Hello, my readers. Ayaan is back again with another incident. Oh, sorry, I mean a series of stories or incidents that happened in my life. Incidents that I believe made me understand both a woman’s mind and body better.
My junior college was over, and I was preparing for my competitive exams. Shwetha and I now meet less than usual as I have completed my intermediate. For those who don’t know, Shwetha was my library teacher. To know more about her, read my story ‘ Shower with my sexy teacher.’
But we used to meet less often now in a week, and at first, I used to visit my school to meet her. But you can’t go there every day, right? Slowly, things changed. We started seeing each other less and less with each passing day. Even though we still managed to have fun when I visited her place, it never felt safe.
We attempted to have phone sex, but to tell the truth, it was a fiasco. Uncomfortable, clumsy and after a few attempts, we just gave up. All that was left was talking, but conversation had never been our thing. Our connection was physical, pure and simple—that craving that made everything else disappear.
So when we lost that spark, it all went down. The calls got shorter, and slowly we parted ways. Weirdly enough, it ended without drama; maybe it was because it was more of a physical thing for us than a mental one. But that’s another story.
A couple of months passed. After years, I resumed late-night porn and masturbation. It was miserable at first, but the urge slowly faded, but never left. I got used to it.
One day, during my daily jog, I noticed a food stall set up along my jogging path. I’ve passed here every day but never noticed how funny it was, I thought to myself. Maybe I was just lost in my music and my own thoughts.
Turns out, it had only been there about a month. It was a small stall. There were more than a dozen customers sipping chai and enjoying their snacks. I got a glimpse of the woman behind the counter who was running around taking orders, frying, handling money and so forth. She ran the whole show.
I checked out the snacks, ordered two chilly bajjis, and she gave them over quickly. The bajjis weren’t anything special, but the chutney was good. I finished it and walked home. This stall was the only one on the side of the main road. There were no other shops around.
After that, I started going once or twice a week. Her name was Seema. I got to know it from her after a couple of visits. At first, Seema aunty and I just exchanged quick smiles like any strangers. Then it became hellos and friendly greetings.
Before I knew it, stopping by and having at least a cup of tea was part of my daily routine. Seema was 39, 5’4, with a dusky complexion, a bit thick and curvy enough to fill out her saree just right, with long straight hair and big black beautiful eyes. She regularly wore bright cotton sarees.
One day, as usual, I jogged over to find the stall closed. It felt odd. She never used to close, not even for a day. Five days went by, and the stall was still closed. On the sixth day, it was opened again. I spotted plaster on Seema aunty’s right arm. Concerned, I walked over and asked.
Me: Aunty, what happened?
She smiled at me in fatigue.
Seema: I just slipped at home while carrying stuff. The doctor said it’s only a hairline fracture. Nothing serious.
She tried to act fine, but I could see the effort she was putting in. I ordered the usual, then asked her if she needed any help. She smiled and brushed it off like it was nothing, insisting she was fine. I paid, said bye and went back home. But I couldn’t stop thinking about her all day long.
Something about seeing her struggle in that pain just got under my skin. I guess I am just wired this way, I can’t watch them hurt.
Restless enough, without thinking much, I grabbed my car keys and drove to the stall. The time was 6 pm – she should’ve been closed, but the stall was still open. That caught my attention. She once told me that she always got off at six.
I parked and walked right up.
Me: Is everything okay?
Seema: Oh, Ayaan—it’s you. Why are you here?
Me: Just checking on you. Are you alright?
Seema: Yes, I was just about to close.
Me: Ah, yes, but you look like you’re struggling.
Seema: No, it’s just—.
Me: Alright, then.
I picked up a container.
Seema: Ayaan, what are you doing?
Me: Helping you.
Seema: I’m fine, Ayaan. I can manage.
Me: Aunty, I understand you always like to do this by yourself. But with that hand, you’re just making it worse. Let me help, just for the day.
She hesitated, then relented.
Me: At least let me help you.
Seema: Alright. Come on.
I took her to my car, opened the passenger door, and directed her to get in. She stopped and looked straight into my eyes and spoke.
Seema: Ayaan…
Me: Aunty, we know each other well enough by now, don’t we? Let me do this, I insist, unless you still see me as just another face.
She paused, her fingers still on the keys and then slightly nodded, entering the car. I started loading the containers in the back.
Seema: Ayaan, put them on the ground. Do not leave them on the seat. They might spill off and ruin the seats.
Me: It’s fine, aunty. I’ll clean up or have the covers changed if that happens. Don’t worry.
I took the keys, locked the stall, and we both got in. We talked more than we had ever talked before during the drive. Initially, it was merely the ordinary basic chit chat two people have, yet it was different. It felt like the barriers between us were getting lowered.
We were in fact discussing, not just exchanging guest behaviour, as you would with two people who had never encountered each other. She told me that she appreciated how much I cared and that no customer had ever helped her like that before. Moreover, she said it was a big deal for her.
Slowly, she revealed more of her story. She mentioned her husband died due to electrocution, and they didn’t have kids. She was living alone, not far from her stall. Just before reaching, she asked me if I could drop her near the entrance of the colony so that the neighbours wouldn’t see her and gossip about it.
From that moment onwards, it was totally different. Like we were two humans in this world who had a lifelong friendship. We were getting closer, not in that sense, but like two strangers becoming friends. I started dropping her off at her place every day.
In the beginning, she protested that it wasn’t necessary, but after I kept insisting, it became a nightly thing that we did together.
Time went on. Seema aunty got her plaster off and got back to normal, but I still gave her a ride to her place. She never told me to stop, so I didn’t. We both just enjoyed the company of one another.
But one night, something changed. I was putting the containers in the car as usual while Seema aunty was busy closing the stall. All of a sudden, it started raining heavily and everything was completely soaked. I ran as quickly as possible to the car with the last container and got in.
My shirt was drenched in water and was plastered to my body. Seema entered afterwards, completely wet, her hair soaked in water, saree sticking to her body with raindrops glistening all over her body. The car was now filled with the scent of rain, earthy soil and our radiant bodies.
It was the very first rain of the season, as I remember, and as you would expect, it was heavy. We were there, staring at each other, almost fully wet with the rain that was drumming in the background.
No one said a word. It was as if the storm had absorbed all the sounds, so much silence had been left behind. I stole a glance at her. The moment I saw her, I got impatient, the manner in which her saree stuck to her and the emphasis which it gave to her curves.
Her blouse and waist were almost fully visible with a slight hint of her petticoat. I was getting restless, so I immediately looked in another direction, yet the image did not leave my head. She laughed and broke my silence.
Seema: You’ve gone quiet, Ayaan. Did the rain steal your words?
I held a half-smile, but my heart was pounding faster than an F1 race car.
Then, another burst of rain (heavier this time) struck, which made the windows cloudy and covered us like a cloud. She pushed her hair aside, and our eyes were fixed. Something was magnetic about us; it could be curiosity, longing or needs, things that were difficult to describe.
I wanted to lean forward but stood motionless. What if she pulled away? And what if she felt that I was some stupid kid who had just overstepped? She was more mature and experienced and had seen the world more than I did.
While in the middle of my thoughts, she turned and looked down, readjusting her saree. She was looking damn sexy. I took a deep breath.
Me: Aunty, can I say something?
She looked at me and nodded yes.
Me: I do not know how to say it, but it just feels different to be with you. It feels special.
Seema: Special, like friends?
Me: No, I mean, more than a friend. Aunty, I like you, and I know you do too.
Her lips remained closed, and she remained silent. Then she whispered.
Seema: Ayaan… this is dangerous. What will people think? They wouldn’t understand.
Me: (it was hardly more than a whisper) I know. However, at this moment, I am not thinking about them. Just you.
We fell into silence again. Then, without looking back, she put her hand on mine (while on the steering wheel) and directed me to the gear lever. Her hand was slightly trembling, yet it was raw and real.
That touch said everything. We didn’t kiss. We didn’t cross a line we couldn’t back from. But at that very instant of time, both of us were aware that something had changed. The storm would go, but what was between us was here to stay.
The following night, following the rain, I was not able to concentrate on anything. Each time I shut my eyes, I went living that moment when she touched my hand, that pause, the decision, the silent promise that perhaps, she wanted too. To let it all go.
The following evening, when I visited her stall, everything did not seem any different. She was doing her business as she always did, frying pakoras, serving tea, and joking around with her regular customers. And then when she looked up at me, she hesitated, a moment too long to be natural.
It could have been the awkwardness, but I knew it wasn’t that. She smiled faintly. I smiled back. There was no more to the tale, but we both knew.
On the second night, I came to her stall as usual. Everything felt the same, nothing seemed to have changed on the surface. She was frying the snacks, pouring hot chai, laughing with the regular customers just like the usual.
But when I looked in his face, there was some energy passing through the air between us each time we had eye contact. She looked right at me in the eye, and there was a slightly too-long look. I noticed. She noticed. We tried to act normal.
With a little acquiescent grin, she smiled at me. I managed one back. No words were said, but it was sufficient to stoke the fire that was burning between us.
Time went by, and our schedule remained the same. I would assist her in carrying the goods, closing the stall, and finally carrying her home in the city teeming with neon lights. But now there was a charge upon the air between us. We didn’t speak, but the silence was telling everything.
During pack up at times, her shoulders used to touch mine. Every contact, intentional or unintentional, was an electric shock. One night, we drove up to the gate of her colony, but she did not open the door. Rather, she sat and twisted the end of her saree between her fingers.
Her voice was low and soft.
Seema: Why do you do this every time, Ayaan?
Me: Do what?
Seema: Care so much. Drop me every day. Worry about me like…
She lost her words and looked at my lips, flicking at the same time.
Me: Like what? (My voice rougher than I meant)
She glanced up, then away.
Seema: Like somebody that shouldn’t.
I looked at her with a slight smile and said.
Me: Maybe I can’t help it.
She did not say anything, and after a moment, she smiled a little and got out of the car.
Seema: Goodnight. (more of a caress than a whisper)
Another week afterwards, we were closing late once more. She appeared worn out, and so I hoisted most of the stuff. Inside the car, she was sliding her head backwards, revealing the gentle touch of her throat, rubbing at the temple.
Me: You, okay? (I murmured)
She sighed, eyes half-closed.
Seema: Long day.
Me: Let’s stop somewhere for tea.
Seema: You always know what people need, don’t you?
I shrugged, suddenly shy, smiling.
Me: Maybe… just for you.
She smiled, hiding herself, and looked again at the window. The drive was silent and grave, with all that we were not saying. As we turned into the colony, she paused, rubbing the keys with her fingers.
Seema: Ayaan, I do not know where this is heading, (clearly voice trembling). I’m scared.
I didn’t touch her, atleast not now. I just let that want hang between us.
Me: Me too. But I don’t want to stop.
She looked at me, and her face showed hunger and fear. She didn’t answer, only nodded, turned her face and looked away.
That nod was enough. She wasn’t letting go. Not yet.
Two weeks passed. It rained one evening, just enough to make the streets empty and make the world less busy. After we closed, she told me to drive inside her colony.
Me: You sure? (my heart pounding)
She nodded, gaze fixed ahead.
Seema: Just tonight.
Her house was in one of the many tucked-away, small and warm. She unlocked the door and turned on the lights, entering the living room. I followed her, carrying two containers with pulse beating in my throat.
Inside, the space was small with just a minimum of everything, the living and dining room in a single room, a window at the end of the dining area with the kitchen and bathroom on the left and a single bedroom on the right.
She dropped her keys on the dining table and turned to me. The rain drummed on the roof, syncing with my heartbeat.
Seema: Sit.
(pointing to the worn sofa)
Seema: I’ll make tea.
She returned with two cups of tea. Her pallu tucked into her waist, saree tightly pressing against her body, hair bunned up with a little bit of sweat on her face.
We sipped our tea in silence at the dining table. The air was filled with anticipation and desire, with everything unsaid. Finally, after a few seconds, she set her cup down on the table and said.
Seema: Ayaan… (her voice breaking)
I leaned forward, unable to control myself.
Me: Yeah.
This time, she held my gaze without blinking once.
Seema: Don’t make me regret this.
Before I could say something, she reached across and put her hand over mine. Her palm was warm, ever so slightly shaking, but her touch felt sure. I looked her in the eye, wanting to do everything we both desired.
Me: Aunty… (desire in my voice)
She pulled away, stood up fast and rushed back to the kitchen.
Seema: This is madness. What are we doing?
I stayed rooted, every nerve on fire.
Me: It’s only madness if we pretend that this isn’t real.
She turned, eyes wild, lips parted.
Seema: You’re young, Ayaan. You can’t know what this could cost me. My respect, my peace—everything.
Me: I do.
Stepping toward her, my voice low.
Me: But what about your happiness? What about you?
She didn’t answer. Just stood there in silence.
The rain lashed the roof, cooling down everything but the heat in the room. She pressed her hands to her face, followed by letting them fall. Her eye was moving swiftly, looking down.
I took a slow but deliberate step closer, the air getting hotter between us.
Me: I’m not asking for promises. I’m not asking for forever. … don’t pretend this isn’t real.
Her breath quickened, eyes locked in over my face, and then at last, as if she finally let go of whatever was holding her back, she whispered.
Seema: Ayaan… please.
I paused, heart pounding faster.
Me: Please, what?
Her gaze flicked up, raw and vulnerable.
Seema: Please don’t make me say it.
That was all I needed. I moved in, slow enough for her to stop me, but she didn’t budge. Her body tensed, but her lips parted, breath shallow against my mouth. I leaned in and, the moment our lips touched, the world abridged to nothing but us.
She kissed me back, hungry and unrestrained. Her fingers were twisting on my shirt, pulling me closer until our bodies pressed against one another. I could feel her body shaking; not due to fear or guilt but with the weight of everything she’d been holding back for so long.
Her mouth was soft and wild, tasting of longing and desire. My hands slide over the bare skin of her waist. We melted into each other, our mouths searching, bodies straining, need rising between us like a tide. She gasped as I lifted her to the world of desire.
The tension that had kept us apart had now shattered; there was only want now, which was fierce and consuming. She pulled away to catch her breath. Her eyes were dark and wild. We kissed again, deeper, more fiercely smooching to the core. Her hands roamed over my body as the kiss deepened.
Her nails scrape gently down my back, making me shiver with pleasure. I pressed her against the wall, making the heat of our bodies ignite every nerve. We finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, our foreheads touching each other with the sweat mingling on our skin.
Seema: This is not right, it’s…wrong. (her voice low) (eyes closed)
Me: Then why does it feel so right?
She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she slid her hand into my hair— dragging me back to her mouth, kissing me desperately that left us both shaking, wanting more. At that moment, I knew she felt free.
Later, when the storm outside faded, I left. She walked me to the door, her saree clinging loosely to her hips, hair messed up, lips swollen, and eyes shining.
Seema: Don’t come tomorrow. (her voice low, breathless)
My heart lurched.
Me: Why?
She tried to smile, cheeks flushed.
Seema: I’ll need a day to breathe. But maybe the day after… come back to me.
She closed the door, smiling, but I stood there for a second, reimagining the moment.
Everything had changed. We had crossed a line. Not recklessly, but because the heat between us had finally become impossible to deny.
To be continued.