The Mysterious Mr. Kumar

Raavi looked one more time at the clock on the wall, exactly two minutes since she last queried it, then at the telephone on her desk. The office was totally silent and outside, through the large glass plate on which she could see in reverse the slogan "Patel Tours" the street lamps gave off a hazy light. She was alone in the office and the computer system was down. She thought of her cat, alone at home and probably starving and there was no telling when she could leave. The system was down and her instructions, given personally by the stout Mr. Patel, were to wait for the tech people to solve the problem and issue tickets and other reservations to one of the firm's best customer, Mr. Sunil Kumar.

The phone rang and for a wild moment she dared hope it was the IT guy telling her the system was up. But no, she wasn’t that lucky. It was a customer wanting information and she snapped at him that the office was closed at that time, never mind that she was there and could have easily answered his banal question.

R was forty, a spinster who lived alone in the house she grew up in, which her deceased parents had left for her in their will. A brother in the States who had not even bothered coming for the funeral pyre received ten rupees.

She was yearning for a cup of tea but didn’t dare leave her desk in case the IT people called. It was imperative that she access the server and get tickets for that Mr. Kumar, whom Mr. Patel had described in his thick accent as a "very very good and esteemed customer" and leaving her post at this critical moment would spell trouble for her. Perhaps[s even dismissal and she really needed the money. A degree in literature and a reserved disposition made her current employment almost ideal: with no aptitude for teaching and no experience with children, her prospects were rather slim and so she was the last one at the office, waiting for that very very good and esteemed customer's tickets, which she needed issuing, printing and sending out by courier.

Nine thirty and no news from the IT people, those accursed, arrogant people who held her by the throat. And it didn’t help that Arvind Patel, the owner of the outsourcing company was her boss' nephew and could do nothing wrong. Oh, how she hated men!

Out of boredom, she picked her compact and flipped it open, looking at herself in the small round mirror. With big brown eyes, a straight nose and small, heart shaped mouth, she was undeniably pretty and an hour of work out a day ensured that her small, curvy body was firm. She had small but firm and pert breasts with dark nipples, a flat belly and round thighs. A body, she had to admit to herself, she was alone in worshipping. And if she wasn’t exactly a virgin, she wasn’t wonton either and could only boast two men who had seen her fully naked in her entire life. One was an ex fiancé and the other a fling while travelling abroad. Neither had been great.

At this moment the door opened, letting in smells of curry from the restaurant next door, and a tall, well dressed man entered the office. She started to get up and tell him that the office was closed – who had forgot to lock the front door, she wondered -  but changed her mind. There was something about that man, clad in a very expensively tailored off white suit over a dark gray shirt and dark blue polka dot bow tie. His eyes were deep set and seemed to pierce her.

"I am Sunil Kumar," he said with a deep, rich voice. "I came for my tickets."

"But…but…" she stammered."The system is down. I can't-"

He smiled at her and the warmth of it almost made her blush. "I know, my dear. I spoke to Rajeet and he explained the situation." He looked around the office and dragged a chair from an empty desk and sat down. When he crossed his long legs, he made sure that the crease on his trousers wasn't mussed. "I also called Arvind, the prodigal nephew and he assured me they are doing all they can to rectify the situation," he added and smiled again.

Oh, this smile, she thought. He had an aquiline nose, a strong jaw and a mouth that wanted to be kissed. Where did that come from, she wondered. She wasn’t the type of woman who wanted to kiss strangers, but this stranger?

"Will you excuse me," he said and removed his loafers, revealing gray silk socks. "It's been a long day."

She smiled at him. "I was about to make some tea. Would you like some?"

He nodded and she stood up. Under his piercing gaze, and despite the short white skirt, the open gray silk blouse over an orange tank top, she felt naked. And the thought was disturbingly delicious. She just hoped he hadn’t noticed her hard nipples under the tank top as she felt no need to wear a bra.

In the small kitchen, alone with her thoughts, Raavi started questioning her odd reaction to this strange man. What was a seemingly affluent man doing in a second rate travel agency? And why did he show up? He had instructions to courier his tickets, but one thing she was sure of. She wanted him.

When she returned to her desk with two mugs, he was still sitting cross legged, perusing a brochure.  Her swivel chair had been moved – by him, presumably – to the front of the desk, next to his.

"We ran out of milk, so I made it with lemon," she declared and handed him a steaming mug, and when he grabbed it in his hand, his fingers brushed hers. She felt an electric shock that ran from her fingers, through her arm all the way down her lower belly. She blushed violently and tried to hide it by taking a sip of hot tea which scalded her lips. Damn! She thought, I am clumsy and….but she refused to frame in words this odd sensation that radiated from her lower belly, like a myriad butterflies. And she had the uncomfortable feeling she was wet, but there was no way she could check, not while he was looking at her, a thin, mysterious smile twisting his lips.  She sat next to him and was grateful

"What are they doing?" she complained, more to ward off the awkwardness than anything else.

He looked at his watch and shrugged. "I am sorry to keep you here," he said. "But I fly tomorrow morning and I have no choice. Would you like to spice this tea?"

She never drank alcohol, but it didn’t occur to her to refuse and when he fished a thin flask from his inner pocket and poured a liberal amount of a dark liquid in both mugs, she took a sip and found she liked it. But then, she thought, I'd take poison from him and like it too. When he uncrossed his legs and crossed them again, the silky touch of his foot on her calf made her smile. Sometimes, when riding the bus to work or home, she would be touched similarly by strange men, and her reaction would be of utter disgust. Not this time, she thought happily. His toes kept rubbing her calf and instead of shying away, she pressed back. Now she was definitely aroused as she has ever been.

"It's going to be over soon," said Mr. Kumar after consulting yet again his expensive watch. To her surprise, she wasn’t in a hurry to end this wait with him. However her cat and her small, neat apartment were very far from her thoughts which revolved chiefly around the presence of the mysterious Mr. Kumar and his smell of expensive after shave. That was karma, she thought.

"I don’t mind waiting with you," she replied with a small, shy smile. "I mean, I…." she simply could not finish the sentence and let him know that as far as she was concerned, she could stay there, near him, for all eternity.

He nodded gravely, as if he understood her meaning and she had no doubt he did. His toe was now way past her knee, tantalizing her thigh with its silky touch. Oh my god, how she longed for the toe to go higher and higher, to the source of moisture that was gathering at an alarming rate.

Mr. Kumar sat, relaxed on his chair, his eyes half closed, a small, satisfied smile on his handsome face, his toe brushing gently on her flesh and Raavi, in the throes of the most excruciatingly bout of pleasure closed her hand on his foot, directing it higher on her thigh.  She didn’t care if he found out she was sopping wet, if he found out her breathing was short, that her heart was pounding in her chest or that her hard nipples could cut a diamond. She wanted him, any part of him, deep inside her.  With a swift movement she peeled the sock off his foot while with her other hand she pushed the panties aside, giving him the right of way into her most intimate part.

Like all her colleagues at work, she had read the fifty shades of gray and she was familiar with what men did to women and what women did for men. Not that she was that experienced. But her Italian lover had gone down on her and even if she hadn't liked it then, she was glad he had. Now she would be even gladder of Mr. Kumar did the same.

He grabbed her chair and wheeled it closer so that now she was within arm reach. Yes! she exulted silently. A toe inside her was good, but a finger was better, a tongue yet better and his cock, which she imagined to be huge still better. He maneuvered her chair and positioned it between his legs which were now widely spread. She giggled at the sight of the bulge that adorned his front. He pulled the chair to him and lifted her legs over his thighs.

"The door!" she exclaimed in a sudden panic. "Someone might come in!"

"No one will come, I can assure you," he said with the same calm, controlled voice. And just like that, she took his word for it and leaned back on her seat, at his mercy. His hands were now on her thighs, her skirt riding high, revealing her wet panties for all to see. She could not care less. His thumbs slid under the wet material and a wave of pleasure washed over them.

"Wait!" she said with a note of urgency and wriggled out of her panties.  He lifted her legs high and helped her.

"There is a room at the back, with a sofa, where Mr. Patel takes his afternoon naps" she whispered in a husky voice. "We'd be more comfortable."

He nodded and pushed her chair back. And when he stood, the bulge on the front of his trousers seemed like a mountain stuck sideways.

In the room, she stripped quickly, wriggling out of her pumps, skirt blouse and tank top, to stand in her glorious nudity. His eyes roamed all over her, stopping briefly at her heaving breasts with the hard nipples, at her round belly and the black triangle of trimmed coarse hair. Her thighs were glistening from her body juices.

Unhurriedly, he removed his jacket and tie, undid his belt and opened his trousers, the same small smile on his beautiful lips, which, she realized, she was dying to kiss. And when he was finally naked in front of her, she could not help but gasp at the size of his member, at the thickness and beauty. The two other men who had displayed their wares to her were dwarves in comparison. And a sudden urge to taste it over came her and she sank to her knees. Her Italian loved had tried to direct her head to his member but she had refused and he had cursed her, calling her a "putana" which was idiotic since a putana would certainly have obliged. But now, she could not get enough. She nibbled, sucked and licked with such gusto that she managed to draw a groan from this man who seemed made of ice. Hot ice, though, she thought with an internal giggle.

His hands on her hair were clasping and unclasping, as a result of her energetic pumping action. She loved this and when comparing the sensation to that of those hot night when she could not sleep and her fingers would slide down her belly to reach that place between her legs, she felt that this was ten thousand times better.

"My turn," he said, his voice now deep husky, revealing, for the first time since he set foot in, his desire and urgency. He pushed her gently to the wall, spread her legs and bent down. When his tongue teased that spot that until now only the clumsy efforts by her two previous lovers and her own fingers ever touched, she thought she was going to faint. Was such a pleasure even possible, she reflected? And that tongue was everywhere, licking the rim of her saturated lips, darting in and out, circling her clitoris while his hands kneaded her round buttocks.

"Please," she implored. "I want you inside me. Deep. Please, now."

He scooped her and led her to the brown leather sofa and laid her down. She opened her thighs in a welcome gesture and he slid effortlessly in until their pelvic bones clashed. His mouth was busy molesting her nipples and the touch of her hands on his hard buttocks almost made her faint.  He went in and out slowly, drawing little cries of pleasure every time his hips moved forward. She found no difficulty in matching his rhythm and she closed her legs around his waist, trapping him inside her. And the pleasure was mounting with each thrust and till she thought she could not stand it any longer. A violent spasm, originating at the meeting point between her femininity and his manhood shook her violently and she bit her lips so as not to cry loudly. And another one and another one, each more powerful than the one before while he let a long sigh and she felt something hot shooting deep inside her. Her sweaty body laid underneath his and her mind was numb. She could stay like this, with this man on top of her forever she thought. She even like the sensation of his seed leaking out of her and pooling on Mr. Patel's precious sofa.

The phone, ringing in th main office, made her jump.

"it's probably the IT people," said Mr. Kumar. You'd better see to it. He was standing now, his manhood hanging limp and glistening like a monstrous banana.

Naked and sweating, she made her way to her desk, her knees buckling under her.

"Your server is up," said a nasal voice on the other side.

When she turned around, Mr. Kumar was fully dressed. He smiled at her. "I will take those tickets now, miss," he said with the same pleasant voice.

This is definitely the first time I am issuing tickets while naked, she thought as she dragged her chair round her desk.