INDIAN WINTER (Part 8)


By KATZMAREK ©


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Author's note,


This work is my property and cannot be used for gain without my express permission in writing.


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The red Toyota MR2 squealed to a halt outside the Women's Refuge. Mary was waiting by the front gate and was already by the curb when the sports car stopped. Quickly, she opened the door and jumped in beside the driver.


"Drive! Go!" Mary said, urgency in her voice.


Catherine Sullivan stood on the gas and the car zipped off to merge with the night traffic. She watched her friend through the corner of her eye without speaking until they'd got onto the motorway. Mary was nearly in tears and Cath could see pure thunder in her expression.


"Going straight home?" Cath asked. She knew the answer already.


"Can we drive for a bit?" Mary replied.


"Sure. You called Jake?"


"No!"


"You want to use my phone?"


"No... I'll call him... in a bit."


"Mary... uh... you need to take care of business first. Home business, call him!"


"Ok, ok!" Mary dialed home. Jake answered immediately and she told him she was going to be another hour or so. Her voice was steady until the end. Then, she broke down, tears streaming down her face.


"I know this cool all night café where they have these amazing capuchinos. If you ask them they'll splash a fifth of drambuie in it. Want to check it out?" Mary nodded and Cat aimed for the motorway exit.


The café was busy, but Cat and Mary found a table outside, well to the back. Cat ordered two coffees, winked at the waiter, and made a tipping motion with her hand. The waiter smiled and winked back.


"You know him?" Mary asked, amused.


"Oh we just have some fun, David and I. I come here quite a bit."


"How often and how much fun?"


"He's as camp as a row of tents, Mare," she grinned back, "I'd have to grow an adam's apple to interest him. Fancy something creamy and sugary, full of chocolate? Well, if you don't, I'll have yours as well... hoy, David?"


Two frothy capuchinos duly arrived smelling powerfully of alcohol. Shortly after they were followed by two 'chocolate orgasms,' a dessert swimming in cream and hissing, hot chocolate. The irony wasn't lost on Mary. They tucked in before Cat finally asked what had upset her friend.


"She's fucking me over, Cat. Now I know, she's wants to fuck me over and she's using Jake to get at me."


"Sharmila?" Mary nodded. "Ok," Cat said, leaning back, "start from the beginning?"


Some time later, Cat, her chin resting on her hand, summed up what Mary had told her.


"Let me get this right, ok? Sharmila wants you to bring your lover to her so she can do 'the dance of the seven veils' in front of him, right?" Mary nodded. "Now, there's no professional reason why you can't let this happen. She's not on drugs, you've no reason to believe she's going to attack him? Or vice versa? No emotional risk for the client? Nada. As a professional, you have to use your judgement and find no reason why this meeting can't take place? Now, a couple of questions occur to me."


"I thought there might. First?"


"Are you so sure Sharmila knows Jake is your partner? Or are you making assumptions? In other words, is she really dicking with you or is she just acting fairly normally for a client in recovery?"


"I don't know. Second?" Mary admitted.


"Do you trust Jake?"


"Um... I guess I... not completely."


"Why not? What does the guy have to do?"


"I don't really know that either, It's me, isn't it?" Cath smiled, nodding.


"Tell me, Mare, when was the last time you had a holiday?"


"You, me, we went to the West Coast, remember?"


"Hon, that was 20 years ago."


"Really? That long? Shit, time flies."


"Get Jake to take you on a Bahama cruise... or an archaelogical dig in Malawi... who gives a shit? Get away with him for awhile. The Refuge is not going to fall down. Your clients will cope with someone else for a few weeks. Get the fuck out of this situation, you and Jake! You cannot deal with Sharmila if you've half your focus on keeping her hands off him. You're at risk of being professionally compromised."


"She'll be waiting..."


"Let her fucking wait until they wheel her into the old folk's home. I'll set up a controlled meeting at my office. Sharmila may want to make a play for Jake in front of you, let's not give her the chance? Tell her they're Jake's conditions. This protects you professionally and privately. You've done your duty and I'll see to it she keeps her knickers on."


"You will?" 


Cath nodded, "no-one drops their undies in front of me, baby, unless I ask them! As for mine, honey, if what you tell me about Jake is on the level..."


"Down, Cat!" she laughed.


"Now, I really think we need to get you home to your toyboy, don't you think? He'll be waiting for his four hourly feed, won't he?"


"Cath, you're such a smart bitch!"


"I know, Mare, just jealous! Let's go?"


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As a counsellor, Mary was trained to observe repeating patterns of behaviour in her clients. It was unpleasant to have to assess her own.


She thought of her ex-husband Rick. She wondered what he would think of her situation. Mary thought he'd be laughing his head off: Rick had a cruel sense of irony.


They'd bumped into each other recently. His wife, Mel, was heavily pregnant again and she congratulated them both. Mary had lost count, but thought that was about their sixth. Rick had always wanted a cute little daughter to dote on. Mel had delivered him five sons and Mary had wondered how many they were going to have before they finally gave up. 


Carrying babies had knocked about Mel's figure. She was now far from the tight little teenager Rick had fallen for. Instead, her boobs were wobbly and shapeless and her cliched tight-jeaned bum had spread out a bit. Mary couldn't remember what her normal waist was like anymore, she seemed to be always carrying a bump there.


Mel had been a student of his when he taught Computer Technology at the University. He'd been a programmer back when few knew what was inside that box with the screen. He was one of the first wave of geeks and had cottoned onto IBM's magic little machine early on.


Mary hadn't a clue what Rick did. He'd spend long hours away from her and jump when the phone rang at 2 in the morning. He was a 'solutions' man, and companies paid him silly money to sort out their 'software issues.' Of course, doubtless, the company manager had little idea what a 'software' was. 


Mary didn't exactly know how long Rick had been seeing Mel. He'd been only too happy to undergo their 'therapy sessions' with her to sort out their 'marital issues.' He'd been keen to try out all the suggestions. They'd done their '20/20s' and the candlelit dinners. He'd even agreed to 'prioritize their relationship time.' The jargon had fallen out of Rick's mouth freely and Mary had been taken in completely. 


All that time Rick had been steadily withdrawing from the relationship. Sex had always been a Saturday night routine, providing each of them was free. Towards the end, though, Mary had noticed his lovemaking spark up. She was convinced he was genuinely trying to make things work.


She remembered that night, even now, with crystal clarity. Rick sat her down with a drink and told her he'd something important to discuss. Mary thought he was announcing a surprise holiday to the Bay of Islands. They'd often talked about it as something they both wanted to do.


"Mary," he'd said, "I'm sorry to have to tell you that I've found someone else and I want to go and live with her."


Mary couldn't remember anything else he said that night. She remembered drinking and drinking. It went on for a week until Cath came and fetched her. By then, Rick had cleared out and she'd got a glimpse, through the window, of her competitor.


Mel was already 7 months pregnant with Rick's first daughter. Mary could see her belly when Rick opened the car door to put something in. Mel had smiled at him, put her hand in his to comfort him in this painful moment. Mary had wanted his pain to last, and for Mel to miscarry. 


It dawned on her what a lie they'd been trying to live. Rick had been steadily screwing Mel throughout the time Mary was desperately trying to save the marriage. And Rick pretended he was there for her, earnestly vowing to 'address the issues.' Only later did she find out from mutual acquaintances what had happened.


Rick had started his affair with Mel, his student, about a year before. She'd been 17 at the time and Rick, 38. Back then it wasn't considered 'unethical' and university authorities turned a blind eye while advising 'propiety.' That meant it wasn't 'done' to be caught in the lecture hall fucking over the lectern between classes.


Mary knew many of the teaching staff at the university, had attended post-grad courses there, and not one thought it a duty to tell her what was going  on. She thought how they must have all been sniggering behind her back, or worse, tutting. Pity, in Mary's view, was harder to bear than betrayal.


She'd blamed herself, blamed him, blamed Mel, before settling on the entire male gender. Mel was game set and match for her. Mel was young, pranced around in gypsy dresses, sang corny folk songs in a shrill voice, braided her long blond hair and wrote sickening love poetry. She had a tight arse, perky tits and a pretty face. Mary was surprised how young she looked, even pregnant, and told everyone she thought Rick was a closet pedophile.


The separation had to be handled by their solicitors. Mary couldn't stand being in the same room with him. She gladly gave up their joint home in return for her little cottage. That had been hers before she was married and she was damned if she was going to have him, or his child bride, step anywhere near it.


20 years, however, is a long time to carry a grudge and Mary had ditched her's long ago. It had been less of a journey for Rick. After all, he'd only waited on Mary's forgiveness. The hurt, she'd thought, was left behind, too, but Jake had reminded her she still had a little way to go.


It was all too plain to Mary, as Cath took her home, that Sharmila and Jake had dredged up an echo of that earlier betrayal. She was so ready to believe Sharmila was going to steal her man from under her and was determined it wasn't going to sneak up on her, 1 year down the track. 


Sharmila was pregnant, too. Even though it wasn't Jake's, she knew he really wanted to be a father.


"If only I'd been fertile!" she said aloud.


"What?" Cath asked.


"Nothing. Are we home yet?" She pretended to yawn.


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Sharmila was happier than she'd been for a while. Perhaps as far back as the last time her and Jake had been good. Before, of course, their relationship had been poisoned.


She was certain Jake was going to meet her. She wasn't surprised Mary had found 'appointment conflicts,' and couldn't be there. But Sharmila hadn't really wanted her there, anyway, and was quite happy with the suggested arrangements.


Perhaps they could go out for a coffee afterwards? That is, once they'd got off their chest what they wanted to say to each other. The councellor couldn't stop them. What they did afterwards was none of their business.


She lay in bed thinking about Jake and Mary together. That had been her idea as well, although she couldn't imagine either of them ackowledging that. She'd acted the little go-between and had sparked a little mutual interest. Sharmila was certain Jake wouldn't have looked at Mary twice until she'd revealed Mary's erotic thoughts about him.


She was a little surprised, though, how hard they'd fallen for each other. That'd not been part of the plan. Mary had been too old, too independent, and not as pretty as she. She could only imagine she must be sensational in bed. Sharmila thought only that they could have a little fun together. Mary had needed a good man inside her and Jake had hardly fucked anyone at all. She would've enjoyed watching Jake enjoy himself with her. It would've been her little gift to him, an act of her love.


Sharmila had given her husband such a gift. She knew he was unhappy that she wouldn't let him have her virginity, so she suggested inviting another girl to look after him. He'd objected, telling her it wasn't normal, but who was he to tell her what was normal? After all, she'd been barely 10 years old when he'd been invited by her brothers to come and masturbate over her. She'd been well-used to that by then, but she knew other families didn't do it. What right had he to tell her that was normal and what she was doing wasn't?


She was a young Polynesian girl, she'd forgotten her name, and helped out in the café in the building where she worked. Although the girl was only 16 Sharmila knew she wasn't a virgin. She'd sit with her sometimes, while Sharmila ate her lunch, and tell her about boyfriends, making out and staying the night. They got on quite well together.


Sharmila told her about her 'brother.' She claimed she was single and lived with her 'brother' in a big house. Her 'brother' was single, too, was really hot, and looking for a nice girlfriend. She told her he wasn't very experienced with girls and thought, maybe, they could have a little party one night and all get acquainted. The girl had jumped at it.


Her husband was shocked when she brought the girl home. She told him in Hindi some of what was going to happen, that the girl thought he was her brother: and they had a big argument. Sharmila had bought some wine to 'loosen us all up,' and, eventually, her husband started drinking.


The girl was soon giggling and laughing and wound up in her husband's lap. Sharmila kept urging him on in Hindi and explained if he truly loved her he'd accept her gift to him.


Sharmila had kept watch from the kitchen while her husband eventually gave way to the girl's charms. Their heads move together and she was sucking his tongue down her throat. Sharmila watched her squirm over him and thought it was hot. She knew his dick was hard, he kept readjusting himself and the girl was giggling.


After a while they got up and took their drinks into the bedroom. Her husband had given one last pleading look towards the kitchen door, before following the girl inside. Sharmila could plainly see he was as hard as a rock and it thrilled her.


Sharmila gave them some time to get properly acquainted before she opened the door a fraction. Already she could hear them murmering and was fairly sure things were getting hot. Through the crack in the door, she could see they were naked and writhing together.


The girl spotted her looking and cried 'peeking' before dissolving into fits of laughter. Her husband looked embarrassed and the girl told him it was all right to be curious and she'd probably never seen it before.


Sharmila looked at the girl snuggled into her husband's arms. She was skinnier, taller and her breasts were little floppy cones. Her skin was brown, like her's, and she had a little dark tuft where Sharmila had a proper thatch. The girls long, slender legs were sawing in between her husband's and her pert little bottom glistened with sweat. Sharmila could smell the sexual arousal in the room.


"Still there?" the girl giggled, "come in, girl, if you want?" Her husband had groaned and put his hand over her face and the girl and laughed at him. "Let her watch, if she likes," she told him.


Sharmila came and sat on the bed as the couple made out. She saw how skillfully the girl squeezed and worked his dick, pressing her thumb to the bulb. Sharmila began to coach her husband, in Hindi, so the girl didn't cotton on. She told him to suck her breasts softly, pulling her nipples between his teeth. The girl gasped as Sharmila was sure she would. 


Eventually, the girl climbed up top and Sharmila had a perfect view of her husband's dick disappearing up the girl. She moved her arse around on him, emitting a 'oo,' then thrust forward rapidly a few times. Then she'd utter a grunt, 'uh,' before resuming the former motion. 'oo... uh, uh, uh... oo.'


This went on for some time as the girl increased her tempo. Sharmila was impressed by the way she controlled the pace, delaying her husband's orgasm, while working up to her own. The girl had an incredible amount of experience for one so young.


Sharmila got up and shed her clothes. The girl had her eyes closed and didn't see her. She then lay back down on the bed and put her fingers to her hot pussy.


"Oo... uh... uh... uh... uh... oo," the girl continued until she began to slam down assertively. With a wail and a long exhale of breath, she collapsed. Her husband had been pumping into her and he, too, grunted and moaned. Sharmila sped up her own activity and brought herself to a shattering climax. "Wow!" the girl said, watching, "that was so hot!"


The girl rolled off her husband and lay between him and Sharmila. She had no shame and her legs were wide open. Sharmila could see his white cum dribbling out and offered the girl a tissue from the bedside table. Casually, both women wiped themselves as Sharmila's husband wheezed beside them.


She was so carefree, so accepting, the girl, and didn't seem to think there was anything unusual about two women wiping their pussies together. She then asked Sharmila about her technique and how many times she frigged herself. Chat moved onto comparing bodies and the girl told Sharmila she wished she had breasts as pretty as her's.


Sharmila showed her the rub and squeeze method and the girl copied her. Two horny women masturbating themselves beside him was too much for her husband. His hand moved across the girl's chest and fiddled with her little nipples. Fairly soon after, he rolled on her, entered, and pounded into her forcefully. 


Sharmila was alarmed and thought the girl was suffering. She'd never seen her husband so worked up and thought it savage and selfish. He held her by the sides of her face so he stared at her while he ravaged her. Sharmila wanted to stop him, to save the girl, but she turned and grinned before her husband pulled her back.


Afterwards, they kissed long and passionately. The girl mouthed a 'wow' and whispered her 'brother' was a 'hottie.'


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Cath couldn't decide whether Sharmila was a smooth, cold and calculating operator or a woman trying to come to grips with past mistakes. During the session she wished she could read minds.


Was Jake mentally taking her clothes off or just being a friendly guy bringing some closure to a past relationship? He had the look of a typical guy when talking to a young and sexy woman who'd displayed some interest. Blame the testosterone, but she really couldn't fault that in the poor bloke.


For Sharmila was a young and very pretty woman and Jake, a 42 year old guy. What did you expect? Cath couldn't throw an ice bucket over them nor, practically, steer them away from each other. She just hoped he was a decent enough guy to honour his commitment to Mary.  


Sharmila seemed a little rehearsed and Cath felt she was reading from a mental script. That wasn't unusual, she was nervous at the outcome and wanted to make sure she didn't say anything that would blow it. She had to take the woman at face value.


Sharmila told Jake she was sorry about the things she'd said to him and wanted a clean slate. She said she wanted and valued their friendship and wanted no lasting animosity.


Jake was adamant there was no animosity, lasting or otherwise, and he understood she'd been upset at the things he'd told her. He explained he'd lacked 'empathy' with her situation.


'So,' Cath thought, 'Mary's been teaching him the jargon?'


At the end, they shook hands and smiled at each other. They trooped out together and Cath watched them from the window having a conversation down below in the street. Sharmila wasn't putting out any 'come ons,' but what they did later was beyond her control. She felt uneasy, but what else could she do?


She immediately rang Mary and gave her a run down of the meeting. She told her not to worry, she was sure Jake wouldn't two-time her. Mary sounded far from convinced.


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Murray Sykes was nearing retirement from the police force. He and Mary went back a long way. She was certain he'd had a crush on her in the early days, but they became firm friends anyway.


Murray had been one of the first of the new breed of young coppers that didn't think domestic violence was a private matter, nor that a 16 year old girl who winds up drunk and gang raped by the Eastern Suburbs Rugby team was 'asking for it.' He'd initiated the Domestic and Sexual Violence Response Team and he and Mary had worked closely together over the years. 


He was a Detective Senior Sergeant, now, and performed research and administrative tasks at Police National Headquarters. Of more importance, as a sworn officer, and as part of his job, he had full, unrestricted access to the police database.


"Hi Mare?" Murray said down the phone, "how's your sex life?"


"Improved. Getting a bit yourself?" Mary laughed back.


"Mrs Palmer and her five daughters. Give me a name?" Murray knew instantly that Mary was after something, she always was. 


"Sharmila Devi."


"Uh, huh... uh, huh." Mary could hear him tapping his computer keyboard. "Last known?" Mary told him. "Oh, that one! You're going to love this, Mare?"


"What's it say?"


"Threatening GBH... assault with a weapon? No, that's fuck all. Mary, it'll be signed off, no action. Want to hear anyway?"


"Please?"


"Ok. Female, 25, Indian, made a call... da, da, da, claimed to have been sexually assaulted by Male, 45... Oh, that sleazebag! Threatened to cut his dick off, want to hear?"


"Shoot!"


"Right. Lionel Sampson, Company Manager, invites Miss Devi to his house to discuss a business proposal of her's. Sampson's old money, wealthy family trust, etcetera. Anyway, if it's the same dude I'm thinking, he's an arsehole. He claims she suddenly flipped, picked up a kitchen knife and threatened to hack his penis off. She says, he grabbed her tit and invited her for some rumpo by the pool. I'm inclined to believe her story, Mary, Sampson's well known for bonking his employees, willingly or otherwise."


"Haven't you nailed him?"


"No evidence. His women are always bought off. The investigating officer thought that honour was satisfied. Sampson doesn't want to press a charge of assault. No doubt he doesn't want his sex life dragged through open court. Investigating officer made a note, here, that it was a pity she didn't follow through with his threat. He's sick and tired of him."


"Yeah, I know the type. So why does the cop want to see Sharmila?"


"Dot the 'T's and cross the 'I's. And to tell her that no further action will be taken, only she can't go around threatening to cut dicks off sleazebag businessmen. No priors, see? She doesn't make a habit of it, does she?"


"Not that I've heard. Thanks, Murray."


"No problem, bye."


Mary thought it all made perfect sense. Sampson probably made threats to Sharmila that made her fear for her safety. Enough, perhaps, for the police to think she was better at the refuge for a while. No doubt the police will tell Sampson to leave her alone. No doubt, too, Sampson wouldn't want to press it any further for risk of having his good name dragged through the mud.


She wondered, though, whether Sharmila had wound this Sampson up? Perhaps she was playing one of her games, but chose the wrong guy?


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Meanwhile, Sharmila suggested to Jake they go for a coffee after their meeting. She chose a small corner café, nearby, one that was quiet and all but empty. Sharmila suggested a table away from the window.


"Jake?" she began, "thank you for..."


"No problem. Glad to be of help."


"Can I ask some personal questions?" she asked, sweetly.


"Sure."


"I know you and Mary are together. I'm happy for you. I would like to wish you all the best."


"Thanks." Jake felt a pang of unease about bringing Mary into the conversation. He wondered where she was going with it.


"Can you tell me... what would you like to do with all your money?"


"Not sure yet," he shrugged, "any suggestions?" he smiled.


"Well, you know the sale was all my idea, don't you?" Jake nodded, "and I did all the work, made the calls, marketing... I rang around all the big companies. I sold it for you before they even had an auction. Auctions are all about getting the money along. That's what I did for you, Jake."


"Yes, I know. I'm grateful. I'm sorry you didn't get as much money as you deserved."


"No matter, Jake," she replied, hurriedly, "I know how it is. Everyone gets away with whatever they can. The lawyers make sure it's legal and the accountants, that it's 'accepted business practice.' All that means is that because it was done before, it's ok."


"Look, Sharmila. I know you feel you were stiffed on the fee..."


"It doesn't matter..."


"No!" he put up his hand, "you tell me what you think you should've got. Don't worry about the accountants and lawyers and Johnny Ripoff. Give me a figure?"


"Jake, I don't care. Listen, I have a better idea."


"What?"


"How would you like to invest in my company?"


"What?"


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It was past dinner time when Jake returned home. He and Sharmila had talked for at least two hours. He knew Mary would be mad at him, but he had to have his own life, make his own decisions. 


Too often in the past he'd been eager to hand over control of the big issues in his life to women. He was determined that this was one he was going to make on his own. Unsurprisingly she came out to meet him in the driveway with a look of pure thunder.


"Well?" she asked, her voice full of menace.


"Well, what?"


"Don't get cute, Jake. Where the fuck were you? Why didn't you call?"


"Um," he knew she had him there. He should have called. "I'm sorry. I got carried away..."


"With who? Sharmila?"


"It wasn't like that. In any case, how many times have you come home late and not called, huh?"


"I deal with people in crisis, smartarse. Sometimes I haven't time. You're fucking with me, Jake, and I won't be fucked with! Have you been with Sharmila all this time? Don't bullshit me or I'll know!"


"Mary. She had some things to discuss with me, business things. I've decided to invest in her company."


"You? What company? When were you going to tell me? Don't you think I have a right to be included in this decision?"


"I... I never thought. It's my money..." Jake felt himself weakening before Mary's fury.


"Fine! And this is my house and, as far as I'm concerned, you can take your money and fuck off out of it!"


"Mary? What the Hell's going on? What have I done?"


"Go, Jake! Go to Sharmila and fuck her. She's waiting for you. Be a daddy and bang out several more, I know that's what you want to do."


"Mary!"


"Fuck off, Jake!"


Mary slammed the door so hard a pot plant fell from its macrame cradle. Jake thought about recovering it, but went back to his car instead.


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KATZMAREK ©


