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Message-ID: <51659asstr$1123189801@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Sharmila Sanyal" <anu_g42@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "My Story" by Sharmila Sanyal  (Part 29)
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Date: Thu,  4 Aug 2005 17:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "MS29.TXT" begin>


Please write at <anu_g42@hotmail.com> with (sensible, not moral) comments 
and corrections.

NOTE:  Please visit my 'ftp' site at asstr-mirror.org's  Authors section to read 
the previous parts if you care.

WARNING:  Do not proceed beyond this "warning"  if you are not a mature 
person and/or are  offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual 
encounters.

Please also be aware of my copyright to this endeavor.






___________________________________

My Story (Part 29) by Sharmila Sanyal

	Back at our flat, I found Debi all excited and eager, yearning to know 
everything right away.  When she was informed that I had stayed back, she 
knew right away "things" were going to happen, she said.

	Needless to say, I couldn't get away with some cursory descriptions.  By 
the time I had finished describing the night of my incestuous adventure,  
Debi already had - I am  sure -  created a damp spot on the bed-sheet.  
Under our blanket, I  felt the palm of her hand gently massaging my mons, 
even as she fervently tried to keep herself from finguring her own clit.

	That night, it didn't take us long.  It was one of the very rare and very 
swift resolution of our excitement, the likes of which usually left us 
rather "unsatisfied" -- if that is an apt description.  I felt sleepy, 
nonetheless, but Debi was wide awake at 2 am in the morning.  So,  before I 
drifted off into my own dreams, it was my turn to listen to her fantasies 
about an orgy, involving almost everybody we knew,.   Hardly did I expect 
that somewhat of a fulfilment of our fantasy might be lurking in the future.

	Another unexpected thing happened about a month following the night that  
Debi and I - reminiscing my sessions with Sanju - deliriously pleasured each 
other.  Dipankar came to town!

	That morning, as Debi and I sat at the kitchen table having our breakfast 
and trying to engage Promila in a lewd banter (yes, we were hell-bent on 
inducting Promila in our seemingly insatiable bedroom), the phone rang.  
Dipankar announced, from the other end of the line, that he was in Calcutta 
on a job and was there to stay at least for the whole year!

	Needless to say, my resolve against him vanished without much fanfare, and 
my legs turned to jelly at the sound of his voice.  My face must have shown 
some kind of drastic change. For, as my eyes fell on Debi and Promila, I 
found them looking at me with such anxious stare that I began stammering 
into the phone.

"S-s-sure, w-w-why n-n-not," I stammered into the mouthpiece when he asked 
if he could come over that evening for a visit.

	I didn't know how I would react after not having seen him for over two 
years, but Debi -- and later, even Promila -- assured me that everything 
would be fine.  What I did know for sure was that no matter what I had tried 
to convince myself over the past days and months, no matter what had 
happened in my life since I last communicated with him, I never did really 
stop caring for him.  With that out-of-the-blue phone call, the realisation 
hit home with some force.

"Who was it, Sharmi?" Promila asked.  It turned out that Debi actually knew 
that Dipankar was in town and let him surprise me.  Debi had figured out who 
it was on the phone.

"Oh ... someone .." I was still gasping for air as I tried to sound 
perfunctory.

"That was somebody that Sharmi is crazy about,"  Debi volunteered a quick 
explanation.

"Can' t say I am crazy about . . ."  I faintly sounded my equivocal response 
at that.

"I see," Promila concluded.

	My heart had started racing already, and I essentially became mum at the 
table that morning as  Debi carried on with her attempt at becoming 
"friendlier" with Promila.

	It was a Saturday and I almost strained my neck from having to check out 
the wall clock every ten minutes for the rest of the day.  I could "feel" 
the probing stare I recieved from Promila all day; and, when Dipankar 
finally arrived around 5 pm,  I also heard a faint sound of gasp that 
escaped her throat.  I pretended not to notice.

	I hadn't seen him for more than two years, I think.  He looked scarcely a 
day older than the last time we sat at that shanty tea-shop drinking the 
scalding hot tea.

"Wow! You look gorgeous!"  He said in his usual "American" way.  One didn't 
compliment a lady in India that way; it would be considered too flippant . . 
. and damn flirtatious, if I might add.  His remarks, especially in front of 
Debi and Promila helped pump the remainder of my blood to my face.  I 
immediately took solace in the fact that Promila didn't understand spoken 
English well at all.

"Umm .. OK ... thank you ..."  I stammered back and smiled.

"So, how do you find this city since you left last time?"  Debi jumped in to 
start a secular conversation.  I could use all the help I got, and she knew 
it.

	Promila simply couldn't get into the kitchen.  Everytime I looked in her 
direction, I found her staring at Dipankar with her wide eyes as if she had 
never seen a man before.  I felt amused and a little comfort in the 
realisation that I was not the only one who found his beauty compelling.

	I walked over to Promila and whispered, "He will be here for several hours. 
  Now go make some tea."  She was visibly embarrassed.  I followed her into 
the kitchen and tugged at her hand. As she tried to look at me, I winked and 
said, "You are not the only one who stares at Dipu, so you don't have to get 
embarrassed." I winked and smiled again.  I remember actually feeling quite 
sorry for Promila, knowing that she had had not enjoyed the company of a man 
in so many years.  I might have even felt guilty!

	Anyway, that evening was as mundane as it could get.  Aware that Dipankar 
would be in the city for a year, I didn't feel any urgency  about renewing 
our bond right away.  I was comfortable in the feeling that he hadn't gotten 
over me.  However, it also didn't escape me that he too was stealing a 
glance now tand then towards Promila at every opportunity.  My amusement was 
soon laced with a sense of jealousy at that, I discovered.  Yet, it was not 
overwhelming!  Later that night, as I lay in bed with Debi,  I couldn't help 
recount my feelings only to conclude that it would be very much unlike me to 
deny him the gratification of enjoying the very earthly attraction Promila 
presented; especially in light of my own musings about her.

	That night I was so emotionally high strung that I couldn't sleep for 
several hours into the morning.  I lay beside Debi and heard her snore.  
Yes, she snored and still does, albeit very mildly.  Eventually, when I did 
fall asleep, I dreamt of Dipu (of course) in the traditional garb of a 
Bengali groom sitting by me across from the sacrificial fire, uttering the 
wedding mantras.  I think I might have even blushed in my sleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

	Several weeks passed by before I saw Dipu again.  I was returning from a 
friend's place in South Calcutta,  walking from Gol Park towards Gariahat to 
catch a bus to our flat, when someone touched me on my shoulder and 
whispered in my ear at the same time, "What's the hurry?"  I spun around, 
ready to land a fast slap on the owner of that voice but was compelled to 
arrest that motion in mid air.  It was Dipankar, in shorts and a tee.

"O my God!"  He grinned from ear to ear, "Mother Durga!"

"You should be careful in Calcutta!" I said, trying to sound stern, "Each of 
us is an incarnation of Her.  So, don't get into the habbit of grabbing 
girls by their shoulders."

"You think I grab every girl by her shoulder?"

"How would I know? You American's are so ... so ... " I fished for the right 
word.

"Impudent?" He suggested.

"You said it, I didn't."

"But you meant that."

"No!  I was thinking more in the line of  "licentious."  I looked intently 
at his eyes and threw that word at him.

"Well," he sounded comtemplative, "that's the general perception, I suppose; 
but the fact is that Americans are probably the most prudish of all."

"You don't seem prude!"  I said, and started walking.

"I am not a full blooded American, you see," he said, "jus soli."

"You could have fooled me!" I said as we negotiated our way through the 
evening shoppers.

"Don't forget that I was born in this land of Kamasutra," Dipankar 
proclaimed with a hint of naughtyness in his voice.

"Yes, I have had some idea about that," I said, remembering the afternooon 
at the movie two years years back.

"Don't lie, you have no idea!"  It was obvious where he was leading the 
conversation to.  If it were Ajit, I probably would have played along to a 
dizzying height; but, strangely enough, I didn't feel comfortable "talking" 
about such things with Dipankar - the earthly attraction notwithstanding.  I 
think I took him too seriously already for that.

"Hmmm," was all I could respond with.

"Are you in a rush to get back?"  He asked abruptly.

"Not particularly, but it is already seven and Debi would be waiting for 
me,"  I said.

"That's easily fixed," he said, "We can call her from my place. You know   
that I live quite close by, don't you?"

"Hmmm, I do,"  I  was quite aware.  Indeed, I was thinking about that even 
as I was taking leave of my friend at Gol Park.

"Is it okay for a lady to visit a bachelor's den in the evening?" he asked.

"Well . . ."  I sounded unsure, and I was.

"I promise to drive you back to your flat, you don't have to ride the bus!"  
He said.

"That's nothing . . ." I tried to sound casual, "Calcuttans are quite used 
to public transport."

"And you have never been to our flat,"  he said.

"Okay" I agreed.  So, in another five minutes, I found myself sitting in the 
large "drawing room" of Dipu's flat.   He went into the kitchen to plug the 
kettle in for some tea and sat on the big, over-stuffed sofa, wondering and 
fantasizing about my place in that huge flat.  It was a big flat by the 
city's standard even back then.  Nowadays, one feels lucky to have one a 
third of that size.

"like the flat?"  I was startled by his voice.  I blushed and nodded.  I was 
actually menatally redecorating the  rather modestly done interior of the 
flat.  "Would you like to see the rest of it?"

"Sure," I said.

	As I went through the apartment with him, looking at the three almost bare 
rooms that each had a bathroom attatched, I couldn't help but wonder if Dipu 
had some other designs for me.  I would be lying if I said I was 
apprehensive;  on the contrary, I remember actually half expecting a daring 
move from him when we reached his bedroom.

"And this is my bedroom!" he annouced with a mock bow.

"I see, It's quite bare," I commented.

"Waiting for you, I suppose!"

"Dipu!" I blushed.

"I am sorry,"  he sounded sincere, "I don't know what came over me. I was 
joking."

"Were you, then?" I said with a feigned indifference I was proud of.   I 
looked at him.  He was looking straight at my eyes with a question, and an 
amusement in his eyes.  I said, "That's not the way you propose in America, 
do you?"

"I said I am sorry, Sharmila," he sounded genuine this time.

"Never mind that, now,"  I had suddenly found some solid ground under my 
feet as I went toe to toe with the utterly handsome guy, standing in the 
middle of his bedroom, "Are you proposing or something, or are you really 
joking?"

"I . . . I . . ."  suddenly he seemed to be completely out of his element.  
It was amusing to see one, who barely missed a beat in any conversation, 
stuttering at a very simple question.  I felt in charge.

"What 'I . . . I . . .' O brave one?  It was a very simple question, don't 
you think?"  While I pressed on with my rediscovered confidence, I was 
holding my fingers crossed behind my back for fear of going too far with my 
twentieth-century-woman routine.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Sharmi!"

"How so?"

"You are asking me a question, standing -- of all places -- in my bedroom, 
that I have been thinking about . . . you know . . . go away . . . "  
Dipankar, the smart, was out of it!

"Okay,"  I got desperate,  "Are you asking me to fill your bedroom?"  I 
simply couldn't pass up the chance to have him say that he wanted me.  I had 
wanted him from the very first eye contact; but, it wasn't until that very 
moment that  I realized how badly.  As I looked away and at the curtain on 
the wide window flailing around in the evening breeze from the "Lake" across 
the road,  I heard him faintly utter the word, "Yes."
I barely could hear him, but I knew exactly what he said.  I dared not ask 
again for fear of making a fool of myself. I simply looked again at him ans 
said, "I need to get going now."

"Sure,"  he said as if he too was glad to get out of the very mushy 
situation. He stepped out of the bedroom, and into the short hallway,  "Let 
me grab the keys."  Nothing like a set of car keys in changing the topic.

"No, I will ride the bus back," I said.  I needed to be with myself settle 
my emotions down.  There was a finality in what happened for which, despite 
my dreams, I had not quite prepared myself.

Dipankar didn't argue and simply looked at me as if searching for an answer. 
  I really wanted to hug him and kiss him and say "Yes, yes, yes!"  But, I 
suppose I was too dumbfounded myself for that.

	So, an hour and a half later I was hugging and kissing Debi!  And there was 
our beautiful maid looking on in bewilderment.  I am sure, no matter what 
she might have had guessed about Debi and me, she really never had seen a 
woman kiss another in such a fashion.  Not until then, anyway.

"Care to elaborate?"  Debi managed to stutter out from under my lips.

"Dipu  . . ." I whispered a very short response.

"Wants to marry you?"  that was Promila.  She heard the name and arrived at 
the conclusion loudly enough to make me realize that I was holding Debi and 
kissing her as if we were in the bedroom, oblivious of Promila.

"How did you know?" I blurted out a stupid question and turned towards her, 
my lips still glistening from Debi's saliva.   Of course she guessed.  It 
wasn't a hard one, especially for one as astute as she, having observed me 
in the presence of Dipankar a few weeks ago.

"Monidi told me about you two, and I watched you that evening, and then what 
is so hard in adding "two" and "two" together to come up with "four?"  
Promila finished her explanation in one breath and in her very earthy and 
charming dialect that she often lapsed into while being spontaneous.

"What did you tell her, Debi?"  I looked at Debi with some obvious questions 
in my eyes.

"A lot, didn't you Moni-di?"  Promila interjected flippantly.

"I didn't ask you, you imp!"  I told her off, albeit with a smile.  Nothing 
was going to put me down that evening.

"Well . . ."  Debi left the rest hanging.

"Us?"  I whispered low, hoping that Promila wouldn't be hearing.  But she 
did.

"No," Promila said with some seriousness in her voice, "That I have known 
for some time already."

"Promila!"  I heard a distinct aggravation in Debi's voice.

"What?"  It took me a moment, and the "question" escaped more like an 
exclamation with such a decible that it sounded more like a bark to my own 
ears.

"Aren't you forgetting that I'm not a little girl?" Promila said with half 
amusement and half concern.

"What do you mean?"  I demanded, trying to bring a tone of authority in my 
delivery but failing miserably.

"I know, Sharmi, and let's just leave it at that," she said.

	Turning towards Debi, I could see the perplexed look on her face, as if she 
was trying to fathom the implication of Promila's words in light of our 
discussions about our maid lately.  I knew at that moment - and I know that 
Debi did too - what Promila was alluding to; and that was what made it even 
more difficult to  say anything meaningful to her.   I felt Debi's thighs 
trembling a familiar tremble against mine.  I looked at her eyes and found 
her looking at mine with the same intention as mine.  I stepped back from 
her and cleared my throat.

"Whatever," I declared in a deep voice, a perfunctory word sounding even 
more so to me.  I wanted some time to compose myself.  I just couldn't 
handle the heat I felt from within me.  My head had been light and my body 
had been in fire ever since Dipu had dropped the suggestion of a proposition 
in my ears.  That yearning for Dipu was so very different, that I remember 
it even today.  That first hint of a prospect for a closeness with him was a 
warm glow over my entire being.  It wasn't the familiar heat between my legs 
that I was wont to feeling, nor the rapid wetness at the seat of my passion!

"Yes, whatever,"  responded Promila, and her voice sounded more sexy with 
that than ever.  I looked at her squarely and found her staring at us with 
shiny eyes, as if begging the question:  "May I?"

	My interest in our maid notwithstanding, at that very moment all I was able 
to muse on was my  short yet charged half-hour that evening with Dipankar.  
That was the first time I had ever been alone with him, and that was the 
first time he had ever been so forthcoming.  Not that I had any doubt about 
his affection for me, but I was begining to accept the possibility that, for 
an "American" youth, I was just another potential conquest!  Something in 
his demeanor made me alter that idea about him.  I knew, even as he uttered 
that very shy and whispered "yes" in his bedroom, that there was nobody 
else.  How did I know, you ask?  A girl does, and that's about all I can 
say.  So, I wanted a purely girly night with Debi, talking about Dipankar.

	Yes, I was horny at the same time, but it was a different kind of arousal, 
as I mentioned already.  Till that evening, my responses found a purely 
cerebral origin that traversed the intervening region to the valley between 
my legs rather quickly.  An impulse that traveled down from my brain along 
the shortest route possible, ignoring pretty much the rest of my body.  But, 
that evening my whole body was responding to a new kind of excitement.  Tiny 
flashes of electricity, generated at almost every pore of my skin, slowly 
coalescing -- taking over all my senses.  The impulse seeped into the gentle 
pulsation inside the depth of my womanhood; I could feel my nether lips 
swell and open up the eager passage way.

	It was late and I wanted Debi to fulfill my needs where Dipankar couldn't.  
No, I honestly wasn't thinking of Debi as a stand-in for him, but I needed 
her gentle touch.  Promila was to stay that night at our flat, but that 
didn't bother me.  Looking back, I supopse, with her acknowledgement of 
whatever she had had surmised about Debi and me, Promila had been accepted 
into our folds -- even if simply as an onlooker.  Added to that was the fact 
that lately Promila had been creeping into our fantasies more often.

	We finished our dinner, and, after some excruciatingly long drawn out small 
talks, Debi and I retired to Debi's bedroom and closed the door behiind us.  
  Promila was left to finish up with the dishes and clean up the kitchen 
before retiring to my room.  That was where she usually slept when she spent 
the night there, on a makeshift bed on the floor beside my bed.  And yes, I 
slept in my bed those nights.  That evening things changed.

	Whether it was Dipankar's bedroom, or Promila's confidence, I was extremely 
wet by the time Debi put her palm on the swollen labia of my cunt.  As I 
write this and recount that evening, I think it was a combination of both.  
All the fantasies involving Dipu and the rest,  that we  shared, had crowded 
back into my lustful brain, and I couldn't contain myself.  Debi had just 
pulled down my panties and planted her tongue on my clit when I came with a 
shudder.  I remember screaming out in delight while holding her head in 
place and pushing out my pelvis at her mouth, and then hearing a knock at 
the door with Promila's voice filtering in,  "What happened, are you okay?"

	All Debi could do was giggle against my pussy and respond in a muffled 
tone, "Yes, everything is fine."

"Oh!"  I think that's all she said after that.

"Hmmm ..." Debi finally pulled out her head from between my thighs and 
looked at me with her glistening face, "That was quick!"

"Yes, I know.  I was just too hot!" I replied.

"God knows what Promila thought!"  Debi mused with her familiar giggle and 
added, "Should we call her in?"

"No way!"  I wasn't quite ready for that yet.

"In that case you'll need to get heated again and attend to my heat,"  Debi 
said while slowily taking off her night dress.

	She didn't have to tell me.  My orgasm, while rather quick, wasn't intense 
enough to leave me completely satisfied.  It didn't take much to get me in 
the mood again.  Soon, we were in each others arms, skin to skin, while 
discussing my role as Mrs. Dipankar!  As Debi moved her two fingers inside 
of me, bearing down gently on my clit with the thumb, she whispered details 
of a similar action that Dipankar would engage in, albeit with more than 
just his fingers.

	 We whispered about Debi and Ajit's lovemaking and she enjoyed her role as 
a teacher to train me for Dipankar. It was rather redundant, I am sure, 
since Dipankar wouldn't be the first "man" in my life.

	Not the first "man" but the first one to make me feel the way I felt that 
evening.  I will be lying if I said that I felt absolutely no pang of 
conscience about him not being the "first."  I kept that to myself for the 
time being.  The heat from Debi's body melted my thoughts away and towards 
what was going on between my legs.  Debi's magical expertise, from that very 
first night in my bed, always amazed me.  I suppose a good part of my 
affection for her had to do with the celestial pleasure she could deliver 
with all her body.  That amazement never really went away; it was augmented 
by a sense of  loving passion that I cannot find words to describe.  She was 
ever more tender with me that night.

	In her immense enthusiasm, Debi had already chalked out my conjugal life 
for me.  There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that Dipankar and I were 
destined to be together.  As she licked at the distended seat of my passion, 
  she assumed the role of Dipankar in blowing my senses out.  I was loud and 
I was breathless.  I had little thought of our maid in the next room.

"What will you do when Dipankar does the "in-and-out" with his thing? Uh?" 
she demanded in a muted hiss as she burried the fingers into me, and 
mimicked coitus with it and her whole body.  She wanted to be crude and I 
sensed her heat through her vulgarity.

"I . . . will . . .  thrust . . . hard,"  I panted in matching rhythm, my  
lava having started to flow in ernest again.  I wrapped my arms around her 
back and with one strong heave rolled her on to her back.

"Oooh ... "  she was amused, "So, you are going to ride the horse now?"

"I would if you had a big one,"  I said into her open mouth, "You can fuck 
me with your fingers though . . . but let me . . ."  and I slid down her 
body to where I could smell her womanhood closely.  Instinctively, Debi bent 
her knees up and spread her thighs apart wide, offering me her pussy in all 
its dripping wetness.

"Aaaaaahhhhng ..." as my teeth lightly touched her clit,  Debi was loud 
enough to wake up the neighborhood.

"Shhhhhh ..." I hissed a cautionary hush from between her thighs even as I 
slid two of my fingers inside her.  But it was too late!  Debi was over the 
edge and well into the beginning of a big one!  She grabbed my head and 
pushed my mounth into her pussy, grinding it up into my open mouth -- her 
back arched and her hips thrust up, off the bed.  I opened my mouth even 
wider, and took in her thick, swollen crest where her fleshy cunt lips met 
at the base of her closely cropped triangle ... and the clit between my 
lips.  My tongue flicked at its tip, my other hand trying to support her 
buttocks in the air.

"Oh . . . oh . . . shhhhhh . . . nnnnngggg . . ."  Debi went on crying out 
as I kept pleasuring her with all that I knew.    When her grinding and her 
yelling subsided, she crashed down on the bed.   It was one of her long, 
drawn out episodes and my fingers felt her tight spasms again and again as 
she came in waves.

"Wow ... I hope Promila didn't hear you," I said in her ears as I slid up 
onto her outstrethed body, my mouth wet from her juice, I myself trying to 
drench one of her thighs with my own.

"Mmmmm ... let her," Debi responded in a murmer, the exhaustion too apparent 
on her face, as the subdued green light of her room washed over our bodies.

"Hmmm ... you would like her to hear you, right?" My  mind, in its raunchy 
state, actually half hoped that she would, too.  Debi again murmured 
something back.  I couldn't help the urge to sneek out and spy on Promila.  
"Wait,"  I whispered, "I'll be right back."  Debi responded with another 
equally disinterested "hmmm".

	I cautiously opened the door and tiptoed to the door to my room.  My feet 
didn't need to travel too far; the door to my room was just by that of 
Debi's.  Our two rooms were virtually mirror images of one another.  As I 
stood by the door, I could hear a heavy panting. I peeked inside through the 
side of the thin curtain.  My room had no night light, but, being on the 
ground floor, the fluorescent street light amply illuminated it .  Indeed, I 
always shut my windows when I slept in there.  Promila didn't.
	Her saree bunched up above her waist, she lay at the foot of my bed, on her 
makehsift bed on the floor,  with her head towards the door.  She had her 
shapely legs bent at the knees up towards her chest and both her hands were 
busy between them.  I stood their transfixed at the scene of her 
masturbation, my own sex screaming out from between my own legs for 
attention.  I held my breath and watched, as Promila slowly stretched out 
her legs and started to move her hips back and forth - still lying on her 
side.

	I wanted to surprise her, but something held me back.  Quite involuntarily, 
I had started to flex and unflex the muscles of my inner thighs, squeezing 
down on my distended clit in rhythm.  I came back to my senses when Promila 
suddenly let go of both her hands, rolled over on her back, and spread her 
knees wide apart with a deliberate "Shhhhhhh ..." escaping from between her 
clenched teeth.  She wasn't done.  It was a breather for her.
	I had lost track of time.  Suddenly I was, once again, consciously aware of 
my own urgency down below.  With the softest feet, I back tracked into 
Debi's room and slowly slid into the bed without making any sound.
"She is doing it," I whispered against Debi's ears.  I wanted her to come 
along and jump Promila with me.  The fire between my legs burnt at a 
thousand degrees; hot enough to melt away the last residue of any waking 
vanity I had had until that moment.  But, I needed Debi as the partner in 
crime!

"Debi ..." I whispered again, "Promila is frigging herself!" I used my lewd 
slang.  Debi murmered something unintelligible.  God!  She had fallen 
asleep!

I slumped back on the bed.  I couldn't muster up the courage to go it alone. 
  Rest is quite mundane.  Yes, in that flat that night another girl 
"frigged" herself to a speedy climax and cursed herself the next morning for 
being a chicken.

I told Debi about it in the morning as she came into the room after her 
usual round of  the bathroom.  I hadn't left the bed still and she looked at 
my almost naked form and said, "Sorry I fell asleep last night."

"Sorry?" I said in a loud whisper, "You don't know the half of it."  And I  
told her all about it.

"Well, maybe some other time," Debi said in a matter of fact manner that 
caught me rather off guard.

"Really? Well ... all right then,"  I murmumerd out my baffled response.

"What? You seem to be a little spaced out," Debi winked and smiled her 
characteristically implicative smile.

"Really?" I said in a faint voice, "you seem to be very casual about it!"  
Then, suddenly,  my groggy morning head was awash with a revelation, "You 
have done it with her, haven't you!" I said under my breath and watched her 
smile. "You imp, Debi, oh God!" I felt stupid for not having seen it before. 
  All the signs of quiet lightness between those two lately, and Promila's 
somewhat bold and matter-of-fact reference to our nightly escapades became 
clear in an instant.

"Are you cross?" Debi queried as she brushed her hair standing by the bed.  
I looked up and despite a slight sense of jealousy, couldn't really get 
angry. Debi's relaxed admission quite vividly reminded of my own fantasies 
and dreams involving our  maid, and I very simply accepted it as part of our 
relationship right then.

"It's all right," I said, smiling back, "It had to happen sooner or later, 
anyway."

"You are right, I think,"  Debi opined in a very philosophical tone.  It 
wasn't one of resignation but of assertive pronouncement, "I don't think we 
can sexually  ever be mundane, and Promila surely is a very sexually 
liberated girl."

"Yes, I remember my dream," I joked, "She was quite a liberated girl in it."

"Hahaha,"  Debi laughed out loud, "You know, it was soon after that you told 
me about the dream that it happened."

"And that was almost a year back, Debi!"  I said in a hurt voicce, "How did 
you keep it from me all this time?"  Worse yet, I wondered when they did it, 
and how many times? I asked.

"Oh, it was an afternoon when you were in college and I was reading that 
book that Ajit had bought last time"

I remembered the book.  It told quite a story of a bored housewife and two 
live-in helps, one a lad of eighteen and the other a maid of forty.  What an 
appropriate book to have been the catalyst, I remember thinking to myself.

"Ah ..." I nodded, "I still haven't been able to read the whole book!" I 
chuckled.

"I know," Debi said, "I have, though.  Promila and I finished reading the 
book finally a few weeks back."

"I am sure you have," I looked quizzically up at her.  I kept on looking at 
her, expecting her to lapse into the detailed description of what 
"happened".  But she didn't, and -- for  some reason or other -- I didn't 
want to know.  Looking back, I think the inevitability of it all that I 
alluded to earlier was partly the reason why I wasn't too curious about it.

I was little edgy at the breakfast table that morning, as mind tried to take 
in all episodes since the night before.  None of us made any reference to 
anyhting about anything, and we finished our lavish Sunday breakfast making 
small talks!  I don't remember what we had for breakfast that day, but I do 
remember that Promila looked very rested and radiant and that she made an 
elaborate breakfast for the three of us.  Debi refrained from bringing up 
any topic sexual.  It felt almost a deliberate restraint on her part.  I 
think she decided to take it easy when it came to Promila and me, letting 
the proverbial chips fall where they might.
+++++++++++++++++++++
End Part 29.  (To be contd....)
<1st attachment end>


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