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Wednesday, September 24, 2014
INFATUATION – A Spicy Love Story
Short Fiction – A Spicy Love Story
From my Creative Writing Archives:
I started writing short fiction more than twenty years ago.
Here is one of my earliest short stories – virginal writing from a novice …
INFATUATION – A Spicy Love Story by Vikram Karve
Sundar described the vivid details of his spicy conquests and lascivious exploits in a language that would make a sailor blush.
I listened with awe and admiration as he regaled us with intimate accounts of the exciting nightlife and exhilarating carnal delights he had experienced in his travels all round the world.
A tall, strapping, flamboyant, handsome man endowed with an excellent physique, Sundar had been a Casanova even when we were in college, ten years ago.
Even then, he always entertained us with mind-blowing stories of his amorous adventures and we all listened to him in rapt attention and vicarious awe, lapping up each word with juicy envy.
We had not met since we left college.
He had gone abroad for higher studies and had recently returned to take up a top executive position in a prestigious firm.
He was hosting our annual alumni association dinner on the lawns of his palatial bungalow.
As usual, the gents were huddled around the bar enjoying their drinks, while the ladies sat together gossiping on the lawn.
I thought it was bad manners to neglect the ladies, so I excused myself and walked towards the lawn.
“Good evening. I am Mrs Sundar. Call me Menaka. That’s my name,” she proffered her hand.
Her touch was electric.
Menaka was stunningly attractive.
She had worn her sari in a manner that was so revealing that she might as well have worn nothing.
Her shapely breasts were boldly outlined under her low-cut flimsy blouse.
She had tucked her sari tightly, and low, accentuating the curves of her well-proportioned derriere and enhancing the sex appeal of her smooth stomach, adorned with a perfect navel.
Her body was exquisite – she was temptingly beautiful.
I cannot describe the sensation she evoked in me.
Not for a long time had the mere sight of a woman aroused the sleeping dog in me to such an extent.
I just could not get her out of my mind and after that evening, every time I made love to my wife, I fantasized about Menaka.
My wife seemed happily surprised at my increased libido and improved performance.
I didn’t meet the Sundar for quite some time, but common friends always talked of Sundar’s high-falutin boasts of his promiscuous lifestyle and conversations always pulsated with blurred but knowing rumours of the sex orgies going on in his house.
Almost two months later, one evening, I happened to pass by Sundar’s house.
On a sudden impulse, I decided to pay him a visit.
I rang the bell.
Menaka opened the door.
She was wearing a tight-fitting T-shirt tucked into a short skirt.
She looked temptingly sexy and desirable.
The frank admiration in my eyes won a smile.
She let her eyes hold mine.
“What a surprise? Please come in,” she said, leading me to the sofa, “My husband has gone toLondon. Make yourself comfortable.”
She offered me a drink.
As I sipped my whisky and soda, I noticed that she had been drinking too.
She put on some music, excused herself and went inside, probably to her bedroom.
When she returned, she looked so ravishing that I was convinced that she had titivated for me.
I sensed the beginnings of an experience that I had always felt would elude me.
I felt excited. But the improbability of the situation made me a bit incredulous and cautious.
She sat close to me and looked into my eyes in such a sensual way that I got the silent message.
The lion in me was aroused.
I could restrain myself no longer.
I pulled her in my arms and kissed her.
I was astonished at the intensity of her response.
Her crude eagerness surprised me.
It was as if she had not learned much in her years with her husband.
As I started to make love to her, she screamed in pain.
This Story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.