Chapter 34

After they left, I closed the door and went inside to get dressed. My stomach was rumbling, and I wondered what I should do for breakfast. Just as I was pulling on my trousers, the bell rang again. I groaned inwardly, realizing that it would be the maids, Pushpa and Rani. After the session in the morning, I was in no mood to fool around with them, and muttering to myself, went to open the door.

To my surprise, it was not them, but my sexy neighbour, the luscious Sarla bhabhi. She was attired in yet another lovely looking lavender chiffon saree, looking every bit the classic sexy housewife. As she stood there, hands on her hips, the saree tied well below her navel to show off her sexy belly, I couldn’t help but marvel at how desirable she could be for sex-crazed youngsters like us.

“Ahem ... so you finally decided to visit your own house ... eh?” she said with sarcasm, but with that teasing smile on her luscious lips. Before I could respond, she pushed past me and bustled into the house. Closing the door behind her, she turned to me, hands on her hips, and with a stern expression on her face “So where have you been all these days ... you don’t even come home to sleep, is it...?” continuing to berate me in her inimitable style, without allowing me to speak.

My heart skipped a beat, as I realized she had been keeping a watch on when I slipped in and out of the house. “Umm, I’ve been around, aunty...” I mumbled like an awkward teenager, hoping to charm her with my shy schoolboy charm.

“Around ... around...!!!” she exclaimed, cutting me off again, as she walked up to me.

Reaching out, she caught hold of my ear, and tweaking it none too gently like a teacher would do to her truculent student, she continued “Do you know that you left the door of your terrace open...!!!” berating me like a dominating aunt.

“Uh-oh...” I mumbled, wincing exaggeratedly, as she tweaked my ear rather painfully, before letting go of it. Pursing her lips, she questioned again “So where have you been spending your nights, young man??” nodding her head as if daring me to answer.

“Umm ... aunty ... I’ve been sleeping at one of my friends place...” I mumbled, praying she’d not spotted me anywhere near Alka bhabhi’s house yesterday night, or Kalpana aunty’s house the night before.

“Hmm...” she grunted, looking at me closely, as is scrutinizing me, her lips drawn taut across her tantalizing sexy milky white face. Seeing me standing there like a chastised schoolboy, her expression relaxed.

Coming closer to me, she placed her hand on my chest, and said “Arre, beta ... your aunty gets worried, ... your mother called me yesterday night since nobody was answering the phone here ... and it looks so bad if I am not able to tell her where you are...” cooling down considerable, and speaking in a more understanding tone.

“Oh...” I mumbled, realizing I had not called up my parents this week.

Breaking into a naughty smile, she continued “Anyway ... I told her that you are doing fine ... and that you were probably at some friends place ... and that she had nothing to worry about...” caressing my chest, as she looked up at me fondly. “After all ... Sarla aunty is there to take care of you, isn’t it?” she added, smiling at me teasingly again as she slid her hand inside the open neck of my shirt, and playfully tugged at the hair on my chest.

Despite having my got my rocks off only a while back, I felt myself responding to her teasing mannerisms. Reaching out, I wrapped both my hands around her waist, and pulled her to me, causing her lush body to press against mine. Looking into her eyes, I said “Oh, aunty ... I missed you...” smiling shyly at her.

Slapping my arm playfully, she wrinkled her nose and said “Don’t you try to sweet talk me, you little devil...” smiling nonetheless, as she caught me looking at the deep cleavage of her blouse.

Suddenly, my stomach rumbled audibly, the pangs of hunger getting the better of it.

“Ohh, poor boy ... you must have not even had breakfast...” she exclaimed, her motherly instincts taking over. Pulling herself out of my arms, she bustled into the kitchen, tying the pallu of her saree around her waist.

“Why the hell does she turn me on so much...!!!” I groaned inwardly, as I felt my insatiable cock stir inside my briefs. Scratching my head in wonder, I followed her into the kitchen and watched her as she went about fixing breakfast for me. Putting the milk to boil in the milk cooker, she quickly got down to making some batata-poha, a tasty Gujarati breakfast made with crushed rice flakes and potatoes.

As she was soaking the rice-flakes, she said “By the way, the servants won’t be coming for the next 10 days ... they have gone to their village for Navaratri...” referring to the Gujarati festival of nine nights. “So I have asked Gajra ben to arrange for someone in the interim...” she continued, referring to the rabaari woman, who supplied milk in our colony.

“Um ... OK...” I mumbled, wondering if Gajra ben would be sending her daughter as the domestic help.

“Acchhaa ... talking about Navaratri ... I have heard that your club organizes the best Garba program in the city...” referring to the prestigious club that my father was a member of.

“Uhh ... yeah ... It’s quite nice...” wondering what she was driving at.

“Good ... good...” she said, as she went about making breakfast for me. As I waited, she continued “You know, beta ... every year ... for Navaratri ... my husband used to arrange for complimentary passes for some club ... but this year ... he is not able to make it...” straining the water from the rice flakes.

Glancing at me to check if I was listening, she continued “So this year when Amisha asked me, where I would be taking her ... I said sorry beti ... this year your Sarla aunty has not been able to plan anything...” tossing some finely chopped onions and green chillies into a round-bottomed pan. I tensed when I heard her mention Amisha’s name, wondering what she had to do with all this.

“Uh, Amisha who, aunty?” I murmured, trying to put on a suitably bewildered look.

“Oho ... you are so forgetful ... Amisha ... Mayuri ben’s younger daughter ... the one you gifted the bicycle to ... on her birthday ... remember?” she exclaimed, shaking her head at my so called forgetfulness.

“Oh, yes ... sorry...” I answered, nodding my head as if I’d suddenly recollected who Amisha was.

Sprinkling some spices on the chopped onions and chillies, she continued “You see ... every year I take them along with me for Garba ... the poor girls ... they don’t have a father...” wrinkling her nose as the onions and chillies sizzled in the oil.