy ordeal." he says as he opens the door and steps out.

I walk to the door, feeling angrier. Say what you will about me, but don't you dare insult my furniture!

"Yeah? Well, next time you want a roll in the hay, go to that ghastly basement shithole, you asshole!"

He is walking away, giving me the finger. I slam the door shut.

I start cleaning up the mess in the living room when the bathroom door opens.

"What was all that ruckus?" Trupti walks out, wearing a robe and brushing her hair.

"YOU!!" I glare at her and gesture to the mess in the living room "What the fuck is all this?"

"Hehe." she laughs. "We got a little too rowdy last night. Sorry about that. I was going to clean it before you woke up."

"Don't bother. Just get dressed and go home. I need a long break from you."

Trupti ignores me and sits on a chair next to the dining table. She smiles as she notices the dried gook on the table that could only have come from her loins or his loins. Or both.

"So you sent the talented Mr. Singhal packing in rather forceful terms I see. Thanks. I was getting sick of him."

"How do I send you packing?"

"Don't get me wrong. He is a nice guy. Great in bed. Ready to try anything. And as you must have noticed, quite well hung. He just...I don't know..."

"I don't care. Go away!"

I say this as rudely as I can but it just bounces off Trupti's assured exterior.

"He was getting very lovey-dovey after our fifth romp of the night. Talking about feelings and sentiments and all that crap."

"Fifth?" I am amazed. The most I have ever had in one night is two times. But I stay on point. "Doesn't matter. You need to go."

"He seems your type. Next time, you should ride him. And have him mount you. And go down on you. And..." she giggles again, "you'll find out."

She gets up and disappears in the bedroom. Then she comes out wearing a pair of my jeans and a t-shirt.

"Borrowing your clothes. I'll return them later. The little number I wore last night..." she points at what look like a couple of rags tucked between the couch cushions "..well, it didn't survive our experiments."

Then, without a word of farewell or goodbye, Trupti steps out of the door and leaves. Good riddance, I think to myself and lock the door behind her.

---

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I keep looking at the door all day, expecting Trupti to return any moment. But she doesn't, not all day nor the next. The next week starts and I immerse myself in my work. I do my best to let work distract me from all the debauched weirdness that the crazy woman had recently put me through. Compared to Trupti's psychotic behavior, even Jan seems normal for a while. But only for a while.

"I was going over your reimbursement request." she strides up to my desk one day looking upset.

"Yes, Jan?"

"That Baltimore trip...why is there an Amtrak charge there?"

This confuses me for a bit. I had planned to just leave that part out and pay for it myself. How had that gotten in there? For a moment, I think about saying, it was a mistake. But then I feel anger rising up my ears. Starlight had given us the order. The deal is worth millions. Why is my boss bitching about a couple of hundred dollars?

"Jan, I took the bus on the way back. But going there, I took a train."

"I explicitly told you to take a bus, young lady." she says in that stern school principal-like voice.

"Fine, I will pay for it myself. I will pay for the whole fucking trip myself, even the bus." I say angrily.

Jan is silent as she glares at me.

"Are you giving me attitude?"

I meet her angry gaze. But then look away.

"Sorry, Jan"

"You think this is about just a couple of hundred dollars? Here, I'll show you what that means to me." she takes out her purse and fishes out a bunch of $20 bills. And then she rips them into little pieces. "That's what it means to me!"

"Jan!" I have no idea what to say. This is all so bizarre.

"You stupid cow...you have no idea what you have done!" she yells as a few people stare at us. "There is a big prize for the team that has the best return on investment. It's a big bonus for all of us. It was between my team and Jerry's team, by a tiny margin. Even with the Starlight account, what matters is the cost. And it turned out to be really razor thin. Second or third decimal type calculation."

"What are you saying?"

"Your reimbursement claim is already in the system. You can't take it back. We have lost by the smallest margin. If our costs had been lower by just two hundred bucks, we would have been on top. And all of us gotten big bonuses!"

"Why didn't you tell me the reason in the first place?" I vehemently ask.

"Who the fuck do you think you are that I owe you an explanation, you fucking dot..." her voice trails away as she looks around at all the people, or witnesses watching, as she is on the verge of using a slur that could get her fired. She takes a deep breath and walks away.

Three days later, there is a party in the office to celebrate the great quarter that we had. And prizes are given away to the top teams. Jan's team that I was part of comes second, by the tiniest margin possible. We still get a bonus, but the winners get a bigger one. And the difference in the bonuses is substantial. Jan had let it be known to everyone else in the small team that my decision to take an Amtrak was what cost us the first place.

It is a horrible party to be at. No one is talking to me, not even my own team. All the senior executives are there, as are many top clients, and all employees with their families. Everyone is mingling and socializing, having a good time. But I feel like an outsider in all that. I just park myself in a corner with a glass of diet coke and my tablet, pretending to work, even as I feel gutted. But I would soldier on, as I always did. It can't get any worse.

And then it gets worse. Trupti walks in, looking cheerful and radiant as always.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I sprint up to her and whisper, trying to pull her to the side.

"Shhh." she shakes me off and jumps into a big group of employees and family members talking about something or the other. Soon she is the center of attention.

Why is she here? How did she even know about this event? I ponder the questions as I watch her circulate through the room, making pleasant small talk with all the senior executives and managers, even flirting with a few. I just stand in the corner and sulk. Forget it, I tell myself. I will just ignore her. And ignore her I did as I focused on my work, without really focusing. Just staring at a blank screen.

After a while, people started getting more and more drunk. The party started getting louder and friendlier. My head starts throbbing. I was still going through a phase of almost no sleep. I decide to just leave and go home. As I walk out, I see Trupti was in a dark corner, talking flirtatiously with an older white man who looks vaguely familiar. As she throws her head back in a fake laugh, I look into her eyes. She doesn't acknowledge my gaze. I walk away.

----