Sin City
Copyright© 2009 by Audrey Haber
Chapter 79
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 79 - A tale about Page 3 lifestyles and relationships set in Bombay, India, in the late Nineties.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic NonConsensual Rape Blackmail Cheating Cuckold Rough Torture Interracial White Male Slow
Madhavi was doing her calisthenics before the TV when the phone rang. She would have let the machine get it, but she was expecting Birju to call.
He was in Bangalore for a business deal and wanted to be back in time for tonight's Mumbai Times bash. He knew she was going to meet Alan there of course, and perhaps even go home with him afterwards -- for a quick "nightcap".
But they were to enter the party together, as Mr and Mrs Birju Gurjani. This was Madhavi's idea. She intended to use her image as slightly less-sophisticated wife of big retail store owner to its fullest advantage.
Besides, entering the party with her husband on her arm wouldn't start tongues wagging and papparazzi clicking. While she could always pretend to meet Alan there and then be with him. As for leaving, at those parties, who leaves with the same person they came with anyway?
She smiled slyly, looking forward to the time when she could pick out the hunk of her choice and then leave with him instead of having to go with Alan. He bored her now. Almost as much as Birju did. Soon, it would be time to discard him.
So she answered the phone. And it was Birju.
But not the Birju she was expecting.
"I told you," he screamed down the line in a voice that made her hair stand on end. "I told you this mad game would get out of control. Now, look at what you've done, you stupid woman! You've ruined me!"
"Birju, what are you talking about? At least tell me."
She fumbled with the remote, trying to cut the volume on the TV. The Britney Spears music video, 'Drive Me Crazy', ended just then and a commercial began, blaring louder than the programme.
She dropped the remote, rattled by Birju's panic-stricken tone. It clattered to the floor, a battery popping out and rolling mischeviously under the dining table. She ignored it.
Birju told her to look at today's issue of MT, still screaming like a jet engine at take-off.
She dropped the phone without disconnecting. Today's morning papers were right here on the sofa. She picked them up and riffled through frantically -- tossing aside all the supplements, Education, Jobs, Shopping, God, was this a newspaper or a supermarket supplement? -- and finally found the familiar gaudy and glitzy front page of Mumbai Times.
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