The Broken Valve - Ch. 02

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My Husband Is Perfect For Me: The Broken Valve Ch. 02

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Meenal wiped the sweat off her forehead. It was another one of those really hot Indore summer days. The fan was failing to have any cooling effect at all. It was just pushing hot air around everywhere.

She hadn't showered since yesterday. She was feeling sticky and unwashed. And she thought she even smelled bad.

Meenal was seated at the dining table. Harish had left two hours ago, and she had run around preparing his lunch and breakfast. She was desperate for a shower.

She knew what she needed to do.

But she also knew she shouldn't.

She'd spent the entire night telling herself she wouldn't call him.

Biswa.

She knew she could manage somehow. Maybe call another plumber, maybe go to the neighbor's place and shower there.

But the fact that Harish wouldn't let her call someone else was forcing her hand.

Her phone sat on the table in front of her.

She thought for another minute, then picked up the phone. Opened her contacts and scrolled to [BISWA PLUMBER].

She pressed the call button.

Biswa picked up after three rings.

"This is Biswa..."

"Biswa... this is... Meenal madam. From Shringar apartments... you were here yesterday..."

"Of course madam, how could I forget you? Tell me, how can I help?"

"Can you... can you come and turn on the water? I really need to shower."

Biswa was silent for a second.

"I thought you didn't want me to come..."

"I know what I said," she interrupted. "I... I've changed my mind. Can you come? Please."

The last word was difficult for Meenal to add. She couldn't imagine having to plead to a plumber. But here she was.

Damn you Harish ji!

"I have another job lined up right now, madam," he said, making Meenal's heart sink. "I can't cancel on them last minute, just because you changed your mind."

"Biswa," Meenal started. "I know I said some things yesterday..."

"You said a LOT of things, madam."

"Y... yes I know," she said. Meenal knew what he wanted his ego stroked. "But I really need you to come today, we have no water, and the..."

"So you need me to help you shower?"

Meenal didn't respond immediately. She knew why he was phrasing it this way.

"Yes," she said, defeated. "I need you... to help me shower."

The line went silent for a while. She could feel him smiling. That damn smirk of his.

"Okay," he continued. "Just for you, madam... I'll change my plans. Because you asked so nicely."

"Thank you," she said, already dreading what was going to happen. "Um... when can you come?"

"I was just about to get a cup of chai, once I'm done I'll head to your place... maybe half-an-hour?"

"Half-an-hour!" Meenal's desperation was coming through clearly. "Biswa... is there anyway you can come now? Please."

"Madam, but I just wanted to get a cup of..."

"I'll make chai for you here... please come quickly na... I can't take it any longer. It's too hot, it's so humid!"

He was silent for a second.

"Okay madam," he said. "But I have a condition. You need to make a nice village style chai for me. None of that big city nonsense with fake sugar and watered-down milk."

"Yes, yes... it'll be nice. Please come soon."

"Okay then, I'll see you soon."

---

Biswa stuck to his word. Within ten minutes, Meenal's door bell rang.

She opened the door to be greeted by Biswa's tall frame and the familiar paan smell. He stepped inside and she closed the door after him.

"What madam..." he said in a teasing voice. "Yesterday you couldn't wait to get rid of me... and today you can't wait for me to come back. What happened in just one night?" He giggled.

"Now please don't start like you did yesterday," she warned him. "I just need your help with the shower."

"Don't forget the chai!" he said.

"Yes, yes... I'll make the chai for you," she said, her voice business-like. "Did you turn on the water main?"

"Yes, just before I entered the apartment."

"Come, then." Meenal turned and started walking towards the master bedroom.

Biswa shook his head and followed her.

They entered the bathroom. Meenal had already hung her clothes on the bar, and her towel was hanging off of it. She was ready to go.

"Turn on the shower... quickly," she said. And then she added "Please."

"Okay, madam," Biswa said. "Damn! You're so... impatient."

Meenal didn't say anything to that.

Biswa took his big wrench and loosened a nut behind the shower handle. The sound of water rushing through the plumbing filled the tiny bathroom.

"Oh thank god!" Meenal said, genuinely happy. "As soon as I come out, I'll make that chai for you. Just wait in the living room until then."

"Sure madam," he laughed. "Accha... remember... be gentle with the shower handle. We don't have a pressure regulation valve... so if you jerk it too much..."

"Yes, yes... I'll be careful," she said, trying to hurry him along. "Now, go... please!"

As soon as Biswa left, Meenal locked the bathroom door, stripped her clothes, threw them on the bathroom floor in the corner and turned the shower handle gently.

A steady stream of water came out of the showerhead and Meenal stepped under it.

"Ahh..." The sound came out of her throat involuntarily.

She was beyond happy.

Finally, I get to feel clean again!

She washed her hair first. Then she shifted focus to her body. She had unwrapped a brand new bar of soap for the occasion. A rose-fragranced one, her favorite.

She worked it into a rich lather and spread it everywhere. Her face, neck, her breasts, under them, her belly, between her legs... but then... that's where she paused.

She remembered that Biswa was right outside the door. A stranger... a man whom she'd accused of staring at her breasts the previous day, touching her needlessly... standing outside as she showered... having come here on her desperate invitation... just a wooden door separating them.

She couldn't help but think about Biswa. She didn't want to... but her brain hardly ever listened to her.

His muscular body, the shaggy beard, the thick chest hair. That smell... a laborer's smell. Dried sweat, maybe. And the smell of paan.

His skin was dark... his color reminded her of her very first lover Laalu. Laalu had the same complexion, and in fact a similar muscular build. The only thing missing was the greenish-ink tattoo of a cobra on Laalu's shoulder.

I wonder if Biswa has tattoos anywhere?

Stop. Stop thinking about the damn plumber's body!

What would maa say?

Meenal's fingers were playing around between her legs, spending more time there than she'd spent on any other part of her body. She had to get clean, after all.

Her mind went back to comparing Biswa with Laalu. While Biswa's skin and build were like Laalu's, he was certainly MUCH taller. Almost as tall as Santosh, maybe even taller. Santosh was Meenal's second lover. The mechanic. The man who taught her pretty much everything she'd come to enjoy about sex... the raw animalistic nature of it.

Not until her encounter with the Indore Express men, did Meenal learn a few other ways she could draw out pleasure from sex.

She noticed that her hand was moving with a bit more purpose between her legs. Her fingers were rubbing her lips down there... grazing, stimulating.

Her eyes were closed... the images of Santosh, Laalu, Mangal and others started filling her mind. Suddenly, she saw his face. Biswa. The way his chest brushed against her erect nipples yesterday... his hand, on her waist, his arm pressing up against her breasts...

Meenal had inserted two of her fingers inside her pussy and she started moving them in small circles. The sensation was overwhelming her... the pent-up sexual energy since yesterday's disappointing sex with her husband.

Meenal bent forward, one hand between her legs, the other reaching in front of her for support. Her fingers were deep inside her, her palm pressing against her clit, her hips moving in small circles against her own hand. She was getting close... so close... just a few more seconds and...

Her hand reached out instinctively towards the wall in front of her, to steady herself.

And just for a second, she forgot Biswa's warning.

Her fingers settled on the shower handle, she gripped it for support, putting her weight on it as her orgasm started to build.

Just a little more...

PLUNK.

The handle gave way under her grip and fell to the floor.

Meenal's eyes shot open just as a blast of water hit her square in the chest. The gap where the handle used to be was now shooting out a huge amount of water, like a fire hose.

The force was absolute, enough to push Meenal back towards the bathroom wall.

"AHHH!" she screamed, stumbling, her feet slipping on the wet tile. She grabbed for the wall, missed, tried again. Water pelting her face, her chest, her stomach.

Meenal couldn't see. Couldn't even breathe... the water was everywhere, up in her nose, in her eyes, filling her mouth when she tried to gasp for air.

"Madam? MADAM? What happened? Are you okay?" Biswa shouted from the other side of the door.

She could hear Biswa banging the door. Meenal was in shock... the water was shooting straight at her, spraying in a wide angle all over the bathroom.

Meenal ran towards the bathroom door and opened it.

"BISWA! THE HANDLE! IT BROKE! THE WATER... PLEASE!"

Biswa gave her a wide-eyed look... he had not expected her to be buck naked like this. But he recovered within a second, and jumped to action.

He pushed past her into the bathroom, his wrench already in his hand. He moved quickly - toward the wall where the broken pipe was spraying water everywhere. Biswa was drenched within seconds.

He reached behind and quickly tightened the nut behind where the handle used to be. He got a full blast of water to his face and chest while he turned the wrench, his arm muscles straining.

Meenal stood there, frozen. Dripping. Her chest heaving from the shock and the cold.

Within a few seconds the heavy spray of water turned into a small, contained drip. One more twist and the water slowed down to a few drops. Then nothing.

Silence. Except for their breathing.

Meenal was shivering. Not just from the cold but from the shock.

And then she realized.

She was standing in front of the plumber... completely naked!

Soap still clinging to parts of her body she hadn't rinsed yet. Her nipples were hard from the cold, water was dripping from everywhere...

Oh my god!

She looked at Biswa's face. He was smiling, seemingly pleased with the turn of events.

The madam who had accused him of bad behavior the previous day was now standing in front of him... naked and wet, her chest heaving.

Biswa's eyes were moving across her body, taking in and memorizing every body part one by one.

First her face, wet hair stuck to her cheeks, her eyes wide, lips parted.

Lower... to her neck where a few soap bubbles still remained.

And then to her chest - her breasts, rising and falling with each breath, her nipples proudly jutting out.

Down to her stomach, her navel, her wide hips.

Lower, to the patch of hair between her legs.

Finally, down to her long legs, still slightly parted from when she'd stumbled and was trying to steady herself.

It finally dawned on Meenal to jump into action.

MOVE! COVER YOURSELF! DO SOMETHING!

Her first instinct was to cover her breasts with both her hands, which she did. Until she realized, that left her crotch completely bare!

She kept one arm across her breasts and brought the other one down, putting her hand over her crotch. She turned her body slightly away from him, turning her side towards him instead of her front.

But all of this was a bit too late anyway, she realized. He'd already seen everything!

"Are you okay, madam?" Biswa asked, with an amused smile.

"Wha... uh... yes, I'm okay now," she managed to say, her voice very low.

She looked at his clothes... he was sopping wet... his tank top, his trousers, everything was wet.

"T... thank you, Biswa," she said, still squirming, still trying to hide her privates. "For... for shutting off the water..."

"It's absolutely my pleasure, madam."

He was still looking at her. Not at her eyes, but her body. Even with her hands covering what they were, there was a lot still visible.

Meenal was acutely aware of the small drops of water traveling down across her body. They felt like tiny fingers, tracing down her body, tickling her.

She looked at the man in front of her. His clothes were soaked through from the spray. His tank top was clinging to his chest. His hair was dripping. His jaw had a drop of water hanging from his stubble. Meenal watched that drop land on his collarbone, and then run down his chest.

"Do you need to finish?" Biswa asked.

"WHAT?" Meenal was shocked. "What are you..."

"The shower," he explained. "You still have soap... all over." He gestured vaguely at her body. "I can turn the water back on so you can quickly rinse off."

Meenal thought for a second. Recovered.

"Um... yeah... but can you... like... turn around when I do that?"

"Turn around?"

"Yes!" she said.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why... I need to rinse!"

"But... I just saw you, everything," Biswa said. "In fact, I can still see most of you," he added.

"So? What does that have to do with anything? That was just an accident..."

"Whatever it was... I've seen you. Now why do you need to hide your body from me now, madam?

She couldn't believe his audacity.

"IT DOESN'T WORK THAT WAY!" Meenal shouted. "And besides... you did NOT see everything!"

"Believe me, madam... I saw pretty much everything," Biswa said with a chuckle. "And to be honest, I liked what I saw. Wouldn't mind another look, frankly."

He laughed.

"BISWA! HOW DARE YOU!" Meenal shouted. "You're such a... such a..."

"What am I? A low-class laborer?" he asked, with a smile on his face. "Is that what you're going to call me again?"

Meenal was silent for a second. She'd said that yesterday, regretted it. But here she was, about to say it again.

"YES! Filthy, low-class, mannerless, shameless, vulgar man. You're a... you're a... kameena!" (bastard!)

She expected the words to hurt him. Really cut him deep.

But instead, it made him laugh.

"Ho ho, arey wah!" Biswa laughed. "Madam has quite a vocabulary."

Meenal didn't respond... she was livid. Her chest was heaving, her hands still covering her nipples and her vagina.

"Okay... okay madam," Biswa said, looking at her anger rising up. "I'm turning around... okay? Only because you asked so nicely..." Biswa laughed again.

Biswa turned his face the other way, but not before giving her one more look, head to toe. Then he turned the water on just a little bit. It started flowing in a small yet steady stream from the showerhead.

"Is that okay?"

"Yes," she said, still breathing heavy. "That's fine."

Meenal didn't move for a few seconds, trying to see if he was going to trick her - maybe suddenly turn back when she was exposed.

But he wasn't peeking. His back was to her.

Convinced for now, Meenal quickly rinsed off the remaining soap, checking a few times to make sure Biswa's face was still turned away from her.

She ran her hands over her body, washing away the last of the soap. Under her breasts, along her sides, between her legs.

She checked Biswa again. Still facing the wall. Still not looking.

She let the water flow over her body once more before finishing.

"Okay, I'm done now," Meenal declared.

"Perfect," Biswa said, turning the wrench so the water stopped again.

"Wait!" Meenal said. "Don't turn around yet. I need to get my towel."

She stepped out of the shower area, and grabbed the towel from the bar.

She had no other option to wear. The clothes she'd brought to change into after the shower, were entirely wet because of the shower explosion.

Meenal wrapped the towel around herself, tucking the end between her breasts.

"Okay," she said. "You can turn around now."

Biswa turned. His eyes went to the towel, and then to her face. That small smile was still there. Maybe even widened a bit.

The towel was barely holding it together... her hair was still wet, water drops on her collar bones and in the valley between her breasts. The towel itself was only coming up to her upper-thighs.

Meenal had one hand on the knot of the towel, between her breasts and her other hand was unsuccessfully trying to pull the towel's hem lower on her thighs. He was staring at her legs, making her even more self-conscious.

"Biswa... stop staring at me. Get out!"

"Are you sure you want me to get out of the bathroom?" Biswa asked.

"YES! There's no reason for you to be in here..."

"Look at me madam," Biswa pointed to his clothes. "If I go out like this, your nice bedroom is going to get wet and dirty."

Meenal looked at him. Thought for a few seconds. He was right.

"Okay, stay here," she said. "Let me get you something to dry up."

Meenal stepped out into the bedroom, and after a few minutes she came to the door of the bathroom with a towel in her hand.

"Here," she said. "Dry yourself off with this."

Biswa came to the door and looked at her and the towel in her hand. "What should I do with my wet clothes?"

Meenal thought for a while.

"Just... hang them up in the balcony... the sun will dry them up quickly," she said.

"Okay." Biswa immediately took his tank top off. Right in front of Meenal.

"Oh," Meenal said and quickly turned away. Biswa wasn't stopping, she could hear his tool belt clinking, the sound of fabric rustling.

This man was about to strip down to his underwear right in front of her!

"I... uh... I'll find you something to wear."

She walked away from the bathroom door and went to her closet and started opening drawers.

Biswa meanwhile had completely stripped, including his underwear, and hung them up right next to Meenal's wet clothes. He dabbed himself with the towel she'd handed, and then tied it around his waist.

He walked out and saw Meenal in the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, bending over a drawer.

Biswa took a second to admire the view.

Meenal was bent over, her short towel riding up, exposing the curves of her thighs, it was stretched tight across her round ass.

She hadn't realized Biswa had entered the bedroom and was looking at her from behind. She was rummaging through the drawer, looking for something specific, her hands pushing aside folded clothes.

"What are you looking for?" Biswa asked.

Meenal jumped. She straightened up quickly, the motion making her towel slip slightly. She caught it just in time, pressing it against her chest.

"Biswa! You scared me," she said. "I told you to stay in the bathroom..."

"You told me to dry up, madam," he said, taking a step closer. "I'm dry now."

He was. Meenal looked at him. His chest was still damp in places, but he'd toweled off most of the water.

The towel around his waist was... inadequate. It was one of Harish's old towels, smaller than the one she was wearing. It barely reached his mid-thighs.

Meenal forced her eyes upward. Back to that smile that never seemed to leave Biswa's face.

"Okay... um... just wear this," Meenal said, handing him Harish's lungi (simple cotton wrap that you step into and tuck at the waist).

"Thanks, madam."

He opened the lungi right there and stepped into it. Then he simply took the towel off his waist.

Meenal turned around in a panic. "Oi! Why are you changing in front of me?! You should do it in private, or at least you should've warned me. Don't you know how to behave in front of a lady?"

She could hear Biswa chuckling behind her.

"What? I needed to change," he said, his voice amused. "You gave me the lungi, didn't you? How else am I supposed to put it on?"

Meenal's face was hot... she couldn't think of a response. She heard the rustle of fabric behind her. And then a soft thump of the wet towel hitting the bed.

"You can turn around now, madam," he said after a moment.

Meenal turned slowly.

The lungi... her husband's lungi was wrapped around Biswa's waist. The fabric would've gone all the way to his ankles, but Biswa had wrapped it upwards into a shorter style, folding and tucking it so it hung just below his knees. Like the men in her village wore it - the farmers and laborers who worked the fields, who needed the freedom to move. It exposed his muscular calves, and in some angles, his thighs.

Above the waist he was completely naked. She couldn't help but stare at his wide, dark chest. It wasn't as hairy as she'd expected it to be. The hair was mostly in the middle... a straight line, going all the way down to the lungi and disappearing under it.

His pecs were solid-looking, very little hair on them, but muscular. It wasn't a gym-goer's body... this was from hard work. She'd seen men in her village... farmers, day workers... they all had such muscles.

"I... I couldn't find a shirt that would fit you," she said, gesturing towards the closet. "They're all a bit too small."

"It's okay, madam," Biswa said. "You don't mind me being shirtless for a while, do you?"

She looked at him with eyes narrowed with annoyance.

"Now take your wet clothes and hang them in the kitchen balcony," Meenal said, trying to sound stern. "I'll be out in a second and make some chai."

Biswa nodded and left the room, strutting about in his lungi, like he owned the house.

Meenal latched her bedroom door and took her own clothes out of the closet... a dark blue nightie, sleeveless, body-hugging.

She held it in her hand and hesitated. This nightie was a bit too much for the current circumstances. Meenal knew he'd notice... he'd say something... lewd, for sure. But she didn't have too many other washed clothes because of this whole debacle. She made a mental note to also put a load into the washer while Biswa was still here.

As she was putting on the blue nightie Meenal remembered everything that had happened in the bathroom.

Of all the things that could've happened... this was the worst.

He saw EVERYTHING!

Damn it!

Once Meenal finished dressing, she walked into the kitchen. She saw Biswa standing in the attached balcony.

He'd just hung his shirt on the clothesline. He was leaning by the balcony's door frame, watching her.

Standing there, the morning sun highlighting his lean yet muscular torso as well as his thick muscular legs, Meenal's eyes lingered on him a second longer than she wanted to.

Stop staring.

Meenal forced her eyes away and busied herself with making chai. She took out the saucepan, filled it with water and placed it on the stove.

Biswa was still leaning by the door. She could feel his eyes on her. Watching the way the nightie clung to her still-damp skin.

Just like the other nighties Meenal had gotten custom-made, this blue nightie was also custom. But it was definitely one of the sexier ones.

Ramesh ji knew exactly what he was doing when he made these. The dark blue cotton was thin... deliberately so. It clung to Meenal's every contour. The neckline was cut lower than was practical for a nightie. The sleeves were non-existent, leaving her arms bare from the shoulder down.

He'd cut the nightie to follow her curves exactly. It didn't hang loose like a proper nightie should. It hugged her body... tight across her breasts, snug around her waist, stretching over her hips. It swayed with her when she walked and pulled tight across her bottom when she bent.

Meenal put the tea leaves into the water. And she started crushing the ginger, cardamom pods and black pepper in a small mortar.

She was aware of his eyes, still staring at her body. She glanced down and saw what he was seeing. The fabric was stretched across her chest, the tops of her breasts bouncing as she crushed the chai masala with force. She wasn't wearing a bra, and that just... amplified things.

Meenal realized her breathing was getting a bit faster.

She added the masalas and sugar to the chai and stirred. She glanced at him quickly, and sure enough, his eyes were on her.

Meenal had always liked attention from men. Although in the current circumstance... with a plumber inside her house... the attention from him was making all the warning signals in her to go off.

She knew what her mother would've said.

You're making chai for a man who JUST saw you completely naked!

This is wrong!

Meenal added the milk.

"You make chai like a village girl," Biswa suddenly said. "Not bland... like these city madams make. They add too much water and not enough milk and sugar. But you... you're not afraid to make it the way it's supposed to be made."

"My mother makes it this way," Meenal said.

"Hmmm... as I said," he said with a smile. "Village style."

Meenal didn't respond. She poured the chai into two cups. The everyday steel ones that she drank from every day. Not the fancy teacups with the gold trims that Harish ji insisted she use.

She handed a cup to Biswa. His fingers brushed hers as he took it. Without a word he sat down cross-legged, right there on the kitchen floor, his back against the cabinet.

Meenal stood there for a moment, unsure, her own chai cup in her hand.

"Um... you can sit on the chair in the dining room," she said. "No need to sit on the floor."

"I'm comfortable here madam," Biswa said, drinking the chai with a loud slurp. "Never got the taste for sitting on chairs when it came to drinking chai. Some things are meant to be enjoyed right here on the floor."

He patted on the floor next to him. "Why don't you join me?"

Meenal just stared at him. Surely he didn't expect her to sit here with him!

He took another loud sip. "This is good chai, madam. Nothing like a karak chai to energize you, huh?"

Meenal didn't know what else to do. She sat down as well, right next to where Biswa was sitting.

She took a sip too, although not as loud as Biswa.

He was right. It was good chai. A smile spread on her face.

She glanced at him. He was already looking at her.

"See, isn't it nice to sit on the floor... drinking good chai like this?" he asked with a smile. "Bet this reminds you of mornings in your village."

He was right.

After a few moments, Meenal spoke up.

"You keep talking about how I'm a village girl, but you seem to know a lot about village life too," she said, taking another sip. "I'm sure you're a... village boy."

Meenal couldn't help but smile calling the large, muscular hairy man, a 'boy'.

"Guilty as charged, madam," he smiled. "I'm from Kishangarh, it's near..."

"Mandla?" Meenal asked, before she could stop herself.

"Yes! How do you know where Kishan... wait, which village are you from?"

Meenal hesitated for a second.

Should I tell him?

"I'm from... Marwahi, it's just north of..."

"I know Marwahi very well!" Biswa sounded excited. "I've even been to that sheep selling fair your village hosts... several times."

Meenal was genuinely surprised.

"Wait, really?" Meenal said, her eyes wide. "You've been to Marwahi? You're not just saying that?"

"Hmmm... let's see," Biswa continued. "Don't you all have that old fort on top of a hill? It had this very big..."

"Banyan tree!" Meenal almost squealed. "Wait... how do you know about that fort? You said you only visited the fair."

Biswa laughed. A genuine hearty laugh.

"The fort was one of the main reasons my friends and I visited Marwahi, madam," he said. "We used to meet up with girls from your village up there. Let's just say, I learned quite a bit from that place."

The smile drained from Meenal's face as soon as he said that.

"What?" Biswa asked, seeing the sudden change in her expression. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Nothing," Meenal said, taking another sip of her chai.

"Now I'm curious madam," Biswa didn't let it go. "Did you ever go up that fort?"

Meenal's grip on her chai cup tightened. She turned her eyes away from his.

Of course she'd been to that fort. More times than she could count. Her very first kiss was in that fort. With a boy she didn't even remember anymore. It was where she and her friends smoked their first beedi (hand-rolled-country cigarette) and cheap liquor. It was also where Meenal had given her very first blow-job. To Laalu.

But there was no way she'd want to admit any of that to Biswa. In fact, she didn't want to talk about that fort or anything related to Marwahi at all. This was hitting too close to home for her. Suddenly, from a random anonymous plumber... Biswa was becoming someone with a connection to her past.

"Tell me, madam," Biswa asked again. "Did you ever go up there?"

"Maybe once or twice... I don't remember," she said.

"Oh! Come on madam," Biswa said. "You're no fun... let's compare notes. What if... wouldn't it be fun if we discover that you and I..."

"Excuse me!" Meenal's voice turned stern again. "There's nothing to compare notes on. Please finish your chai and then you can leave."

Biswa laughed. "I seem to have hit a nerve, huh, madam?"

"Shut up," Meenal said.

"Okay, okay madam," Biswa said, still grinning. "I won't bring up the fort anymore. But hey, at least it's nice to know that you and I are from nearby villages!"

Meenal took another sip of chai.

He was right. It was nice.

She nodded.

After a few seconds of silence, Meenal spoke again.

"I... I shouldn't have called you low-class," she said, her eyes staring at her chai cup, looking at the steam rising from it. "I'm... I'm sorry."

Biswa was silent for a few seconds.

"It's alright, madam," he said. "I get it... there's a hierarchy... you're the memsaab, I am a mere plumber. You're a higher class..."

"NO! I don't believe in all that. I... I was just angry. And my husband had said those words and I just... I just repeated them. I don't really believe that you are beneath me, or anything!"

Biswa didn't say anything for a few seconds.

Then a smile spread on his face. Meenal recognized that smile now - he was about to say something audacious again.

"But madam," he said looking into her eyes. "I don't mind being beneath you."

"Pchh," she let out a sound of disappointment. "Will you ever stop, Biswa?"

"Stop what?" he asked, chuckling.

"I was trying to apologize for my comment," she said. "And here you are, immediately saying something lewd... vulgar."

Biswa laughed. "Okay madam, you really want to prove to me that you see me as an equal?"

"Umm," she hesitated. "Yeah, I don't know how I can prove that though."

"Simple," Biswa said. He reached out and took Meenal's cup from her hand. Meenal was too confused to resist, she just handed it to him.

Then he handed her his cup, which she held on to.

"Biswa, what are you..." Meenal protested.

He didn't respond. He just brought her cup to his lips and drank from it.

Meenal stared at him, surprised and thoroughly confused.

"It's simple madam," he said. "If I'm your equal, you wouldn't hesitate drinking from my chai cup."

"What?!" Meenal was shocked. "NO! That's not..."

"Come on now, madam. Don't make excuses..."

"What excuses? This is ridiculous. I AM NOT drinking from your cup... it has nothing to do with class. I'm a married woman..."

"What does your being married have anything to do with this?"

"You know very well, Biswa," she said. "Forget it, I am not doing it!"

"Madam, if you really thought I was your equal..."

Meenal stared at the cup in her hand. His cup. The rim was still damp, and she could see the faint stain of paan from his lips on it.

"... you wouldn't come up with random reasons to..."

"Fine!"

The word came out louder than she had intended. Sharper. Like she was angry with him, and with herself.

Biswa stopped talking. His eyes widened slightly.

He didn't want to make a sound. It was as if she was a deer, about to step into his trap, and he didn't want to spook her.

Meenal raised the cup to her lips.

She didn't think about it. If she had thought about it any longer than she had, she wouldn't have done it.

But Meenal just did it. Like she'd done a lot of things she shouldn't have in her past.

The chai touched her lips. It was cooler now. It still had the robust combination of spice flavors, but this time it had a faint hint of something else in it.

Paan. From Biswa's lips.

Betel leaf and lime paste and that sharp sweetness of gulkand. It tasted like he smelled.

She lowered the cup and looked at him. Biswa's expression had changed. The teasing was gone. He looked... surprised. Genuinely surprised, like he hadn't actually expected her to do it.

"There," she said. "Happy?"

"Sorry I ever doubted you," Biswa said, a satisfied look on his face.

They both sat in silence and drank from the cups. The ones they'd swapped.

Meenal knew it was inappropriate, but the way she saw it... the damage was already done. No harm in finishing his cup now.

What would Harish ji think if he saw this?

What would my mother think?

"So? How does my chai taste?" Biswa asked, lowering his cup.

Meenal was silent for a second.

"It tastes like paan," she said, with a slight frown on her face. "I'm not sure I like it."

Biswa laughed. "Come now, madam! Don't tell me you don't like the taste of paan."

"I don't."

"You haven't had good paan then. Let me bring you some tomorrow."

"I said I don't..."

"You don't like it yet," he corrected. "I'll get you some real paan. Not the cheap stuff they sell near the bus stand. The good kind. Banarasi."

"Biswa, I really don't..."

"Trust me, madam." His voice was low, confident. "Once you get a taste... you'll want more."

Meenal looked at him.

"Fine," she said, looking away. "Bring your paan. I still won't like it."

"We'll see."

They drank in silence. Meenal put her cup down and looked at him. Biswa finished the last of the tea, and put the cup down.

"I should clean up," Meenal said, reaching for the cups.

Biswa stood up, stretching his arms, spreading his chest wider.

Meenal stood up too, close to his chest. She could smell him. Not just the paan, but a distinctive smell that was all Biswa.

"Same time tomorrow?" Biswa asked, his eyes looking down into hers.

Meenal looked up at him. He was standing so close.

"Y... yes, if you don't mind," she said. "I know it might be a hassle for you... having to come here and..."

"I don't mind, madam," Biswa smiled. "As long as you keep making your delicious chai for me every day."

Meenal smiled back. "Okay, I'll make chai for you."

"Great, this will be fun!"

Meenal wondered what he meant by that comment.

He took his tank top and trousers off the clothesline and put them on, right in front of Meenal.

Biswa picked up his toolbox from the living room and headed for the door. Meenal followed him, her arms crossed over her chest, trying to ignore the way her heart was pounding.

He opened the door and stepped out. Then he paused, looking at something down the hallway. Meenal leaned forward to see what he was looking at.

Mr. Kamble. Apartment six. Standing by his door, watching them.

He smiled at them, at Meenal specifically. A knowing smile.

Meenal felt a dread creep up.

Then he raised his hand and waved at them.

Biswa waved back, much to Meenal's surprise.

"Biswa," she whispered. "Stop waving!"

"What?" he asked. "He was waving too..."

"I know... he was probably..." she was evidently flustered. "Just go now!"

"Bye, madam" he smiled again and walked away, waving once again at Mr. Kamble as he left.

The mustached old man turned his gaze back to Meenal and smiled.

She gave him a sharp, angry look and closed the door quickly.

Creepy old man!

Meenal walked back to the kitchen, picked up the two tea cups from the counter and started washing them.

She thought about the last few hours. The shower incident. The shared chai. The swapped cups.

I need to be careful with Biswa.

He reminded her of home. And that was dangerous.

She looked at the cup in her hand, the one she hadn't washed yet. There were just a couple of drops of chai left in it. She poured them into her mouth and tasted it.

The taste of chai, mixed with paan.

Biswa's.

Meenal was standing in the balcony looking outside. There were kids playing cricket in the small patch of grass between buildings. A few of the older ladies talking and walking, both vigorously. The sun was setting over the horizon.

Then she saw it. Harish, on his scooter. Returning home.

She watched him park and walk up the stairs. He waved at her from the ground floor. She waved back with a smile.

Meenal walked up to the front door, waiting to open the door for him. She looked through the peep hole and her stomach dropped.

Harish was talking to Mr. Kamble!

What will he tell him?

That Biswa was here for more than four hours?

That's not too bad. Right?

Her heart skipped a beat when Kamble pointed to their door, and Harish's eyes followed his finger to look at the door.

What could they be talking about for so long?

After what seemed like an eternity, their conversation seemed to end. Meenal's neck was straining from peeking through the hole for so long. As soon as Harish walked towards the door, she opened it, before he could even knock.

"Oh! Hey Meenal," he said.

Meenal didn't respond. Closed the door and turned to Harish.

"What was that man saying?"

"Which man?"

"The neighbor."

"Oh, Mr. Kamble?" Harish said, putting his briefcase on the sofa. "Nothing, he was asking about our plumber."

Meenal's heart rate spiked.

"What was he saying?" she couldn't stop herself from asking. "That man has nothing better to do... staring at our apartment for no reason..."

"Oh? Really?" Harish asked, puzzled. "He was asking me how much he charges. Maybe Mr. Kamble has some plumbing needs."

Meenal calmed down a bit.

"Oh... okay," she said.

She walked over to Harish and gave him a glass of chilled water from the fridge.

"Maybe we should have him over for dinner one of these days," Harish said.

"Mr. Kamble?" Meenal asked, clearly unhappy with the notion. "Why?"

"He seems like an interesting man," Harish said. "Did you know he was the DSP for fifteen years?"

"What's a DSP?" she asked.

Harish laughed. "Ha... see, you're learning so much being married to me. DSP stands for deputy superintendent of police."

"He's a policeman?"

"Retired," Harish said. "And that's why we should have him over for dinner."

Meenal wasn't impressed. She didn't really see why being an ex-policeman was interesting. "Do we really need to invite him for dinner?"

"It's good to have friends in high places, Meenal."

Harish drank the water in loud gulps.

"I don't know Harish ji," she said. "The guy gives me the creeps."

"What?!" Harish was genuinely shocked. "Why?"

"He just... he stares a lot."

Harish laughed out loud, only irritating Meenal even more. She was sure he was going to say something to dismiss her concerns.

"Oh come on, Meenal!" he said. "You always think men are suspicious! Do you remember those college boys?"

Meenal looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"In the train... when we were coming to Indore." Harish took another gulp of water.

"Yes," she said. "I remember them."

"You were so worried about them, and I told you not to worry... did I not?"

Meenal nodded. Harish handed her the empty glass.

"They turned out to be nice, respectable boys at the end of the day... didn't they?"

Meenal took the glass and walked back to the kitchen, not saying anything in response.

"You worry too much!" he called out after her.

Meenal got busy making dinner, thinking about the events of the day. Thinking about how she and Biswa sat right there on the floor... less than two feet from each other... him without a shirt... her in her sexiest nightie... drinking from each other's chai cups...

"Was he here today?" Harish's voice startled her.

"Huh?"

"The plumber... what was his name... Bansi?"

"Biswa... yes, he was here. He turned the water on for a little bit and then left."

"Good, good," Harish said, walking close to the stove, peeking into the wide pan. "And how about the smell of paan? Is that still bothering you?"

Harish chuckled a bit with his last comment.

Meenal smiled. She mixed the curry with the spatula.

"It's actually starting to grow on me."

END OF CHAPTER 2