The Sari Shop Widow

by Shobhan Bantwal

  But it was a good thing Anju had mentioned it. He was so anxious to have her that he hadn’t stopped to think of the consequences.

  Samantha was permanently on the pill and he hadn’t had to worry about anything as mundane as birth control. Besides, he reflected, Samantha wasn’t one to be caught with an unwanted pregnancy. She was neither maternal nor willing to give up her career and freedom for anything, least of all a child.

  But now he’d met Anju and come to know her. He was astonished to find a woman who in some ways still grieved for her late husband, so many years after his death. It meant she was capable of loving wholeheartedly and remaining faithful. That wounded look in her eyes obviously came from losing Vikram. The thought brought a pinprick of jealousy with it. Rishi promptly dismissed it. How foolish was it to be jealous of a dead man?

  Despite her affair with Kip Rowling, Rishi was convinced Anjali was a fiercely loyal woman who was only satisfying the basic human need for intimacy. Even Rowling was someone she’d hooked up with after many long years of celibacy—an insanely long time for a healthy young woman. Her involvement with Rowling was entirely understandable, he reasoned.

  Although he’d felt a powerful attraction to her since the day they’d met, it was only after he’d kissed her in his hotel room that he’d realized how much he wanted her—in his bed, in his life. The need for a more stable lifestyle with a wife and home had crept up on him stealthily.

  As he strode through one of the aisles, he noticed boxes of diapers, feeding bottles, and various other baby needs. A baby. How would it feel to be a father? What would it be like to share in the miracle of making and then raising a tiny human being? The image was very alluring.

  He tried to blink the picture out of his mind and kept walking. It was too soon to see that far into the future. He had a few major hurdles to overcome before he could think of that.

  Was he falling in love with Anju? It had to be love if he thought about her constantly, and was visualizing marriage and children with her. Whatever it took to do it, he’d make her feel the same thing he was.

  He’d make her fall in love with him, he promised himself.

  When he made love to her, he’d take it slow, discover every little nuance about her and revel in it. He would love her like nobody ever had, not even her late husband. He’d wipe her mind clean of every other man she’d been with, until there’d be only he.

  He knew he could do it.

  It was a minute before he noticed the condoms displayed on a shelf next to the cash register. After making his selection he paid the young man behind the counter as quickly as he could. With a polite thank you he hurried out of the store, tucking the package into his jacket pocket. There was no gracious and discreet way of buying something like condoms.

  As he strode toward the elevators, he realized a man of his experience should be above feeling embarrassment at such things. In Anju’s words, he’d “been around the block” a few times.

  Inside the elevator, he remembered his promise to Anju and pulled out his cell phone to call her parents. He explained to Usha that he and Anju were going to grab some dinner and then take in a movie.

  As expected, Usha sounded a little surprised about the movie, especially because of the wretched weather. But thankfully she didn’t ask any questions. And Rishi didn’t offer any explanations. Lying was complicated enough without having to provide details.

  Upstairs in the suite, Anjali took off her jacket and dropped it on one of the chairs in the sitting area. Her palms were damp with perspiration. Her heartbeat was racing. Placing a hand on her chest, she tried to still her anxious heart. She felt like a teenager anticipating her first taste of sex.

  She glanced around the room. What was she doing here, in Rishi’s suite? At her age it should have been anything but this. Was he feeling the same way or was this pretty much routine for him? But then, the fact that he didn’t already have something like condoms on hand said he wasn’t the type of guy who was ready and prepared for sex at a moment’s notice. It also meant he hadn’t taken her consent for granted. That said something about his character.

  Finding it impossible to sit down, she paced the length of the room. If anything, it made her even edgier. She went to the window, parted the drapes, and took a peek outside. The sheeting rain was so thick and impenetrable she could barely see a foot beyond the glass. Luckily she and Rishi had managed to avoid its full fury. Rain-soaked clothes would have compounded her anxiety.

  She turned away from the window and wiped her hands on the seat of her slacks. Her pulse hadn’t slowed down one bit. This was pathetic. If Rishi didn’t get here quickly, she’d probably have a heart attack. Had he found what he was looking for, or did he have to go out in this flood to find a drugstore?

  Just then she heard the door opening and turned around.

  Rishi stepped inside and took one look at her face. “Still nervous?”

  She nodded. Actually, nervous didn’t even begin to describe her jitters.

  He took off his jacket and tossed it on top of hers on the chair. Then he gathered her in his arms and buried his face in her hair. “Don’t be tense, darling. I’m right here with you.”

  She clutched at the front of his shirt. “I know.”

  “You’re shaking. Do I frighten you that much?”

  “No. I’m just a little jumpy, that’s all.”

  “Relax. It’s me—someone you know well.” He kissed the top of her head. “You’re not a virgin, Anju. We’re both experienced adults and we’re friends. This isn’t some cheap one-night tryst between strangers.”

  “I know, but this feels kind of different.”

  He lifted her chin with a finger, forcing her to face him. “How?”

  “It’s hard to explain.”

  His eyes narrowed on her. “Because your emotions may be involved in this relationship?”

  “Perhaps,” she murmured, swallowing to keep her throat from drying out.

  “Then it’s a good thing. A little nervousness means you care.” He didn’t wait for her response, but wound his arm around her waist and ushered her into the bedroom. “I have an idea. Since you’re so stressed, why don’t I pour us some wine?”

  “Wine sounds good.” It would give her a few minutes to prepare herself. The alcohol would help. Her mouth felt parched and hot.

  She watched him step outside the bedroom. Noticed the limp. And yet he remained on his feet for hours. He was quite a man. A few minutes later he returned with two stem glasses filled with a deep red wine. His sleeves were rolled up. The two top buttons on his shirt were undone, offering her a glimpse of his upper chest, a striking expanse of smooth skin over taut muscle, with a sprinkling of dark hair.

  Gratefully she took her glass. He tapped his glass against hers in a toast and sat down on the edge of the bed. “To us. To this evening.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” She sat down beside him and took a fortifying sip. It was excellent wine, not too dry, and the flavor was mild and nutty. “This is delicious. What is it?”

  “It’s a French Merlot. It’s a good vintage, too.”

  He probably knew a lot about wines. And he was right about its soothing quality. After several sips, she felt the tension ebb from her shoulders and her heartbeat return to a more normal rhythm. The alcohol was going straight into her bloodstream because she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. Rishi was beginning to look even more seductive as he gazed at her with his rain-dampened hair and that look of longing on his face. The wine seemed to be relaxing him, too.

  Slowly he removed the glass from her hand and put it on the bedside table, then placed his empty one next to hers. “Feel better?” he asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  He rose to his feet, went into the sitting room, and returned with a small plastic bag—his convenience store purchase. Then he turned down the bedside lamp to its lowest setting, bringing a muted glow to the room. He was clearly setting the stage for the next step in his grand seduction.
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  Her breath came out in a quiet sigh when he sat back down and lowered his lips to hers. His mouth was warm and gentle and tasted of wine. Her lips parted to accept his kiss. Gradually he increased the pressure and tilted both of them backward to lie on the mattress. Her legs dangled over the edge.

  She knew he was an expert kisser, and he didn’t disappoint her now. When his lips shifted from her mouth to drift over her jaw, she moved her head to the side, allowing him access to her neck and shoulders. He lingered at the base of her throat. “So soft,” he breathed, “so feminine.”

  His hands were cruising over her now, making her shudder. He unbuttoned her blouse, very carefully, one tiny silver button at a time, like he had a hundred years to do it in. And while his fingers made their unhurried progress on the buttons, his lips glided down by degrees over her newly exposed skin. Finally he pushed away the open flaps to reveal her torso. With the utmost gentleness his fingers explored it, slowly but surely setting her nerves on fire.

  He had marvelous hands. They were warm and persuasive and slightly rough, reminding her that he’d worked on a farm in his youth. A few raised scars, probably from the fire he’d battled, remained on his arms. Underneath that suave exterior there still lurked a farm boy. And that made him more human, more desirable.

  “Rishi.” She reached out to pull him toward her, so she could feel his lips on hers again, feel his weight on her chest. He came to her without hesitation, his mouth as ravenous as hers. She wanted him. Now.

  He left her for a moment and leaned down to slide her sandals off. They fell to the carpeted floor with twin thumps. Then he unzipped her slacks, and slid those down, too—again, at a lingering pace. She lay back and let him undress her. She hadn’t had this kind of erotic pampering in a long, long time.

  The wine was giving her a pleasant buzz. Despite the fact that all she had on now were her panties and an open blouse that exposed her flimsy bra, she didn’t care. His eyes were on her, the hot, molten pewter in them telling her he liked what he saw. She felt the flush of excitement reaching her neck and face.

  “Get up a moment, darling. Let me turn down the bed,” he said and she obeyed. When she stood up, she swayed a little, but he held her firmly against him with one hand while he turned down the covers with the other. Then he slid the blouse off her and tossed it aside. He laid her back on the clean, cool sheets. “You’re a beautiful woman, Anju,” he murmured.

  She noticed the slight tremor in his hands as he sat on the edge of the bed and discarded his own shoes and socks. Then he shed his trousers. And she watched with growing awe as the shirt came off. He seemed to have no inhibitions about undressing while she watched. When he pulled off the black boxers and tossed them, she inhaled sharply.

  All her fantasies paled in comparison to the real man that stood before her, his need to take her so obvious, it left her fighting for breath.

  He lowered himself to the bed to lie beside her. His weight made the mattress groan a little. In the next second she was encompassed in his arms. Like magic he got rid of her undergarments. Until that moment she’d had no idea her need for him was so deep, so desperate.

  He began to stroke and knead her skin once again. “Anju, I swear I’ve never wanted another woman like I want you. I want to make love to you again and again and again.” His mouth was an inch away from hers. “I want to make you forget every other man in your life. I want you to remember only me.” He gave her a moment to absorb that. “Only me,” he repeated.

  Like a sponge she soaked up his whispered words. She knew he was telling her the truth. He hadn’t lied to her thus far and wasn’t likely to be doing it now. She let him lead the way. He was so darn good at it. In return she gave with abandon, letting herself savor the sensations that flooded her as he worked on her like a master musician plucking the strings, making her hunger for him gradually escalate into desperation. And all the while his gaze held hers in the pale light.

  Then she heard the familiar sound of a foil packet being ripped open.

  “Now?” he queried, rising above her. His voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Now.”

  It was a while before Anjali summoned the strength to open her eyes. She found him watching her, a hint of a smile playing around his mouth. He lay on his side, one hand splayed on her stomach and one heavy leg lying across both of hers. She was pleased to discover he wasn’t the type to make love, then turn around and start snoring.

  “Hello, beautiful,” he said in a low, intimate murmur.

  “Hi.” She smiled at him but didn’t move. She didn’t want to move. Her body felt fluid and boneless. She wanted to lie there forever and relive the moment. So much for thinking he’d be lousy in bed and she could tuck him away in some remote corner of her mind, then forget about him. On the contrary, he was awesome.

  “Are you all right?” He traced the line of her jaw with a finger.

  “What do you think?” she asked him lazily.

  “I think you look like a woman who’s eminently satisfied. In fact, I believe you have the look of a cat that licked up the last drop of cream.”

  “You’re right.” She reached up to touch his face. “Thank you for going slow with me, Rishi, and for making it special.” She knew he’d kept an iron control over his own needs. He’d deliberately kept up that leisurely pace to allow her to get over her edginess, to become comfortable with him, to get to know him intimately.

  “That was my intention,” he said. “To give you time to relax and adjust to me—to focus on us.”

  “You came out with flying colors,” she said, snatching his wandering hand and placing a kiss on his palm.

  “I don’t know about you, but all that talk about cream is making me hungry,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You feel like eating something?”

  “Hmm…Now that you mention it, I could—”

  She never got to finish her sentence because his mouth was on hers again, more urgent now, more demanding—a contrast to the first time, when everything had occurred in slow motion. Within seconds they were making love. But she was ready for it—more than ready for the speed and sizzle. This time she knew without a doubt that she’d never been loved quite like this.

  It was a while before their sated bodies separated. Finally serious about his need for food, Rishi picked up the phone from the nightstand and ordered room service. When it arrived, they ate at the small glass-top table in the kitchenette. He wore his navy monogrammed silk robe and lent her one of his polo shirts. It was huge on her, so it served as an adequate wrap. And it was made of the softest blue cotton.

  She had vegetable soup and a salad while Rishi consumed a gargantuan roast beef sandwich and french fries, or chips, as he called them. When she remarked on his appetite, he grinned. “Love is hard work, Miss Kapadia.” When she blushed, his grin widened. “Besides, I need the energy to make love to you again.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Again?”

  “Didn’t I say again and again?”

  “I didn’t think you meant it literally.”

  “I’m a man of my word, darling,” he said and rose to his feet, pulling her up with him and catching her in a tight embrace. “See, you fit perfectly in my arms.”

  “No, I’m too short for you,” she countered, tossing her head back to look at him. “I’m barely five foot three, and you’re what…six?”

  He pulled her face back into his chest and parked his chin over the top of her head. “I like it that you’re petite. I can easily carry you.”

  To prove his point he hoisted her in his arms and took her straight to bed, surprising and delighting Anjali at the same time.

  Settling her head over his shoulder, she gave a contented sigh. “I feel like a princess.”

  “That’s the general idea.” As he laid her down and settled himself beside her, he glanced at her legs. “Have I mentioned you have lovely legs, Princess?”

  She pretended to search her mind. “I vaguely recall so
mething of the sort.” Putting a hand on his bad knee, she looked at him, her expression turning serious. “Speaking of legs, all this activity must take its toll on yours, Rishi.”

  “Exercise is good for it,” he said.

  “Not this kind of exercise.”

  “Exactly this kind of exercise.” He pushed her down into the mattress and covered her body with his.

  Sometime later, she stirred from her nap, every nerve in her body still tingling from the intense lovemaking she and Rishi had indulged in. The air conditioner hummed steadily beneath the windowsill. The sound of rain hammering on the window was no longer there. The storm had apparently subsided. She could hear the drone of traffic on the ever-packed Garden State Parkway less than half a mile away.

  Rishi was asleep on his side, facing her. His breathing was even and soothing. The light was off but the red glow from the bedside clock-radio provided enough illumination for her to watch him sleep. It was well past midnight.

  On a wistful breath she closed her eyes. A torrid affair with her business partner wasn’t what she’d wanted, but she’d stumbled into it anyway. She wasn’t entirely oblivious to its potential repercussions, either. Deep down she’d known she was vulnerable to him long before this. Making love with him had only increased her vulnerability. But she wouldn’t trade what she’d had with him during the last few hours for anything.

  Gently she shifted over to the other side of the bed so she could use the bathroom. He remained sleeping. Poor baby was exhausted. No matter how much he joked about it, that injured leg had to be hurting. She’d had ample opportunity tonight to study that scar up close, and each time she’d winced, not from revulsion but from anguish. She wanted to put her hands on it and smooth it away, dispel the pain associated with it. Of course, she couldn’t do any such thing. He could mistake it for pity.

  She picked up her clothes from the floor and entered the bathroom. Within minutes she was dressed. While she stood before the mirror, pulling a comb through her tangled hair, she couldn’t help noticing the glow on her face—the afterglow—color blooming high in her cheeks. Her eyes virtually sparkled.