Night of Passion with Shwets

In the normal course, my meeting with Shweta would have never taken place. I have been granted leave but no one is willing to assume charge while I am away. I have to change my travel plans at the last moment. The new itinerary involves a stopover at Delhi. A thrilling thought comes to my mind- why not spend a night in Delhi in a five star hotel and make love. I am indecisive as ever. But I have to leave by the night train and a decision has to be taken right now. I decide to make a phone call to my estranged wife.
After the conversation, one thing is clear. She does not want to revive the relation. I should have no qualms in having sex with a call girl. It has been over eight months since I touched the body of a woman and that was Pallavi. I decide to go ahead.
It is past four when I arrive at my place of residence and log into my computer. I connect to the Internet and visit the Ashoka website. The Ashoka is an obvious choice. All the girls whom I have met so far and most ‘agents’ have recommended this hotel. I attempt to book the room the following day- the 6th of March-and punch in my credit card details. Soon the message that my reservation has been confirmed appears on the screen. So one can book a room just a day in advance! The room costs me Rs 8000 plus taxes. The first part of my job is done. Now I have to search the web for a suitable girl.
The list of so called ‘independent escorts’ seems to have become longer ever since I developed a taste for this rather expensive form on entertainment. There were only a handful of such agencies some years ago-but now the list seems endless. There are websites advertising girls with interesting names like Anisha Malik, Palak Chawla, Smita Arora, Avni Mehta, Trisha Singh, Rimpi Jain, Arushi Joshi, Joya Sen in addition to the websites of Purnima Bhat, Pallavi Rao and Nikki Vohra- the websites that I have monitored for over four years now. Two websites attract my attention: – the website of Palak Chawla – the most expensive of the lot- Rs 15000 for 2-3 hours and Rs 30,000 for ‘overnight.’ Smita Arora who charges Rs 17000 for 2-3 hours and Rs 27,000 for ‘the entire night’ is not far behind. All the other websites have the same rate- Rs 15000 for a couple of hours and Rs 20,000 for the entire night. Another interesting website run in the name of some Jessica is also interesting-
Hi this is Jessica here. I am a high profile female escort from Delhi. I am MILKY FAIR 5’6” tall busty my vitals are 36-26-36. I can make you feel the perfect girl friend experience of a lifetime.
The expression MILKY FAIR in capitals instantly attracts my attention. Her charges are also Rs 15,000 for a couple of hours and Rs 30,000 for a night long love making session. Of course like all Indians I have a fascination for ‘milky fair’ girls but this one is a bit expensive. And from my experience I know that one never gets the girl that is described on the website. So I decide not to contact Jessica.
The websites of ‘escort agencies’ are equally interesting. Two websites are worth mentioning- Indian anal escorts and Indian lesbian escorts. The former website promises a stunning Swati ‘As wonderful and magically enticing as her name charming and seductive an absolute first class model.’ The girl has ‘Traffic stopping perfection knowing just how to show off her amazing figure to its delightful best with subtle make up flattering her incredible natural beauty.’ She has ‘eye popping legs’ and is a ‘perfect vision of breathtaking loveliness.’ The charges as usual are Rs 15000 for a couple of hours and Rs 20,000 for a ‘dinner date’.
India Lesbian Escorts provides ‘a truly unique experience’ a couple of girls Shivani and Amrita for whooping Rs 40,000 for an ‘overnight dinner date.’ I note the phone numbers and the e-mail addresses mentioned in all these websites on a piece of paper, pack my luggage and am on my way. The following morning I reach Delhi at 8:30 AM. I have to pass my time at the railway station till it is noon. I purchase an issue of The Times of India. The advertisements of escort service agencies and massage parlours are of course there. Leafing through the newspaper, I sit on a bench on the platform till it is nine thirty and I feel hungry. I move to a restaurant near the railway station. Most of the persons here are in the company of women. Of course some look like young lovers and some middle aged and old couples are also there: ‘Imparadised in each other’s arms’, while only ‘I to hell am thrust’. Normally I am inured to such grim reminders of my lonely existence. But today solitude seems to taunt me. The fact that I shall be meeting a girl soon has ironically made me exposed and raw and appears to have given me a sense of heightened awareness of my loneliness.
I check in at The Ashoka at noon. I have booked the room for a single person. If I had booked the room for two they would have asked me who the other person is during check in. Now I have sufficient experience and I know that booking the room for two won’t make my task (or the girl’s task) easier. The persons on duty will expect money from the girl when she comes to meet me in the evening- even if the room is booked for two persons. Of course no one escorts me to my room. But the moment I get out of the lift at the fifth floor, a group of persons is there to guide me to my room. They lift my baggage and show me the room. The lock is open and I walk in.

One of the agencies on the web is It is also cheaper and within my budget- Rs 15,000 for the whole night. The rate for a single shot is not mentioned on the web. The website gives the mobile number of someone called Rohit. I call him and ask him the rate for a single shot.
‘Rs 8000,’ he says.
I include this in the list of probables. I call a phone number mentioned in the website of someone who calls herself Anisha Malik. A very old woman seems to have responded to my call.
‘The rate Rs 15000/- that you have indicated for three four hours service is for one shot?’
‘Yes one shot,’ she says in a feeble voice. I decide not to call her again.
A small text only advertisement attracts my attention. ‘Indian Beauty Broadminded girls/ housewife wkg lady available for 100% relaxation H/H 24 hrs Call Molly Mobile no xxxx (Reqd girls/ housewives.) The advertisement is different because the agency requires girls and housewives in addition to clients. I ask the charges for the services and the guy at the other end who seems to speak perfect English asks me the place from where I am calling.
‘The charges shall be three thousand for three hours.’
‘I shall call you again in the evening. How much advance notice do you require?’
‘We are open from 4 PM to 11 PM. I can send the girl in an hour.’
The rate seems dirt-cheap! Much cheaper than the girls on the web. But I have doubts. The girl may not be good. She could be like Sonia. She would leave me in less than an hour. The words of Pallavi Rao seem to echo once more.
‘The girls you get these days through classified advertisements are not good. The persons who make contact through newspaper advertisements are also not good.’
‘What type of girl will I get for Rs 3000?’ I ask.
‘You are calling from a five star hotel. We know what type of girl you expect. We shall send a call center girl. She has an excellent profile. But she shall cost Rs 6000 for three four hours.’
‘Okay, I shall call you again in the evening.’
I have almost made up my mind for this call center girl. But I feel that I should call another agency. This is also a text only advertisement and offers ‘Relaxable body massage by decent charming beautiful Indian male/ female staff.’
‘How much will your services cost?’
A person who appears drunk responds and asks from where I am calling. I reply.
‘Rs two thousand for an hour.’
‘You have only one rate or other rates also?’
‘The other one shall cost Rs 3000.’
‘What is the rate for the full night?’
‘Rupees six thousand.’
After much thought, I make a decision. I shall have the girl Molly is offering. Now I know that an expensive girl may not be so pretty. If the Rs 15,000 girl turns out to be not so beautiful I waste Rs 15,000. If the Rs 6000 girl is not good I lose Rs 6000. And wasting Rs 6000 is better than wasting Rs 15000 or Rs 20,000. If however I decide to have a girl from an Internet based agency I shall call Rohit.
It is 2 PM. I decide to have lunch in The Ashoka itself. I do not wish to waste my time loitering about searching for a cheaper hotel. I had wandered a bit too far looking for Viagra a couple of years ago and could not perform well at night. I have spent the previous night in the train and must refresh myself for a pleasant evening.

Ashoka seems to have improved a lot in the past two years. I decide to take a round. The list of restaurants is endless: Darbar India Lakhnavi offers specialities from the court of Avadh; Frontier has North West frontier ambience; China town the Chinese restaurant has a Chinese band in addition to Chinese delicacies. That is not all: The Ashoka has Kum Gang the first Korean restaurant in Delhi, Mashraba; the finest Lebanese restaurant with live entertainment, Ssteel is the name of the bar and Sagar Ratna provides South Indian Food. In addition there it tea lounge, a cake shop and a coffee shop open 24 hours. The shopping mall inside the Ashoka boasts of a branch of the Central bank of India, a jewellery shop and a magazine cum bookstall. The passage is lit by glittering chandeliers. The lobby is empty only: a plain looking lady about thirty years old, wearing glasses is there showing a presentation on her laptop to two gentlemen. I want to have Indian vegetarian food and Sagar Ratna is an obvious choice. I am directed to the end of the passage. Here a security guard asks me to go down. I have to traverse another flight of stairs till I am in Sagar Ratna.
At about 3 PM I am back in my room. One thing is not sure. Will I get only one shot for Rs 6000 from the girl Molly is offering or will I get two shots? I decide to ask the guy again.
‘I am speaking from the Ashoka. I talked to you earlier also. What is the rate for the full night?’
‘Rs 6000 as I told you. But you shall have to take her around, have dinner if you want a full night date.’
‘For this amount do I get one shot or two shots?’
‘You can have two shots.’
‘Do I have to pay extra money towards taxi fare tips etc?’
‘Can the girl come to my room in the Ashoka or will I have to come down to escort her to my room?’
‘There shall be no problem. She shall come to your room.’
‘Okay I shall call you later in the evening.’
A great deal! I thank my stars. Two shots, full night for Rs 6000 and no extra cost! Whatever doubts I had have been cleared. Now I need not contact any other agency or locate some Cyber café to contact online agencies.
I spend an hour and a half relaxing in my room. It is late afternoon. Yellow sunlight enters my room through the glass window. I feel that I have spent quite some time sitting idly in the room doing nothing. I must make the final call now. At about 5:30 PM, I put Rs 6000 in a paper envelope provided as hotel stationery and call the guy who calls himself Molly again.
‘I am Pradeep Vasudeva speaking from Ashoka. I have talked to you twice earlier. I want the girl for the whole night. I am in room number 509.’
‘The girl is excellent. She has a great potential! She is highly educated. I shall call you again to confirm. Please give me five minutes.’
I know he wants to talk to the girl. The five minutes seem like an hour. Ultimately there is a missed call on my mobile phone. I call back the number that appears on the screen.
‘She is ready. But you shall have to come to Ansal Plaza to pick her up. You may come right now in a cab and take her to some movie and go around with her.’
I have doubts. Is this an elaborate trap laid by the police? After all, Ansal Plaza was the venue of a fake encounter a few years ago. What type of encounter shall I have? Will I be arrested as soon as I hand over the money to the girl? Or will some goons loot me of the money that has to be given to the girl leaving me high and dry?
‘But can’t she come to my hotel room?’
‘I only want that you should make the most of Shweta, take her around enjoy and keep her till 3 AM with you. What is the problem in coming to Ansal Plaza and taking her to a movie?’
‘I am not interested in watching a movie. As far as coming to Ansal plaza is concerned, I have doubts. I can’t trust anyone. Let her come to my room. Then we can decide where we can go.’ I say frankly.
Okay she shall come to your room. Do you want to talk to Shweta?’
There is a pause. Then there is the sound of thak thak like someone running. The phone is then put on hold. I hear only a recorded message that the phone is on hold. At last I hear a female voice. From her voice I feel that she indeed is a special woman. She speaks English fluently with the accent of a foreigner!
‘It shall take me an hour coming to your room. There is so much traffic. Please give me your room number.’
I give her my room number.
‘What shall I say if the hotel people stop me from coming to your room?’
‘What is your age?’
‘Twenty five.’
She is too young to be my wife. I recall the excuse, which Sonia had suggested to me a couple of years ago.
‘You say that you work in the organization in which I work. You further say that you have come to discuss some business matters with me.’
‘Okay, but then you will have to give me details of the organization in which you work. You may send the details to me by sms.’ She gives me her mobile number.
The guy talks to me again. If I do not want to take her out I can have her in the hotel room from 7 PM to 11 PM.
‘She will be with you from 7 PM to 11 PM in that case and it will cost you Rs 8000,’ he now says.
‘But you said that it will be Rs 6000?’
‘No, that was for two to three hours. 7 PM to 11 PM is full night. Do you have precaution?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘A condom,’ he whispers.
‘Of course I do.’
I agree to his demand. The girl seems so good that I do not mind paying the extra money. It is 6:10 PM now. She could come by 7 PM. I have a lot to do in the meantime. I have to send her a sms. I have to swallow a pill of Viagra to prepare myself for the sexual marathon. And what is most important, I have to keep the cash ready in an envelope.
I hastily type a sms giving details of my organization, place of work and the post occupied by me. I swallow the aphrodisiac and add four five hundred rupee notes to the envelope prepared by me earlier making the amount Rs 8000. I remove my kurta pajama and put on a pant and shirt. I feel uncomfortable in the simple dress, as the girl appears sophisticated. Now a feeling of anticipation grips me and I can’t sit still. I begin pacing up and down the room. I look at the watch again and again. Should I keep the door open? I open the door and look out. Nobody is on duty at the desk in the lobby. Thank god! A young man and a young girl are walking in the corridor approaching my room. Is she the girl? But they walk past ignoring me. I close the door.
It is 6:55 PM already. Maybe she has reached the hotel entrance. Perhaps she is not being allowed in. She may be having an argument with the staff in the reception. Should I call her? I dial the number that I have hastily written on the newspaper.
‘Did you get my sms,’ I ask.
She replies in the affirmative.
‘I have got delayed. I could not get an auto. I shall have to get a cab,’ she says.
‘But where are you at the moment?’
‘I am in South ex. I shall be in your room in half an hour.’
‘Could you bring some guy with you?’
‘But why?’
‘So that there is no doubt that you have come to discuss some business related matters.’
‘That is not required.’
‘By the way have you ever visited Hotel Ashoka earlier?’
‘Yes I have.’
‘Then there is no problem. But you have my mobile number. You may call me if there is a problem.’
‘I am coming in a formal dress. Will it be okay?’
‘I want that you should come in a formal dress.’
It is 7 PM. Another half an hour to go! But she is feeling uncomfortable coming in a simple dress! I am relieved however on knowing that she is not wearing a revealing dress.
7:25 PM. Finally a knock on the door. I open the door to find a buxom girl in red salwaar kurta, a large purse in hand outside my hotel room. And God! She is beautiful beyond belief! She has a fair complexion and beautiful eyes much like Richa the woman I felt attracted to almost a decade ago. Her eyes are lined with kajal. She has shoulder length hair and her half parted lips are pink and succulent. Exactly the woman I want to make love to! No she is like Monica Williams, the woman in the centrespread of the October 1983 issue of the Debonair magazine. That was when sex was something you did in a deserted corner of a park with the latest issue of Debonair in one hand. The desire for meeting someone like Monica has smouldered on for twenty-five years. But money has now converted my dreams into physical reality. My experiment in alchemy has worked again and has transmuted the elusive creature of fantasy into the fleshy human female within the reach of my hand.
Thank God-her dress covers most of her body- only the forearms are exposed. She had put strange ornaments on her wrists- the kind of ornaments tribals wear- colourful beads on elastic strings. (These are not ornaments but hair bands that she has put on the wrists instead, she tells me later.) That is the reason why she could come undetected. She looks and talks like a sophisticated well to do woman and not a hooker. She enters and stands near the bathroom door in the passage leading to the room. I instantly get a hard on. Of course Viagra works that way. Nothing happens till you see something sexy when like a jack in the box it gets up.
‘Did you have any problem in coming to the room? Did someone ask why you have come here?’
‘Yes, someone asked me where I wanted to go. I said that I wanted to meet you. I want to have a wash,’ she says.
‘Shall we have a bath together?’
‘No, I had a bath in the morning. I want to use this,’ she says as she points to the toilet seat. Now I understand what she wants to say.
She spends quite some time in the toilet. I thank my luck. It is only because of the chance factor that I am meeting this beautiful creature! Had a managed to hand over charge to my successor on Saturday itself and proceeded to my destination at night by the direct train, the most memorable evening of my life would have never materialized. I hand her the envelope as soon as she emerges from the toilet.
‘I don’t think there is any need to count it?’
‘But you may count it. It is in Rs 1000 and Rs 500 notes.’
She counts the cash and keeps the envelope in her purse. In addition to the purse, she has a plastic envelope from Shoppers Stop containing a piece of dress.
‘Can I have tea,’ she says as she enters the room.
‘Shall I call the room service?’
She seems reluctant. But the ingredients required to prepare tea and a kettle are available.
‘I think we can prepare tea here,’ I say pointing to the tea bags, sugar, milk pouch placed near the TV. We find it difficult to operate the sophisticated kettle. It does not work. I press a button on the handle and it springs to life. Water starts boiling. She prepares tea and starts having it.
She appears different from the other girls. She is not in a hurry. She has not yet started undressing! She is so natural and it appears as if she is a guest in my room and not a lady with whom I shall be having sex. But she appears to be wasting my precious time. It is already 7:45 PM. Fifteen precious minutes wasted! I hold her hand and start a conversation as I caress her arm.
‘The guy suggested that we should go out – to a movie perhaps. Was it your idea?’
‘But are you interested in going out with me to a movie perhaps?’
‘May be.’
‘But how long will you stay with me?’
‘Till 11:30 PM. But if we go out I can stay longer.’
In that case going out is not a bad idea. But it is already 7:50 PM.
‘What is the time for the last show of movies?’
’10 PM, I suppose.’
‘If we go out we shall be late by the time we return to the hotel. The hotel people may not allow us in because the room is booked for one person only. So let us make love.’
She moves to the bed. I sit by her side. I begin by kissing her forearm.
‘Please do not bite me,’ she says, ‘And please switch off the lights,’ she says pointing to the two lights near the bed.
‘But why? How can I enjoy you in the darkness? Do you feel shy?’
‘Yes you may say that I feel shy. You may switch on the light in the corridor.’
I switch off the bed lights, get up and switch on the light in the corridor.
‘It is good that you did not come in a revealing dress,’ I say as she starts undressing.
‘But I like to wear revealing dresses- like miniskirts. While working in the call center I used to wear jeans and T-shirt. In a call center one looks so mature and out of place in a sari.’
‘Of course you should like such dresses, but if you had put on a revealing dress today it would have been difficult to convince the hotel staff that you had come here to discuss business.’
Removing her dress she neatly folds it and keeps it on the side table. She does not throw it on the floor carelessly as I do. Indeed she is gorgeous! The rounded shoulders, the classic legs, the breathtaking profile, the sensuous torso-straight out of the pages of a Debonair center spread! Of course Pallavi and Purnima were good looking but were too young and had undeveloped bodies. But Shweta is a woman in full bloom. Her limbs are fully developed and breasts are just the right size. She is wearing a skimpy dainty white laced panty and bra. She has put on the laced panty above another pink panty inside. So such women exist in real life. The closest I could get to such women was by having a wet dream in bed alone. I am not in a hurry. I start a conversation as I explore her body.
‘You look like a film actress!’
‘Yes I wanted to be one,’ she says somewhat wistfully.
‘And these laced panties and bra are BEAUTIFUL!’
‘They are quite expensive. Such panties can cost up to Rs 700. Of course some people know how to make such panties at home. For them it is cheap.’
‘Are you married,’ I ask.
‘I was in a relation with a guy for four years.’
‘What did he do?’
‘He was in business. I left him four years ago.’
‘But why?’
‘He had other girlfriends. Of course he did not have physical relations with them. They were just friends. What about you?’
‘My wife works in some other state. Our relations were not good. Now our relations have come to an end. I have not met her for over a year.’
‘Are you legally divorced?’
‘No, not yet. Do you live with your parents in Delhi?’
‘No my parents do not live in Delhi. But I have relatives all over Delhi. My mother is from the US and my father is an Indian.’
‘Oh so this is the reason why you are so beautiful.’ She indeed has the features of an Indian girl and the complexion of an American. She removes the panty and lifts the bra to reveal her breasts. I caress her thighs, suck her breasts and kiss her earlobes. My tongue plays on Shweta’s body, painting my unfulfilled dreams. She remains rather passive. And she does not seem to be enjoying all this. I am however aroused. I start the sex act in the missionary position clutching her shoulders in magnificent joy. I turn her to the side and continue my thrusts.
‘You may put the weight of the leg on me,’ I say.
‘No- I am too fat.’
She seems to be too much conscious of her buxom body.
‘Do you like sex in the doggy position?’
‘No I don’t like that way.’
‘But would you like to come over me?’
She seems reluctant but I coax her. She comes over me but is unable to make thrusts in this position given her healthily plump body. I have to continue making thrusts.
‘Oh so in this position also it is you who have to make all the effort.’
I too do not enjoy sex in this position much. I ask her to come down and start sex again in the male superior position.
‘Can I kiss you down there.’
She seems reluctant. The nest between her legs is quite hairy. This is strange because the rest of her body is smooth with no hair. And it has a strange smell.
‘You have a strange smell there.’
‘I did not remove my hair down there.’
‘But why you feel that you should have removed hair?’
‘It leads to the growth of bacteria. And the smell.’
‘And if you remove hair it appears so feminine.’
She does not seem to agree to my point of view,
‘It appears so womanly I mean.’
‘You stop licking me down there.’
‘But why?’
‘The smell.’
I stop. She picks up the bottle of moisturizing lotion on the table and rubs the lotion on her legs and the hirsute adornment between the legs – perhaps in an attempt to prevent the smell. I caress her thighs and put a finger inside her.
‘Please do not do this.’
‘It is painful and it can lead to an infection.’
I stop and start doing sex in the male superior position once again. I ejaculate after I have fully enjoyed myself. I look at her intently as if trying to absorb her beauty so that these brief pleasant moments can linger on.

‘You are so lovely so beautiful,’ I say as I come, ‘I never knew that I would make love to such a beautiful woman in my life. Today is the most important day of my sexual life. Did your husband too find you beautiful?’
‘No he did not like me that much. He felt I was too fat.’
I would like to have her as my mistress or even my wife. Should I ask her about it?
‘Do you have plans for a second marriage?’
‘I have but I could not find a suitable person. I have been alone for four years now.’
‘Can I take your photos with my mobile in this condition?’
‘Well what will you do with my photos?’
‘I want the photos for personal use only. I shall see them everyday for the rest of my life. I want to preserve the moments that we have spent together.’
She does not reply in the affirmative or in the negative,
‘Well photos of women in bikini are common these days. Many women wear a bikini.’ Her reply is hard to interpret.
‘You may hide your face if you wish to conceal your identity.’
‘But I do not want to hide my face.’
‘So you mean I can take the photos.’
‘And do not keep them with you. You may publish them if you so wish.’
She smiles shyly. I take three pictures. Two show her lying on the bed. One is a close up showing only her face, breasts and a shoulder. I wish to photograph her back but she refuses. This happens as I press the zoom button accidentally. She is anxious to see the photos. She looks at the photos as soon as I click them on the LCD display of the mobile. She does not like the close up, as she appears rather plump. It is 9 PM.
‘I think we should have dinner now,’ she says.
I call the room service and order dal makhni, egg curry and butter naan.
‘Dinner for one or two?’ asks the man at the other end.
‘Dinner for two,’ I reply excitedly.
‘But the room is booked for one person alone,’ she says.
‘It does not matter. I can serve food to guests in the room. By the way, how far you have studied?’
‘I studied science in school and after that I did BA. I did a computer course after that.’
‘Are you employed somewhere?’
‘I worked in a call center for two years. Then I left the job. A call center job is not good.’
‘I had problems with the team leader. He would harass me.’
‘Did he make sexual advances towards you?’
‘No not that way. And I had problems with the other girls in the call center.’
‘Maybe they were jealous of you.’
‘Maybe. I send my resume to call centers. I find that if there is some guy in HR department I am always selected. If there is a woman I am sure to be rejected.’
‘How much did they pay you in the call center.’
‘I received about Rs 15,000 or Rs 16,000. Many times we did not get salary on time.’
‘In that case you should read the book One Night at the Call Center by .I forget the name of the author. Have you read it already? I recall now- the author is Chetan Bhagat.’
‘No I have not read it. But where do you work?’
‘At present I am working for the Mines department. But I shall be joining State secretariat soon on deputation.’
‘Well a government job is good. Could you tell me if there is a vacancy in your department?’
‘I can tell you but it shall not help. It is so difficult to get a job in the government these days. But what are you doing at present?’
‘I joined this guy’s club only a month ago.’
‘After leaving the call center job?’
‘Can we meet again?’
‘Yes, but if you pay me.’
‘How much?’
‘Rs 5000.’
‘Can I call you on the mobile number that you have given me directly?’
‘Yes you may use the number.’
‘But what if you change the number?’
‘I bought this mobile a month ago. I had to discontinue using the earlier number as all the persons in the call center knew it. I won’t change it so soon.’
‘But how much money you will get out of what I have given you?’
‘Forty percent.’
‘That is Rs 3200. It is too little. Do you know this person well? What about the other girls in the club?’
‘My relation with him is professional. I do not know the other girls.’
‘The bearer could come soon with the dinner. You take your things and go to the bathroom as soon as he comes.’
‘But why?’
‘A girl did this when I met her in the Intercontinental two years ago. Of course this hotel is considered safe. But you should not take any risk.’
‘Well this hotel appears safe. I had no problems in coming here. Nobody has disturbed us so far.’
‘It is the safest. All the girls and agents recommend it. Even Khushvant Singh has written about it in his book. It is safe for three reasons. It is the largest five star hotel in Delhi. Second it is owned by the government and if the government raids its own hotel it will suffer. Thirdly it is impersonal,’ I say recalling all I know about the Ashoka picking my copy of The Company of Women.
‘It seems that you are too much into books.’
‘Of course I like books. I have even written a book!’
‘The book is about the sexual relations a man has with several women. Each chapter is named after a woman,’ I say as she goes through the book.
There is a knock on the room. So the bearer has come with the food. I ask her to pick up the things and go to the bathroom. She takes quite some time in doing so and I have tense moments. Once she is inside the toilet, I open the door. The bearer comes in and places the food: butter naan in bread basket, two bowls containing daal and egg curry wrapped in aluminium foil, two large plates and two small plates on the table.
‘Shweta, please come,’ I say.
She comes out of the toilet preens herself before the mirror and sits on the sofa at side of the dining table. I sit on the in a chair facing her.
“May I make your video film,’ I say as she unwraps the aluminum foil. She gives her assent.
‘Are you also recording the rubbish that I am saying?’
‘Oh …no.not.’
‘I know all that I say gets recorded.’
She puts the daal in the smaller plates and the eggs in the larger plates. She places the naan on the larger plates. She takes quite some time in doing so. The video recording runs for six minutes. I stop the video as she completes the task of laying the food on the table. The food is tasty. Of course it is expensive but worth the price.
Dinner over it is time for love once again. I ask her to hold my organ after she has undressed herself.
‘Have you done this before,’ I ask.
‘Yes I have done it. I was in a relationship as I have told you earlier.’ I enjoy it a lot.
‘Is it too big or too small,’ I ask. She looks at it carefully.
‘No, it is of normal size.’
‘How many men had you sex with?’
‘Not many. There was a foreigner. He called me for nursing him. He has undergoing dialysis. Then I massaged him. I am a skilled masseur. Then we slept together.’
She starts rubbing my penis once again. ‘Oh, I like it, I like it,’ I say.
‘Will you let go the second shot if I do this to you?’ So she wants to short change me. She won’t give me the second shot if I ejaculate as she fondles my prick.
‘No, I want the second shot.’
I ask her to stop caressing my cock. I get up and enter her. This time I entwine my legs around hers as I begin making thrusts. Her legs are soft and smooth and I enjoy the feeling.
‘Sex is highly enjoyable if you tangle your legs. I feel that legs and arms are the most beautiful parts of a woman’s body.’
‘Have you done sex like this before?’
‘But you were in a relationship.’
‘He did not like sex the conventional way. He liked it the modern way: by hand.’
I continue sex for quite some time. The second orgasm is much enjoyable than the first. I give little moans of pleasure as I come. It is 11 PM. I have had my second shot and now she wants to go.
‘Shall I have your mobile,’ she asks, ‘I want a cab. I do not wish that the cab people should know my mobile number. I shall have to call radio taxi service. It is expensive: Rs 15 per kilometer but I have no other option at this time.’
‘Will you get a taxi at this time?’
‘I think I will. It is 24 by 7 service I think.’
‘But will it be safe to go out at this time with the money.’
‘Easy cab is safe I believe.’
She dials the number 011 43434343 of easy cab service. She takes quite some time to dial the number. The signal is not strong inside the room so she opens the door and moves out to the balcony. I follow her and stand outside by her side. Like a starry night Delhi is spread before us. Hotel Samrat appears as a tall structure in front of us obstructing the view. There is the hum of what appears like the air conditioning plant below. Steam appears to be rising from the a/c plant. An airplane is cruising slowly at low height. After spending the day in the air-conditioned room I find it uncomfortable outside. The person at the other end does not understand where Hotel Ashoka is located. I find it strange.
‘Chanakyapuri near hotel Samrat,’ I whisper. This makes some sense. She keeps the phone on hold for quite some time. She wants to know the number of the taxi that shall come to pick her up. But in spite of the endless call the cost of which I have to bear, she is not given the number.
‘What did they say?’
‘They said that all the cabs are busy at the moment. It will arrive here only after 45 minutes. The driver shall call on your mobile when he arrives.’
‘Yes it is natural. Many flights arrive and take off at this time,’ I say pointing to another aircraft on the horizon.
‘I would have liked to go to the swimming pool but we can’t go there right now. The water is so cold,’ she says pointing to the shimmering water below, ‘I have visited the disco of hotel Samrat but I have never been to the Capital discotheque in the Ashoka.’
‘So you have come here earlier.’
‘Yes I visit the disco of Hotel Samrat regularly with my friends.’
‘Shall we move in? It is more comfortable there.’
She comes in. She opens the plastic shopping bag with Shoppers Stop printed on it. It contains a skimpy blouse with Rs 799 price tag. Of course a cash memo shows that it cost her Rs 499. The blouse has shiny silver like colour. She puts o the blouse and looks at herself in the mirror.
‘The blouse is very good. I can put is on with a saree as well as jeans. I purchased it for Rs 499. It cost so much as I got it from Shoppers Stop. But it would have cost just Rs 100 in some other shop.’
‘You really look beautiful. Come let us sit and talk. I enjoy it more than the sex act.’
Just half an hour remains of the pleasant evening. I switch on the TV. A song from Jodha Akbar is being telecast.
‘Did you see this film?’
‘Yes I did but left it during the interval.’
‘After all it is a long film.’
‘Aishwarya Rai looks wonderful in the film – she looks like a real princess!’
‘Of course she does.’
The next song is from the film Murder.
Dil ko hazaar baar roka roka roka
Dil hai hawaon ka jhoka jhoka jhoka
Dil ko bachana; dhoka na khana
Dokha hai yaar, yaar pyaar hai dokha.
‘Did you see this film?’
‘I don’t like such films about extra marital affairs.’
‘But this song is very good.’
‘Do you know it was Alisha who sang it?’
‘I know this. But Mallika Sherawat has a different kind of beauty. And the film was controversial for its bold scenes.’
‘They have to maintain their beauty. For if they don’t look good no one will come to see their films. Do you know- my birthday is also on 2nd December- Mallika’s birthday. And everyone gives bold scenes these days. I too have given bold photos to you today. Can I see the photos once more?’
I hand over the mobile to her.
‘I would have liked to have these photos. But you cannot print them’
‘The photos can be printed. All you have to do is upload them to a website called snapfish and they courier you the prints. I can send you the photos if you give me your address. Do you have an e mail address?’
‘I do not have an e mail ID. And I shall be changing my place of residence soon. You may contact me on the phone and know my address.’
My mobile rings. It is 11:45 PM- exactly 45 minutes since she made the last call. I know that the taxi has come. She talks to the driver and he gives him the location where he is waiting. She smiles and bids me farewell. I know that for her also it has been a pleasant evening. She asks for the photos again as she leaves the room. I stand in the door as I watch her walk the length of the lobby. Some person is there on the desk but he does not interrupt her.
Back in my home I transfer the photos from the mobile to the hard disc of my computer and then to a CD. I go to Capital Colour lab and ask if I can get prints of digital photos. I am told that it will cost Rs 5 for a print. I have six photos of Shweta. I order two prints of each photo: one for myself and the other set for Shweta. The prints are ready the following day. I send the following sms to Shweta:
The photos are ready. You may sms your address to me so that I may send them.
I do not receive a sms as expected. I receive a phone call.
‘Was it you who sent the sms?’ she asks.
I reply in the affirmative. She wants that I should give the photos to her by hand because she’ll be changing her place of residence soon. This is not possible, as I am not in Delhi I reply. She gives me her South extension address.
‘Should I send the photos by courier or by registered post?’
She wants that the photos be sent by courier. I rush to a courier booking agency and book the consignment. Today is Friday and she shall receive the photos by Monday or Tuesday. The person asks for the phone number of the consignee but I do not give him Shweta’s mobile number. The envelope contains Shweta’s photos, her address and if I write her mobile number also on the it is a sure recipe for disaster should the envelope fall into wrong hands. The following day I send the following sms:
Six photos sent by Blaze flash courier no 294153505 on 14th March.
I do not get any reply. On Monday I send another sms:
Have you received the photos?
No reply again. On Tuesday I finally call her. Yes she received the photos. She thanks me. Now I know her name and mobile number. If I want such service in the future, I should call her directly, she says.
‘I may call you in May or June,’ I say and disconnect.
I have strange dreams in the night that follows. I meet someone who looks like Shweta. I hand her the envelope containing money- not in the hotel but in a street. TV cameramen appear from nowhere. It was a trap- they have filmed me giving the money to Shweta. They know that I received the money as bribe. Police appear- I am arrested. At this point the dream ends.

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