Plain Jane

Recently – a witty “girlfriend” cheerfully called me “Dude”.

Am I really a “Dude”…?

Or – am I a “Prude”…?

Well – read this story – and decide for yourself…

“PLAIN JANE”

Fiction Short Story

A Spoof

By

VIKRAM KARVE

PART 1 – “STEALING AFFECTIONS”

The doorbell rang.

I had just returned home – and – I was taking off my uniform.

I wondered who it was.

I put on my uniform – I walked out of the bedroom – and – I opened the door.

It was my wife’s friend Menaka – that chic gorgeous beauty who lived opposite our house.

“My wife is not at home – she has gone to her mother’s place for a week…” I said.

“I know,” Menaka said, “I have come to meet you.”

“Me…?”

“Yes – I want to you to take me out to the city for shopping.”

“Me…? You want me to take you out shopping…?”

“Yes. My husband is out sailing – and – I need some things from town – so I thought I would ask you to take me to the market on your bike…” she said.

She was standing in the door – with the evening sun behind her.

The rays of the sun penetrated through the light fabric of her summery white dress.

I could see the curvaceous silhouette of her shapely body quite clearly.

My eyes travelled over the silhouette of her body – and lingered exactly where they should not have.

I felt ashamed of having eyed her body so brazenly.

So – I quickly moved my eyes away and lowered my glance.

After a few moments – I looked up at her.

She looked so sensuous, so tantalizing, so alluring – that I could not take my eyes away from her.

But – she seemed nonchalant – oblivious of the stirring sensual vibes she was radiating – standing as she was – in her light ‘see-through’ dress – with the sun behind her.

“Are you going to just keep staring at me – or – are you going to invite me inside…?” she said, with a naughty smile.

“Oh – I am very sorry – please come inside…” I said, embarrassed.

She came inside – and she sat on the sofa in the living room.

I stood there – mesmerized – wondering what to do.

“Why don’t you change into civvies…?” she said, “it is already 5:30 – and I have a lot of shopping to do.”

“Yes, Yes…” I said – and I quickly walked into my bedroom.

As I started taking off my uniform – I kept thinking of her – my wife’s friend – the gorgeous Menaka – sitting in the living room – and – my imagination started running wild.

Her husband was away.

My wife was away.

She was lonely.

I was lonely.

We both were lonesome.

Anything could happen.

First – she would sit behind me on my motorcycle – holding me tight.

Then – we would have a ‘good time’ in the city – shopping, eating, and walking around – and – maybe – she would ask me to take her for a movie.

When we returned back – it would be late – so – maybe – she would me invite me to her home for dinner.

Then – maybe – she would offer me a drink – and – maybe – she would join me for a drink.

(Yes – I had seen her drinking at parties).

Then – as we sat together – one drink would lead to another – and – sitting together in an atmosphere of intimacy – with our inhibitions dissolved in alcohol – anything could happen. 

Yes – anything could happen.

She was very attractive – and – I wouldn’t mind having an affair with her – but – I did not have the guts to do so – because – I shuddered to think of the consequences.

My shrewd wife would surely sense that I had indulged in “hanky-panky” – and she would surely divorce me.

Besides – in the Navy – “stealing the affection of a brother officer’s wife” was considered an offence – and – I could be sacked and dismissed from the Navy with disgrace.

It would be a ‘double-whammy’ – both my marriage and my career would be in shambles.

Yes – there was absolutely no point in taking the risk.

So – I buttoned up my uniform – and – I went out into the living room.

Menaka looked at me.

She seemed perplexed to see me still wearing uniform – so – she said to me: “What happened…? Why are you still in uniform…? Why haven’t you changed into ‘civvies’…?”

“I am sorry – but I cannot take you out shopping…” I said.

“But why…? What happened…? Just a few minutes ago – you had readily agreed to take me out shopping…” she said, looking confused.

“No. I am sorry. Please excuse me. I cannot tell you the reason – but – I can’t take you out shopping…” I said, shamefacedly.

“If you don’t want to help me – it’s fine. It’s okay. I’ll ask someone else…” she said, looking disappointed.

Then – Menaka got up from the sofa – and she walked out of my house.

ONE WEEK LATER

PART 2 – “SOCIAL GRACES”

When I came home from work in the evening – I saw that my wife was angry.

“Don’t you have any ‘social graces’…?” my wife thundered.

“What happened…?” I asked.

“I was hugely embarrassed at the Ladies Club Meet – thanks to your stupid behaviour…” my wife said angrily.

“What did I do…?” I asked her.

With scorn in her eyes – my wife rebuked me:

“Menaka asked you to take her out shopping because her husband was sailing out at sea – and – you rudely refused her…? First – you said ‘YES’ – then – you said ‘NO’ – she has told everyone about your ‘unofficerlike’ ungentlemanly behaviour – and – it was so humiliating for me. Because of your weird behaviour you have become the ‘laughing-stock’ among all the naval ladies. And – everyone is laughing at me too for having such an ‘ill-mannered’ ‘nincompoop’ husband. I really don’t know how they made you an officer in the Navy…?

“There is a reason…” I tried to explain.

But – my wife interrupted me and shouted: “Just shut up – I thought Naval Officers were supposed to be chivalrous – and you behaved in a most boorish way with a lady who wanted your help – you are a disgrace – I feel ashamed to be your wife…”

I saw that my wife was so angry that there was no point in my trying to explain my side of the story to her.

It was best for me to remain silent.

My wife went into the kitchen.

I went into the bedroom – changed from uniform into ‘civvies’ – and lay down on my bed.

After some time – my wife informed me that she was going to the market with her friends.

PART 3 – “CHIVALRY”

I relaxed for some time after my wife had left.

Then I got up.

It was getting dark. 

I poured my first drink of Rum and Water (Rum-Paani) – and – I sat down in front of the TV.

I looked at the wall-clock.

One hour had passed since my wife had gone out shopping with her friends.

She would be back soon.

I was enjoying my second drink when the doorbell rang.

“It must be my wife,” I thought – and I opened the door.

It wasn’t my wife.

There was a woman standing at my door.

I did not recognize her.

She was the most ordinary looking woman I had ever seen.

She was not ugly – she just looked prosaic and pedestrian – a real “Plain Jane”.

Yes – she was a “Plain Jane” – a “homely” type of woman.

She was the kind of woman with whom a man could spend time and not feel disloyal to his wife.

Yes – she was the type of woman a wife would readily allow her husband to go out on a date with – and feel safe about it.

“Hi,” she said, “It looks like you haven’t recognized me…”

“I am sorry…” I stammered.

She interrupted me – and she said: “I am Mala – Mrs. ‘XXX’ – we’ve come on posting and we have just shifted to this building last week… ”

“Oh – please come in,” I said to her, “what can I do for you…?”

“No. No. I won’t come in – but – it’s a bit urgent – can you please take me to the market…?”

“Market…?”

“Yes. My husband is out sailing – and I have to get something urgently – from the medical store – it’s very urgent…” she said.

I remembered the previous embarrassing episode with my wife’s beautiful friend Menaka – where I had refused to take Menaka to the city.

And – I remembered my wife’s sermon on ‘social graces’ and ‘chivalry’.

Besides – this “Plain Jane” standing in front of me – Mala – she looked so unexciting and ordinary – that even otherwise – I would have no hesitation in giving her a lift on my bike. 

Also – she was asking me to take her only to the nearby market. 

So – I readily agreed.

Soon – we – Mala and I – we both were riding on my bike on our way to the market.

Mala was holding onto me very tightly.

She may have been ordinarily looking – but – she was quite ‘well endowed’ – and voluptuous too. 

I too – like her – I was on the ‘healthier side’.

So – it was a tight squeeze on the small seat of the bike – and – Mala put both her hands around me and clung onto me tightly – and – our bodies were in close contact – snug together.

On the way – I saw my wife and her friends walking back from the market – so I proudly waved out to my wife.

I was sure my wife would be proud of me for my ‘chivalry’ and ‘social graces’ in helping out a lady.

When I returned home – I saw that my wife was furious.

The moment my wife saw me – she shouted at me: “Where the hell were you taking Mala on your bike…?”

“You know Mala..?”

“Yes. We met this morning at the Ladies Club – but – I am asking you what she was doing with you on your bike – squeezing you in a tight embrace – hugging your body so shamelessly…? It was disgusting – the way you two were clinging onto each other. Tell me. Why was Mala with you on your bike...?”

“She wanted to go to the market…”

“But why did you take her…? She could have walked down to the market herself – like I did…”

“She said that it was urgent…”

“Urgent – My Foot…!!!”

“She wanted to buy something from the medical store. And – you only told me about ‘social graces’ – that I should be ‘chivalrous’ towards ladies…”

“Don’t talk nonsense…”

“Nonsense…? She is such a simple lady…”

“Simple lady…? She is a ‘man-eater’ – she is a ‘nympho’ – she was trying to seduce you…”

“Seduce me…?”

“Yes. She ‘mesmerized’ you – didn’t she…?”

“Mesmerized me…? What are you saying…?”

My wife looked at me – and she said: “Do you know what Mala told me at the Ladies Club Meet this morning…?”

“What…?”

“She said that she could ‘mesmerize’ any man…” 

“ She said that she could ‘mesmerize’ any man…? So...?” 

“I told her that she could not ‘mesmerize’ you – I told her that you were a ‘prude’ – I told her about how you had refused to take Menaka to the city…”

“What…?”

“In fact – it was Menaka who told everyone the story about your strange behaviour – and – everyone laughed...”

“Oh…”

 “And then – Mala boasted that she could easily ‘mesmerize’ you into taking her to the market on your bike...”

“Really…”

“But – everyone said that you would never take Mala on your bike – and – I also said that she would not be able to ‘mesmerize’ you into taking her to the market on your bike...” 

“Oh…” 

“So – Mala dared me to take a bet – and – I took a bet with her…” my wife said.

“Oh – so you are angry because you lost the bet…” I said to my wife.

“No – I am worried that I may lose the second bet…” my wife said.

“Second bet…? You took two bets with Mala…?” I asked my wife.

“Yes. The first bet was that she could ‘mesmerize’ you into taking her for a ride on your bike…”

“Okay. She won that bet. And what was the second bet…?”

“She said that she could ‘seduce’ you…”

EPILOGUE

Did Mala try to ‘seduce’ me…?

Did she succeed in seducing me into having an affair with her…?

Well – Dear Reader – that’s another story.

But – one thing is for sure.

A “Plain Jane” has a more rollicking ‘Love Life’ than a “Beautiful Woman”.

Maybe – you may not agree with me – but this is a “universal truth” I have observed during my college days – and – later – in my adult life too.

Ordinary looking “Plain Janes” have much more ‘Fun’ than those so-called “Sex Bombs” 

You don’t believe me?

Have a look around you – and observe – who is having uninhibited “fun” – who is having a really “good time” – the “Plain Janes” – or – the “Gorgeous Girls”…?

Tell me – Dear Reader:

Am I right – or – am I wrong…?

But – before you go away – please answer the ‘moot question’ I asked you right in the beginning.

Tell me – Dear Reader – do I deserve the to be called a “Dude”…? 

See you soon – with my next “love story”… 

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Disclaimer:

1. This story is a spoof, satire, pure fiction, just for fun and humor, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh.

2. 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.

Copyright Notice:

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.

Copyright © Vikram Karve (All Rights Reserved)

     

© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

 

NAUGHTY DATE AT CHURCHGATE - Flirty Romance

NAUGHTY DATE AT CHURCHGATE 

Flirty Romance

By  

VIKRAM KARVE

Dear Reader:

Are you feeling “bored”?

Let me try to banish your boredom – and to do that I will delve into my Creative Writing Archives and pull out this breezy romance for you.

I wrote this story 11 years ago, in the year 2004, during my glorious Mumbai days.

I spent six of the best years of my life in Mumbai. 

I was very lucky – I lived in a beautiful heritage building called Empress Court opposite the Oval. 

Every morning I woke up sharp at six to the chimes of the majestic clock on the University of Mumbai Rajabai Tower and I would be off to Marine Drive for my brisk morning jog cum walk from Churchgate to Chowpatty and back right till land’s end at Nariman Point. 

This was for physical exercise.

For mental relaxation, in the evenings, I would go on a leisurely walk on Marine Drive or on Colaba Causeway, and then I would browse books in the Oxford Bookstore next door. 

I loved browsing in Oxford Bookstore, and sometimes would browse books after dinner too, and on Sunday afternoons as well. 

I can never forget the many delightful hours I spent browsing books in the comfort of Oxford Book Store on those elegant orange rocking chairs, refreshing myself with delicious cups of invigorating teas in the Cha-Bar.

My wife would keep an eye on me (to ensure I was browsing books only) from our second floor balcony in Empress Court as I sat in a rocking chair enjoying  my reading. 

Whenever I got time I would go across to Oxford and enjoy my moments there – the staff was very courteous and they encouraged browsing. 

After relocating to Pune, the one thing I miss is Oxford Bookstore, the tranquil ambiance and the wonderful time I spent there among books.

This story is set this story in the Oxford Book Store and the surroundings.

I wrote this story 11 years ago, in the year 2004. 

I have written many short stories set in Mumbai but this story remains one of my all time favourite Mumbai Stories.

This story features in COCKTAIL – my book of short stories about relationships.

I am sure you will love this breezy romance – the story of a bored housewife and her exciting adventure. 

Read on – enjoy this flirty naughty romance

NAUGHTY DATE AT CHURCHGATE – a flirty romance by Vikram Karve

What do you do if a man looks at you with frank admiration in his eyes?

He looks yearningly at you in an insistent suggestive sort of way that is worth a thousand compliments.

What do you do?

Nothing. 

You do absolutely nothing. 

You do nothing because you are a thoroughly bored “happily” married thirty year old housewife sitting comfortably in your favourite rocking chair, browsing through Benjamin Spock’s Baby and Child Care, at the Oxford Bookstore at Churchgate in Mumbai.

So you just look down at your feet, you act as if you have not noticed, and you try to read.

But you cannot read – the words just don’t focus in front of you. 

You think of the man, his lingering look, his eyes curiously languid, yet inviting – it’s the first time someone looked at you in such a flattering way for a long long time.

You feel a tinge of excitement.

Maybe something is going to happen. 

Something exciting, something dangerously exciting is going to happen to you. 

At long last.

Something that you have been secretly wanting to happen, and thought would never ever happen.

Or maybe it’s nothing.

Just your imagination playing tricks.

So just to check. 

Once. 

Only once. 

You quickly look up – a fleeting glance.

He is still looking at you – not furtively, but brazenly, almost unashamedly, with waves of yearning flowing out of his eyes. 

He looks a decisive, hot-blooded and masculine man with his smart beard and piercing eyes.

You feel a flush inside. 

A shiver. 

A tremor. 

A tremor of trepidation – mixed with excitement. 

You cannot define how you feel – but it feels good. 

He looks at you. 

You look back at him in return. 

He begins to smile. 

You quickly look down and bury yourself into the pages in front of you and pretend to read.

But it is no use. 

You can sense his unseen eyes locked onto you, burning into you, travelling all over your body and lingering exactly where they should not – just like a laser beam.

And now, he knows that you know.

So what do you do...? 

It is best not to react – just accept the fact of being looked at – ignore him and keep on pretending to read.

Oh, No...! 

That may be dangerous. 

He may get ideas. 

You never know these types. 

He may think you are game. 

But are you game for some fun...? 

Or aren’t you...?

Why not play on... have some fun... flirt a bit... see what happens.

Why not have a little excitement to enliven up your boring life a bit.

So you take a deep breath, and you brace yourself, and you start a dangerous flirtation game.

You look up from your book, pan your gaze slowly across the bookstore, looking at everything – the shelves of books, the people, the cha-bar, the sales counter - and finally, like a dog that has circled its bowl of food long enough, you look directly at him.

Eyes meet. 

His and yours. 

Yours and his. 

His appraising eyes look into yours. 

And then his eyes travel down and look at the book in your hands.

You spontaneously follow his gaze, and look down at the book in your hands – Benjamin Spock’s Baby and Child Care – most inappropriate for what you have in mind. 

You quickly put it away into the rack, run your eyes across the shelf and pick up ‘The Art of Seduction’.

You turn the pages – nothing registers – so you look up at him almost seeking approbation.

He smiles – a wry canny smile – as if he knows something you don’t. 

And suddenly he gets up from the chair, keeps the magazine he is holding back in the rack and begins walking towards you.

Your heart stops – you want to disappear, but he is already standing in front of you.

“Good morning Anita,” he says. “I’m Sen. Dilip Sen.”

Anita...? 

You are not Anita. 

It seems to be a case of mistaken identity.

But you are curious, and in a playful mood, so you say, “Oh, Hello Mr. Sen. You are late.”

“Late...? No,” he says looking at his watch, and with a confused look on his face, he says: “The RV is correct - as planned.”

“RV...?” you ask, puzzled.

“Rendezvous... ” he says, matter-of-factly.

Now you are really curious. 

“Why don’t you pull up that stool and sit down so we can talk comfortably,” you say to the man.

“Not here. Let’s go to the cha-bar. We can talk in peace there,” he says.

“Okay,” you say.

You replace the book in its place in the shelf, get up and walk towards the cha-bar.

The cha-bar – the tea lounge – it’s the best thing about Oxford Bookstore. 

The cha-bar is an ideal place to relax, browse, or have a quiet flirtatious chat over a cup of exquisite tea.

As you sip, savouring the fragrance and relishing the rich flavour of premium Darjeeling Tea, you feel a shiver of anticipation. 

It’s your first time. 

You wonder what’s going to happen next.

“Well done. Let’s recap,” he says pulling out a pocket diary.

Well done?

Recap?

You wonder what this is all about. 

The man seems to be crazy. 

But you keep your wits about, and to calm down you say to yourself, “Relax. Just keep quiet and play along.”

And to Mr. Sen, you say confidently, “Okay. Sure. Let’s recap.”

“Step 1,” he says looking into the diary in front of him, “you and I independently arrive at the previously agreed upon rendezvous. Your choice is excellent – this bookstore – easy to wait, observe and not be noticed. We just blended in. Much better cover than a railway station, park or restaurant. And the book you chose – Baby and Child Care - easily discernible – so aptly chosen. Perfect for your cover. Looked so natural in your hands.”

“Do I look pregnant...?” you snap at him.

“No. No. I am sorry. I didn’t mean it that way,” he says, taken aback, “You look lovely. But the book – it suited your cover – as a bored housewife.”

Cover...? A bored housewife...? What’s he talking...?

That’s what you are, aren’t you...?

Husband busy working, kids at school, and you – a bored housewife... bored to death with nothing to do.

“I’m not bored,” you tease him with your eyes... you flatter him by looking steadily at him without letting your eyes stray.

“Step 2 – making eye contact. We could be a bit more discreet next time, isn’t it...?” he says smiling into your eyes.

Discreet...? Next time...? What’s going on...? Who’s this guy...?

“Step 3 – the signal. Change of book. Okay. But ‘The Art of Seduction’...?” he looks perplexed, “you should have picked up something more sober – in line with your cover…..”

He goes on and on.

But you aren’t listening. 

You just look at him. 

A man who looks like a man. 

Solid, strong, decisive but vulnerable.

You fantasize.

Your imagination begins to run wild.

You feel his touch – he has put his hand in your arm. 

His touch is electric.

A shiver of anticipation rises within you.

Suddenly he is shaking you.

You snap back to reality.

“Okay Anita. Let’s get on with the tradecraft,” he says, in an almost imperative tone.

“Tradecraft...?”

“Yes. And make sure you don’t grow a tail.”

“Tail...? “

“Yes,” he says, “Be careful. Maybe you’ve already grown a tail – check it out and shake it off.”

“Grown a tail...?” unknowingly you move your hand over your behind to check and instinctively shake your bottom.

“Not there...!” he reprimands, in a voice a teacher uses to scold a careless student.

“Have you forgotten everything – counter surveillance protocol...?”

“Countersurveillance protocol...?” you ask credulous.

“Come on Anita. Snap out of it. Be alert. They told me you were a seasoned detective. Now get on with your mission. We can't afford to abort the mission now...”

Detective...? Mission...? What’s he talking about...?

Oh my God...! Fear starts rising within you. It’s getting dangerous. This is for real... it's no longer fun. It’s time to run.

“Excuse me,” you say, quickly get up and start walking towards the exit. 

You sense he is following you. 

So the moment you get out of the bookstore, you deliberately avoid going to your car but walk in the opposite direction towards the Oval.

The Clock on Rajabai Tower is striking twelve – it is twelve noon.

You look back over your shoulder. 

Dilip Sen is following you.

You break into a run, still looking back, and suddenly bang into someone.

Oh, My God...! 

It’s Nalini – your gossipy neighbour.

“What happened...?” Nalini asks, steadying you up.

“Nothing,” you say.

“Hey. Why did you abort...?” Dilip Sen asks, catching up with you, his hand clutching your arm.

“Abort...? Did you say ‘Abort’...?” exclaims Nalini, her eyebrows arched, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Nalini looks at Dilip Sen.

Then she looks at me with an incredulous look in her eyes, and she says to me in astonishment, “You and him? And...you...Anita...abortion...?”

You look at Nalini. 

You look at Dilip Sen. 

And then you look at at Nalini again.

Nalini’s roving eyes travel all over you, look meaningfully at Dilip Sen, for that significant moment her eyes focus on his hand holding yours, taking in everything, till her gaze settles down pointedly looking at where it should not.

Everything seems frozen in silence – a terrible silence, a deafening silence, a grotesque silence.

You look at Nalini, her changing expression.

Nalini looks at you with envious awe. 

And you see something mischievously wicked in her large radiating eyes.

You know you are sunk.

Yes, you are truly sunk. 

Lock, Stock and Barrel. 

“Up the Gum Tree” as they say.

You break out into laughter. 

That’s the only sane thing left to do. 

But one thing is for sure. 

For me – life isn’t going to be boring any longer after this naughty date at Churchgate.

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.

Disclaimer:

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.

Copyright Notice:

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.

Copyright © Vikram Karve (all rights reserved)

This story written by me Vikram Karve in the year 2004, published in my short stories book COCKTAIL, and posted online by me earlier in my blogs a number of times including at urls: http://creative.sulekha.com/my-favourite-short-stories-part-51-flirtation-seduction-abortion_543620_blog  and  http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2010/08/flirtation-seduction-abortion.html