Friday, May 6, 2016

Hot Dogs and Hanky-Panky – A “Hot” Love Story

(Every Dog Has His Day)
Short Fiction  A Love Story

After a break – I am trying to get into a creative mood to write some short fiction – a romance love story.
So – to get into the mood – let me delve into my Creative Writing Archives – and – pull out one of my earliest stories  a hilarious romance.
I wrote this story than 12 years ago  in the year 2004.
This story also features in my short fiction anthology COCKTAIL 
Do let me know whether you liked the story.


I never reminisce.

It makes me nostalgic, poignant, and melancholic.

But  there is one thing that I love to hark back to  revisit in my mind’s eye from time to time  and have a hearty laugh.

A vivid memory of a passionate romance – that happened to me quite long ago.

Whenever I recall the hilarious love story – I always burst out laughing. 

And  I am sure you will have a laugh too  when I tell you about it.

This story happened long ago – 60 years ago – in the year 1956 to be precise.

And – this story happened in far-off tea-estate country  in a remote corner of India  almost in the back of the beyond – the place was then still a relic of the Raj.

I shall not tell you the place  and  I will also change the names  for we just want to have a laugh  don’t we?

There was a handsome planter  30. 

Let’s call him Roy.

And – he had a most beautiful wife. 

Let’s call her Helen.

A dashing couple. 

An ideal match – a made for each other“ couple – at least from the outside. 

As per my usual routine – I was having my sundowner at the Planters’ Club. 

“Please. I’d like to have a word with you,” Roy sidled up to me at the bar in the Planters’ Club one cold wintry evening.

“Sure,” I said, pointing at the bar-stool. “Come  join me for a drink.”

“Not here,” he said looking at the crowd, “It’s very personal.”

“Okay. Let’s go outside.”

I ordered two whiskies.

We picked up our drinks  and – we went out on the lawns.

It was dark, desolate and chilly.

“I don’t know how to say it,” Roy hesitated.

“Just say it,” I said.

“I want you to keep an eye on my wife,” he said.

“Something serious?” I asked.

“I think she is having an affair,” he said, “Someone visits her whenever I go out on my weekly tours.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not really. But I suspect. There are those telltale signs.”


“She seems a bit too satisfied, fulfilled, happy – how can I describe it – especially when I return home from tour. And there is a strange gleam in her eyes. And now-a-days she is overly polite and considerate towards me. I suspect she is up to some hanky-panky. ”

“Hanky-Panky? Well this is really your private matter. You know I really shouldn’t ….”

“Please,” he interrupted, “you’re the only one I can trust.”

Roy seemed so desperate  that I had no choice – so – I agreed to help him out.

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll need to see your place  and – I will need to meet your wife too.”

He told me the way to his tea-estate.

Next morning I was on my way  driving up the hairpin bends on the steep winding road in my open jeep.

My pet dog – a ferocious Doberman  Bruno  was sitting beside me.

It was a lonely bungalow atop a hill surrounded by tea gardens. 

Roy welcomed me.

He introduced me to his wife – Helen.

“I’m Helen,” she said  looking into my eyes for that moment longer than could be considered polite greeting.

She looked so ravishing  that it was with great effort that I could take my eyes off her.

No wonder he was so insecure – anyone with such a beautiful and stunningly sexy wife always feels vulnerable – especially  clots like him.

I wondered why stupid nerds like Roy always got the most gorgeous wives.

We indulged in some small-talk.

And  it was only after lunch that I brought up the subject. 

“Mrs. Roy, you must be feeling very lonely out here, isn’t it? Especially when Mr. Roy goes out on his tours...” I said to Helen.

“Oh yes, she does,” Roy interjected.

“No, No. I don’t feel lonely at all,” Helen (Mrs. Roy) said, “In fact  I love being alone. And – please don’t call me Mrs. Roy – call me Helen!”

“Why don’t you drop Helen off at the club on your way out and pick her up on your way back from your tour?” I suggested to Roy, “She can make some friends, play tennis, cards, tombola, a movie, and party – do whatever she likes and then stay for the night at the guestroom. She’ll always have plenty of lively company at the club”

“I prefer my solitude,” Helen said.

“She even sends the servants away,” Roy complained.

 “I told you I like my privacy,” Helen said, with a tinge of irritation in her voice.

She seemed quite obstinate – and  the tone of her voice slightly hostile  so I changed the subject.

“You like dogs?” I asked her.

“I love dogs  I adore dogs,” she said excitedly, “We always had pet dogs back home at my parents place. I have been telling Roy to get me a nice dog to keep me company  but he hates dogs.”

“Your prayers are answered,” I said.

Then  I led Helen to my jeep  where my handsome Doberman Bruno was sitting obediently.

“A gift for the charming lady,” I announced holding Bruno by the collar  and making him smell her.

Bruno instantly took a liking for her – he wagged his tail  and he nudged affectionately against her.

She was overjoyed.

Roy apparently wasn’t too enthusiastic about Bruno  but I silenced him with a stern look.

On my way out  when I was alone with Roy  I confided in him: “We will catch the lover-boy now. Bruno is the best guard dog in our kennel. I trained him myself. Just leave him in the verandah when you go out at night. Bruno is a Doberman – he is deadly ferocious – whoever is doing hanky-panky with your wife – well  the lover boy is going to be ripped apart from limb to limb.”

A wicked smile appeared on Roy’s face  as  in his mind’s eye  he visualized his wife’s mysterious lover being devastated and mutilated by the ferocious dog.

That evening  many things happened. 

Roy left on his tour  viciously excited  probably relishing in his imagination what was going to happen to Helen’s unknown “lover” that night.

Later that night  after a furious bout of lovemaking  Helen was lying fully satiated in the arms of her lover  and – Helen asked her passionate lover: “How did you manage? That ferocious dog Bruno did not even bark!”

Her lover gently took her to the window  he drew the curtains  and he said: “Look!”

In the verandah they saw a totally exhausted Bruno  coupled with a beautiful she-dog  both interlocked  pointing in opposite directions  dog-tired after a vigorous bout of lovemaking and mating.

The mysterious lover mischievously looked at Helen  and he naughtily teased her: “Tell me  which dog can resist the charms of a hot-blooded bitch in full heat?”

Helen looked at Bruno.

Then – Helen looked at her lover  which was Me.

Helen looked lovingly into my eyes and laughed – and – she said teasingly to me: “You hot-dogs! You have both been up to hanky-panky  haven’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, tongue-in-cheek, “Every Dog has his day!”

Copyright © Vikram Karve 
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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.

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