That Night on the Train Ch. 04

Anjali woke with a start as the train jolted violently beneath her. For one terrifying moment, she thought there had been an accident. Then, as her senses returned, she realized the train was moving slowly; the shudder had probably come from a change of tracks. She felt around for her phone and checked the time: 1:35 a. m. Outside the curtains, the train began gathering speed again.

She had totally crashed for the last three odd hours. Just as she was wondering how that could have happened, she suddenly started sniffing around like a dog, wondering what that smell was. The phone was still in her hand, and she realized the smell was coming from her fingers... it was the smell of own cum. She raised her right hand to her nose and took a whiff and almost three fingers exhibited the strong smell.

Without thinking or realizing what she was doing, like a dirty whore, she licked each of them lovingly. Her legs again rubbed against each other as she did that, and she could feel a strange stickiness between them. What was more, her subconscious mind told her that there no cloth interfering with the legs. Frowning slightly, she lifted her blanket and almost cried out loud. She was butt naked from waist below.

Additionally, when she lifted her blanket, the smell of cum grew even stronger. She quickly threw the blanket back on and realized that it was probably the blanket and the tightly closed curtains that had stopped the smell from spreading all around. She tried to remember what had happened. The only thing she remembered was watching him licking his ice cream, and her starting to finger herself.

She must have got so carried away, that she did not even realize that she had taken off her slacks and panties. She was sure the only reason her bra was still on was because the Kurti was tight enough and may not have come off easily. Likely she had worked herself up to a massive orgasm and just crashed and went to sleep.

Pangs of shame now crept up. What had happened to her? Never in her life, even during her horny college days could she remember acting like such a slut. She looked at the fingers she had just sucked and felt even more disgusted.

Instinctively she tried to clean her mouth with the palm of her hand. She had to go to the bathroom to get cleaned up before the smell woke up the whole compartment. She groped around trying to find her slacks and panties and found them at the far end of the berth. She was relieved that they had not fallen off. She again looked at the clock on her phone, it was now 1:43 AM.

Her eyes locked on Adi's face (that was her nickname for Aditya), his and Anshu (her nickname for her son Anshul) picture on her home screen, and she felt a little more ashamed. Those were not his fingers that she had imagined helping her get to that deep sleep. She knew who they belonged too or at least who she had imagined they belong too.

She lessened her guilt a little by remembering that they could not have been Adi's fingers even if he were here. He was not into any of this kinky stuff. Barring the first couple of months of their marriage, where they had indulged in oral sex, positions, etc., she had soon realized that all that was not for him and they had hardly indulged in such activities since. The realization offered her little comfort.

Without putting on her panties, because she wanted to clean first, she very quietly pulled on her slacks, being careful not to drag them all the way up, lifted her butt to pull down her Kurti and did a quick visual examination in the limited light to ensure she looked presentable enough to walk to the bathroom, even though she knew almost everyone would probably be asleep. She very slowly got down from the berth, grabbing her purse with the panties in them, her eyes automatically darting to the berth opposite.

She saw he seemed to be asleep, and she started tip toeing towards the bathroom. With just around 6 hours left in the journey, she felt a mixture of relief, but also a sense of disappointment that nothing untoward had happened between them. Soon they would be reaching Delhi, and she sincerely hoped that she would be able to leave this sick, lust filled slut version of herself on this train.

It took her all of ten or twelve minutes to wash and dry herself. Her panties were back on; she twisted left and right trying to get a full look. She realized her Bindi was missing, but she did not care much about that. She straightened her Mangal Sutra, freed a bead caught in her bra strap and set it nicely just over her cleavage. Her face still looked tired and sleep-heavy, but at least she felt presentable.

She lifted the rotary latch and pulled the bathroom door open. Before she could step outside, a violent shove sent her purse skidding across the floor. A hand clamped over her mouth, and behind her came the sharp click of the latch locking again.

She was pinned against the sink with another hand holding both her hands behind her back and she felt a strong leg jam in between her legs trapping them. The train jerked at that time and the movement caused the leg jamming her to step back to balance but was instantly replaced by a crotch pressing against her.

With her eyes squeezed shut and fear hammering through her, she heard a deep voice whisper, "Relax. Don't be scared. You're safe, and I have no intention of hurting you." She could not place the voice, but it's quiet authority registered even through her panic. He did not need to raise it; command seemed to come naturally to him.

She opened her eyes in fear and was shocked to see the face in front of her. The eyes she saw, no longer had that mischievous twinkle, there was no lust for her that she had seen in them throughout the journey, but it was a look of absolute and utter disgust. There was sheer meanness in every line on his face now. Maybe he is really a Gunda and just a good actor. Tears welled up around her eyes as things like "rape" and "torture" flooded her mind, which looked like a sure possibility now given his expression.

"Aap theek ho? Chot toh nahi lagi? (Are you all right? You're not hurt, are you?)" he asked, as though her pain troubled him. She did not move. Her frightened gaze remained fixed on his, but confusion now edged into it. Why was he speaking so politely?

"Please", he said again, "relax, you are safe". "Ek kaam kijiye (do one thing), please take a deep breath". Still shaken, she noticed how effortlessly he moved between polished English and respectful Hindi. The few words she had heard from him earlier had been crude and careless; this voice carried unexpected sophistication.

A little calmness seemed to be entering her mind. Reluctantly, she did as he said and breathed in deeply through her nose. He was watching her, but his expression had not changed.

"Ek aur baar Please (once more please)" he said, his voice sounding even more polite now, despite the default command it exhibited. She did it again and felt calmer. They looked at each other for a few seconds; she sensed that his grip on her hands behind had loosened. "Thank you" he said, as if she had done him a favor, but he could see her confusion mounting.

"Abhi (now), can you please tell me if you are right-handed or left-handed?". She raised her eyebrows in confusion shocked at the question. The train lurched again, and she felt his crotch rub against hers. Even in her state of dread, she could not help but register that he was hard. Her body involuntarily seemed to press back into his crotch.

He let out an exasperated sigh, which made his mean look go even meaner. "Apka siddha haath kaun sa hai (which is your dominant hand)?" he asked again laying emphasis on every word. She could sense he was trying hard to contain his anger... no, not anger, but impatience and irritation! Given that her hands were still trapped, she wriggled her right shoulder.

Immediately he let go of her right hand and she brought it forward twisting and twirling it to remove the stress it had been under. She was still looking straight into his eyes and totally apprehensive. The train jerked again and this time he was pushed into her, his hard chest pressing into her boobs. She felt her nipples twitch.

"I am going to ask you to do something, and I am sincerely requesting you to please do it with full conviction, pura zor lagana (use all your strength), ok?". She did not respond or react, but her mind was certain that the expectation was going to be sexual in nature. Her immediate thought went to him wanting her to give him a hand job or maybe masturbate him to satisfaction. The strange thing was that she felt that she wanted to do it.

"Please slap me as hard as you can" he said. Her expression went from scared apprehensive to an eyebrow raised confusing as if saying "what"? Her mouth was still tightly covered. He waited, but she did not move. Was this a game? The movement of the train was making their connected crotches move back and forth. Her brain was struggling to hold on to the fear and confusion she felt, with the persistent knocking signals of lust that her crotch was now sending her brain.

Was he trying to look for a reason to molest her. Would he claim self-defense or something if he got caught? His impression got meaner with impatience and he said, a little loudly this time "PLEASE DO IT".

Thawck! She had reacted instinctively and slapped him. She waited with fear for his reaction. The train rocked again, the brain got another urgent reminder to accommodate the lust.

His reaction stumped her even more. "Ye app thapad mar rahe ho ke pyaar kar rahe ho, thoda zor lagao! (are you slapping me or giving me a love tap, use some strength)". Irritation was now replacing her fear. What the fuck is he up to, she thought.

He was about to say something again, but before he could open his mouth, she had slapped him, hard and with all the strength she could muster. She felt as if the sound had echoed around the bathroom. She was dazed! She had no idea that she was even capable of exhibiting and delivering such brute violence. She could see a tinge of redness on his cheek despite that irresistible stubble.

He winced, mumbled "bhenchod", the abuse she knew he had uttered in surprise, turned his head around, once, twisted his jaws, a small smile breaking onto his face and he said in a gratified tone, "isko bolte hai thapad (this is what you call a slap)". It was like he was commending her with a "nice job!" kind of expression.

They were immediately distracted as the train lurched violently as they could sense a rapid changing of tracks. The back-and-forth moment became more rapid and her free hand, that she had just slapped him with, grabbed the lower right back of his shirt, but inadvertently that led to him being pulled into her even more. It was as if he was dry humping her. The lust feelings overwhelmed the fear feelings in her mind as if a battle had been won.

Her tits were hard and she knew he could feel them. She was sure her panties were also wet. She could sense a rock-hard cock on her crotch almost fighting to get out of its enclosure. She wanted to hold it and press it hard over his shorts! Their eyes were still locked on each other, and she was sure that if her mouth was not covered by his hand, they would be kissing.

She averted his gaze, the dry humping still going on, her hand even tighter on his shirt and her eyes fell on her purse. The trains rocking had led to her phone being pushed slightly out of the purse.

The train steadied just as she saw one of Adi's eyes looking at her from her phone screen saver. She gasped, the feeling of guilt now taking over the battle in her brain with the feelings of lust and she quickly dropped her hand.

She dimly registered that his expression of disgust was gone, the twinkle was back and his smile back once again conveying the same lust that she had seen all day. Her mind reminded her that she had just slapped him, twice! It was as if a light bulb went off in her head and her mind flooded with understanding.

The disgust he had carried on his face was not for her or because he had any ill-intentions, it was for himself and the pathetic action he had committed by shoving her forcefully back into the bathroom. He was ashamed of his actions, and he had made her punish him for his misbehavior. She could also sense a kind of relief in him, as if he felt he had been duly punished and hopefully forgiven. She knew he was... more than forgiven!

He again looked straight in her eyes, and she felt her heart melt, the anger had ebbed away. The train lurched and she felt another dry hump. She again held him to steady herself but for some reason, did not lower her hand this time when the train steadied. He had let go of her other hand and lowered his hand from her mouth and just said very quietly -- "I just want to talk and ask you something. May I"?

She felt his right hand holding her waist gently to steady her just as she had her right hand on his elbow. The fear was now gone a 100% and she could sense the heat and electricity starting to rise in her. She nodded her head. Even as she waited for him to start his question, that desire to just bring his head down and kiss him started getting overwhelming.

The soldiers of lust were keeping the soldiers of guilt at bay and had started subduing them.

He took a step back and unconsciously; she arched her mid-section forward towards him as if she did not want to break that contact with his crotch. He smiled and she again saw that deep lust in his eyes, but this time, she felt it had that "loving" kind of feeling also. She was losing control and fast... she knew it. The soldiers of lust seemed to be doing a victory dance in her brain. There was now a good six to nine inches gap between them and both kept rocking gently with the movement of the Express.

"This has never ever happened to me before", he said, "and I am not sure why today and why you, but from the first look we shared...", he stopped, looked away as if looking for strength. She touched him lightly and her expression clearly asked him "what"? He looked back at her and continued, "I know you are married, and it is not correct, but still"... he again paused. She could not believe this strong, handsome hunk, also had a humane side. She smiled at him. She felt more roars of celebration in her brain. The train was trotting at a steady rhythm now.

"I have this mad desire to just fuck you senseless, I want to eat you, make you my kutti (bitch), treat you like my personal randi (whore) and be your kutta (dog) and your bhadwa (pimp) and I want to do that right here, right now!". He said all this very fast, she sensed a mix of lust, excitement and shame in his voice.

Her smile vanished replaced by a stumped look, and she saw the passion on his face and his fingers had clenched into fists as through he was controlling himself with great difficulty. She could not believe the crudeness with which he had said it. "Kutti?" "Randi?", "RANDI?" she thought. The words were disgusting and exciting her in equal measure. Was he asking my permission to treat me like a Randi of all the things?

She was about to open her mouth to respond albeit she had no idea what she wanted to say, but he raised his hand. "I want to also say this"... and he took her right hand and placed it on her heart. "I also felt that your beautiful eyes have told me the same thing all day, every time you have looked at me, or every time you have pretended not to look or be angry"... she let out and involuntary chuckle... "that you want me even more that I want you. Not only do you want to fuck me and maul me, but you also want to OWN me". His eyes were on hers, his hand still on hers, resting on her heart.

"Tell me if I am wrong, and I will leave right now and won't bother you again for the rest of the journey." He was breathing a little heavily now. She did not say anything. The train lurched again and he was pushed onto her. Both her hands rose and she steadied him by placing them on his chest. Without even realizing it, she had started gently kneading his chest through his shirt.

She saw his hands move towards her waist, but he stopped them, balled them into fists and made them go back to his sides. It was at that moment she knew, this Protector was a thorough gentleman, that he would not touch her without her EXPRESS CONSENT and that if she asked him to leave, he would leave without even arguing or asking a question.

Her eyes again looked down towards her fallen purse. Her phone had slid out slightly more now, the time showing 2:15 AM. They had been together in the bathroom now for 15 minutes. The soldiers of guilt seemed to be coming roaring back with a new weapon. She could now clearly see both Adi and Anshu's eyes in the picture.

As if in a flashback, her life thus far seemed to pass before her in random order. Her wedding, her Aai and Baba (father) playing with Anshu while Adi and she watched, her in-laws welcoming her to their house just after the wedding... she could sense the soldiers of lust retreating. He saw her looking at the picture and felt the pain in her eyes as small tears filled the edges.

She looked up at him, his eyes now showing the same pain she felt, touched her Mangal Sutra and said, "I am married, we should not do this. Everything that has happened between us thus far will always be the best memory of my life and...". She broke off, turned away to face the sink. There was pause and she said in the smallest of a whisper "Please go", praying that he had not heard.

He understood that she really wanted this, since she had not said a straight "no", but he did not argue. She was no longer looking at him but was looking into the sink. "Can I please at least get one more good slap?" he asked very seriously.

She turned, smiled and shook her head, and lovingly ran her palm on the same cheek she had slapped him on earlier. The redness had ebbed quite a bit now. She knew he could sense the terrible conflict going on within her. The mad, wild "lust" fighting with her upbringing, her culture, her vows with Adi, the love for son and family.

He could sense that while she was putting on a brave face, it was tearing her apart internally. He knew she would burst out crying as soon as he left. He turned, looking away from her, and put one hand on the latch and started to turn it.

Anjali was not sure if it was a trick of the light or some kind of reflection, but the corner of his eye twinkled, the same way she had seen it twinkle on top of the over bridge as he was running down. Her resolve broke...

In an instant, her right hand grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him hard towards her, and at the same time her left hand had snatched his other hand from the latch which fell straight back into the lock position. He had responded faster than the speed of light. He had grabbed her with both hands, lifted her off her feet, and pulled her into a bone crushing hug, her feet automatically wrapping themselves around him, their lips absolutely mauling each other's, their tongues fighting to take possession of each other's mouth.

The soldiers of guilt froze mid battle, weapons still raised... and quietly retreated.

She was pulling hard on his hair, trying to pull his head back, as if determined to make her tongue reach his throat. At the same time, her other hand was trying desperately to pull his shirt out, but he had her gripped too tight. He roared lightly in anger, loosed his grip on her and grabbing his shirt by his collar, just ripped it apart with brute strength. She gasped for a second, but the next instant, she was running her hand frantically all over his now bare chest and back, her lips leaving his lips, trying to kiss and bite ever portion of his chest and shoulders she could reach.

She felt him lower her, his hands going inside her slacks pushing them down and immediately go inside her panties, mauling her ass hard, his mouth still fighting to get back possession of her lips which were still attacking his neck and chest. She wriggled to get the slacks down till her ankles and quickly stepped one leg out, when she heard a snap. He had ripped her panties clean and resumed the vicious mauling of her ass. She had pulled him down and was kissing, biting and scratching his neck.

She felt his shorts and underwear slide down touching her legs also as they went down and her hand had grabbed his cock and started squeezing it hard and she started vigorously masturbating him. She hardly registered or cared about its thickness or length but could tell it was big and thick. He lifted her face, kissed her again hard, making her moan. One hand now rimming her asshole and other the other rubbing her pussy. His fingers were all over her pussy moving up and down, inside and out at a rapid pace. She was leaking profusely and his fingers were soaked.

In an instant his hands had switched places. His well lubricated middle finger was now at her asshole and fingers of the other hand were in her pussy. She sensed what he was about to do and just as she was getting ready to whisper, "not there", but the Express made the choice. The train lurched, they got pushed back and his lubricated finger, despite her clenched ass went all the way in her anus. At the same time, two fingers got rammed into her pussy and his thumb jabbed hard against her clit.

She let out a muffled scream in his mouth, a mix of pain and an orgasm hitting her at the exact same time. He felt her hand that was masturbating him almost crush his cock and she was involuntarily moving his cock around as if it were a manual gear shift. Up, down, left, right as she started to collapse to her knees.

He had grabbed her Kurti to support her, but she kept falling and inadvertently, he just seemed to pull her Kurti off her, which he just threw aside. She undid the clasp off bra and let it fall off. Now they both were naked except for the shreds of his t-shirt still hanging around his mid-torso to waist. He lifted her neck and she looked it him. Under normal circumstances, this would be the time for them to just make out for a bit or maybe spoon, giving her time to recover from her orgasm.

His eyes questioned hers as if asking her, "Do you need a break?". The 13 odd hours of pent-up lust in both said "No" and in response, she just put one hand on his ball sack massaging them, her other hand grabbing the shaft of his now super hard cock, pulling it closer, starting to massage it while her mouth started licking his pee hole. He groaned and put her hand behind her head. He bent down and started kneading her breasts and pulling on her tits.

The train lurched again and his entire cock went straight into her mouth. She gaged and pulled back a bit but did not stop. She sucked him with a lustful hunger, swirling her tongue around his shaft, licking and sucking with increasing pace. Teasing his pee-hole, gradually increasing the pressure on his balls with the other hand. She could tell he was enjoying and he said "Choos Kutti, pura andar le le (suck it bitch, take it all in) and she quickened the pace of her sucking even more, albeit not attempting to deep-throat him.

She sensed his balls tightening, she knew he was close. He had to be. It was impossible for any man to hold off this long with that much pent-up lust and passion. It was almost as he was reading her mind, he pulled out, pulled her up and turned her around and bent her down in one motion. Hands on the sink, she pushed her ass out spreading her legs, inviting him.

She felt physically exhausted, but her mind wanted a lot more. She wanted to be fucked hard. She wanted to be ravaged more that she already had been. She was now a Randi after all, and more importantly, she wanted her Bhadwa to be so satisfied, that he would never ever be able to forget her, because she was never going to forget him.

She wanted to live in his mind forever, just as she knew he would be living in her mind... till the day she died!

He slapped each of her cheeks with both his hands, hard, but his urgency was too great. So was hers! All this playing around kind of fun seemed to be irrelevant in this moment. He bent down and licked her pussy, she groaned, he flicked her clit with his tongue and she turned around and grabbed his head, trying to push him in deeper and almost on queue... his tongue went deep inside her. She was about to scream, but his hand reached out and capped her mouth.

"Randi... chila na mat (whore, don't shout)". She knew the reason for this request, after all they were in the bathroom of a moving train. She felt him get up, she knew it was time..."Mere andar mat ana (don't come inside me)" she whispered. He grunted as he lined up his huge cock with her pussy and replied "Ek kutti kabhi kutte ko nahi bolti ke usko kahan per ana hai (a bitch does not tell a dog where he can come)".

She did not argue, despite the dread she felt that she may be ovulating, because a part of her wanted to be filled... she wanted to feel his cum trickle down her legs, to scoop and suck it with her fingers right out of her pussy and lick it. She was a Randi after all and inwardly was happy that she had the day-after pills in her bag, something she had always carried with her after Adi and her "happy mistake".

The lust was still too high in both, he did not even bother to run his cock up and down her pussy, rather just rammed it in. She felt it go in hard, helped by the lurch from the Express just then and again almost screamed, but he was quick to see it coming and again covered her mouth with his hand. She began licking it his palm. He lay over her back mauling her boobs and pushing at the same time. Every push into her, was spreading the fire in her and she knew, her next orgasm would be a big one, and nothing would be able to stop her from screaming at the top of her lungs.

She wanted it harder, even though he had completely filled her up, she wanted to be hurt, her pussy to tear. She did not care. "Chacka hai kya bhadve aur zor se kar (are you a eunuch, fuck me harder you pimp)" she turned and said to him looking him straight in his eyes. Inwardly, she could not believe that such words had come out of her mouth.

He looked incensed and started ramming her with all his might, pulling her hair, crushing her boobs, pushing deeper into her, almost touching her cervix. She felt pain, intense pain and it only fueled her orgasm which was in the final stretch of the race, picking up even more speed. He pulled out, turned her around roughly, made her sit on the sink, her legs automatically wrapping around him. She knew the grand finale was around the corner and kissed him ferociously.

He brought his lips to her tits and tried to eat them whole one at a time. She moaned, pushing her chest out and dragging him to them further by pulling his head closer, her hands in his hair. He stood up, kissed here and got in position.

One hand behind her neck, as she buried her face on his left shoulder grabbing his hair with both her hands, his other hand behind her back, he pulled her into him tight, and his cock rammed into her pussy. Anjali gasped, not only because of the extreme pleasure the walls of her pussy felt, but also because she felt something strange. She was not sure if it just the angle on the sink that they were at, the lurches of the train or something else, but every time he pushed in her, something was brushing against her clit, sending shocks of erotic pleasure through her.

The sensation of him going in and out filling her up completely, coupled with her clit getting rubbed with every in going and out coming stroke, all happening at a rapid pace, was creating a volcano of orgasmic lava inside her that was about to erupt. She was exploding with a deep sense of orgasmic satisfaction. He was grunting hard too. They both knew they were close and it was as if they were running around a full circle of lustful passion at full speed.

His push inside her, her clit getting rubbed, her legs tightening around him, his hand crushing her back into him. The circle was being traversed as if on repeat at full speed.

Push, clit, tighten, crush! Push, clit, tighten, crush!

Her pussy clamped vice like onto his cock increasing the resistance. The final explosion of their lustful journey was reaching its crescendo.

And then, it happened! She shifted her head from his left shoulder to his right shoulder. Just as he pushed for what would be the second last time, his gaze followed hers as it fell once more on her purse and the phone. The clock just turned showing 2:35 AM.

Her ripped, cum filled panty was lying on it. It had covered most of Adi's face and about half of Anshul's face.

Her son's one sparking eye was staring right at her, at his mother!

The final push went in and as he burst inside her releasing a tidal wave of sperm, he saw her eyes filling up with a combination of an extreme lust filled orgasmic wave of satisfaction and an equally large heart break filled wave of guilt and remorse. He knew she was about to let out a blood curtailing scream which would be loud enough to wake up the entire compartment. He knew that just covering her mouth with his hand would no longer be of any use.

He grabbed her neck and rammed her face into his hard chest. Unable to scream, Anjali simply bit into this chest with all her might. He grunted but did not release her just as his cock released a second spurt of cum in her pussy. She was struggling to get away, even though her own legs continued to tighten around him from the passionate bliss of his cum filling her. She was trying to push his chest away with both her hands, to be able to scream both from passion and remorse, but his grip was too tight, her own grip of her legs around his waist was too tight! As a third spurt of cum was unloaded, she bit into him even harder.

She was swinging from lust filled passion to remorse filled pain like a pendulum, back and forth, back and forth.

He could feel torrents of blood flowing down his chest now, just as she felt torrents of cum sliding down her legs as his cock started retreating from its hard state. He continued to hold her tight, both at the neck and around her back. She had stopped pushing on his chest, but her teeth were still deep inside his skin, even though she was no longer biting, tears were flowing freely from both her eyes. She had removed her teeth from his chest and was resting his forehead on his chest as she continued to cry.

Twenty minutes!

Even though it felt so much longer, it had been just twenty minutes from the time she pulled him back from leaving to her reaching the pinnacles of pleasure and remorse.

Twenty minutes -- for her to have fulfilled every sexual desire that lay buried in her that she probably did not even know about.

Twenty minutes -- for her to have gone from dutiful daughter, loving wife, loving mother to being a RANDI.

Twenty minutes -- for her to have experienced the peaks of lustful elation and fathoms deep remorse at the same time.

Twenty minutes -- for her to maybe never be able to look at her husband and son in the eye again.

He was still holding her but had relaxed his grip. They were both sweating profusely. She slowly lifted her head, looked him in the eye as if to say, "THANK YOU" and then turned her head back to the panty covered photo as if to say, "I AM SO SORRY". She looked back at his chest, saw all the blood and her hand went to her mouth. She had literally ripped him open.

Her hands started going to the wound to cover them to staunch the bleeding, but he stopped her. "It ok, MY Randi has just marked me for life". He smiled and she smiled back despite the tears falling, dimly registering the strong emphasis he had laid on the word "MY". He gently took a step back from her, went to her purse, threw her panty in the pot and pushed her phone inside her purse.

She watched him and suddenly felt like hugging him again. He then ripped out the remaining portion of his t-shirt into two. He pressed one against what now looked like a very bad wound to stem the flow of the blood and with the other, he slowly started dabbing her sweat. She remembered how she had felt like doing the same thing when we had first showed up, all sweaty and out of breath.

"You should not have ripped that shirt, that color suits you and I liked it", she said. He smiled. The portion he was using to staunch his wound was already full of blood. He threw it in the pot and grabbed some tissues and again plugged his wound. He had her almost clean now, or as clean as she could be, before we said in a very quiet, yet comforting tone. "You know" he said, "in a certain way, there is really no need for you to feel any remorse".

She looked at him quizzically as he handed her slacks and helped her get in. "Technically, it is not cheating if you sleep with your husband". Still naked from the waste up, tears still flowing, she looked up him with the same quizzical look. He came close to her, kissed her on the very top of her head, and very slowly turned her around to face the mirror. She was still half naked, she looked at herself, all messy, and stared at her Mangal Sutra, trying to understand what he meant.

He put his left hand around her waist, kissed her on her shoulder, careful not to get his still flowing blood on her, gently cupping her naked boob and just pointed to her forehead. She looked, her eyes widened in shock, she turned to look at him and then turned back and looked again in the mirror.

Parting the line in her hair, in exactly the spot where a married women would put red Sindoor (vermillion) to symbolize that she is married, was his blood. It was the exact shape and had the exact depth as any married women would wear it. As she normally wore it when she went for traditional events or to the temple.

Tears fell again as an understanding of what he was saying came to her. She had bit him to release his blood. She had cried against that blood, she had somehow managed to get that blood in exactly the most scared spot for any married woman. She knew now what he meant, it was like she had CHOSEN him as her husband! This Randi was married to her Bhadwa!

He had picked up her bra and was helping her put it on as she continued staring in the mirror and her tears continued to fall. He had discarded the paper bandage which was now full of blood and taken some more and slapped it on his wound that was still bleeding.

He now helped her with her Kurti. He turned her and kissed her again, making to wipe away the blood on her forehead, but she stopped him and shook her head, tears still flowing. He smiled, then stepped back, lost balance a little as the train swayed, and she felt as though he was admiring his wife, but this time there was no lust in his eyes, just an expression that conveyed respect.

He raised his hand and curled his pinky as if ready to make a pinky promise. "It was God that brought us together today. I have no idea why, but I have always believed that whatever happens, happens for the good as per God's wish". He wiped her tears with his finger, but they were instantly replaced with fresh ones. "Mujhe aap se ek aur jeez maang ne hai (I want to ask you for one more thing").

Anjali just looked at him. "If God ever decides that we are destined to meet again, make me a pinky promise that we will be passionate again, wild and crazy like today for sure, but also, we will make slow, deep and passionate love". His pinky was up waiting for Anjali's. "Why a pinky promise", she asked. "Because pinky promises are for children and children are the purest souls in the whole world. I want this promise of ours to be just as pure".

Her tears were again falling fast and strong. She raised her pinky, locked it with his and he pulled her into a hug and they kissed again. "I'll leave first, he said, will you be ok?" he asked and she nodded. Running his hand one more time on her cheek, he turned, bare chested in just his shorts, still bleeding profusely and unlocked the door slightly to peek outside.

He was about to step out when Anjali caught his hand. "Wait." He turned. "What is your name? My name is--" He covered her mouth gently before she could finish. "We'll introduce ourselves if God decides we're meant to meet again." He smiled, turned, and left. Anjali did not know how long it would be before fate brought him back into her life.

She just stood for a few minutes, then turned, picked up her purse. She looked around the bathroom one more time, grabbing the sink to balance herself from the lurch of the train. She looked in the mirror again and still looked all disheveled, but she did not want to fix herself up just yet.

She stared at her head for a few more minutes. The blood on her forehead still gleamed. There were no more tears, but a feeling of inexpressible happiness was riding along with the same amount of remorse. She opened the bathroom and walked to her berth. His curtain was closed, but she could smell aftershave. She knew why. He was trying to prevent an infection and had used it as a disinfectant on his wound.

She wondered if it had stopped bleeding as she climbed onto her berth, closed her curtains and got into her blanket. She felt exhausted. Now that the feelings of lust had receded, she could feel the physical pain all along her body, especially on her back by her ribs, where he had held her so tight. She quietly peeked through her curtain but could see nothing.

She still felt a certain lack of closure. She still was not sure why in the first place did she get lustfully attracted to this man. Should she talk to him once they get up? Will there be time? Will they have enough privacy? Then she wondered what would she even say to him? Suddenly, she felt the urge to tuck in with him in his berth but knew that would not be advisable.

She turned to face the wall of her berth and felt herself drifting into sleep. She gently touched her Mangal Sutra and then her forehead, as if to say good night to her husband... both her husbands! She was fast asleep.

She awoke suddenly when her phone alarm rang. It was 7 AM. She pulled her curtain and looked across. The berth was empty, not even his bag.

He was gone.

She just saw something red gleaming at the far end of the berth. All her co-passengers were already awake, getting ready to disembark as they were just an hour or so away.

She knew she needed to clean up; she was still not wearing any panties. She opened her bag, pulled out a full change of clothes, got down and as she came down, she was able to grab that piece of red cloth from his berth. She was feeling a little upset as she walked to the bathroom. He had left without even saying goodbye?

Somehow, she felt, she did not need it. There was this inner certainty in her that God would ensure they meet again. As she entered the same bathroom, she had a bittersweet feeling. She stood for a few second and looked around. A tear rolled down her eye almost at the exact same time a smile came to her lips.

She started to change, got undressed, put all her dirty clothes into a plastic. Still naked, she looked that the now partially damp red cloth. It was a handkerchief. It was covered in his blood. As she turned it around, she saw the initials S. S. in one corner. She knew it was his name. It was common for people to have their initials on their handkerchiefs. Adi had A. P. on all his courtesy of his mother.

She folded it and tucked amongst her dirty clothes, hiding it in her Kurti. As she got up and put on a fresh panty, her eyes went to the mirror, and she saw a deep dark blue bruise on her lower back.

She smiled. My Bhadva did mark his Randi after all!

She got dressed, washed nicely, reluctantly removing the blood stain from her forehead, but not before taking a picture with her phone.

The Train pulled into New Delhi station. She was amongst the first few to step out and Adi was right there. He immediately came up to her, kissed her on the forehead and saw that she was crying. He immediately said "Please don't cry, I know we had some tough calls yesterday and I am REALLY sorry. I promise I will make it up to you".

He had no idea why she was crying. He thought the reason was the phone calls. She said, "I am so sorry too" and hugged him and knew he thought she was also probably referencing the same phone calls, because she had been equally rude. They both looked at each other and smiled. He moved a little left and bent down to grab her bag.

In that instant, her eyes fell on the reservation chart still stuck on the compartment. In a second, she found what she was looking for -- Sharma, S. Mr., M28. She wondered if he had checked the chart too and seen -- Powar, A. Mrs, F26.

Ready, Adi asked. She nodded. He put his hand around her waist and she winced. He looked at her concerned, but she just shook her head and started walking holding his hand. She looked back at the compartment, her eyes going to that toilet window.

It was as if it was saying -- "Till God decides, Mrs. Randi S. Sharma". She smiled, and holding Adi's hand tighter, continued walking towards the exit.