Jewels for Vishnu (Siren Publishing Allure ManLove)

by Roland Graeme

  Until he’d seen the guest list for his party, Corey hadn’t been aware that Los Angeles had its own community of transplanted Indians. And, like any community, this one had its upper crust. About half of the guests were Indians or Indian-Americans. The women invariably wore their dressiest saris on this occasion—draped silks in a dazzling array of brilliant colors such as blues, pinks, reds, purples, magentas. The saris tended to be embroidered in gold or silver thread. They were worn with lavish jewelry, not necessarily in traditional Indian designs. Among items that quite possibly could have come from Mrs. Rashi’s shop, Corey also admired some decidedly international pieces. A few of the Indian men wore traditional attire, like Kaustav’s, but most of them seemed to prefer Western evening clothes.

  The American female guests, although turned out every bit as formally and stylishly, were almost eclipsed by the sari-wearing women. There was something about a traditional draped garment, Corey decided, that made even a haut couture evening gown look stiff and constructed by comparison.

  With drinks in hand, the guests wandered freely in and out of the adjacent rooms or strolled out onto the terrace and around the pool.

  When the waiters began circulating among the guests, offering them trays laden with canapés, Corey wasn’t surprised to see Renesh among them. Corey had already realized what an efficient multitasker the houseboy was. Renesh’s tray was heaped with what, at first glance, Corey thought were onion rings. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the irregular circles were coated in crispy fried dough.

  “What are these?” he asked.

  “Muruku, Corey,” Renesh replied. “It’s a snack often served at religious or social gatherings. Try one.”

  Corey did so. The treat was delicious, and he shamelessly helped himself to two more. He soon noticed that the guests who were already familiar with the snack shared his lack of inhibition. Before long, Renesh’s tray was empty, and he had to go to the kitchen to replenish it.

  Corey was enjoying himself so much that he lost track of time.

  Renesh went up to Kaustav and said something to him in a low voice. Kaustav nodded, then went over to the wall and rotated a light switch. The electric lights in the living room were reduced to a soft, indistinct glow, throwing the corners of the room into shadow. The fireplace and the diyas on the table now provided most of the light.

  The change in ambience had attracted the guests’ attention, but Kaustav now tapped his glass with a spoon to summon the strays from the other rooms and to call for silence.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced. “First, I’m so happy to have you all here to celebrate the Festival of Lights with me. Second, dinner will be served in about fifteen minutes, so I hope you are all hungry. And third, I’d like to unveil my statue of Lord Vishnu and propose a toast. So if you don’t already have a drink, please get one and gather around the hearth.”

  Kaustav next went over to Corey and drew him toward the table. “I think you’ve all been introduced to my dear friend Corey Oliver. I think, since he is the one responsible for designing and making Lord Vishnu’s magnificent jewelry, he should do the honors.” Kaustav raised his glass. “So here is to Lord Vishnu, the Protector—to the Festival of Lights—to good friends and good times—and to Corey!”

  There were cries of “Hear, hear!” and even of “Hip, hip, hooray!” before glasses were raised and drained.

  “Go on, Corey,” Kaustav urged. “Show us what you’ve done.”

  “Well, as we say here in Los Angeles,” Corey said, “Lord Vishnu has got his bling on tonight. I hope you like him.” He grasped the lower edge of the silk scarf and lifted it free from the statue.

  There were gasps, exclamations, and applause. Corey had to admit that the effect, in the flickering warm golden light from the diyas and the fireplace, was rather impressive. The light turned the bronze of the statue to a particularly sensuous, lambent honey color. And the jewelry on the god’s wrists, ankles, torso, and head flashed like tiny sparks, reflecting the light thrown on it by the flames.

  The table was soon surrounded by curious guests, eager to get a closer look and to congratulate Corey.

  The statue of Vishnu, Corey noticed with some amusement, was the hit of the party, the real guest of honor. The image of the god was treated as though it were a celebrity. Everybody wanted to have his or her photo taken while standing beside it. The guests wanted their pictures taken with Kaustav and with Corey, too, either together or separately. Cell phones and pocket cameras went off like so many fireflies.

  “Dinner is served,” Renesh announced, interrupting the admiration of the statue and the picture taking, at least for the time being.

  The meal lived up to Corey’s expectations. It was a lavish spread, with Indian delicacies mixed in among such familiar items as smoked salmon and glazed ham.

  The climax of the evening took place outdoors, around the pool. Renesh, Corey realized, had taken the precaution of wetting down the ground beside the terrace with a garden hose, which he now kept ready just in case. Champagne corks were popped as some of the firecrackers were lit and tossed onto the flagstones of the terrace, where they snapped and sputtered and flared, sending up little clouds of smoke. More firecrackers were loaded onto little improvised rafts, constructed from cardboard and paper, which were floated in the pool, where they bobbed about as they burst into showers of noisy sparks, like the combatants in some miniature naval battle.

  It was past midnight before the party began to break up.

  Kaustav made a point of escorting each group of departing guests to the front door and making sure the parking valet pulled their vehicles up in front of the house for them. Corey, in his capacity as guest of honor and cohost, lingered near the front door, also bidding each of the guests good night.

  At last all of the guests had gone, and Kaustav and Corey were alone in the vestibule.

  “I’ve got to pay the valet,” Kaustav said matter-of-factly. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  When he returned, he seemed even more relaxed than usual, as though he had consciously shed his role of host. “I think this evening went rather well,” he said.

  “It was a wonderful party. I’m so glad you invited me to be a part of it.”

  “It wouldn’t have been the same—for me—if you hadn’t been here. Come on, Corey. Let’s put Vishnu to bed.”

  In the living room, the diyas on the table in front of the fireplace had all burned out. The fire, too, was reduced to smoldering embers. Reverently, Kaustav picked up the statue and carried it into the study, where Corey opened the doors of the mandir for him. Kaustav set the statue in its place.

  “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Corey.”

  “Of course.” Corey moved toward the door.

  “No, don’t leave. I just want to offer the god a quick prayer. To thank him for the success of this evening and for his continued protection.” Kaustav had struck a match and lit a little tea candle in a shallow brass bowl. He set this on the shelf in front of the statue’s pedestal. The dim light from the candle flame lit up the statue in deep chiaroscuro and made the jewels it wore flash and flicker. Next, Kaustav touched one end of a stick of incense to the candle’s flame to light it. He blew on the tip, reducing the flame to a tiny red smolder, and set the stick in a holder. As the tendril of smoke rose and drifted through the air, Corey caught the scent of the burning incense, which was a delicate but distinct musk scent.

  Kaustav kicked off his slippers and stood barefoot before the mandir with his head bowed and his hands raised in front of his chest, the palms pressed together. He was murmuring prayers—in Tamil, Corey assumed as he listened to the stream of strange syllables.

  Corey felt slightly embarrassed, as though he was intruding on something private. Quietly, he walked over to Kaustav’s desk and looked out the windows.

  Renesh, also barefoot and with his trousers legs rolled up to midcalf, was wielding the garden hose out on the terrace, making sure that all of the firecracke
rs were spent, and giving the immediate area another thorough soaking for safety’s sake. He happened to glance up, saw Corey observing him, and smiled and waved. Corey returned the wave.

  Kaustav had concluded his prayers. He left the doors of the mandir open and left the tea candle and the stick of incense burning as he turned toward Corey.

  “At last I can take this thing off.” Kaustav began to undo his tightly wrapped turban, unwinding yards upon yards of fabric, rather evoking some classic horror movie about a mummy or an invisible man. When he was done, he shook his head to loosen his hair. “I think the party was a success.”

  “A success? You’re too modest. It was a triumph.”

  “It did go rather well,” Kaustav conceded. “But did you have a good time?”

  “Yes, I did. I have to admit I was a little intimidated at first, at the thought of meeting all those people. But I liked your friends. They aren’t grand at all.”

  “Why did you expect them to be?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Am I grand?”

  “Not particularly. Even dressed up in all that finery, the effect is sexy as well as grand. You look like a Christmas or a birthday present, beautifully gift-wrapped. So beautifully gift-wrapped, in fact, that the recipient can’t wait to tear it open and see what’s inside.”

  Kaustav smiled. “Would you like to unwrap me?”

  “I’m dying to.”

  Renesh slid open one of the windows and stepped into the room.

  “The caterers have packed up and left, Mr. Thevar. They seem to have done a good job of cleaning up.”

  “Good. Anything that’s left to be done we can take care of in the morning.”

  “There are a few bottles of champagne left. I put them in the refrigerator.”

  “Better yet, we can have mimosas with our brunch tomorrow. You can go to bed, Renesh. Corey and I may stay up for a little while. If we need anything, we can fend for ourselves.”

  “Very good, sir.” Renesh flashed Corey a knowing grin before he made himself scarce.

  “That’s a very efficient young man you’ve got there,” Corey remarked. “And a discreet one.”

  “Yes. And it’s a very charming young man who’s keeping me company right now. And, speaking of presents, I have one for you. A Diwali gift.”

  “Oh fuck, Kaustav. Are you kidding? You didn’t have to give me anything. I forgot that this is your equivalent of our Christmas. It never occurred to me to get anything for you.”

  “Oh, I think you may be presenting me with something before the night’s over,” Kaustav said lightly but with an unmistakable innuendo. “Look in the top right-hand drawer of the desk, will you?”

  Corey did and pulled out a small flat box, exquisitely gift-wrapped. “This is beautiful. What is it?”

  “Sit down here, beside me, and open it.”

  Corey seated himself on the couch beside Kaustav and began to demolish the gift-wrapping. He exposed the hinged box, which was covered in a faded patterned brocade and which looked old. Corey worked its catch and opened it to find nine pieces of milky greenish-white jade nestled in pockets of worn emerald-green velvet. Each of the pieces of jade was elaborately carved. The central piece, a round medallion about the size of a half dollar, was an extraordinarily detailed coiled dragon, writhing about within a circle of stylized clouds. The other pieces, in a variety of flower, fruit, and bird designs, were equally striking.

  “But, Kaustav!” Corey exclaimed. “These are gorgeous! Where did you get them?”

  “In Hong Kong. In an antique store which reeked of incense, by the way, and where the really good items were hidden away in a back room. They are real jade. Antique pieces, supposedly of high quality. Not the fake antiques or poor-quality mass-produced new pieces that are so often fobbed off on the tourist trade. I have the certificate of authenticity.”

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “I racked my brain trying to think of something you would really like or, more to the point, something you would find really useful. Then it occurred to me. I would try to find something you could use in your jewelry making.”

  “You were right. I can make some fabulous pieces from these. But I won’t offer them all for sale, Kaustav. I’m going to be selfish. I’ll keep the best one for myself. Maybe something incorporating this gorgeous round medallion with the dragon. I can already see it as a pendant hung around my neck.”

  “They’re yours. Do whatever you please with them.”

  “What a wonderful present. I’m overwhelmed. Thank you so much. I don’t know how I can ever pay you back.”

  “You don’t have to pay me back. It’s a gift. If it gives you some pleasure, then that’s all I need in return. But if you really would like to show your appreciation, I can think of at least one way in which you might do so. You could kiss me, to begin with.”

  “Fuck, yeah. I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you all night long. I didn’t want to do it in front of your guests.”

  “I wouldn’t have minded. But all of the guests have gone. So what’s stopping you now?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing!”

  They kissed and embraced passionately, grinding their crotches together, running their hands over one another’s asses and thighs and backs.

  “I really enjoyed the party,” Corey said, interrupting their kisses. “But I have to admit that, after a while, I was waiting for it to break up so we could be alone together like this.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. I was afraid to look at you in front of my friends. I was afraid I’d develop a visible erection and that everyone would know you were the cause of it. Not that I’m ashamed of my feelings for you. But I didn’t want you to be embarrassed. Look. I’m hard now, and it’s entirely your fault.”

  “Well, if I’m the cause of it, I suppose it’s my duty to do something about it. What do you want to do?”

  “No, you’re still the guest of honor as far as I’m concerned. We’ll do whatever you like. Any preferences?”

  “Yes, now that you mention it. I really want you tonight. I mean, I want you in me. I want you to fuck me.”

  “Now I’m even more excited.”

  “Good. That’s just how I want you. Hard up and raring to go!”

  “You’d better be careful what you ask for. I’m not in any mood to go easy on you.”

  “I don’t want you to. I want you to fuck me hard and hot and long.”

  “Oh, you drive me insane with desire when you talk like that!” Kaustav lay on top of Corey, kissing him. Corey kissed him back greedily.

  “I think we’d better take this into your bedroom,” Corey finally suggested in a breathless whisper.

  “Yes. Let’s go to bed.”

  In Kaustav’s bedroom, they didn’t even bother to turn on a light, but undressed hurriedly.

  Then Kaustav searched in the nightstand drawer for a condom and a tube of lubricant. “I’ve going to take your ass,” he warned as he tore open the packet containing the rubber, which he quickly put on. Then he uncapped the tube and smeared a generous amount of the lubricant onto his fingertips. “Let me see that beautiful hole of yours,” he told Corey softly. “Spread your legs and show it to me.”

  Flat on his back, with Kaustav’s muscular weight on top of him, Corey obeyed. He reached down to grab both of his buttocks and pull them apart, exposing the deep cleft between them, with its waiting rosebud of an anus. If he could have made his asshole wink at Kaustav, he would have done so.

  “Is this what you want to look at?” he taunted.

  “Yes! Oh, it’s so beautiful—so sexy.”

  “Think you’re man enough to fuck it?”

  “You know I am!”

  “Maybe you’d better refresh my memory.”

  “I intend to.”

  Corey instinctively tensed up but then forced himself to relax as Kaustav’s slick fingers rubbed the rim of his anal entrance, gently at first, then more aggressively. Next, the fing
ers stretched him enough so that the tip of one finger could enter and rub the cool jellylike lubricant around inside.

  “Oh, that’s a sweet hole,” Kaustav whispered. “I could play with it all night—if I didn’t want to fuck it so badly!”

  “And I want you to fuck me, just as bad.” Corey reached up and pulled Kaustav’s head down to his, kissing him. Then he pressed Kaustav’s head to his shoulder and let out a whimper of impatience as he felt the Indian man go on expertly massaging his asshole with his finger, probing gently, getting Corey worked up and more than ready for sex—and, at the same time, preparing the sensitive sphincter muscle for the entry of his cock, loosening it up.

  Sweat began to ooze from both their bodies as they writhed eagerly in each other’s close embrace and their hard cocks slid against each other for a moment. Corey’s hands now abandoned their grip on his own ass cheeks, and he reached out to clutch and knead the firm mounds of Kumar’s buttocks. He kissed his brown-skinned lover again and again, desperate to show Kaustav how much he wanted him.

  “We’ll try it this way first, shall we?” Kaustav asked him in that same soft, insinuating whisper.

  “Yes! Yes, please!”

  Kaustav got into a kneeling position and sat back, pulling Corey’s body toward him and spreading Corey’s legs in a wide V-shape, guiding them to either side of his body, until Corey’s head and shoulders rested on the bed, his ass was raised up slightly from the mattress, and his powerful thighs were clamped around Kaustav’s waist. Kaustav took Corey’s hands, which were now greedily groping for his cock, and pushed them firmly away.

  “No, let me do the work,” Kaustav commanded. “I want to put it in you.”

  “Then hurry,” Corey pleaded.

  Docilely, he raised his arms and tucked his hands behind his head to form a cushion for it, flexing his biceps and pecs as he pressed himself more tightly against Kaustav and wriggled to get into a comfortable—and anally vulnerable—position.