Desi Adult Stories: The Midnight Call from Sara

Arjun? she whispered, and he was awake before the phone finished its second ring. He had fallen asleep on the couch with the television still murmuring, and now Sara's voice was in his ear, low and a little shaky, and nobody called at one in the morning with that voice unless they were thinking the kind of thoughts that fill desi adult stories.

Sara? he said, sitting up so fast the couch arm dug into his back. It is one a.m. Is everything okay?

I know, she said, and he could hear her breathing, quick and uneven. I could not sleep. I kept thinking about our last night in the hostel. Final year. Your room.

He remembered. The warden had been on rounds and she had climbed through his window in a rain soaked kurti, and they had not slept a single minute that night.

Tell me what you are wearing, he said before he could stop himself, and his voice came out rough.

Not much, she said. A cotton nightdress. It is too hot in Delhi. Rohan is in Bangalore for work, the flat is empty, and I am lying in our bed thinking about your hands.

Rohan was her husband. Arjun had seen the wedding photos two years ago. He pushed the thought away and let her voice pull him under.

What are your hands doing right now? he asked.

Resting on my stomach, she said. But not for long. Tell me what you remember about that night. Every detail.

He closed his eyes and leaned back. You climbed through the window. Your hair was wet. I pulled you in and your kurti was stuck to your body and I could see everything through it.

Go on, she breathed.

I pushed you against the door. My hands went under your kurti, up your bare back, and you arched into me. You whispered do not stop, and I unhooked your bra with one hand.

I remember, she said, and her voice had dropped even lower. I remember your mouth on my neck. I remember your fingers.

Where are your fingers now, Sara?

A pause. A small gasp. Under the nightdress. Arjun, I am touching myself, thinking about you, thinking about your cock inside me that night, how you held my hips and pushed so deep I had to bite your shoulder to stay quiet.

His hand was already moving. He stood, walked to his bedroom, and kicked the door shut though nobody lived with him.

I remember, he said. You came twice. The second time you cried a little.

I am close already, she said, and he could hear the bedsheets rustle. Talk to me. Tell me what you would do if I were there right now.

I would pull that nightdress off you, he said. I would get between your legs and lick your pussy until you were shaking. Then I would flip you over and take you from behind, hard, the way you like it.

Fuck, Arjun, she gasped. Keep going.

I would hold your hair and pull your head back, he said, and you would beg me to go deeper, and I would, and when you came I would feel your pussy squeeze my cock and I would fill you up.

She made a sound he would remember for weeks, a choked little cry, and then she was breathing fast and shallow. I am coming, she whispered. Oh god, Arjun, I am coming.

He stroked himself faster, his whole body pulled tight. Come for me, Sara. Come.

Yes, she breathed. Yes, yes. And then silence, except her breathing, slow and wrecked.

Are you okay? he asked after a moment.

Better than okay, she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. Your turn.

My turn, he agreed.

He told her what he was doing, how hard he was, how he was thinking of her mouth, her breasts, the way she had ridden him that last hostel night with her hair falling over his face. She whispered filthy things back, urging him on, and within minutes he was groaning her name into the dark of his flat, his whole body shuddering as he finished.

They lay in the silence of two cities, both breathing hard. This is dangerous, she said at last.

This is the best thing that has happened to me in months, he said.

If I ever come to Mumbai, she said slowly, for work, maybe, would you, would we...

Not if, he said. When. And yes. Everything I just said on this call. All of it.

Promise? she whispered.

Promise, he said.

For two weeks he thought about that call every single day. He replayed her voice in client meetings, in the lift, in the shower. He told himself it was just a late night fantasy, that married women from Delhi did not fly to Mumbai to keep phone promises.

Then the message came on a Tuesday afternoon. Mumbai. Work trip. Bandra. Thursday. Tell me you remember your promise.

His hands were shaking when he typed back. Room number. I remember every word.

Hotel Palm Crest. 704. Come after nine. Rohan thinks I am at a conference dinner.

Thursday crawled. He left work at seven, went home, showered twice, and changed his shirt three times. At nine fifteen he was in the lift of the Palm Crest with his heart hammering against his ribs.

She opened the door on the second knock, and for a second they only stared. She wore a deep green saree, hair loose, a small bindi, looking like the respectable married woman she was supposed to be, and then she grabbed his shirt, pulled him inside, and kicked the door shut.

You came, she said against his mouth.

I promised, he said, and then they were kissing like the hostel night, desperate and messy, her hands already under his shirt, his hands finding the pin at her shoulder, the saree coming loose with one pull and pooling at her feet.

Under it she wore a black bra and black panties, and he stepped back just to look at her, thirty and more beautiful than the girl he had known. You are staring, she said, breathless.

I am remembering what I said on the phone, he said. Starting now.

He knelt in front of her right there by the door, hooked his fingers into her panties, and drew them down her legs. She stepped out of them with one hand braced on the wall, and he could smell her arousal before his tongue even touched her.

He licked her slowly, long strokes, then faster, then found her clit and sucked gently, and she cried out and her fingers twisted in his hair. Arjun, please, I need...

I know what you need, he said, and he slid two fingers inside her while his tongue kept working. She was wet and hot and tight around him, and within minutes her thighs were shaking and she came with a muffled scream into her own hand.

He stood and she was already unbuttoning his shirt, her mouth on his chest, her hands everywhere. She pushed his trousers down, took his cock in her hand and stroked, and then she sank to her knees and took him in her mouth.

He groaned and leaned back against the door. Her mouth was warm and skilled, her tongue swirling around the head, and she looked up at him with those eyes, and he almost lost it right there.

Not yet, he said, pulling her up. The bed. Now.

She lay back on the white hotel sheets with the black bra still on, and he unhooked it and tossed it aside. He took her breasts in his hands, heavy and full, and bent to suck her nipples until she was arching and moaning.

He pushed her legs apart and settled between them. Look at me, he said, and she did, and he pushed into her in one slow thrust, and they both gasped at how right it felt.

She was tight and wet and he filled her completely, and he held still for a moment just feeling her around him, her nails digging into his back. Then he started moving, slow and deep, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Harder, she whispered. Like you said on the phone.

He gave it to her harder, the headboard knocking against the wall, and she met every thrust, her hips rising, her voice getting louder until he covered her mouth with his hand and she bit his palm.

He flipped her over without pulling out, a move that made her cry out, and took her from behind, one hand in her hair, the other reaching around to rub her clit. She pushed back against him, taking him deeper, and the room filled with the sound of skin on skin.

I am going to come, she gasped. Arjun, I am... Come, he ordered, and he felt her pussy clench around his cock in waves, and that was it, he was gone too, driving into her and spilling deep inside her with a groan that shook his whole body.

They collapsed together, tangled and sweating and laughing a little. Two weeks, she said into his shoulder. I waited two weeks.

Worth it? he asked.

She propped herself on one elbow and looked at him, hair stuck to her forehead, eyes shining. Every second. Now, mister promise keeper, it is only ten thirty. We have all night.

He pulled her close and kissed her slow and deep, already hardening again against her thigh. Same time next trip, she whispered, and next time, no waiting.

Next time, he said, you call me the minute you land.