Chapter 5

The official meetings I had in Delhi lasted four days, and then I stayed on for another week to do some field observations of the site where we were partnering to build a multi-use development, drawing deeply upon local, Hindustani architectural styles.

I emailed one of my former professors who was an expert on the architectural history of north India and she gladly put me in touch with several academics and others to connect with. I was invited to some events and swanky dinners, but it was one in particular that turned out to be a major turning point, though it wasn’t very clear at the beginning.

It was a dinner held by an American professor who was well-connected in the Indian scene. Lots of major players in academia, government, and international organizations were there. I was particularly keen to try and connect with both some local academics and people working for the UN. But my evening was hijacked, if you will, by a much more meaningful encounter.

At some point over drinks, I was introduced to a former Indian ambassador, Ranvir Himmit Singh. I started in on my work and interest in Indian architectural styles and he immediately stopped me, telling me I must meet his wife, Simra.

He searched the room and found her, walking us over to a stunning, statuesque woman with long, flowing gray hair (one of the few women who didn’t dye her hair), and who had perfect posture. Her clothes and jewelry were simple compared to some of the garish outfits, but very stylish and elegant. She was gracious, composed, and humble, yet she commanded your attention. I was awestruck just being in her presence.

Over the next few hours, I managed to engross her in conversation. Toward the end of the evening, it was her husband who insisted that Simra and I go on an architectural tour of the city. Simra was delighted at the suggestion and I of course was flattered beyond belief that she would want to spend a day with me.

The morning was spent driving around Delhi exploring old Mughal and colonial buildings. By early afternoon, we were exhausted and she suggested we return to the Imperial Hotel, where I was staying, for a relaxing lunch.

After lunch, she wondered if she could wash up and so I took her up to my room. We sat in my room, ordered tea and samosas, and continued our conversation. At some point, the conversation became more personal. After asking about my family, Simra asked,

“And any girlfriends? If my daughter wasn’t so wayward, I would certainly introduce you two.”

“Well, I’m flattered you think so highly of me, but perhaps your daughter would not be so interested in architectural history,” I replied, laughing. “And wayward? What does that mean, if I may pry? Wayward can be good sometimes, it has its place.”

“Perhaps. Let’s just say she is fiercely independent and doesn’t fully understand the impact of her actions. She’s abroad anyways, finding her own path in the world.”

“Well, I can certainly see where she gets the strong will to be independent.”

She chuckled. “Do you find strong, independent women a problem?”

“No. Not at all. I’m quite enticed to say the least.”

“Enticed? I’m, what, 30 years your senior? Though I must say you are enamoring. You are quite an accomplished and engaging young man.”

“Thank you, but it is you that is so accomplished. I cannot thank you enough for spending so much time with me and teaching me so much. I’m humbled by your generosity and am totally enamored. Even if your daughter was not wayward and had an interest in me it would be a challenge not to be distracted by her beautiful and gracious mother.”

“Oh my, you do know how to flatter an old woman.”

“Not flattery, just the truth. Nor are you old. You truly are a gorgeous woman with a kind heart.”

“Ah, now if I didn’t know any better, particularly knowing you American men, I would think you were trying for something more.” While saying this she had a big grin on her face. “So, tell me, given I’ve been married for so long, how would a modern woman today even reply to your flirtations? How do women these days let you know they are interested?”

“Hmmm, good question. I suppose these days women can be direct and just approach the man and let him know their interests and desires. Or, if she preferred something more flirtatious and bolder, perhaps she would excuse herself to use the bathroom and while there, remove her bra.”

“Oh my, that would be bold, wouldn’t it? What else might a woman do to flirt back?”

“I suppose one could also feign a sore back or shoulders and ask for a massage, opening up possibilities for his wandering hands to please her.”

“Oh, that sounds dangerous. I do have a sore back, but not so sure I trust your wandering hands!”

It was such a turn-on just seeing her laugh and smile as we bantered about. Soon though our conversation turned back to other issues, and she queried me about my work and ambitions. After some time, she asked to use the bathroom.

When she returned, my jaw dropped. There stood this most gorgeous woman in a loose, light blouse, braless, which she certainly wasn’t earlier. Her large breasts swayed and her nipples were obviously hard. She had a grin on her face but acted like everything was normal.

I hesitated a moment, though she remained standing. I took it as an invitation and stood up and walked up right in front of her. Looking into her eyes, I asked her softly, “Is this what you want?”

Her reply was to lean into me and kiss me. It was a gentle kiss. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into me, stroking her back. I then simultaneously opened my mouth, inviting her to open hers, allowing our tongues to dance about while I also grabbed her ass cheeks and pulled her into me. She melted into my embrace. My cock was now getting very hard and she positioned herself so she could rub it through my slacks, without breaking our kiss.

After a few minutes of standing and making out, I stepped back, holding her hands, and just looked at her. God, she was gorgeous, particularly with the glow of being so sexually charged.

Softly, I said, “Remove your blouse for me.”

She let go of my hands and slowly undid the buttons of her blouse, the whole while not breaking eye contact. Once she slid her blouse off, exposing her naked breasts, I checked out her full body. I then leaned over and started to suck on her tits and slowly moved her towards the bed. I laid down beside her and continued my assault on her huge, soft breasts.

Simra was not Indrani. It wasn’t about being taken. It wasn’t about her husband. It wasn’t a convenient sexual deviation. I sensed Simra wanted to be fulfilled. She wanted to be controlled, but not dominated, to be led into new heights of sexual pleasure. For her, it was about arousal, about being sexually fulfilled, about being enticed or seduced into unbound pleasures.