My Struggles with Trupti

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?

-----

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.

---------

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.

====

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..

"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.

---------

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?

-----

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.

"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.

--------------

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."

"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 policemen 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."

-----

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?"

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.

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.

---------

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.

"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 police. 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."

"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.

"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.

----------------

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.
-----

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.

--------

A couple of days after, late afternoon. I am busy crunching some
numbers for a new contract when I hear a cellphone ring in my purse.
That surprises me. My cellphone is sitting on the desk. I reach into
my purse and see it's Trupti's phone. I have no idea how it ended up
in my purse. I answer it.

"Hello, is this Trupti Darshan?" a woman's voice says.

"No. She left her phone with me."

"Can you get in touch with her soon?"

"No. I have no idea where she is." I didn't.

"Hmm... well, she was put down as emergency contact for one of our
patients. A Mr. Singhal."

"What happened to Malay?" I ask, panic sweeping over me.

"It's alright, ma'am. Nothing to worry about. He came in for dental
surgery. The anesthesia is taking a longer time wearing off than we
thought."

"Is he fine?"

"Yes, just very drowsy and not in a position to go home by himself. He
listed this number and Trupti Darshan for us to call in case he needed
help getting home."

"As I said, I don't know where she is."

"It sounds like you know him. Could you take him home?"

"I am sorry, I am at work."

"Ma'am, we need to release him soon. We're about to close for the day.
If we can't find someone to take him home, we will have to send him to
the closest emergency room."

I look at the work piled up in front of me. It is important. But
leaving Malay incoherent and half-unconscious in an ER sounds like a
mean thing to do, no matter what he and Trupti did.

"Okay, I'll come right over. What's the address?"

Half an hour later, a male nurse is helping me get the semi-conscious
Malay into a cab. I have his address from the release form. It's just
a few blocks from where I live. I decide to take him to his place, put
him in bed and head back to work. The nurse hands me the backpack
Malay brought with him, and we get going.

"Keys, Malay, I need your keys." Ten minutes later, the cabbie, an
elderly black guy, is helping me hold up Malay in front of his
building, an elegant brownstone in Chelsea.

"Blfprksjj" Malay drools and weakly points at the backpack in my hand.
I fish around inside its front pocket and find a key ring. A small
brass key gets us into the building. Another key gets us into his 3rd
floor apartment.

I give the cabbie a very generous tip after he puts Malay in the bed.

"Are you feeling okay, Malay?" I ask, standing over the drooling handsome guy.

"Mlksfhrrrr." he weakly says and holds up his hand.

I stretch out my hand and he grips it tightly, pulling me onto the bed with him.

"Thnkk ywww." he says, taking me in an embrace.

"You're welcome, Malay. Listen.....I hope you are feeling okay because
I need to get back to.....Malay! What are you doing?"

He has grabbed me, wrapped his legs around me as well, and rolled me
over on the bed. His body is on top of me.

"Orhhh Trpttteee.....urlurvyrrr...." he drools.

"Malay, get a hold of yourself. I am not Trupti." I say, trying to
fight him off.

It's a half-hearted struggle, to be honest. Somehow, this handsome
charming guy's embrace feels so right, so exactly what I want. But I
still can't ignore the fact that he seems to think I am Trupti.

"Umnmmmrr Trptteee.....brdhe stlll urbhsu kdkuhu..."

He mumbles and jerks his crotch against mine. I have no idea what he
said. But I feel his erection. It is substantial. And he smells and
feels so good. I don't resist as he, in his drugged stupor, hitches my
skirt up and pulls down my panties.

"What are you doing?" I breathlessly say, but do nothing to stop him.

"Urhmmm smmm hrnnny rtt nrwww....urhmmmm....urluvyrrr..."

He keeps mumbling in that way as he pulls me closer and enters me. I
close my eyes and feel a surge of satisfaction run through my being.
All those guys Trupti tried to get me to do some hanky panky with.
This guy, the one I had seen all over the country, being as cynical as
I was, is the one I finally give myself to.

The sex is really good. I am not sure if it is because Malay is
drugged or whatever. But it is good. I hug him tightly and we kiss as
he first fucks me sideways. His drool doesn't bother me. I then get on
top and gently ride him. Trupti was right. He is thick and well
endowed. But more than that, he has an instinctive ability to read my
rhythms. Even drugged up, he can match my needs.

He cums inside me as we hug tightly. Then he kisses me while saying,

"Thssss  wrs bsrst urf ull.....brst.....frrggt trpttee"

"Did you just say.....forget Trupti?"

"Umhmm...." He nods, rolls over, and passes out.

I lay naked in his bed, struggling with what had just happened. I had
just slept with Malay. Yes, I knew him first, but Trupti was the one
who had been with him first. Yes, I was angry with her, but she was
still my friend. Had I betrayed her? Was I a bad person?

And then right on cue, I heard footsteps approach the bedroom. I
immediately pulled the sheets closer to my neck to cover my nakedness.

"Hehe, so you finally did it, huh?"

It was Trupti, standing with her arm against the wall, dressed in a
tiny skirt and a lingerie top.

"Trupti!" I sat up. "I am so sorry! It just happened!"

"Is he unconscious?" she stepped into the room.

I checked on Malay.

"I think so. He was at the..."

"I know where he was." she said. "You picked him up and fucked him, right?"

"Please Trupti, that's not how it happened."

"Relax, honey." she shrugged. "I am happy for you two."

And then she turned around and started walking away. I got up and ran
behind her.

"Wait Trupti, let me explain!"

But she was already out the door.

---------------------

I am convinced I am losing my mind. My life is an absolute mess. And
the worst part is, I still can't get much sleep or at least not good
sleep. I always feel tired and sleep-deprived.

Malay calls the next morning just as I am about to leave for work. I
let it go to voicemail. A text message pops up as I am in the subway.

- We really need to talk. I am worried about you.

I wonder if he even remembers that we slept together. Or if he still
thinks it was Trupti. I reply

- I am very busy with work today, Malay. Can we talk later tonight?

He calls again as I am near the office. I don't answer. Another text.

- I love you. I really love you. Please talk to me.

Wait, what? Love? Is he crazy? Has he gotten his numbers mixed up? All
I did was pick him up from the dentist's office. And yes, we had sex.
But what is all this love talk? He has had much more raucous sex with
Trupti as I have seen. Surely one random boink can't mean that much.
Or can it? Do I love him too, I ask myself. And I laugh at myself.
Please, it's Malay Fucking Singhal. The smarmy guy banging your
friend. Maybe he just wants a threesome or something. I ignore the
message. He calls again. I let it go to voicemail again. He sends no
more texts that morning. A few days later, he would show me the texts
Trupti sent him to make him stop messaging me.

Trupti weighs heavily on my mind anyway. She saw me in bed with Malay.
I angrily kicked her out. I saw her hob-nobbing with people in my
office. I am convinced she has some elaborate revenge planned to bring
me down. I start regretting ever meeting her, and the call I made
asking for her help.

And yet I want to meet her and talk to her. I send her texts. I call
her. She doesn't respond. I ask her to come over to my place. She
doesn't. I even stop by her hovel of an apartment in the rundown
building, but it looks like she hasn't been there in days.

I only see Trupti in my dreams. Very strange dreams.

I am going through a rough phase physically. All day at work I feel
tired. I have trouble concentrating. Every evening I go home and get
in bed by 9 PM. I wake up at 6. But my body does not feel like it got
9 hours rest. I wake up remembering snippets of my dreams featuring
Trupti. In one dream, she is in a west village bar hanging out with
NYU jocks. In another, she is at a hockey game, hanging out with some
white guys in Rangers jerseys. In another, she is in Harlem at a jazz
club, hanging out with old black guys. She is often smoking weed or
cigarettes. And in some snippets, having sex with the guys, sometimes
in their apartments or hotel rooms, and sometimes in empty alleys. And
a couple of times in cars.

Finally a week later, I get a message from her.

- Meet me at the Greek bakery near your apartment when you are done with work.

It is one of those rare days I can leave from work at a reasonable
hour. I am waiting at a corner table at the bakery at 6 PM, my nose in
a book, when Trupti walks in.

"We don't have much time." she says, taking her coat off.

"Trupti....about Malay..." I start speaking.

"Fuck Malay!" she loudly says. A few tables look at us. "Well, you
already fucked Malay. I should say, forget Malay. Forget him for now.
We have something more important to deal with."

"Listen Trupti, I appreciate your friendship." I still soldier on with
my rehearsed bit. "You are weird and you are promiscuous and you bully
me into weird situations, but I know that you really care about me. In
a strange way, I have been missing you the last few days. I want you
back in my life."

"Hold on to that thought!" she says and points to the door.

There is an older white man who looks vaguely familiar, walking
through the door of the bakery. He sees Trupti, smiles and starts
walking towards us. I remember him as the guy she had been talking to
at the office party when I left.

"Trupti.....who is that?" I whisper as he came closer.

"You mean you seriously don't know?" she chuckles.

Before I can answer, he is at our table. Trupti gets up, hugs him, and
gives him a kiss.

"Hi Vernon, thanks for coming." she says.

And suddenly, alarm bells of recognition go off in my mind. Vernon!
How do you forget a name like that? He is Jan's husband! I had met him
briefly maybe once since I started working. But I did not remember him
much at all. And clearly, the feeling was mutual, because he doesn't
even acknowledge my presence. He has eyes only for Trupti.

"You are looking especially radiant tonight." he says, rubbing her
hand as he sits down.

"Thank you, Vernon." Trupti blushes.

A waiter comes over. Vernon orders a decaf. Trupti orders a hot
chocolate with whipped cream. I am still working on my coffee, so the
waiter doesn't even look at me.

"I cannot wait to get to know you better." Vernon says, putting his
arms around Trupti's shoulders. And it makes me cringe.

"I am really looking forward to it too, Vernon." Trupti says in a
voice that was sickeningly falsetto, as if she were parodying Marilyn
Monroe. She rubs his thigh.

"Trupti...I am going to the bathroom. Come with me please." I say in a
stern voice. Vernon does not seem to hear me.

"Excuse me, Vernon. I will be right back after powdering my nose." she
says and caresses his cheeks as she gets up.

The restrooms are downstairs, so I stew as the two of us walk down the
stairs. Finally, in the seemingly empty ladies room, I explode at
Trupti.

"What the fuck? What the fuck?????"

"Relax, braids!" she giggles and checks her hair in the mirror.

"Why are you here with my boss's husband?"

"Why do you think?" she calmly counters.

"I don't know what to think!"

I am way more agitated than she is. She is still calmly checking her
hair and make-up.

"Trupti.....what the fuck is going on?" I ask.

"Alright, you want answers? Here are some answers. At your stupid
office party the other night, I hit it off with Vernon. Charming
distinguished older gentleman. I then found out he was your boss's
husband. Married and still so flirty. So I led him on. Thinking it
would be hilarious if her highness Jan's own husband was stepping out
on their marriage."

"Wait, so you are doing this for my benefit?"

"Honey....everything I do is for your benefit." she says and hugs me.

"Fuck you, Trupti. You are just doing this because you are upset I
slept with Malay." I say.

Trupti smiles and shakes her head. A voice from one of the stalls pipes up,

"Everything okay out there?"

"Yes yes, it's all fine." Trupti and I answer in a chorus.

There's the sound of a flush as the two of us stare at each other. A
woman walks out of the stall, looks at me, and asks,

"You okay, honey?"

"Yes, I am fine, thank you." I give her my most affable smile. She
washes her hands, nods, and walks out.

"Will you stop making everything about Malay?" Trupti hisses at me as
soon as the lady leaves. "There are more things in heaven and earth,
you know? You think I find Vernon some irresistible stud? Once the
charming older guy thing wears off, he is a fucking bore."

"Then why is he here?"

"Why do you think? For a fling!" Trupti shrugs. "Let's say you and I
hook up with Vernon. And we take pictures and videos of the hook-up.
And send them to Jan anonymously. Imagine how it would fuck her up.
She has been making your life hell. Don't you want her to suffer?"

I stare at Trupti in disbelief.

"You are crazy!"

"Oh I am the crazy one?" she says and laughs.

"If you are doing it for me, I don't want you to do it." I say defiantly.

"Well, maybe I am doing it for myself too." she shrugs and checks
herself out in the mirror again. "After all, I have never been with a
man that old."

"Please Trupti....Jan isn't that bad." I try to reason with her.

"Really? She isn't a fucking racist who is constantly riding you and
stealing your credit and probably wants to quote make America great
again unquote?"

"Yes, but still, this isn't the way."

We look at each other in the mirror. Trupti gives me a demonic smile.

"Time to go back out. Vernon will be getting worried."

"What is your plan exactly, Trupti?" I ask.

"Well, he told me he had to go watch some Broadway show with Jan and
the kids. And then he was going to make up some excuse about needing
to go to his office for some call with Japan. And then come and boink
me."

"Disgusting!" I say.

"Can I use your apartment? You know mine is a bit uncouth. I will let
you watch."

"No you CANNOT use my apartment!" I make it clear. "And I do NOT want to watch!"

"Oh come on....what are your plans anyway?"

"I am going to Queens."

"For what?"

"Nothing." I say a little too quickly.

"Oh please.....one of your Indian singles mixers?"

"So what?"

"You really are pathetic!"

"Hey, you are the one trying to seduce a man in his 50s!" I say.

Trupti smiles again.

"Okay, tell me one thing. Let's say someone fucks Jan's husband and
sends her pictures of videos of it, it would ruin Jan's life, right?"

"I suppose!"

"And Jan has been a total bitch to you, a racist one at that, right?"

"Yes."

"So why do you have a problem if I do this?"

"It feels wrong." I say after a few seconds of introspection. "It's
not how I was raised."

"Fuck your middle class morals!"

Trupti turns around and walks out of the restroom. I walk behind her.

As we get back to the table, Vernon is ready to leave.

"Sorry sweetheart," he says. "Time for the show with Jan. But I will
see you at 11 after I lie to my wife."

They kiss in a sloppy creepy way. I look away. They don't look at me.

Vernon leaves. Shortly after that, I leave.

------

I am in a community hall in Jackson Heights, Queens for an Indian
singles mixer. A few weeks ago, it would have been the highlight of my
weekend. But today, weighed down with all these Trupti related
problems, it seems like a chore.

It's a speed-dating type thing again. I am sitting at a table,
circling through an endless procession of dorks asking about my
cooking skills and willingness to be a maid. I am enjoying
scandalizing them one by one. I am telling a Tamilian engineer how
having kids is pointless when a man comes and interrupts us.

"Hey, I hoped I would find you here." It's Malay of course. He sounds
impatient. "Excuse me buddy, do you mind if I talk to her for a couple
of minutes?"

"Yeah sure." the dude gets up and leaves in a hurry.

"Hi, Malay. How is your tooth?" I politely ask.

"Fine, fine. Listen, why are you being so crazy? Why haven't you
returned my texts or calls?"

"I am being crazy?" Somehow this guy brings out the worst in me. "I am
being crazy???"

"Okay...okay...sorry, I don't mean crazy like in an insulting way." he
says. "I mean....I don't know how to anymore, okay?"

"Okay, Malay, it's okay." I say.

"Listen." he reaches over and grabs my right hand in both of his
hands. "I really really love you, okay?"

"Really?" I scoff. "You love me.....you LOVE me?"

"Yes, you idiot, I love you....I LOVE you!" he says frustrated. "Why
are you avoiding me like this? My sister is about to visit from
California. I think you should meet her. And then maybe we can think
about meeting my parents."

"Malay, we slept together once and you think you love me? You want me
to meet your family?" I laugh. The guy is cute, but please!

"Once?" he throws his head back in surprise. "We have slept together
so many times!"

"Are you high?" I laugh at him. "We slept together that day when you
had the dental surgery and I took you home. That was the only time."

His shoulders slump a little. He still holds on to my hand and smiles
indulgently.

"Ok, so that is the only time I slept with you....as in YOU you. And
that was amazing. I know you think I was hopped up on painkillers and
maybe I was a little. But I still remember it in detail. I loved it.
That is what I am trying to tell you. That was so nice, so pure,
so....normal. I love your kooky kinky side, but that time was my
favorite. It felt wholesome and healthy and nice."

"So that is what I am to you? A wholesome healthy girl to take to your family?"

"Don't be difficult. You are so much more. I love you. All of you."

"I know how guys like you think. I am the wholesome normal woman to
show mom and dad and bring up the kids and take to the soccer
practice. While you will still go out and bang Trupti and women like
her."

He smiled again. It seemed condescending. And that annoyed me.

"Hey, I love you. And I love Trupti too. I won't deny that all those
nights with Trupti have been wild and super erotic. I am not saying we
get rid of Trupti. Not at all. I am just saying I also
want...you...the actual real dorky you. I fundamentally am in love
with you. Trupti is nice to have on the side, but you are the one I
love. Do you get that?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I am angry. "You are sitting here
and telling me, shamelessly to my face, that you want me as well as
Trupti? And still you want me to meet your family? How stupid do you
think I am?"

Malay let go of my hand and arched his eyebrows.

"Are you trying to mess with me? Is this some elaborate set-up for a
joke like those other times?"

"What?"

"Listen honey....I love you. I love how weird and kinky you are. You
are definitely the best sex I have ever had. And you are smart as
anything. And have a better career than mine. And you're funny. But
you need to dial down on this other stuff. It was fun for a while. But
it's like you're getting lost in the character. It's exhausting."

"What character?"

"Trupti Darshan....the character you came up with that night when I
called you first? Remember that?"

"What character? Are you insane, Malay?" I ask, aghast. "Trupti is
just a character to you? She is a real person. She might be a bit
crazy but she is still my friend."

His eyes go big and his mouth opens wide.

"What????"

I look into his eyes and see real worry, even panic. And suddenly,
everything I see starts spinning. My heart starts racing.

"Wait....what do you mean Trupti is a real person? You actually know
someone named Trupti Darshan?" he is saying.

I stand up with a jolt. The chair falls behind me. What is he saying?
What is he implying? Is he trying to gaslight me? Is this a prank?

"Why are you staring at me like that? Where are you going?" he asks in
a panicky voice.

I take a few steps back and bump into another couple. Everyone around
us is staring. A couple of burly security guys from the event staff
come forward.

"Is he bothering you, ma'am?" they ask as they grab Malay.

"I am not bothering her! She is my girlfriend!!" he says trying to
shake them off.

"Sir, this is a singles mixer. You might like her but that does not
mean she is your girlfriend." one of the guards says.

"I know what this is, goddammit! We are here as a joke!" Malay says
and tries to fight them off. I am still stepping away from the whole
scene and towards the door. He sees me walk away and shouts, "Honey!
Sweetie! Darling! Please wait! You're scaring me!"


I run outside while there is panic behind me. I see Malay fighting the
security guys. I keep running. I stand outside the hall feeling
seriously confused and sleep-deprived. What the hell was Malay trying
to say? I can't wrap my head around it. My head hurts. I need to get
home and fast. I open up my Uber app and call a cab. I note the last
three digits and the car model. And I wait. Two minutes away, it says.

I am waiting. And I see the black Camry. It pulls over. I open the door.

"Hi...Fariq?" I ask.

"Yes....Trupti?" he responds.

And suddenly Trupti appears next to me, cheek by jowl.

"Yes." she smiles. Pushed me into the car and gets in behind me.

"Trupti! How the fuck did you know I would be here?" I ask as the car
starts moving.

"You told me about your Queens singles mixer, remember? So I came to
make sure you're okay." she says calmly. "I thought the talented Mr.
Singhal might make a scene."

The car starts speeding towards Manhattan. The driver keeps looking in
the rearview mirror. I assume he is checking out Trupti.

"He did make a scene. He was being very weird."

"He is weird. But so are you."

"He told me he loves me and wants me to meet his sister and then his parents."

"Well, that is not weird. Even those nights with me, it was obvious
that you were the one he was truly into."

"Really?" this is news to me. "And it doesn't bother you?"

"Why should it bother me? He is your type anyway. He was a nice
novelty for me at first, but since then I have moved on to other
exciting prospects. Like NYU students and hockey jocks and jazz
singers."

"Wait....what?"

"Forget that. What did he say about me?"

"He said he loves me but also wants you around. That creep. Who does
he think he is?"

"Hehehe." Trupti laughed. "What's wrong with that, sweetie? So you're
the homely proper wife and I am the wild minx on the side some
nights."

"You are as crazy as he is." I said. "That is just messed up."

"Sigh! Anyway, can we table this Malay discussion for later? We have
more important things to handle right now. Like Vernon. He will be
coming over to your place in a little bit."

"What the fuck? I told you, you CANNOT use my apartment!"

"But it's ideal. We can set up a couple of cameras." she brushed off
my objections. "Anyway, what I wanted to ask you was....how far do I
go with him? Kissing, maybe sucking his dick....would that be enough?
Or actual sex? I think seeing me riding her husband cowgirl style
would really set off Jan."

"Trupti, I need to be firm with you on this." I said. "I do not want
you hooking up with my boss's husband in my house. In fact I suggest
you drop the plan altogether."

"Oh fuck not this again." she threw her head back.

"Ummm....ma'am." the driver chimed up.

"Yes?" we answered in chorus.

"No offense, but I am getting a little freaked out here. I first
thought you were talking on bluetooth. But I see nothing in your ear."

"Relax will you, Fariq?" Trupti said. "Just mind your own business."

"This is my business, ma'am. I am this close to calling 911."

"You want to call 911 because a couple of friends are arguing?" I spoke up.

"I don't see no bluetooth, ma'am."

"Why do you need to see a bluetooth?" I ask.

"What if I show you my tits? Will that make you shut up?" Trupti said
reaching for her top.

"See, now that is weird. That is fucking weird. I am pulling over as
soon as we are out of the tunnel." the driver says.

Suddenly my head starts throbbing and my vision starts swimming, just
like back at that event with Malay. I close my eyes tightly and open
them. Trupti is gone. I am the only one in the back seat. I close my
eyes again, open them again. She is back. Sitting right next to me.
With a rock in her hand! Where did she get the rock?

"I am sorry, but I need to knock you out. For both our sakes." she
says. And I feel her hit me with the rock on the back of my head.
Hard. I start passing out.

Just before I pass out, I hear her say,

"Okay Fariq, calm down. I was just messing with you. It's a social
experiment. We are trying to......"

And I pass out.

I don't know how long I was out. When I wake up, I can barely move. I
am bound tightly to a chair in my apartment.

And I am naked!
--------------------

"Ah you're back!" Trupti says. She is naked too. But wearing high heels.

"Trupti, what the hell? Let me go!" I struggle against the restraints.
"How did I get here?"

"You know how you got here." she shrugs.

"No I don't. The last thing I remember, we were in the Uber....and....."

Suddenly my mind is flooded with a memory. I was freaked out by what
Malay was saying. I ran out and called and Uber. I got in the Uber.
And then....the memory was bizarre. I was sitting there talking to
myself. Arguing with myself. The driver kept looking back, worried. He
said my behavior worried him. Finally he said he would call 911. I
tried to bribe him by flashing my tits. He didn't bite. And then I
heard myself saying,

"Okay Fariq, calm down. I was just messing with you. It's a social
experiment. We are trying to see at what point cab drivers start
noticing when their passengers are behaving strangely and call the
authorities. It is a vital public policy issue. This was just an
experiment."

"Really?" he asked, still skeptical.

"Yes, Fariq, really. I do not have a bluetooth. I am not going to
flash you my breasts. I was just acting out a script back here, trying
to gauge when you would speak up and act. And I am glad to tell you,
it was very prompt. You are a great driver, Fariq, and a great
citizen."

The driver kept staring at me for a few seconds.

"Are you serious, miss?"

"Very serious!"

"Phew!" he said and laughed. "I tell you, I was really freaked out
when you started talking about all that weird shit. So I immediately
started thinking about dialing 911."

"You did a great job, Fariq."

"So you are really okay?"

"Do I not look okay?" I asked, sitting calmly in my place. "I am
telling you, it was a social experiment. A test. You passed."

And the memory faded away. And I was back in the chair, tied up and
naked. I looked up at Trupti. She smiled. And disappeared. Suddenly
the ropes disappeared too. And then I saw myself standing, looking at
an empty chair. Before I could move, the restraints were back.

"Do you get it now?" Trupti asked.

"Yes, I think I do. You are.........me."

"Hehe, not just you, the best part of you!" she said, swaggering
around. Well, I guess I was swaggering around. "The part of you
unencumbered by outdated values and beliefs. The part looking for what
you have been conditioned to deny yourself.
Happiness.....satisfaction.....contentment....Trupti!"

I digested what she said. And then suddenly, a bunch of huge
realizations dawned upon me.

"Wait....so I am the one who stripped in front of those homeless guys
and sucked their dicks? I made those guys in Central Park fight? And
that taxi driver....."

"Depends on what the meaning of "I" is I guess. In a true sense, it
was me. But in a physical sense, the way others will remember, yes, it
was you." she came close to me and rubbed my nipples. Or I guess I
rubbed my own nipples.

And then she whispered. "All those years, your parents suppressed your
sexuality and your agency....it kept building up. I was always part of
you, the part you tried to hide. Trying to break through, but unable
to. And then that evening in Baltimore, maybe because you were also
freaked out about the bus ride, the volcano erupted."

"And you became real."

"I became real. To you. I guess the real question is.....are you real
and I am just a manifestation of your inner instincts? Or...and this
will blow your mind.....am I the real one.....the one who has always
been real....and you are just the manifestation of the instincts I
need to kill?"

My head hurt.

"Is that why I feel so tired and sleepy all the time? Because I don't
actually sleep? I turn into you?"

"I guess so." she said and then smiled. "How would I know? You think I
have a separate existence? I am trying to figure all this out just as
much as you are."

"Am I even actually tied up? How can I tie myself up this tight? I
don't remember even having ropes. Am I just in my apartment arguing
with myself?"

"Wow!" Trupti said. "I never thought of it that way. I guess you're
right. Try getting up then."

I tried to get up. But I couldn't. The ropes felt very real. I knew
they weren't real. But still, I couldn't get up. She laughed.

"Why am I tied up?"

"Listen genius, didn't you just figure out that you can't be tied up?"

"Okay......I am not really tied up. I can't get up because......the
part of me that is you doesn't want the part of me that is me to move.
Why not?"

"Because you are fucking up the Vernon plan."

"What?"

"Vernon will be coming over any second. I have the cameras all set up.
We are....or rather you are going to have sex with him, film it, and
send it to Jan. Don't worry. Our face won't be in the videos. We
aren't stupid. All Jan will see is her husband banging some random
chick."

"I don't want that, Trupti. I know Jan is a bitch. But I don't want to
do this. This seems too much." I sincerely explain.

"And that is why you are tied up." she says and smiles.

I sigh and try to fight off the restraints. But they get tighter. I
know they are imaginary. But I still can't release myself from them.

"Why do you care so much about punishing Jan?" I ask.

"Because sweetie, you care about punishing Jan. Stop being so dense."

She was right. This was an internal struggle between my need to punish
Jan and also not punish Jan.

BINGBINGBING!

The doorbell rang. Trupti looked at me and smiled. And then she walked
towards the door. Suddenly, she was clothed. In a robe. She...or
rather opened the door. I was still tied up in the chair. But I could
also see whatever was happening out there. It was like I was in two
places at the same time.

"Hi there!" Vernon's smiling face met us. "I am here as promised."

"Oh Vernon!" we said and kissed him. He tried to put his hands inside
the robe. Trupti wanted it to happen. I slapped him away.

"Not so fast, darling!" Trupti said. "Have a seat."

Vernon walked to the couch and sat down. He looked at us and smiled.

"Jan and the kids are at home. I still can't believe she treats you so nastily."

"What will she think if she finds out we are here?" Trupti said.

"She will throw a fit for sure!" he giggled. "I mean, come on! You
know Jan better than almost anyone else. She is a total bitch. Imagine
being married to her."

"That must be hard." Trupti said, pouring a tall drink for him. "Here,
have this. I will be right back."

Vernon sat on the couch. And we walked back together to the bedroom.
As soon as we entered, the scene changed.

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.

I came.

I knew, intellectually, that this was just me masturbating. But to me,
it seemed really real that I had been fingered by my hot friend
Trupti. Like that very first night in the dirty apartment in the
rundown by the river. Oh right, that building, bought by our company
after a foreclosure. Which I was supposed to accompany an appraiser
to, before starting the renovations. She made me cum that night. And
now again.

"Ohhhhh Trupti!" I said. Oh satisfaction.

Maybe she was right. Jan was a bitch. Her husband was out there. I had
obviously slept around a lot in recent weeks. A lot! Maybe Trupti had
a point when she said she is the real one and I am imaginary. And what
she had in mind with Vernon was brilliant. Fuck him without showing my
face, then send Jan the videos. Maybe even post them online. What was
the harm in the plan?

"Exactly. What's the harm?" Trupti said, reading my mind. I looked at
her and nodded.

The ropes fell away. I was free. And now standing in my bedroom
wearing the robe. I looked at myself in the mirror. For the first
time, I saw myself as Trupti and Trupti as myself.

"Do you want me to do it?" Trupti asked. "Or would you rather?"

"I guess it's time I stop using a mental mask."

I slipped the robe off and got naked. Walked to the door and opened
it. Vernon was sitting there, having his drink and checking his phone.
He turned around at the sound of the door opening.

"Holy fuck!" he exclaimed as he saw my naked form walk out.

"You like what you see?" I seductively said.

"Oh yes!" he nodded. The erection in his pants was obvious.

"Let's fuck, Vernon." I said, surreptitiously checking the cameras to
make sure they were positioned accurately.

He quickly lowered his pants and out sprang a medium sized white cock.
Just as I was about to climb on top of him,

"Open up!!! OPEN UP!!!"

It was Malay's voice. Followed by banging on the door.

"Oh shit!" Vernon started losing his wood. "Who's that?"

"No one. Just a friend." I said, wrapping my fingers around his dick
to keep it alive.

"A boyfriend?" his eyes went wide. "Maybe I should go to the bedroom
while you sort it out."

He started getting up. But I kept my grip on his dick and held him in
place. If he went to the bedroom, where there were no cameras, the
whole point of this plan was moot.

"Just stay where you are." I said. "I'll get rid of him."

I quickly threw on the robe and opened the door slightly, with the
chain still on.

"Malay, calm down." I said.

"Let me in." he started pushing at the door.

"Malay, go away. We'll talk later." I said, trying to sound authoritative.

"How can I calm down? You're freaking me out. Why did you run away
back there? And what did you mean Trupti Darshan was a real person?"

"It was a prank, okay? I took it too far." I said. "Now please, go
home. I will call you later."

"Why can't we talk now?"

"I have......company." I blushed.

"Oh." his shoulders slumped. "A man?"

I nodded.

"Sorry....oh I am so sorry." he backed away and his voice quivered. "I
think....I thought.....I don't know. I guess I didn't realize we were
in very different places. I was being stupid."

"Malay, it's okay. I will call you later."

He just turned around and started walking away. And I saw him wipe one
eye as he did so.

I was about to open the chain and run out behind him. But instead the
door slammed shut.

"What a wimp!" Trupti said in my head.

"Shut up! He is nice."

"Oh for fuck's sake, stop with this nonsense. Vernon is waiting. If
you can't do it, I will."

I turned around. Vernon was a little nervous, but his dick was still out.

"Maybe we should reschedule." he said.

"Well...." I started saying and then Trupti continued. "No you
stud....I am hot for you now."

I watched quietly as she slipped the robe off again, and got on our
knees in front of Vernon. She opened her mouth and I took his
semi-flaccid dick inside my mouth.

"Oh you're good!" the old man said, sitting back.

He started getting hard again. I played with his balls and Trupti
rolled our tongue around his shaft.

"See.....we can do this quickly." she said in my head. "A little suck
suck, a little fuck fuck, and done."

I mentally nodded and focused on the job at hand.

"I was wondering you would even agree to suck my dick, forget being
good at it." Vernon said. "Indian women always seem so straight-laced
and naive. So I am impressed by how good you are. Good job."

"Oh great, the husband is just as presumptuous about race and identity
as the wife." I said mentally.

"Who cares? We aren't marrying him."

That's when I heard a slight whooshing sound coming from the door. I
looked over and saw a folded paper had been slipped under it.

"Wait, where are you going?" Vernon said as I took the dick out of my
mouth and got up.

"Just give me a moment." I said.

I picked up the piece of paper and opened it. It was a hastily written
letter from Malay.

- Let me start by saying I love you. I love you. I love you. Honestly,
I think I have loved you from the moment I set eyes on you at that
event in Portland. I don't know if you even remember me. Something
told me you were meant for me. And when you finally agreed to date, I
was so happy. I thought things have been going great. I thought maybe
we are ready to take it to the next level. You are more to me than
just a fuck buddy, although the sex is the best I have ever had. I
want to spend the rest of my life with you.
But I should apologize, because I assumed you felt the same way. I
know we had never agreed to be exclusive. But somehow I thought it was
implied. Ever since I started dating you, it has only been about you
for me. When I found out you have been seeing someone else, it hurt
like a punch in the gut.
I am sorry. I love you. If you see this in time, and feel even the
slightest bit the same way, I will be having a drink at the bar
downstairs. If I hear from you after you've sent this guy away, I wil
know you feel the same way. If not, I will leave you alone and move
on. Forever. Won't even answer your calls. Because it will be to
painful. Please decide soon.

Yours forever,
Malay

"Oh for fuck's sake." Trupti said and started crumpling the paper.

"Wait!" I stopped her.

"Please don't tell me you're swayed by that horseshit?"

"Why is it horseshit? You don't think he loves me.....us?"

"Sure he does. But so what? Through me, you are finally living your
life. Why would you want to throw it all away from the first Indian
guy who comes along and settle down?"

"So what are you saying.....send Malay away and spend the rest of my
life having a series of one night stands?"

"Why not?"

"Like this guy Vernon.....oh shit Vernon."

I looked up and saw he had taken his pants off and was walking towards
me. He took me in his arms and kissed me, his moist cock tip rubbing
against my thigh.

"Let's go back to the couch." Trupti said to him, wrapping our hand
around a now throbbingly hard old white man dick.

She put one foot on the couch next to his thigh. And put the other
hand on his shoulder. That hand had the letter.

"Wait.....I just realized something." I said.

"What?" Vernon said, annoyed.

"Just one moment."

I stayed like that, one hand around his dick, another on his shoulder,
one foot on the couch, another on the floor, my pussy positioned just
inches above, waiting to ride him. And started having another internal
argument.

"Trupti.....you became real soon after Malay talked to me, and I gave
him my number."

"So?"

"He called me. I couldn't go out with him as me. I went out as you.
Slept with him who knows how many times as you."

"So?"

"How do I know you are just the wild experimental side of me wanting
to sleep around? Maybe you are the side of me that finally agreed to
date Malay. To overcome my hesitation and disdain for him."

"If that were true, sweetie, you wouldn't have fucked your way through
half of Manhattan on the side."

"Yes, but none of those stuck....right? None of those showed up at my
door and said they love me. Malay did."

"Okay.....fair point. But still, the world is full of Malay's."

"I don't think it is." I said. "I think he might be the one for me.
And I might be pushing him away for the sake of some petty revenge
over my boss. I should call him back up and ride him instead of this
wrinkly sack of shit."

"That's it. I am sick of arguing. I don't need your permission. Never
have before." she said and my pussy started getting lowered towards
the dick.

"Well, I don't need your permission to NOT fuck this guy." I said and
raised my crotch up again.

"What are you doing?" Vernon said breathlessly.

 "Trying to settle something. Give me a moment." I said, still
suspended over his dick.

And I resumed my struggle with Trupti.

THE END

P.S. As most of you will have figured out by now, this is my erotic
tribute to Fight Club, the masterpiece book by Chuck Palahniuk made
into a masterpiece movie by David Fincher. I had a lot of fun writing
it. Have ended it like this on purpose, so you can choose in your own
mind how you would like the story to end. In the arms of Malay or
riding Vernon. :)