“You can come,” She panted into my ear. The permission severed the thread that had been ready to break for aeons and my body was fractured into a million splinters of light and heat and greedy pleasure and it seemed to go on for eternity before I could reassemble the universe around me into one woman, still moving a strap-on inside me. She slowly pulled out and she laid down next to me. My forehead rested on the blankets, and I closed my eyes. My breathing felt labored, my throat tight, and I didn’t want to look at Sara. I was going to cry and I couldn’t stand her seeing me like this. She caught my face in her hand and turned my gaze toward her. “No you don’t. Do you think I’m going to let you hide? Come here.” She slid her arms around me and pulled me toward her, the deceptively slender arms fixing me in a strong grip. The gentleness, the tender manner in which she cared for me proved too much. The tears were hot and cleansing. When they finally slowed and I shuddered and. He waited for Matasari and thinking about this small predicament that had fallen on him and Sonam.Balwant heard the shuffle of Matasari's feet as she approached his room. She and her husband were longtime employees of the household. She was around thirty-three years of age and, like rural womenfolk involved in strenuous physical activities since c***dhood, had a very shapely figure. She had a somewhat dark complexion, having been exposed to harsh sunlight, but she had a longish face that was rather pretty in a way. And she did have a lovely smile and was very lively.Matasari's husband, due to exigencies at home, had sought Balwant's permission and left for his distant village a year back. Matasari would visit her husband every six months or so. Her last visit was about four months back."Babuji, aapne bulaya? (Master, you have called me)?" she asked from the door."Yes, yes ... Matasari.. come inside." His voice was soft, not betraying the anxiety in his mind."Yes Babuji." She walked.
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