This story is a slight variation of a story, that appeared in one of the Indian magazines some 10/12 years ago. I enjoyed reading it very much.

  

Love Thy Neighbour's Saree

by Josephine Gonsalves

  

Ajay, skin was soft and smooth, like that of a young girl. He was fair skinned and slim and of slight stature. He did not smoke or join his office colleagues in their, after office outings. This and his shy nature, made him a kind of outcast from them. He hid his feminine features, by wearing thick eye glasses, keeping a thin mustache and crew cut. His shirts were full sleeved and always buttoned up. His work at the office was meticulous and punctual and he did not join in any office gossip. His co workers, both male and female always tried to poke fun at him.

Every Friday afternoon the office would buzz with excitement as plans were drawn up for the coming weekend. The younger working generation were in no way going to let life pass on sedately. In fact on Fridays the office dress code was relaxed, and the young women wore flashy casuals. This Friday was special, the office would be closed for an extended weekend, due to to the Eid holiday on Monday.( in India major religion feast are holidays)

He finished up his scheduled work, cleaned up his desk, and briefcase in hand joined the rest on their way home, to enjoy the weekend..

He lived in Dadar, in the heart of Bombay city. His lodging was on the second floor of an old but well maintained tenement building. Typical of that area. Busy streets lined with clothing articles shops, tailors shops, tea and refreshment etc and pavements filled with vegetables and fruit stalls. Washing hang from balconies and roofs were crowded with antennas. The streets were crowded till well past ten at night.

Ajay had lived here for fifteen of his twenty four years, and this was home to him , like 'Neil Diamond's' beautiful noise. His mother had passed away six months ago and now he lived here alone, in his three room tenement. He shared the floor with three other families. The balcony or passage was common, and the front door and window faced it. The balcony was always crammed with washing getting dried, mostly womens sarees, petticoats, nighties etc.

As he passed by, he always brushed against these clothes, especially the women wear. But he was careful in case he was seen purposely doing so. But his timing were such that, there was always some interesting program or cricket match telecast on TV( National pastime of India ),

He passed the first lodging, the bigger clothes were already taken in, Mrs. S. was always on time with her work. He rarely felt her clothes. The next tenement door and window was shut. The Guptes, were out of town. The third tenement clothesline was still full. This couple had only moved in last year, and he slowly brushed against Mrs N's orange and green cotton saree.. It felt so nice and soft, No one was watching, He put his face to it and sighed, wow that was good, what a welcome home. He reluctantly moved towards his front door and what a surprise, there on his clothesline was a magenta and gold bordered silk saree, matching blouse and brown cotton petticoat (ghagra ). He knew it was her saree, he had seen her in it many times. She must have attended some function earlier and left it out for airing. But although they were on very friendly terms, and she often bought him some tasty food or helped him with his darning and button work, she had not trespassed any of his space or privacy. Her saree in front of his door, on his clothes line was something new.He knew he should do something about it. He looked around, the 'chitrageet'(flim songs ) sound filled the air . All the doors on his floor were closed. It was already getting dark, no one was watching. He walked right under the saree and put his face into the silk, Oh it still had her fragrance coupled with her sweat. The feeling was terrific, he was getting turned on. He had not had an opportunity to feel or wear a saree, freshly worn by a lovely woman. He put his briefcase down and hugged the saree. He undid his cuffs and shirt buttons, removed his shirt and under vest . He let the saree caress his chest and bare arms. Took in lungfuls of her scent. This was too much. He was losing control . He climaxed and slowly came back to reality. Some one would see him. He let go of the saree, gathered his things, let himself into his home, closed the door and collapsed on the sofa.

His mind slowly relaxed, yes that felt good. It had been a long time, since he had felt like this.

His brother's wives had cleaned out the closets when his a mother had passed away. They had divided the loot, so to say among themselves. Taken all the feminine articles, thinking they belonged to his mother. The good stuff they kept for themselves, the rest they packed off to some charities.

His fem clothes had all been taken away. His mother had known all along, but she had not let it out to anyone, as far as he knew. But he refrained from using her clothing, that would be too much, it would break the special bond. Masturbating in his mothers clothes. Now with no females at home, it was difficult explaining to the shop men down the street, why he required to buy female clothes and other articles. He had tried to buy some articles in another part of town, but either the prices were high, or the sizes were not right. He had managed to hide his wig though in an old trunk on the loft. What a relief, he should have hidden his fem stuff too. But that was done now.

He had a quick shower put on shorts and was wondering how to spend the evening, when he heard a light tap on his door. Through the barred window, he saw her. He opened the door. She told him that Mr. N was not at home and she wanted help with the VCR. Ajay said he would put on a shirt to cover up his bare chest, but she said it was okay, there was no one around as the neighbors were all away for this weekend and Mr. N. was in Madras. The reply was too smooth, but Ajay was too trusting. He went to her place and went to the cabinet, where the unit was. He bent down over the cabinet to attend to the VCR. He soon discovered that the VCR, needed more expertise than what he could muster up and was straightening up when her noticed her bending over him. Her saree pallu ( the end part taken usually across the breast and over the left shoulder) was all over him and her breath was on his neck. He knew what was coming ahead. He had fantasized this for a long time but was afraid this would never come true. He had wanted to be alone with her so badly, and now here was his chance. Ever so slowly he straightened up and backed right into her arms. She put her arms around him and pulled him close to her.

They stood like that for what seems like eternity. She dressed in a green bordered, lemon, cotton saree holding a frightened man/boy, clad in only fine shorts. She was taller, and heavier than him. She covered him almost completely. His emotions now started playing up, and soon she could feel his body sending shivers, she reached in front of him and felt his member straining against his short. Slowly she started caressing his chest and stomach. She circled his nipples and soon he was moaning and sighing. Responding to her touch like a woman. She kissed him lightly behind his ears and on his neck and he backed into her arms all the more. She moved her pallu onto his shoulder and round him. This bought more sighing and moaning and soon Ajay was moving his body to her caresses. He had lost all control. Her kisses started getting harder and longer and she too started moving along with him to a slow rocking rhythm.

She backed slowly onto the sofa and sat down with him on her lap. She turned his face to her and slowly they fell into a deep, passionate kissing frenzy. This was beyond his wildest imagination and he climaxed, resting his face on her shoulder. No words were exchanged for long time. She held him in her arms like a child. He nestled on her lap ashamed of himself, climaxing without any proper sexual contact..

Slowly she started to get up, he sensed it and put his arms around her neck. She put an arm under his knees and one around his waist and soon she had lifted him in her arms. She carried him like a child across the room into her bedroom. He did not expect her to be so strong and was feeling very feminine in this position. He was feeling like a bride on her wedding night. She looked into his eyes and realized he wanted more. She walked across, to the big wooden cupboard, that had the mirror attached to the doors. and stopped in front of it. What a lovely sight, he was in his fantasy woman' arms. He really wanted to be a bride now. This was new to him. His fantasy did not last that long. She slowly lowered him on to the floor.

Motioning for him to be silent she went out and brought in the magenta saree, blouse, and petticoat.

He just stood there while she stripped him of his soiled shorts. Used it to clean him somewhat. Only then she spoke and told him how she had watched him everyday for nearly a year. She purposely kept her thing where he could feel them and today she realized was the best chance she would ever have to know the truth about him. That is why the saree in front of his door. She had kept the TV volume high and balcony light off intentionally. She had watched him through the slit in the window curtain. When she saw him climax hugging her saree, she knew well that he needed some loving tender care. The type that she could not share with her pot bellied, workholic, serious, husband .

Her words bought relief to him and no more was he ashamed of himself.

She told him to go home shave his moustache and return soon.

He went out naked, sneaked back to his rooms, shaved and bought his long haired wig.(chotti)

She soon dressed him in her petticoat, a bra stuffed with cotton balls, and her blouse. Her blouse fit him like it was made for him. She told him that this blouse was tight for her and she usually left the lower hooks unhooked, and was thinking of giving it away. She did not need to help him drape the saree and when he was done, remarked that he must have plent of practice to do it so quickly and even better than her. His face needed very little make up. She painted his lips to match the saree, put glass bangles on his wrist, long clip on earings, and open toe high heeled slippers, she had specially purchased from crawford market for him, but was unable to present to him.Then she walked him to the mirror to admire himself. He was pleased with his reflection, he knew he could easily pass for a pretty woman.

He danced and pirouetted in front of the mirror pleased with himself.

After letting him enjoy admiring himself, in the mirror, she asked him if he was happy. When he blushed, she knew. They had three whole days and nights now and many more in the future if they could cement this bond. She needed him to make a secret pact with her. He blushed even more. She lit a small oil lamp and placed it in the centre of the room, she took some kumkum( red powder) and put it in the parting of his hair near the hair line. She put a large bindi (red dot) in the centre of his eye brows. She then tied the ends of their sarees, pulled the pallu over his head and led him round the small lamp, as a kind of marriage ritual.

When this was done, she put the lamp on the stand and told him that for her he was no more Ajay, but Jaya, He agreed demurely like an obedient Indian wife. He was to address her as Ji.

She then lifted him once more in her arms and carried him to the bed where she then proceeded to administer to him that special kind of LOVE.

Jaya was truly happy. If only those loud mouthed people at the office could see him now.

  

  

  

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