This incident dates back to the late 2000’s while I was working as a training consultant with a corporate in Chennai. Of course, all names have been changed to protect the identity of the people involved.
Our office was in a sprawling complex in Tharamani, a place that has now turned into one of the many IT hubs that Chennai boasts. Life as a consultant is often challenging – most people in the workplace tend to be aware of your ‘temporary’ status, and therefore they don’t make much of an effort to get to know you better.
Moreover, peers at the client site treat you with indifference too; after all, the consultant is supposedly that external entity with superior knowledge and skills. Hence, I usually lie low during the initial few weeks at any organisation so that I don’t end up ruffling too many feathers.
Experience has taught me that it’s quite easy to rub people the wrong way and create enemies for life. A smarter way to work is to ensure that you gain the acceptance of the team at the client site; and this can usually happen only over a period of time, not overnight.
During a review meeting, I happened to analyse some of the training methodologies that I’d observed being employed by the trainers working for this particular corporate company. In order to make it interactive, I presented my observations as case studies. Therefore, it took a while for most people to realize that they were indeed analyzing their own training methods and practices.
As expected, many became extremely defensive and spoke of how they had a better understanding of their trainees and their needs. We soon broke for lunch, and as usual I found myself a quiet corner in the cafe to munch on the sandwich I’d bought. I wasn’t really in the mood to eat – despite anticipating such a reaction, I was nonetheless unhappy with some of the comments the trainers had made during the meeting.
“What’s the matter, Mr Grey Matter? You should really be beaming with pleasure after that brilliant input session, so why look so blue?” I looked up from my meal and saw a lanky, sari-clad woman smiling at me. She was about 5’8’’, and seemed to have a great presence, exuding confidence and charm in equal measure.
I almost chocked on the piece of sandwich I’d bitten off moments earlier – I mean, the woman in front of me fitted the bill of the quintessential ‘homely’ Indian woman. She had dusky skin, kohl-lined eyes, and wore her long hair in plaits. The sari she wore was a somber shade of grey, even her blouse was unfashionable, yet the language she’d just produced just caught me unawares – I was totally unprepared for it.
Weeks later, I would confess these initial thoughts of mine to her. Though I remembered seeing her at the meeting, I hadn’t paid much attention to her. Also, it didn’t really help matters that she’d hardly ever spoken during the meeting. Being the first of many review meetings that I was expected to hold, I didn’t want to get people out of their comfort zones; hence I didn’t coax people to air their opinions during the meeting.
Now the one I’d perhaps paid least attention to was standing right in front of me, and she had my complete attention. “I’m terribly sorry but I can’t remember your name”, I said with a sheepish smile. She introduced herself as Swathi and shook my hand. “Mind if I join you?”, asked Swathi. “Of course not, please do”. Saying this, I made some space on the table for her to place her tray.
What followed was a long and engaging conversation with one of the most fascinating women I’ve ever had the good fortune of meeting. I was startled by just how articulate she was and how refined her manners were. It reminded me of a very important lesson I’d learned way back in college – never judge a person by their appearance.
We realized that we had a lot in common; right from our favourite authors to preferred cuisines and the sort of films that appealed to us. Time just flew by, with both of us thoroughly enjoying this unexpected bit of interaction. Within a month of us meeting in that café, we went on to become really close friends.
I now really looked forward to lunch breaks, as it gave me the opportunity to speak with Swathi at length. Sometimes, we’d walk down to one of the cafes in the vicinity to discuss our interests and office politics. It was also our way of having some time away from all the prying eyes in the office complex.
Swathi was quite happy that I was married; she felt she could be herself without worrying about me falling for her. Although I initially felt it was a rather vain statement to make, I soon found out that she had a long history of men showering her with unsolicited attention. Right from her teens, she’s had the uncanny knack of attracting the attention of most males who come into contact with her.
And I could see why this was the case! She had lovely facial features – large brown eyes, long narrow eyebrows, full lips that were partly pink and partly dark, a pointed chin, high cheek bones, and a slender neck to go along with the rest. Her skin was dusky, the shade of creamy chocolate ice cream. It was smooth and without any blemishes.
But the best part was her body – she had the kind of figure that any woman would give her right arm for. Her breasts appeared to be pert while her waist was slim. The few ounces of extra fat she had were fully concentrated around her hips. And she had one of the longest pairs of legs I’ve ever seen on an Indian woman, a befitting complement to her firm, round butt cheeks.
It’s amazing just how much of a woman’s body a sari can reveal if wound tightly. Little wonder then that many men in office eyed her up regularly. But they all knew she was a total prude – she gave little reason for them to believe otherwise. Fantasizing about Swathi was the only way to get close to her tantalizing body.
Even though we were friends, I found it quite difficult to stop myself from taking in the view of her divine body whenever I had a chance to do so. I would often imagine her naked, pleasuring herself in the shower – quite ironic when you consider the fact that we never ever spoke of anything even remotely sexual in nature.
I guess her ice maiden image is what attracted me to her – she kept herself aloof from most men around her. The ‘not available’ tag that she wore with a hint of smugness made most males, including me, lust after her. I, however, never found enough courage to bring myself to hit on her – I just didn’t want to be deprived of her company.
But things in our office changed for the better with the arrival of a new recruit, Anoushka. She was an eighteen-year old buxom babe, from an extremely privileged background I should say, who had just joined the company on completing a course abroad. Her father owned a number of businesses, so she was literally born with a silver spoon in her mouth.
Alas, much to her family’s dismay, as Anoushka grew older, she had the desire to have other things in her mouth. By the time she turned fourteen, she’d gained the reputation of being a bit of a wild child – she was caught red-handed pleasuring a senior boy in the men’s room, and got thrown out of college.
Though her father had the clout to get her admitted in any college of her choice, she preferred to study with the help of a private tutor. Of course, that invariably gave her more time to hang out with friends, especially fit-looking boys. Anoushka was quite a sight to behold – extremely large tits (they were certainly DD), wide hips and a shapely ass.
She had frizzy hair, small beady eyes, and thick voluptuous lips. Fading signs of acne merely added to her sensuality – there was something excitingly dirty about her. Predictably, she had all men around panting after her like horny dogs. Despite being one of the youngest trainers, she was a smart cookie – she knew just who to please and how to please them.
She was a highly-sexed woman and made no efforts to camouflage this. Within a couple of weeks of her joining us, the whole place was buzzing with rumours linking her to a senior executive from overseas, Patrick.
While some claimed to have seen her snog Patrick’s face off in the car park, others spoke of how she’d hitch up her skirt to flash her sexy thighs whenever he walked past her desk. Overnight, she’d become the talk of the office simply because she was a right tease – every hot-blooded male’s ultimate hope for getting laid the wild way!
Her easy reputation notwithstanding, Anoushka was extremely choosy when it came to men. Though she’d tease every boy or man in sight, only a few got to take her to bed. And they usually remembered every single detail of that experience. Any man was putty in her hands – for her to touch, tease and play! Anouk, as all males she conquered called her fondly, was the ultimate seductress there was.
Having the ‘happily married’ tag can be more of a bane than boon to men; wild ones like Anouk usually stay clear of such guys, whereas tame ones like Swathi often jump at the chance of befriending them. Quite predictably, Anouk and I never got much opportunity to interact, mainly because of her lack of interest in men who were already “taken”.
It looked like I was destined to be off the radar screen of that one buxom babe in office who oozed sex appeal from every tiny pore of her body. They say life is stranger than fiction, and I soon had proof of this when the two unlikeliest of people in the whole of Tharamani struck up a friendship – the brazen teenager Anoushka and the demure Swathi.
While this new development bamboozled just about everyone around, I began walking around the office like the cat that’d got the cream. Thanks in no small measure to Swathi, I now could spend a considerable amount of time chatting up Anouk. Though Patrick would sometimes join us for lunch, such instances merely improved my chances of getting closer to the siren who was supposedly dating him.
For instance, I would often come off very well in debates about women expressing their sensuality. On the other hand, Patrick, being the male chauvinist that he was, used to irk Anouk no end with some of his flippant comments. Also, it soon became clear that there was no exclusivity in their relationship – Anouk didn’t like tying down her men, nor did she appreciate any effort to tie her down!
Christmas was soon approaching, and that gave the management an excuse to organise a get-together. There was talk of how the company was extracting unacceptable levels of work from its employees; so the Christmas party was to be organised on a grand scale to pacify those who were feeling hard done by.
Hot on the heels of this came news of annual increments, which invariably put everyone in the mood to party hard. And it was that one night which changed my equation with both Anouk and Swathi. Our company pulled out all the stops to make the party a memorable event. It was decided that the event would begin in office, mainly to allow people who liked to celebrate over drinks to guzzle as much alcohol as possible.
The management reasoned that arranging drinks at a five-star hotel was going to be extremely expensive. Later, groups of people were supposed to leave, in cabs arranged by the company, for the venue where a lavish Christmas feast would await us all. I took the afternoon off on that day, as I wanted to look my best to impress Swathi.
The opportunity of getting to dance with her was very much alive. Alas, she was nowhere to be found when I finally reached office that evening. The party was in full swing, and some were visibly high on alcohol already. I walked up to the bar and got myself a drink. My patience having wore thin after a while, I began downing drink after drink.
I’d just gulped down my fifth glass of mojito when I saw Swathi arrive along with a colleague. She looked radiant in a red sari and a green sleeveless blouse. She spotted me near the bar and walked up to me. Even as I greeted her, I couldn’t take my eyes off her tanned arms and protruding collarbones.
As she hugged me briefly, I whispered into her ears, “Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that a woman could look so devastatingly sexy in a sari.” She pulled away from me that very moment, jabbed me in my ribs with her finger, and said, “Looks like someone’s had a drink too many tonight.
You better behave!” I raised my arms in defense and quickly laughed off her suggestion that I was trying to get fresh with her. The truth of the matter, however, was that every inch of my body ached to hold her in my arms and kiss her passionately. Soon a very popular number came on, resulting in a mass of people moving to the dance floor.
I somehow coaxed Swathi to dance with me, and we were soon swinging to the music. Occasionally I moved closer to her and held her shoulders to make her sway along with me. The alcohol had, by then, taken its toll on my ability to think straight; I slowly moved a hand down Swathi’s body and rested it on her bare stomach.
Our eyes met, and I thought I’d seen a trace of lust in her eyes. I closed my eyes, taking in the music and thinking of what the night had in store for us. Within seconds, Swathi removed my hand from her waist and walked away from the dance floor. Unfortunately, this didn’t go unnoticed amidst all the revelry because Swathi’s mere presence on the dance floor meant we were the cynosure of many eyes.
The look of envy on most male faces around me had all of a sudden turned into satisfied smirks. Extremely hurt, I followed Swathi out of the hall. I didn’t know where she’d gone, nor did I want to know. I was overcome by embarrassment, and I desperately wanted to be in a private space. I knew where exactly to go to – the dingy mail room on the third floor where no one ever went apart from office assistants.
In spite of wanting to cry, I held back my tears with great effort. Why had she done this to me, that too in front of all our colleagues! I heard the door swing open behind me, and knew it had to be Swathi; she’d somehow found me. I was so wrong, for as I turned around I saw Anouk smiling at me. Though late, she’d walked in moments before that awkward moment between Swathi and I.
She now had a look of compassion in her eyes; without saying much, she walked towards me and hugged me. It was certainly what I wanted most that very moment. I rested my head on her shoulder, tightened my grip around her waist and closed my eyes. To this day I don’t know just how long I spent hugging Anouk that night.
The earliest recollection of that spell breaking is when I smelt her perfume. On several occasions earlier, I’d complimented Anouk on her selection of perfumes, and that night proved to be no different – she had worn Organza by Givenchy, one of my all time personal favourites. Its exhilarating smell pierced my nose, resulting in the sexual energy inside me going into overdrive.
Simultaneously, I sensed that my hands were touching Anouk’s bare skin – she was wearing a white tank top and a black rah-rah skirt, leaving enough of her midriff bare. “Hello?” said Anouk, “Looks like your pecker wants to say hi to my beaver.” She burst out laughing as soon she’d said it. It took me a moment or two to understand that she was referring to my penis pressing against her vagina.
I had a hard-on and I wanted Anoushka badly, but the girl in question was laughing her head off looking at my sorry state. Instantaneously, I grabbed her ass with both my hands, pulled her towards me and shut her mouth by placing mine above it. I pushed Anouk towards the wall and pressed my crotch against hers.
Within seconds, we were snogging frantically, my hands kneading the generous amounts of flesh that was her ass like dough. Having kissed for what seemed like a long time, we stopped to get some air. By then, we both had the exact same naughty grin on our faces. We both knew what was going to happen from then on; there was no stopping us!
I picked up Anouk and placed her on the small desk in the mail room. The dim lighting and the musty smell of the room just made us hornier than usual. The rah-rah skirt she was wearing had already ridden up to her crotch, exposing generous amounts of milky white flesh. I went down on my knees, pulled up her skirt, and was greeted by the sight of a white thong.
Anouk’s pussy was fairly large, having witnessed a fair amount of action over the years. The dingy room was now reeking of her love fluid; she was certainly excited by this unexpected turn of events. Anouk balanced her whole body weight on her hands to raise her hips, and I dutifully obliged by removing her thong.
The part of the undergarment that covered her crotch now had a lot of gooey fluid. As I moved my mouth closer towards her pussy, I spotted the tattoo of a kitten slurping milk from a bowl. It sat sexily above her neatly spruced mound. This girl certainly had a sense of humour!
The next ten to fifteen minutes were spent eating her pussy; despite the pungent smell, I laboured hard since I wanted to make Anouk moan in ecstasy. And she didn’t disappoint, her moaning kept getting louder and louder, and at one point, it threatened to drown out the dance music coming from the first floor. Her whole body soon convulsed, and her grip on my hair tightened.
She jerked her crotch a few times and it all soon died down. I was panting by then, having spent a good minute wedged between Anouk’s fleshy thighs. Anouk winked at me and said: “So don’t I return the favour now? I guess I should!” Saying this, Anouk flicked her right foot to lose her footwear, placed it on my chest and pushed me onto the floor.
With the deftness of an alley cat, she sprang on top of me and unzipped my trousers. What followed was a master class in giving someone a blowjob. Sticking her long tongue out, she ran the tip of it along my erect shaft, which she held quite delicately just above the testicles.
Currents of passion ran along my entire body as Anouk ran her tongue along the entire length of my manhood, while her other hand gently massaged my balls. Every now and then, she’d suck each testicle like them were some kind of exotic fruit. She just new which buttons to hit to make a man excited.
At one point, she stopped licking, squatted on the floor and positioned herself just above my rock-hard dick. Before I could react, she inserted the entire length of it into her vagina and gyrated her hips a few times. And then, she took it out as quickly as she’d put it in seconds earlier. Now my tool was glistening wet due to all the fluid from her vagina.
Without pausing even a second, she put it in her mouth and began sucking it. I let out a loud moan – just the thought of Anouk tasting her vaginal secretion made me extremely hot. I now wanted to shag her for as long as I could. All of a sudden, our antics came to a standstill when we felt the presence of someone else on the floor.
Some lights had come on, and we could hear footsteps approaching. I broke into a cold sweat considering the possibility of an office assistant walking in on us. Though I could’ve zipped up quickly and pretended as if nothing had happened, Anouk was in a right state. Her white thong smeared with discharge was on the floor, while her skirt was on the other side of the room.
Obviously, she’d removed it as some point while pleasuring me. Envelopes of all conceivable sizes lay scattered all over the floor. Also, the entire mail room smelt of SEX! Anouk gestured to me to remain silent. And then she did something shocking – pulling her tank top over her head, she threw it onto the desk.
Next, she adjusted her bra that held in place an enormous pair of boobs, inserted a finger in her vagina and smeared some of her discharge on her chest. As if on cue, I slowly raised my head and wiped the fluid off her cleavage with my tongue, one lick at a time. She then lay on top of me and began kissing me passionately. Beads of sweat were running down her brow and onto my face.
Some of it trickled down to where our mouths were locked, adding a bit of saltiness to the whole experience. The possibility of getting caught in the middle of a sex act made the moment terribly exciting. We knew we were perhaps moments away from getting busted by one of the office staff, but Anouk didn’t have a care in the world.
She released one of her gigantic breasts from its confinement and shoved it into my mouth. That very moment, a thought occurred to me – what if the person outside was Swathi! What if she were at the door, viewing these intimate moments. After all, the door to the mail room had a glass panel the size of a notepad. All one had to do was peep in.