Wrapped in a dirty white towel, the man stood by the broken north facing window and gave a passing look over the foggy landscape with his first puff at the cigarette. The sombre looking slum in front of him had sunken to an indifferent oneness of obscurity by the rested veil of mist at this hour of the night. Far away, keeping the faint red sky against its background, a pair of chimneys stood, excreting piles of white smoke. On the street, three storeys below the window, the topsy-turvy passers by looked painted by blinking neons of the ‘one-night-cheap-hotel’ banner, which he had checked in two hours ago. The highly expensive car, parked at one side of the street gave a sharp contrast to the whole picture. And in this moon-bathed night, fifty feet above the ground, the owner stood silent, reclined to the heavy crawling of the passing moments. His wedding ring once shone bright as the moon-light fell on it and he felt a bit disappointed.
Behind him, there rested a messy room, suffocatingly filled up with the fumes of cheap liquor that came from the shop at ground floor, which mixed up with the scent of a precious feminine perfume and the resultant was almost choking. There was a small side table which claimed a heavy activity in past few hours: few bottles of whiskey, empty cigarette packets, used and virgin condoms, a ring, viagra pills and a violet vanity bag; a bed, chiefly for wild purposes; two pieces of a slutty outfit lay crushed at a corner of the room; a noodle-strap brassiere hanging abandoned, from a nail on the wall and a g-string swirled at one leg of the bed. On the bed a lady squatting, a blanket partially covering her, and her cup shaped voluptuous breasts left at ease. Her disoriented hair showed the intensity of the recently passed hours and the bags beneath her eyes, her utter exhaustion.
Few hours back, a small car slowly dragged itself down a deserted street and at last its engine stopped with a jerk. This part of the city is very much different from the rest, separated by an invisible, undefined but consciously existent line of demarkation, where perversion is explicit, rather than secretly practised like the rest of the society; this is the red-light area. Here the car stood with impatient anticipations of a tumultous night, and after a few moments of certain considerations, the door opened. A bare, perfectly nurtured leg, waxed and smoothened with one singular intention to flaunt, decorated to burn with a pretty high heel shoe, came out and after an initial shiver landed confidently on the ground.
Then came a hand and rested on the top of the door and then, putting pressure on the hand and the leg, the entire mystery spread itself out against the dark canvas of the surroundings. The lady was in a two-piece dress: her skirt worn significantly below the waist line as if a bit more might have exposed the butt crack; and considerably short in length, that revealed the lower part of her butt to quite a much extent. The perfect roundness of her hips climbed upwards to a remarkably thin waist-line, continuing the attraction through her velvetty bare back with a sweet interruption of a knot between the straps that held her blouse to her chest, till the ivory-white neck; her hair tied upwards into a swirling bun, leaving her entire back at display. It seemed as if a fantastic dream is been painted on the portrait of grey reality, a viscious web of mystery been woven, intertwining the fanciful and the conscious living.
For an instant or a many, as if the night waited the revelation of this suspence, and then dispersing all clouds of tired imagination, the beauty turned. The attraction now raises to the level of halucination; a creamy abdomen with an artistically cut navel, soft feminine ribs and on it, resting the crowning glory of male-fantasy, two ample breasts, carved out to flawlessness and covered with a tiny piece of blouse which seemed disappointingly unable to hold the pressure with the help of two extremely thin straps that rested on her otherwise naked shoulders. The cleavage was alluring to death, and as most of it was kept on showcase, it was hell there. The chubbiness of the lady added more to her worth. She was in her early forties but her curvacious built could lure any man to conceive of her in her late twenties or even less. Her lips were painted deep red and cheeks flushed with passionate yearnings, her make-up loud and according to her present environment, her eye brows thin and properly shaped; but the overall innocence of her face and somewhat a weariness in her eyes hinted at a complete different story altogether, giving ways to greater and perhaps deeper mysteries of feminine intentions in this world. With a silent revolution, at last the charming goddess of sensation shrugged and took the first step towards her blasphemous journey.
After few minutes a car arrived at the spot and the man on the driver seat had a look on a lady stuck between two drunken, rugged looking men measuring her body with their hands, pressing her butt and breasts and kissing her neck. The man blew the car horn to which the lady immediately responded, and leaving the two men at awe, moved slowly towards the car with all her sluttishness and got into it.
“Oh my! Is that you?” the man sounded to be shocked to his foundation.
“You’re late mister. Had you been here a few more minutes late, I might have ended up with those drunken basterds.” the lady bitterly replied.
“What’s wrong with you Nisha? You’re…” she interrupted him, “I wish to feel all of being a whore tonite.”
“But look at yourself, you’re out into the streets almost nude. Have you gone mad? How could you let those filthy drunkards to stick their slimy fingers into your boobs?” he sounded quite angry.
“None of your business… are you ready to screw me up this night? I’m restless now.”
The man wasn’t ready for such a reception and in a great surprise, simply started the car without a word further. As minutes passed and he drove forward in search of a decent looking hotel, he swung between his identity of being a husband to a faithful wife and a cheat who in some time would be laying his hands on the treat who now sat beside him with all her assets on display, urging more and more to be explored to the whole of it, her breasts bulging out her puny black blouse, nipples pointed up with an anticipation of a wild wild night, half-wet panties peeping out from the bottom of her micro-mini skirt. His head spun with uncertainties, his heart swelled with self-condemnation and at the same time the growth under his pants growled in hunger. His nerves were at high alert, driving the car and at the same time devouring the beauty with his eyes, imagining themselves rolled up in a bed in weird positions and sucking out of each other the very essence of ecstasy.
The car finally arrived at the gate of a hotel which claimed betterness than the rest of the area, yet in no way looked decent for they were all build up to fulfil the dark desires of modern human beings. The check in was a sort of mere formality and a skinny attendant looked at the just arrived couple with a bit of suspicion. The lady appeared to be a just another whore, though hot as hell, and the man calm and serene, surely belonging to the category of high society, his finely woven suit demanding admiration. He led the odd couple to their that night’s nest.
The reddish gloom of the coop lit up many a so-far unresponded desires in the man. Moments later, the attendant knocked on the door and left at the threshold, their armaments of the night… four bottles of whiskey, a packet of condoms, a hand-cuff and few viagra pills, all kept in a casket. The instant the gift box was in the room and kept on the table, the lady had picked up a bottle and sitting on the bed, emptied almost a half of it. As the spirit ran down her throat, it acted immediately. The man was still in an amazed observation of this nymphet who was on her decided mind to give away all of her tonite, to any man, and any number of men available in this world, and at that point he was the nearest option to grab this opportunity. But something was holding him back, his commitment to his wife, his wedding ring, all of his morality and conscience.
But when, for the first time he looked straight into the eyes of her, he was knocked out of his social being. She gave a slight floozy wink and slowly spread her legs, laying out her throbbing vagina beneath her g-string. The man, as if hypnotised, came forward and sat beside her and she stood in front of him keeping her back before him, and took out her hair-pin to let her hair fall loose on her bare back. Then she sweeped with her hand all her hair away from her back, inviting the man to act. The man, now completely tempted and given up to this blazing beauty of the night, slowly eased the knot of her blouse and touched her with his shaking fingers, to which the lady gave a shrug of response. Silent moments passed as he rubbed his fingers up and down the smooth back of her. In moments, her skirt fell on the ground unveiling her hips. The lady moaned slightly as he kissed her butt-cheeks and pulled her panties down.
What followed was a rain of passionate kisses down her nude back, leaving the man’s wet sticky saliva all over. With one twist of his masculine arms, he turned her and then invested all his attention on her plump breast, forcefully releasing them from the teasing wrapper of her bitsy blouse, pressing, twitching, kissing, fondling, pinching, licking, and so violently devouring that her white comely flesh became blood-red at once… and she enjoying all the way, the aggression of her partner. The more he indulged, the more he became fierce… He held her tightly in her arms and dug his lips unto her, sucking and biting and exploring all her oral sensations. Once the lady stopped and said:
“Honey there’s another pair of lips down the way there, and its more thirsty than this one… go and hoover it with all you have.”
Between her first touch of his tongue on her clit and the next shot of whiskey they both enjoyed as a break in their task to exhaust each other out, there was one long hour of moans and groans other noisy responses of absolute sexual involvement. As they rollicked into their rough motif of the hour, the lady had given all of herself away into his hands, shouting broken words of lusty provocations, appreciations and at times even mindless slangs:
“Oooh! My baby sucks me so well.”
“You’re pissin’ me off basterd, do it hard.”
“Get on with it boy… tear my pussy apart!”
“Fuck me the way you fucked your mother.”
“Piece of shit! OH MY GOD! Faster faster faster… yeah! Thats the way honey.”
“No! Not into my ass! Oh my fuckin’ god… aaah! Aah!”
“Hell yeah! Imma bitch for the night, fuck me the doggy way!”
Bottles after bottles of whiskey sucked down the throat, condoms after condoms torn into pieces before orgasm, bed sheets torn, hair severed off, love-bites, nail scratches, sperms, blood spots, smudged lip-sticks… as if hell broke out right there in middle of the two thirsty souls, having numerous orgasms, one after another, at rapid successions, and blowing off all the urges they suppressed for long. And then there was calm.
Both of them stayed in utter unavailability of words, emptied of all cravings, they became the part of the turmoiled room. And as at all times, guilty pleasures give way to a deeper and austere guilty sufferings, it was all silent for time immemorable.
With a gasp the man at last spoke out, his words almost submerging into whispers: “Never thought we’ll end up here after a long seventeen years.”
“Neither I” the lady replied lighting up another cigarette.
“So what made this virtuous wife come out in a wintry night, is slutty clothes and goof up with a man who had been her lover seventeen years back?” the man was almost complaining.
“I was tired of my too much decent sarees and salwars, oil-sticky aprons, two time cooking, son’s studies, husband’s issues, and all those shits of daily living, and ending up at night with a missionary fuck of a bank manager.”
“So you mean, your husband was sexually inert, impotent?” the man was quite in his spirits now.
“No, he was alright. But… but I don’t feel him anymore. After fifteen years of marriage, it becomes more a habit of living together than love you see.” she said.
“So now what? Baby, I think I still love you. Let us reunite and run away somewhere far from the city. After tonite, I won’t dare to show my wife my face anyway… where are you going?” In middle of his talk the lady got up and started collecting the bits and pieces of her clothes.
“Back to my home and husband…” the lady briefly said.
“But you said you don’t feel your husband anymore!” the man was astonished.
“I didn’t feel you either,” the lady replied and went out. Taken completely into amazement and guilt, the man heard her steps rushing down the staircases. Outside, the fog had quite comfortably settled…