The smooth creamy skin just under her belly button beckoned me. The inexplicable urge to turn the milky white spot into red with my teeth mark possessed me. But I controlled that urge, just like I do every facet of my life. Instead of attacking her like I wanted to, I settled myself between her legs to prepare for savouring her.
The first drop of the liquid on her belly button made her shiver. I kept pouring till the liquid spilled onto the silk sheet. Her legs bucked, inviting me unashamedly, but I just smiled. Her pupils were dilated, and I saw the haze of desire clouding her senses. I could smell it in the air. Yet, I prolonged her torture.
One forefinger touched her lips which she eagerly latched onto, sucking and purring like a kitten. The other went back to that cute belly button. I trailed my finger down and stopped right over her clit. She made an impatient sound. The feather light touch of my fingers incited her further instead of soothing her. A moan was dragged from her. I lowered my finger and pressed it into her warmth. A gush of liquid welcomed me. Yes, she was ready.
Lowering myself to her, I finally gave into the temptation and grazed her white skin, licking the droplets of alcohol clinging to her skin.
Umm, she was delicious! The next bite was harder. She shivered again until I was sucking her. Sucking her till her skin turned amber and she was positively mewling her desire.
I decided to end her misery and plunged my finger into the valley nestled between her thighs. It was slick, warmly inviting me into its depth. I kept sliding in and out, not bothering to initiate, she was already so wet. My fingers scissoring, dragging lustful moans from her, clenching her muscles.
She came, shouting her climax to the world.
Giving her time to come down from the heights of her pleasure, I let myself into the loo to wash off. I washed my face and shed my clothes. They were dirty from the long journey I had taken this morning. And I was too tired from the drive and that little sojourn in the bedroom right now, so I stepped in the shower.
A pair of manicured fingers wrapped around my waist and I jerked in surprise. I removed water from my eyes and saw the female I had just finger fucked staring at me with a coy smile on her face. I peeled her hands away from my body.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Her smile faltered, surprise and hurt filling her eyes.
"I was... was just trying to... well, you didn't come, so I just thought..."
I cut her off. She didn't know, but I had already got my fix and her purpose was over. "You thought wrong. Now, please get out of my shower and don't let me find you in my house when I come out. My driver will take you wherever you want to go."
I don't know what she saw on my face but whatever it was, it made her scramble back in hurry. I heard a faint sob as she ran out of the bathroom.
I went back to scrubbing my body, to remove her touch. I hated when people touch me without my permission. Even something as small as a shoulder bump tends to set me off.
As I entered the living room, Andrew came with my coffee and a note.
"Sir, your mother called an hour ago. She said it was urgent, but I made the decision of not disturbing you."
I liked Andrew because of his professionalism and always making the right decision when it came to me. Till now, at least. I nodded my thanks and he left with a goodnight.
I stepped into my study with coffee in one hand and the note in another, deep in thought. I knew exactly what urgency my mother had. It is exactly why I have been studiously avoiding her every call lately. But that didn't seem to have deterred her in the slightest. She still persisted on trying to contacting me.
But, I smiled grimly to myself, no amount of cajoling, threatening, crying or begging can drag me back to the hell where I was born 34 years ago. Especially after my father passed away last year.
I flicked one glance at the note and it followed its predecessors to the waste paper basket.
But I should have known better the woman who had given birth to me and raised me to be a man of my own. So, when four days later I found her at my doorstep, I sighed in resignation.
Her response was a warm hug and a kiss on my cheek, the only touch I can withstand. Then she smiled at me and at once I was reminded of the rolling green fields, the smell of the scorched earth and the rich taste of the food of my homeland.
My mother didn't waste much time in coming to the point. She even refused to stay the night. Although born and raised in the bowels of rural India, my Maa was as independent and modern as they came. I often marvelled, where she got the courage to live her life the way she does, how did she stood up to my father for all these years and how the hell did she get a deeply patriarchal society, whose treatment of women often bordered on cruelty, to respect her?
I have always seen her strong and calm, but her body seemed to burrow in the soft leather of the sofa. Her face had more lines than I remembered and her eyes betrayed the bone deep tiredness in them. Maybe that softened my voice.
"Why do you want me to go there? Why Maa? And you need to come up with a better excuse than the last time that you need my help with the running of the business. You know I don't care about all that. Have never cared about it at all."
"Because your mother lives there. Is that not enough reason for a son to return home to his own country?"
"This could be your home. How many times have I invited you? Look around." I gestured at the opulence of the room. I was actually proud of my home, having designed it myself and the location was something which I had coveted for a long time. "Your son has achieved everything you hoped he would, and some more. Why can't you make your home with me? Dad is no longer with us." Even before I finished speaking, she started shaking her head.
"Shiv, you know why. Your father was not the only one who bound me to that place. Kaushalpukri maybe the back alley of India, but it is my home. It is your birthplace. I came to that house when I was only nine years old."
Her tome turned nostalgic," I have spent my entire life there. My people, your people, look up to me. They need me."
My tone turned sharp at the continuation of the argument we have been having since years.
"They are not my people. They aren't yours either. We are no longer the zamindars, Maa. It is a free country. The villagers are no longer our subjects, they haven't been for more than seventy years now." I stood up in agitation. "Besides, you wanted me to leave that hellhole. You practically pushed me out the door. Now all of a sudden you want me back. Why? Give me a good enough reason."
If possible, my mother looked even more tired. She kept quiet for long moments and when she spoke I detected a fire in her voice I had heard so many times before. "Because you father is finally dead. And I finally, am free to do openly what I have been trying to do for all my life secretly. My hands have always been tied. But now I can help those poor women. But I am old. And", bitterness tinged her voice," I am a woman."
I looked in amazement as tears ran down her cheeks. "Shivil Kaushik. Don't turn your poor mother away. Help her. Please help me."
She looked so frail, so fragile and downright miserable. And if my conscience had been fully developed I would have given in and returned with her.
As I said, nothing can drag me back to that hellhole. So, being the selfish bastard I was, I waved off my mother in front of Departure for her flight that night and decided to simply put that episode out of my head.
My father might have been a sadistic bastard but in one thing he had always been right.
Never get swayed by a woman's tears or her smile. They hold the ultimate power of ruining a man.