The Broken Valve - Ch. 03

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My Husband Is Perfect For Me: The Broken Valve Ch. 03

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It had been over an hour since Harish had left for work.

Meenal pressed her eye to the peephole once again. She'd seen Biswa arrive from the balcony. Even though she didn't want to admit it, she'd been waiting for him.

She ran to the door and peeked through the peephole, staring at the empty hallway for over five minutes now.

What the hell is taking him so long?

Then she saw him. His lean and muscular frame, dark-skin, that beat-up old tank top and his tool belt. He was walking slow... unhurried. As he got closer, Meenal's hands went to the door handle.

But just as she was about to open it, she saw him stop and turn. Towards apartment six.

Mr. Kamble.

Meenal's stomach dropped.

Mr. Kamble had emerged from his apartment, as if he'd been waiting for Biswa too.

She watched with growing dread as the older man engaged Biswa in conversation. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she could see Biswa gesturing. Once, twice. And then... her blood ran cold... Biswa pointed directly at her door.

What is he telling him?

The conversation lasted maybe thirty seconds.

But for Meenal it felt like eternity. Then Mr. Kamble nodded, gave Biswa a smile... the same knowing smile that Meenal considered creepy... and retreated back into his apartment.

Biswa walked towards her door.

Meenal yanked the door open before he could knock.

"Oh great, you are here," she announced, her voice loud and clear. Deliberately so.

"Why were you late... our water needs to be turned on, how will I cook otherwise, how will I wash clothes?"

She stood on her toes, peaking towards Mr. Kamble's door to see if he was listening. But he wasn't at the door.

Meenal stepped back into the apartment to let Biswa in. Biswa was watching her performance with an amused expression. He stepped inside and Meenal close the door behind him with a bit more force than necessary.

She turned to face him, her arms crossed. "What was he saying to you?"

"Who?"

"You know who. That old guy... the neighbor."

Biswa shrugged, setting his toolbox down. "Nothing much. He was asking if I was free this evening. Apparently his water purifier is not working properly."

"Oh... okay," she said. Then after a few seconds she asked another question. "Why were you pointing to my door?"

Biswa smiled, realizing she was watching him from the peephole. "I was telling him that I was busy with your shower repair, won't have time to look into his purifier issue until later. He asked me what was wrong. So I told him."

Meenal felt a bit of relief. Just plumbing talk.

That was fine.

"Why all the questions, madam?" Biswa asked, the familiar mischievous expression forming on his face. "What did you think he asked me?"

"Nothing," Meenal said, quickly.

Biswa looked at her expressions, an idea forming in his head..

"Oh yeah, I did mention to him that I saw you completely naked yesterday..."

Meenal's eyes went wide.

"Stop!" Her voice was a fierce whisper. "Please tell me you didn't!"

Biswa laughed for a few seconds. Meenal glared at him, anxious.

"Don't worry, madam," he finally said. "I haven't said anything. Not yet, anyway."

He laughed again, watching her expressions. Meenal gave him an angry glare.

"You're such a kameena," she muttered under her breath, turned and started walking towards the bathroom.

"What was that madam?" Biswa laughed again. "I couldn't hear you clearly... can you repeat?"

She didn't, just kept walking towards her bedroom. Biswa followed her.

---

The shower sputtered to life as soon as Biswa twisted the nut behind the faucet with his large wrench. Meenal put her hand under the steady stream of water flowing from the showerhead.

"Thanks," she said. "You can leave now."

Biswa let out a big exaggerated sigh, and then turned to leave.

"Accha, Biswa," Meenal made him pause. "Can you... just... be somewhere nearby, in case it breaks like it did yesterday."

Biswa gave her a curious smile.

"I'll be close by, madam," Biswa responded. He took his tools and stepped out.

Meenal followed him to the door and closed it behind him.

But she didn't lock it.

Only so that he can come in quickly, just in case the handle breaks.

Yes, that's it. That's the only reason.

Meenal came back, stripped and stood under the shower.

The water felt good. Very good.

Meenal got her hair wet first, running her fingers through the long strands, letting the warmth soak into her scalp.

She reached for the soap, working it into a lather between her palms. The rose-scented bar was the same one she'd used yesterday. Back in her village, this particular brand of soap was hard to get. It was for special occasions only. Here, in the city, she could use it every day.

Her mind wandered to the village... to the home she left behind. To her mother.

Just as she was thinking of the cozy afternoons spent in her village, she heard him.

Biswa.

"Everything okay, madam?"

"WHAT?" Meenal opened her eyes, trying to blink the water away from her eyes.

"I SAID..." Biswa shouted from outside. "IS EVERYTHING OKAY?"

She barely heard him over the sound of the shower.

"I CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING." Meenal shouted.

There was a few seconds of silence. Meenal strained to hear if he was asking her something.

She didn't hear anything.

Meenal paused for a few seconds more before going back to her shower. She went back to soaping up her body.

Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open, and Biswa walked in with a nonchalant expression on his face.

"BISWA! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Meenal screamed.

She immediately moved her hands to cover herself, one hand between her legs and the other arm across her breasts. Her heart was pounding very hard.

"I was just checking on you, madam," Biswa said, his voice casual, his eyes roaming over her body. "Wanted to make sure the broken valve wasn't giving you any trouble."

"Get out!" Meenal's voice was shrill. "Get out right now!"

Biswa didn't move. He leaned against the doorframe, one hand in his pocket, the other resting on the tool belt. That familiar small smile on his lips.

"I said GET OUT!" Meenal shouted again.

"Madam, I thought I heard shouting from outside. I thought something went wrong with the valve. The pressure can be unpredictable without..."

"I don't care! Get out of the bathroom!"

Biswa didn't budge.

Meenal's eyes went to the door behind him. The narrow bathroom door. The only way out. The only way he could get out.

She moved before she thought it through.

She still had an arm across her breasts and a hand covering her crotch. She took the second one and reached for Biswa's arm, trying to push him, move him out of the bathroom.

He didn't move. It was like pushing a wall. A warm, solid, wall.

"Biswaaa..." she strained. "Go!"

She used both hands now and pushed against his chest. She could feel his firm pecs under her palms. Biswa looked down at her, amused. Her wet, naked body, covered in soap suds, trying to push uselessly on him.

"Are you done, madam?" he asked.

Meenal realized the futility of it. She covered her breasts and crotch again.

"Get. Out." she said, through gritted teeth.

"No." Biswa said calmly.

Meenal couldn't believe the situation she was in. She decided to take a different approach.

"Biswa," she said, her voice lower and desperate. "You can't be in here... you can't see me... like... like this. It's not right!"

"Madam, I am just trying to be helpful... what if the shower breaks again... you need me here."

"But... but Biswa, my husband could come home any minute," she said, her voice shaky. "He comes home for lunch sometimes."

"It's nine in the morning, madam," he said. "Besides, your husband is the one who's paying me to come help you shower everyday. That's all I'm doing."

"Help, yes... but not... not see me like this..."

"Relax madam, I've already seen you. All of you. How is this any different?"

"You know why this is different!" Meenal's voice raised a bit before she lowered it. "Yesterday was an accident. But you just walking in like this... this is not right!"

"Look, madam," he said again. "You're wasting water. I have another job to get to after this. Quickly finish your shower, so that I can go to it."

"I will... AS SOON AS YOU LEAVE!"

"I don't know why you're wasting time, madam," he said, as if he was bargaining. "You and I both know that I'm not going to step out... and that you WILL end up showering in front of me anyway. Let's just get it over with!"

She looked at him with a mix of frustration and desperation.

Maybe it was the cold, but she could feel her nipples hardening under her arm.

"Get it over with?" Meenal said. "What are you even saying... Biswa... please..."

"A gentleman would've listened to you, madam... he would've left by now." Biswa's voice was calm. Then he leaned forward, one hand still on the wall, the other on his waist. "But you said it yourself," He smiled. "I am a kameena."

She stared at him. Water was streaming over her body. Her hands were still trying to cover what Biswa had already seen.

"What do you want from me?" she asked him, a creeping feeling of defeat evident in her voice.

"It's simple madam," Biswa said. "Just shower quickly, and then I'll leave."

She hesitated for a few more seconds.

"You want to... watch me shower?" she asked. "If... if I do that, you'll leave?"

"Yes," Biswa said. "Of course! You have my word."

"You... you promise?" Meenal couldn't believe she was even entertaining it.

He nodded, looking at her with a smile.

"Okay... stay by the door then," she said. "Not so close to me."

Meenal let out a heavy sigh. Then slowly, she stepped back into the shower.

Biswa's smile grew wider. A triumphant smile.

She looked at him, watching her, satisfaction in his eyes.

"Will you at least... close your eyes?"

"What's the point of that, madam?" He laughed. "Think about it."

Meenal's shoulders sagged. Every compromise she suggested, he rejected. She had no arguments left.

She turned to face the water and lowered her arms, exposing her breasts to him. Her nipples were jutting out.

"Good..." he said out loud.

Meenal moved slowly. Still unsure of herself.

I'll just pretend he's not here.

She applied soap on her neck, rubbed the soap along her collarbone, and then across the shoulders. She tried to close her eyes, tried to imagine she was alone. That way she can be done with this quickly.

For a few seconds, it even worked.

But Biswa wasn't going to make this easy.

"Don't forget the back of your neck, madam," he said.

"What?" Meenal looked at him, surprised.

"The back of your neck. Don't forget to wash it."

She stared at him for a few seconds to see if he was being serious.

He really meant it. He was literally telling her how to shower.

The nerve!

But she knew better than to argue. The sooner she gets it, the sooner he'll be out of here.

Meenal's hands moved to her neck, almost automatically.

She started rubbing the soap lather on the back of her neck, her arms bent at the elbows, her tits bouncing gently as her arms moved.

Biswa watched. And she watched him watch her.

She could feel a pressure building between her legs. A familiar sensation. She tried ignoring it.

After a few seconds of silently watching her, Biswa spoke again. "Good, now your chest."

Meenal snapped her head to him, gave him an angry look. She instinctively covered her breasts.

"Go on madam. You know the deal. The sooner you finish..."

"You said you'd just watch," she said defensively. "But you're... you're saying stuff..."

Biswa chuckled.

"I'm still just watching, madam," he said. "I'm just reminding you to wash properly. Don't you want to get clean?"

Meenal stared at him, the anger still there, but slowly dissipating. What else could she do?

"Fine," she said, giving up. "Just don't talk anymore."

Her hands moved over her soapy, shiny breasts, in quick circles. She was determined not to make a show of it for him.

She was going to wash and rinse and he was going to leave. Quick and efficient.

Biswa said nothing for a few seconds, just watched with that smile on his face becoming wider.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "Now don't forget to clean under your breasts madam... that area can certainly get... sweaty."

She gave him a dirty look. She was tempted to tell him to go to hell.

But she didn't want to waste time arguing with him and prolong this ordeal.

What was the point anyway. He was right about one thing. He had seen everything.

She was aware of how this looked - her hands lifting her tits for this man's viewing pleasure. Her nipples hardening under the water, under his gaze. She hated that her body was responding to this.

"Good," Biswa said. "Now lower."

Meenal's hands stopped. She looked at him.

"That wasn't the deal."

"The deal was you shower and I leave," Biswa said. "I'm just suggesting you wash properly. Basic hygiene, madam."

She stared at him for another few seconds. Then she moved her hands down over her ribs, over her belly. The soap suds trailed down to her navel. She washed in quick circles, not slow, not sensual. Functional. She didn't want him to enjoy this.

Biswa watched. She could feel his eyes following her hands.

"Slow down madam," he said. "Otherwise you'll miss spots."

"I'm going as fast as I can, so you'll leave," she said. "I don't care about missing spots."

"You were the one complaining about feeling unclean for two days," he said. "Don't waste this opportunity, madam."

Meenal wanted to scream at him. He stood there, a mocking expression on his face, one hand on the wall, the other on his waist. Staring at her body like he owned it.

She slowed her hands slightly, hating herself for it. His eyes were following her hands.

Meenal rinsed the soap off her stomach. She reached for the towel on the bar.

"We're not done, madam."

"We are. I'm clean enough."

"You haven't really cleaned... down there," Biswa said, his eyes dropping to the patch of hair between her legs.

Meenal felt a jolt of anger spike inside her. She grabbed the towel and wrapped it around herself.

"Okay... I've had it with you!"

"Madam..."

"No. We're done here. Get out!"

Biswa looked at her. The towel clutched to her chest, her hair dripping, her skin covered in water still, but her face looking flushed, embarrassed and angry all at the same time. He could see her jaw tight.

He'd pushed her too far, he could tell. This wasn't the soft protests of before, she was truly done with him... her jaw was tight, her expression hard.

"I gave you what you asked for," Meenal said. "I showered. You watched. Now get out!"

"I didn't ask for much, madam. Just basic..."

"GET OUT, Biswa!"

Her words came out sharp and loud. Echoed in the small bathroom, over the sound of the shower.

Biswa took a step back.

"Okay, okay... calm down, madam."

He walked over to the faucet, used his wrench to shut the water off.

"I'll go out and shut the main off," he said, stepping out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Meenal stood there, shaking. She heard him moving through the bedroom. Then heard the front door open and close.

Silence. She was alone in the house.

Meenal had shouted at Biswa in anger. But she knew she wasn't really angry with him. Rather she was furious with herself.

She couldn't believe how far she'd let this come. Couldn't believe that she'd showered, naked, in front of the bloody plumber!

Have you no shame, kalmoohi? Her mother would've said if she'd known what Meenal did.

She kept replaying it in her head. The way she'd washed her body... for his viewing pleasure.

The way she lifted her breasts one by one, washing them, on his order.

Why did I do that?

.

.

.

You know why.

Meenal was thankful that at least her better sense prevailed and she stopped.

Why did she? Because she knew if she'd let her hands go anywhere close to there there wouldn't be any stopping. She was already close to the edge. She couldn't trust herself after that.

She stopped because she was afraid of herself. Not of him.

Meenal heard the front door open again. Biswa was back.

She quickly stepped out of the shower. Wanted to close the bedroom door quickly before he could enter.

But she was too late. As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, she saw him. He was standing in the bedroom, right next to the closet. Grinning.

"What are you doing back?" Meenal's voice was sharp. Her hand clutched the towel knot between her breasts tighter. "I told you to get out."

"You asked me to get out of the bathroom and I did," he replied. "But you still owe me some chai, madam. Don't forget your promise now..."

Meenal stared at him. He was right. She did tell him that she'd make chai for him everyday he came to start the shower.

"Fine, I'll make chai. But then you go. Got it?"

"Of course, madam."

"Okay," she said. "Wait outside, let me put on some clothes."

"Madam, I'm already running late for a job," he said. "Just come and make chai like this. It'll be fine."

"I'm in a towel, Biswa!"

"So what? You look great..."

"No, this is too much... I won't..."

"It'll be fine, madam," he said, his voice impatient. "Come on... you know the drill... the sooner you do it, the sooner I can leave."

"Why are you so... so... FRUSTRATING!" she said, annoyed. "Fine. But... but don't you dare say anything... just keep your comments to yourself!"

Meenal started walking towards the kitchen. Biswa followed her, chuckling.

---

Meenal had already put in the dried tea leaves a while back. And now she added the crushed spices into the water. It would start boiling soon.

She could feel Biswa's eyes on her. Her towel hardly came to her mid-thighs. And it was hanging thanks to a single knot she tied around her breasts. Meenal was placing a lot of trust in that knot.

And Biswa was surely enjoying the sight. Meenal thought about admonishing him again.

But what was the point? She was dressed in a towel that barely kept anything hidden... of course he was going to look. Heck, he'd seen most of her body anyway.

It seemed silly to protest now.

Let him watch, what's the worst that could happen?

She knew the flaw in that line of thinking. But she didn't dwell on it.

The water was boiling now. Thirty seconds more and she could add the milk.

"You have amazing hips, madam." Biswa suddenly said, startling Meenal.

"What?" She turned her head to him.

"Your hips. Nice and wide. Not like these silly city girls with their flat little bodies."

"Didn't I tell you to not speak?"

"Oh come on, madam," Biswa protested. "I am just admiring your hips... you can't expect me to not even mention it. You have such an amazing body..."

"Biswa! If you don't stop talking, you're going to have to leave."

Biswa raised his hands in surrender. He put a finger on his lips to gesture that he will be silent now.

Satisfied for now, Meenal turned her attention back to the chai. She brought the milk out of the fridge.

"Actually, I just remembered something," Biswa said. "I have a question to ask you..."

"You're talking again..." Meenal said, pouring the milk into the tea.

"Did you ever know a guy named Laalu?"

Meenal froze.

"What?"

"Laalu," Biswa repeated. "He was from Marwahi too."

Meenal put the milk vessel down on the counter. She didn't say anything, her brain trying to process and come up with a response quickly.

"I'd called up one of my friends from the village yesterday," Biswa continued. "He used to come to the Marwahi fair with me. He jogged my memory. Reminded me of this girl from your village... she was... let's say... quite generous..."

Meenal was still silent. Her heart was racing now.

"She was this Laalu's girlfriend," he said. "And rumor had it that she openly gave blowjobs to Laalu, and anyone else who asked."

"What?!" Meenal finally said, her voice unnecessarily high. "That's... that's ridiculous! What girl would do something like that?"

"Don't get me wrong madam," Biswa said. "I'm not shaming her at all. I was an admirer. In fact, the main reason me and all the guys in my village went to Marwahi was in the hopes to... run into her. They say she gave amazing blowjobs..."

"I don't know why you're bringing up such a vulgar topic," Meenal said, turning fully towards Biswa. "I don't know any Laalu or Baalu... and I don't know any girl who would do such nasty things..."

"I was just asking madam..."

"Don't you know how to speak with a married woman? Is this the type of thing you bring up with..."

Suddenly Meenal heard a hiss behind her, and turned her head. The chai pot was bubbling over, the mix of tea leaves, and milk and spices spilling onto the stove.

She spun around, quickly switching the stove off and shifting the pot to a different stove.

"Now look what you made me do, Biswa!"

Biswa grabbed a cloth hanging nearby and started cleaning up the spill.

Meenal filled a small cup with water and poured it over the stove and the counter, washing the spillage toward the sink.

She poured. He wiped. They worked together.

Meenal leaned forward to reach the back of the stove. The towel shifted. She felt it slip - just half an inch. Her hand shot to her chest, catching the knot just as it began to give. She pressed it against her breasts, holding it in place.

"Relax, madam," Biswa chuckled. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Shut up," she snapped back.

Within a few minutes, the stove and the counter were clean. The only damage was that most of the chai had spilled.

Meenal poured it into one cup.

"There's only this much left," Meenal said. "You have it."

"No, no, madam," Biswa said. "Chai is always meant to be shared. I can't possibly drink this alone."

"There's not enough for two cups..."

"Who needs two cups, madam," Biswa said, waving his hand dismissively in the air. "We'll share this one."

"What? No!"

"Why are you always so difficult, madam?" Biswa asked. "Always arguing..."

"I'm not arguing..."

"See?" he said. "You already drank from my cup yesterday... didn't you? Why the fuss now?"

Meenal opened her mouth to protest. She didn't know what to say.

He was right. She'd already crossed this line. Why the fuss now?

So she didn't say anything. Just nodded.

Meenal was also realizing something. That it was much easier to just give into Biswa's demands, rather than push back.

But this is dangerous. Her inner voice said. Meenal ignored it.

Biswa took a sip from the cup.

"Damn," he said with a low growl. "I can't tell which one is spicier... your body or your masala chai."

He extended his hand, offering her the cup.

Meenal rolled her eyes, but took the cup from him. She took a sip.

"Has that line ever worked on any of your girls?" Meenal said, handing the cup back to him.

"I've never used this line before, madam," Biswa said, grinning. "No one makes chai as good as you do."

He took a loud slurp, his eyes fixed on her. Meenal tried holding his gaze for a while, but she was nervous.

She was sharing a cup with a stranger, who was standing a mere foot-and-a-half away from her, dressed only in a towel.

In fact, she felt ridiculous even thinking of him a stranger at this point. Biswa the plumber had seen her naked. Multiple times. He knew about her past more than even her own husband did.

He handed her the cup again, and she had a sip without looking at it. Her eyes were on him this time... his shoulders. She'd never noticed exactly how muscular he was. And lean, barely any fat on his body.

And his smell, the paan, the sweat. She didn't mind the smell anymore. In fact, it had started to grow on her, she never realized when.

She handed the cup back to him, and his fingers brushed hers when he took it, sending a small jolt through her body. Her eyes went to his chest... dark skin, covered with chest hair she could see through his tank top.

He took another sip... she watched him take that sip. He handed the cup back to her, and she took it, her fingers brushing his fingers this time.

She took another sip. The chai was lukewarm now. She could taste him in it. The paan. Him.

What am I doing? Why am I letting this happen?

Meenal didn't have an answer. She was just focusing on the man in front of her, and the building tension low in her belly. She crossed her legs slightly, pressing her thighs together under the towel.

Biswa suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist. The same hand in which she was holding the chai. Meenal's heart skipped a beat at the sudden move.

Oh my god. Here it is... he's going to do it...

And I don't know if I want to stop him...

But Biswa just took the cup with his other hand. He brought the cup to his lips but didn't let go of her wrist. His eyes were still on her as he drank the last of the chai.

"That was delicious, madam," he said, his voice low and deep. "Thanks for the chai."

Meenal tried to free her wrist, but met resistance. He wasn't letting her go.

Meenal was feeling incredibly turned on, but there was still a bit of her mother's caution holding her back.

"Biswa," Meenal whispered. "My hand."

Biswa looked down at his hand, still holding her wrist. He ran his thumb over the thin vein on the inside of her wrist. Meenal could feel a shiver down her spine as he did that.

"Biswa... please."

He thought for a second, as if deciding what to do.

He let go of her.

Meenal immediately took the empty cup from his hand and walked over to the sink to wash it, turning her back to him.

She started washing the cup, scrubbing it harder than necessary.

"Madam," Biswa said from behind her. "I have a surprise for you."

Meenal didn't turn around. "I don't want any surprises from you, Biswa. You should leave now."

"You'll like this one. Wait here."

She heard him walk out of the kitchen.

What now?

Meenal was genuinely worried. Biswa had gotten incredibly bold in the last few hours, and she was becoming more and more powerless against his advances.

He was back in less than a minute. She heard his footsteps behind her.

"Here," he said.

Meenal put the cleaned cup on the counter and turned around. Biswa was standing close, holding two small green conical parcels, neatly folded and tied with paper and a thin string.

Paan.

"I told you I'd bring you some," he said, holding one out to her.

"Biswa, I told you I don't..."

"You told me you don't like it. But have you ever actually had one?"

Meenal paused. "No. But I've smelled it enough to know I don't like it."

"Smelling and tasting are two different things, madam. You know that."

"I'm not going to have paan, Biswa. Take it back."

"Just try one. If you don't like it, I'll never bring it again. Promise."

"No."

"Madam..."

"I said NO, Biswa. I don't want your paan. I don't want your surprises. I don't want..."

"Accha, okay okay," he said, stepping back, raising one hand in surrender. He unwrapped one of the paans with his other hand and popped it into his mouth. He started chewing, his cheek bulging slightly.

"See? Nothing to be scared of," he said, his words slightly muffled.

"I'm not scared of it, I just don't want..."

Biswa moved. Fast. Faster than she expected.

His arm came around her back, pulling her toward him. His other hand came up, holding the second unwrapped paan.

Meenal's mouth opened in shock. "BISWA! What are you..."

He placed the paan between her lips. Gently. But firmly.

She froze. The cool, wet betel leaf sat on her tongue. The taste hit her immediately--sharp and sweet, the gulkand and rose petal preserve mixing with the lime paste. Her first instinct was to spit it out.

"Biswa, you... how dare..."

"Just chew it, madam," he said, his arm still around her. "Don't spit it out. Give it thirty seconds."

"I'm going to kill you," she said, her words garbled around the paan. "I'm going to..."

But she didn't spit it out. She started chewing slowly and reluctantly.

The flavors were exploding into her mouth.

She was angry. Furious at Biswa. He'd put something in her mouth without her permission.

She should bite down, chew it up and spit it in his face.

But the taste. It was sweet. And fresh. She could taste the delicious rose petal preserve. It wasn't like what she'd expected at all.

She kept chewing, her jaw had started slowing down, she was enjoying the taste now. Her shoulders, which had been tense and raised till now, started to lower.

She was aware of Biswa's arm still around her. Very aware of the fact that this was the first time he was actually touching her. She could feel the heat of his body through the towel.

Her anger was still there, but it was slowly dissolving, like the paan in her mouth.

"So?" Biswa asked after a minute. "How is it?"

Meenal didn't answer, just gave him an angry look, still chewing on the paan.

"Well?" Biswa asked again, this time shaking her a little, with his arm around her.

"It's... sweet," she said.

"Do you like it?" he asked again.

Meenal was quiet for a second. "Yes."

Biswa chuckled. "See? I told you you'd like it."

She said nothing. She kept chewing.

They stood there. Together. In her kitchen. Chewing paan. His arm around her. Her body against his.

And the towel. It was between them, bunched up against his chest and hers. But it had loosened when he pulled her in. She could feel it slipping, the tuck between her breasts unraveling. Meenal knew that the moment he let go of her, the towel would fall.

She should step back. She should pull away. She should...

She didn't move.

She felt his chest rise and fall against hers. His heartbeat. And hers.

Then she felt something else.

Something hardening. Pressing against her lower belly. Through his trousers. Through her towel.

His cock.

Meenal's eyes widened. Her chewing stopped.

"Biswa, let go of me!" she shouted, her mouth full of paan, the words coming out garbled and wet.

Biswa did. His arm dropped from her back.

And the towel, as she knew it would, slipped.

Meenal grabbed it, her hand pressing it against her chest. But she was a second too late. The towel slid down, exposing her left breast completely before she caught it. Her nipple, already hard, was exposed for a full second before she could cover up.

Biswa saw. Of course he saw.

"Leave. Now!" Meenal said. "Don't you have some job to get to? Just go."

"Okay, okay, I'll leave, madam," he said, his voice calm. "But before I go... there's something I should tell you."

"What?"

"Tomorrow, I'm going to come and install the new showerhead."

"Oh," Meenal said. "So the shower will be fixed tomorrow?"

"No, no, madam," Biswa replied. "This is just the showerhead... I'm just replacing the old rusted one. We still need the pressure valve, from Bhopal. That hasn't come yet."

"Oh, right," Meenal said. "Do you know when the valve will come?"

"No news yet," he said, leaning closer again. "I need to call the Bhopal distributor and ask for a status."

"Okay."

"But I'm thinking... I won't."

"What? Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Biswa leaned in closer. "If I finish the repair, I won't have a reason to keep coming here."

Meenal frowned.

"So you're... what?" she asked. "Deliberately delaying the repair?"

"I'm not delaying anything, madam. I'm just... not rushing." He smiled. "The part will come when it comes. Could be a day. Could be a week. I can't control that."

"You absolutely can control that. Call the distributor."

"Madam, I have other jobs. Other clients. I can't spend all day chasing one pressure valve."

"Biswa, I need the shower fixed. I can't keep... we can't keep doing this."

"Doing what, madam?"

She didn't answer. She knew what she meant. He knew what she meant.

"Tell you what," Biswa said, stepping back, picking up his toolbox. "I'll come tomorrow. Install the showerhead. At least you'll have water flowing properly. And then I'll make the call to Bhopal."

"Okay. Good. What time?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On you, madam." He looked her up and down. The towel. The wet hair. The paan stains on her lips. "I want you to do something for me."

Meenal eyes him suspiciously. "What?"

"Wear a saree for me tomorrow."

Meenal's mouth fell open.

"What?"

"You heard me, madam. A saree. Not one of those nighties you keep wearing."

"Are you out of your mind? I'm not dressing up for you."

"It's a simple request, madam..."

"I'm not going to wear a saree for a plumber. That's ridiculous. I'll wear what I always wear."

"Okay," Biswa shrugged. "Then I'll come when I come. Could be morning. Could be evening. Could be the day after."

"Biswa..."

"Your choice, madam." He picked up his toolbox and walked toward the door. "Think about it."

Meenal followed him to the door, puzzled by his odd demand, clutching her towel.

He's seen me completely naked. Why a saree?

At the door, Biswa turned. His eyes swept over her body one last time.

The towel bunched at her chest, her bare shoulders, her legs exposed from mid-thigh down.

"See you later, madam," Biswa said.

As soon as he turned and left, Meenal realized how exposed she was to the outside world.

She immediately dropped into a crouch, pulling the towel tight around herself as she did. She reached up and pulled the door shut while staying low.

After a few seconds Meenal raised herself slightly, just enough to look through the peephole.

The hallway was empty. Mr. Kamble's door was closed.

Thank god.

She exhaled.

Meenal turned around, and stood there, with her back pressed to the door. She looked around.

The apartment was quiet, apart from the soft repetitive creaks from the fan in the bedroom. The kitchen still smelled for chai. And she herself smelled of paan.

Meenal thought about how Biswa stuffed that paan into her mouth. His strong arm around her waist. His hard bulge pressing up against her. The way he held her wrist. The way he stood in the bathroom telling her where to wash.

Meenal pressed her back harder against the door. Her knees separated automatically, the towel riding up her thighs. She felt the air between her legs, making her aware of the wetness that had started during the... paan feeding.

Or maybe even before that?

Her hand moved between her legs. Without deciding to do it.

She was wet. Very wet.

Her fingers found her lips and she started rubbing. Slowly at first. She closed her eyes.

The images came immediately.

Biswa, standing in the bathroom, one hand on the wall, the other on his waist. Telling her where to wash.

'Now your chest.' 'Slow down.' 'Now lower.'

Her fingers moved faster.

She imagined Biswa's arm around her back, pulling her against him. The paan between her lips. And his lips. Both of them chewing in sync, their faces mere inches from each other. Just one thin towel between their bodies.

Meenal was soaking wet now. Her fingers were slipping easily between her folds, playing with her clit. Her hips started moving against her fingers.

The towel had come undone, pooling around her waist. Meenal didn't care.

She thought about Biswa's cock. She hadn't seen it. But she'd felt it... just for a brief second, before she'd freaked out. It felt big. Was it big?

It was big because of her. For her.

For me

Meenal's fingers were fully inside her now. She was pumping them in and out of her pussy.

Her hand other hand grabbed her breast, squeezing hard, pinching her nipple.

She sank lower, her back still pressed against the door. Her legs spread wider. Her fingers went deeper. Her eyes still tightly closed.

Biswa's face flashed across her eyes, along with his smile... those paan-stained red lips. She realized that now her own lips had been made red, because of that same paan.

She could feel the taste of the paan inside her mouth.

It was as if Biswa himself was insider her...

That thought pushed her over the edge. Meenal's hips bucked against her hand. Her fingers were slamming into herself now.

"Unnh..." a sound escaped her mouth as the orgasm hit her. Her whole body clenched, her thighs squeezing together, trapping her hand. Her back arched off the door. She bit down on her lip, hard.

Wave after wave, the orgasm pulsed through her body. It lasted longer than she'd expected. Longer than what she'd given herself in weeks.

After a few minutes Meenal opened her eyes. She was on the floor of her own hallway. Towel loosely open around her waist, legs spread obscenely. hand between her thighs. Breathing hard.

The fan was still making the creaking sounds in the bedroom. The apartment was quiet otherwise.

=====================

LATER THAT EVENING

=====================

By the time Harish came home, Meenal had already cleaned up the kitchen, and changed into a proper nightie. She was sitting at the dining table when she heard his scooter. The familiar puttering sound of the old vehicle grew louder, then stopped. A few seconds later, the sound of his footsteps on the stairs.

Harish walked in, briefcase in one hand, a plastic bag in the other. He looked tired. And sweaty.

"Whew, it's still so hot," he said, keeping the bag on the dining table. "I got some mangoes. The vendor was selling them right outside the office. Got a good deal."

Meenal looked at the bag and nodded. "Okay."

"Will you cut them? Or should I?"

"I'll do it, Harish ji," she said. "Go wash up."

Harish stood there for a second, looking at her. Then he walked towards the bathroom.

As Meenal washed and cut the mangoes, she couldn't help but feel guilty. Yes, Harish wasn't perfect, but he was her husband after all.

After the incident in the train with the college boys, Meenal had vowed to try and be faithful to her marriage. The last thing she'd expected was the damn plumber making her break her resolve.

Nothing has happened yet. Don't freak out.

But Meenal knew better. Within three days, Biswa had managed to see her naked twice, pulled her close to him while she was dressed in just a towel.

And she let him do it!

And the worst part... she knew she wanted more.

She was dreading the next day. But she couldn't deny the excitement either.

Meenal wondered if things would've been different if Harish was a better lover. Or a better husband.

"You haven't cut them yet?" Harish's voice startled her. "Give it to me. I'm very efficient when it comes to mangoes. You have to know exactly how to cut them."

Meenal handed him the knife and stepped back. Harish took over with the confidence of a man who knew what he was doing.

"You see, the trick is to cut along the pit," he said, slicing with unnecessary force. "Most people don't know that. They just hack at it."

Meenal watched him hack at it.

---

They ate dinner. Or rather, Harish ate. Meenal pushed food around her plate.

"You're not eating?" Harish asked between mouthfuls.

"I had a late lunch," she said. "Not that hungry."

"You should eat something. You've lost weight since coming to Indore, I think."

"I haven't lost weight, Harish ji."

"I think you have. A little. It's the heat. You need to eat properly."

Meenal took a small piece of mango and put it in her mouth.

---

Harish and Meenal were on the bed, getting ready to sleep. Meenal was brushing her hair with a brush and Harish was lying down.

She'd been quiet all evening. Harish noticed. But he didn't ask right away. He'd waited until they were in bed to bring it up.

"Meenal."

"Hmm," she said, running her hair brush through her hair.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Why?" She paused and turned her head to look at her husband.

"You've been quiet today."

"I'm fine, Harish ji."

Harish was silent for a moment. Then he shifted.

"Are you... upset with me? About the shower situation?"

Meenal turned her head slightly. "What?"

"I know it's been difficult for you," he said. "Not being able to shower properly. And I've been showering at the office... leaving you to depend on that plumber..."

Meenal was surprised at his sudden self-awareness. She'd not seen this side of him before.

"It's not that, Harish ji."

"Then what?"

Meenal looked at him. He didn't seem like he was going to let his go.

But she couldn't obviously tell him the real reason she was being quiet.

What would she say?

I let the plumber watch me while I was in the shower. And oh by the way, I felt his hard-on against my body. And I liked it.

No. That was not definitely not going to work.

"Nothing, Harish ji. I'm fine."

Harish propped himself up on one elbow. Meenal could feel him looking at her in the dark.

"Is it the plumber? I know you don't like him. We can get another plumber if he..."

"No," Meenal said, a little quicker than she wanted to. "No. He's fine."

A few minutes passed in silence.

Meenal was done with her hair. She put the hairbrush into her bedside table and turned off the lamp. She laid down next to Harish.

A few more minutes passed in silence.

"Meenal," Harish said, shifting closer to her on the bed. His hand found her hip.

Oh god, not now! She knew what this was.

"Should we... do it tonight?"

Meenal closed her eyes. She should have expected this. Two days since the last time. Harish's pattern was so predictable.

But the last thing she was in the mood for tonight was an unsatisfactory romp in the bed with Harish.

But she'd never refused him before. Not once in two months of marriage.

Her mother had insisted that a wife must never refuse her husband.

She never said what to do when the husband was an incompetent buffoon in bed.

"Not tonight, Harish ji."

Harish's hand paused on her hip. He was surprised. She'd never refused him before.

"Oh! Um... is... everything okay?" he asked.

"Yes, everything's fine... it's just that..."

"You're not in the mood?"

"No."

Harish was silent for a few seconds.

"Are you sure? It'll be quick."

Meenal felt a flash of anger. It'll be quick. As if that was a selling point. As if she should be grateful for five minutes of fumbling that left her more frustrated than satisfied.

Harish moved his hand from her hip to her waist.

"Harish ji. I said not tonight."

Harish pulled his hand back. The mattress shifted as he moved to his side of the bed.

He was silent for a few seconds.

"Are you sure you're not angry with me?"

"I'm not, Harish ji," Meenal said.

"Then what is it?"

Meenal realized she had to make something up or Harish wasn't going to let it go.

"I... I just miss home," she lied. "Feeling homesick, I guess."

"Your village?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Why suddenly?"

"I don't know, Harish ji. I just... miss it sometimes. My mother. The familiar places. The space. It's different here."

Meenal was surprised at how easily the lie came out. And how much of it was actually true. She did miss the village. Her mother, maybe not so much.

"Hmm," Harish said. "I understand. It must be hard. New city, new apartment, no friends yet."

Meenal nodded, not trusting herself to say more.

But Harish seemed to have let it go, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Meenal was relieved, for a few seconds.

"Is there anything I can do? To cheer you up?"

Meenal sighed. "No."

"Are you sure? What if I..." He paused, thinking. "What if I take you shopping this weekend? You could pick out a new saree. Or some jewelry. There's that shop near my office. The one with the silver anklets in the display. I saw you looking at them last week."

Meenal remembered. She had been looking at them. Silver anklets with small bells. She'd stood in front of the display for maybe ten seconds while Harish was buying something inside. She'd thought they were pretty. That was all.

"Harish ji, you don't need to buy me anything."

"I want to. If it makes you happy."

"I said don't worry about it."

Her voice came out sharper than she'd intended. Harish went quiet.

Meenal felt guilty almost immediately.

He was trying. In his own bumbling, clueless way, he was trying.

He'd noticed her looking at anklets. He'd remembered. He was offering to buy them for her because he didn't know what else to do.

The problem wasn't the anklets. The problem was that the damn plumber had done more for her in three days than her husband had in two months.

And the worst part was that Harish would never understand that. Even if she explained it to him. Even if she drew him a diagram. He'd still think a new saree would fix it.

"I'm sorry, Harish ji," she said, her voice softer. "I didn't mean to snap. I'm just tired. And missing home. Let's just sleep."

"Okay," Harish said. "Good night, Meenal."

"Good night."

Harish turned away from her. Within minutes, the familiar snoring started.

Meenal lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.

She started thinking about the next day.

Biswa would come again. He'd asked her to wear a saree. The nerve of that man! Telling her what to wear in her own home. As if she'd actually...

She turned onto her side.

She did have that green one. Thin cotton. She'd bought it at the market and never worn it. He'd like her in it...

Meenal closed her eyes.

END OF CHAPTER 3