Casual Meeting (Neela's account), part 1

It was a bitter cold Friday afternoon that was quickly turning towards night. A few snow flurries lazily fell as I waited for a cab to stop and take me back to the hotel. Everyone was talking about another blanketing storm forecasted to move into the area, but it seemed too cold for even the snow to desire falling here. The local people temporally adjust their bodies to manage this kind of frigid shock to their system, but I had landed here only this morning, mid-winter, from the desert oasis of Dubai. I had rather foolishly worn a skirt and coat that didn’t shield the lower part of my extremities and the thin white stockings that grazed my legs provided the only barrier. As I stood, alone, totally exposed to the elements, the air chilled me and I shivered almost violently. 1

It was my first time in Germany. I had expected a quaint and tranquil place, or at least that was how Essen had presented itself in the brochures. Pictures of boulevards and parks with potted plants and natural wonders hanging from every free space stuck in my mind. I should have known this small town wouldn’t have been as beautiful and endearing as I expected, but I tried not to feel disappointed. I have visited a lot of small, dingy places on all corners of the world and always managed to have a little fun in each and every one of them. This place, for no particular reason other than the weather, reminded me of towns nearby my alma mater, Penn State. I tried to look on the bright side and knew that there must be some way to liven up my evening even if only through a highly anticipated glass of Beaujolais in the hotel lobby.2

A man emerged from the convocation center. He wore a thick mustache and seemed at least ten years older than me. He was obviously Indian, most likely Gujarati. His style was a generic one that did not offer much hope of transcendence beyond that of a typical man from Gujarat providence. He was a little stout and not my type at all, but maybe I would give him a chance. I thought I remembered seeing him in attendance at the same conference I had just left, but there had been several Indian men there and I hadn’t really paid attention to any of them. I didn’t hesitate to call out to him.3

“Excuse me,” I yelled, as he walked away from me. 4

He turned around rather suddenly and looked confused as if he wasn’t sure if he was moving in the right direction or not.5

“Are you going to the hotel?” I continued.6

He gingerly stepped away from the curb and started to walk towards me with a confused look on his face. His head protruded out a bit as if he was approaching what he thought might be an apparition that had blend in with the opaque surroundings.7

“Yes?” he answered as if he hadn’t heard me though I thought he probably had.8

"Can I join you? You see I’m new here and don't know the language," I said, sashaying just a bit and giving my unfalteringly flirtatious smile.9

“Why, certainly.” He smiled and straightened up his stance. 10

Suddenly a taxi appeared out of nowhere. He looked overly delighted as he opened the door to escort me inside. I could have sworn that he was blushing although his skin was too dark to tell such a thing.11

“I’m Neela.” I said, attempting to break the ice as he sat down beside me.12

The chofer said something incomprehensible, most likely asking as to where they should be dropped. Arun answered confidently and the driver seemed to understand him perfectly. He sounded strange to me and different from the German I had heard, almost as if he were speaking a language he just made up.13

He resumed smiling wide at me, and laughing nervously when I prompted him to speak. I asked twice before he finally revealed that he was an accountant. I was a little surprised, but only because I wondered what he was doing at a conference full of executives and engineers. An accountant seemed to fit his personality trait better though. He did not seem to be so adept in dealing with social situations and was most likely better with numbers. During the ride, I felt like he was most likely calculating the amount that the final fare would come to as he looked around quizzically14

Not wanting to seem rude or ungrateful after he paid for the ride, I reached out my hand to thank him. He shook it rather eagerly and bowed his head a bit as if indicating this would be the end of our short encounter. I was surprised; I had counted on him asking me to dinner. His formalities made me uncomfortable and I didn’t feel like it was my place to suggest it.15

We went to our separate rooms, and I wondered if the freezing surroundings had made everyone grow cold. He had treated me in a dignified manner, of course, the way Indian men were expected to treat a lady of his kind. What I really wanted though was for someone to loosen up a little. The men I have come to know start planning their Friday nights early and don’t let me out of sight until I put on some charisma. I felt that Arun was not nearly as innocent and proper as he appeared to be and could desire someone like me though I wasn’t so sure I even wanted that; he was probably married, too. He couldn’t be up to anything special tonight, I thought, while alone in my room. There was no way either of us were leaving for outside as the storm was brewing up around us and I didn’t hesitate to pursue him further.16

I knocked on his door and it opened just enough to see who I was.17

“May I come in, or am I intruding on your privacy?" I said a little more mischievously than I intended. I knew it was somewhat unorthodox for him to invite me inside.18

He opened the door wide and extended his arm out wide as he ushered me into the room. He still hadn’t said so much as a word.19

I started some small talk, but I couldn’t help but notice his level of discomfort at the situation. I quickly came to the point and said, “I am hoping to spend the evening with you, Mr. Arun Kumar, that is, if you don't have any other plans and you don't mind." I spoke a little tentatively, somewhat expecting a regretful response.20

"Call me Arun, Miss Neela, that is easier, and of course, I am honoured and I have no other plans either," he announced.21

In the cab ride to the hotel, I had told him I was a divorcee, though it was not entirely true. My husband of eight years had recently decided to go back to New York after working as an ex-pat in the Middle East, like myself. We had separated over a month ago and he hadn’t even called to tell me that he arrived safely. I had suspected extra-marital affairs since early on. We were both high-level executives with different energy companies, traveling frequently, and knowing all too well what happened discreetly in hotel rooms on the road.22

“You happily married, Arun?" I asked, feeling him stiffen up again.23

He exhaled heavily as if he was holding his breath. "I think so, we have managed to live together almost 27 years," he explained.24

I didn’t mean to gush all my pent up emotions so soon, but before I knew it I was talking about my husband, careful not to reveal too much of the actual truth. I knew it was a huge turn off for a woman to talk about her ex-husbands and such, but Arun didn’t seem to mind. He assumed my marriage had been arranged and I did not clear up the mistake. Before he could even suspect what was happening, my own vague yet well played-out drama had gotten him to feel less reluctant in opening up.25

“Look Neela, life is never all bed of roses, we all have problems. You see your hubby was too demanding and you did not like it, well my wife was too passive and I did not like it," he said and added, "The way we are brought up matters a lot in married life, my wife was taught, sex was a sin all her life and while she wanted it, she also was reluctant to show her emotions. That is also not a good thing in a marriage, you see."26

"You mean she wanted sex but was not passionate?" I asked.27

He was obviously uncomfortable in talking about sex and would have rather changed the subject, but was too polite to object, so I continued. I was good at pressing men up to their limit in whatever thing I desired and often did it just for the pleasure. A sense of empowerment would come over me when I would do it, leaving me in a state of euphoria. As a woman in a high-level position with many men under me, I crave this feeling on an almost daily basis. It is the single most benefit in my line of work, much more than money. 28

"You think I did wrong, divorcing?" I asked only to get his take on life. He answered pretty much how I expected and ended by saying that he has no right to judge me. Arun didn’t tell me much, or anything unusual apart from any other man’s usual tendencies, but I had the sense that he probably told me more of his life in that five or ten minutes than he had told anyone in years.29

We dined on some incredibly bland food served up by the hotel and managed to finish off a bottle of wine. It wasn’t even 10 o’clock as we ascended in the elevator towards our rooms. It was definitely going to be a boring day tomorrow as well at the conference and I wondered if I should even bother to go at all. I invited Arun to my room, more out of courtesy than anything else. I was surprised when he did not hesitate to oblige. Although I am of Indian origin myself, I had never been with an Indian man before and the only one-night stand was early in my college years. After it, I had regretted it terribly. Although my husband, Elliot, had several sets of girlfriends before marriage, I didn’t really sleep around, at least not by contemporary American standards.30

Arun was so innocent and proper compared to any man I had ever come close to, although no where near as exciting. For a brief moment, as he was turned away, I cocked my head slightly and stared. A new thought pattern had surfaced and I wondered if Arun was the type of man that I should have married from the start. He surely would have made my parents happy. He was a good man, resisting sexual temptations even from his wife, so as not to discomfort her. He was probably a virgin until he married. 31

I got lost in my thoughts for a moment and as Arun turned around to face me I saw a look in his eyes that could have only have been translated as the anticipation of lust. I quickly realized that something could happen that night if he came to my room and I would not object. He might resist, but that just added another layer of dimensionality to it. I immediately felt liberated and wondered what he would look like on top of me.32

I excused myself to go to the bathroom and got out my pink nightgown. It was transparent and I purposefully let my black bra and panties show through. I am going to torture him senseless, she thought to herself as she glided towards him.33

"We will be more comfortable in the bedroom, Arun," I said, coming close and nearly standing on top of the place where he was seated. I was less concerned with his initial reaction to my dress and more concerned with making sure he was rising and moving in my general direction. Any other man would have just tackled me by this point, but he stayed silent and listless from what I could tell. He tried not to look at me directly, but was obviously aroused. How long would he be able to hold out, I wondered.34

"Don't like my dress?" I said. I fluffed the nightgown around me as I sat down airily on the bed.35

"Well........ You know it is too provocative and I am only human, Neela," he said with an almost painful look on his face.36

I leaned my head back and laughed, a little too mischievously. " I know, Arun. I wanted to see your reaction and I am not disappointed."37

Arun remained standing, stunned, with his back erect against the corner of the doorframe. He laid his head back against it in distress and looked as if he were unable to move or think. I could not even see his right leg. It seemed to be stuck in the next room as if running in trepidation away from me.38

I felt sorry for him. He had neither the sense to give in to his desires nor the courage to run away. I knew tonight was not the night and began to feel cheap and neglected as I sat nearly naked, ignored. I started talking about my husband again and my quest to find ‘Mr. Right’. I was in actuality beginning the descent that would ultimately land him safely in his room for the night.39

In a matter of minutes, the conversation had drifted back to normal talk and he had found his exit strategy. I thanked him profusely for the delightful evening. He had resorted back to speechlessness and could only manage to shake my hand as he left quickly.40

******************41

The next morning, still feeling like a fool, Arun was nowhere to be found in the lobby by the time the final van was preparing to leave. I had a bad feeling like he might have gone out of his way to avoid me altogether, but then remembered his ashen face from the night before. He had probably overslept and I went to the front desk to call him just to make sure. As the phone rang once, twice, I thought of how the fate of this phone call would predict the rest of our time together. If he was not there or seemed grumpy, he would have most likely had a change of heart from the night before and would avoid me until we parted ways. But, if he did indeed oversleep and his response was positive, he would be mine by the end of the day. I had begun to feel feverishly towards him in a way only adolescents do.42

He answered before the third ring, drowsily. "Hi, Neela, Good morning, I am a late riser, sorry.”43

I told him not to apologize and that I would meet him in the lobby in an hour. We would have to take a cab together again as the vans had all left. I got a little antsy as he almost took the whole hour and I impatiently found myself at his door again. He let me in and looked to be almost ready. I started to fix his tie and coat in a way only mothers and simple wives do.44

The day was pretty boring as expected. I would feel a rise in me when Arun eyed me jealously as other men came and went. We stayed close the whole day, and then left together in the evening as well.45