I’m relieved when he clears his throat, speaks again. ‘Dinner?’ he says.
I smile and say, ‘I’d love to.’
* * *
I’d like to be able to say that I get to know Charles a little better over our risottos and Sicilian red wine in one of the hotel’s restaurants, but he retains his air of mystery, avoiding my most personal questions and opening up only when the conversation turns to more general matters – India and its future development, first-class air travel, Iraq and American politics as a whole. I gather from titbits he drops here and there that he is divorced, has two kids in their late teens who have gone off the rails slightly, but personal revelations are scant.
Not that I want to make too many of my own. I speak of Nadia a little, of how this was really her trip before going to university to read media studies. I tell him I’ve spent most of my life married to a man named Ravi, but I don’t give him the reasons for my divorce just as he doesn’t tell me about his. In truth, I am still not clear in my own mind exactly what happened with Ravi. I suppose we just grew apart, imperceptibly, over the years, and when the kids became independent, I just lost all sense of myself and what my role in the world was. Which is why, I guess, I leapt at this chance of coming along with Nadia. Heaven knows what I’d be doing now if the opportunity hadn’t arisen. Joining book clubs, going to yoga and aerobics, watching the same old soap operas. Thinking about how humdrum my life was back there seems surreal after what’s happened in the last 24 hours.
After dinner, Charles insists we take a nightcap up to the rooftop pool. Who am I to resist? Once up there, we recline on loungers, kick our shoes off and make a toast to Mumbai and to the adventures it offers.
‘Here’s to many more,’ says Charles, and he turns to look at me in the moonlight. ‘Listen, Val, I know you’re here with your gal, but your plans seem pretty fluid to me. So why don’t you think about coming with me to Rajasthan tomorrow? I’m going for a couple of days, and I’d love to show you the sights. It’s an incredible place.’
I look at him, touched that he has even thought of asking me along. Then I sigh, look out over the sparkling Arabian Sea. ‘I’d love to,’ I say, ‘I really would. But what about Nadia?’
‘Bring her along,’ he says breezily. ‘She’ll love it too. And hell – I’ll pay for a room for her if that’s what’s bothering you.’
My throat constricts. So he’s banking on he and I sharing a room? Again, I’m touched, honoured that already, after only one night and a day, he sees us as an item. I roll over on my lounger, place one hand on his hip, then move it slowly to the zip of his trousers and take out his cock. For a while we lie there staring into each other’s eyes as I slowly bring him off, but before I can make him come he’s pushing my dress off my shoulders and, rising to his feet, pulling me up too. I stand before him in my underwear, looking around to double-check that no one can see us. But the pool is deserted; this isn’t a busy time of year. As he reaches his hands around me to unclasp my bra, I swoon back. Then he bends down to pull off my knickers, giving my pussy a little kiss on the way back up and, sweeping me up into his arms, hurls me into the water.
I give out a little scream as I come up gasping, laughing, waving a fist at Charles in mock anger. He’s stripped now too, and is standing on the pool edge with his cock raised in a kind of salute. He brings his hands together and executes an elegant dive, his muscles tautening even more with the effort of springing up and then arcing through the air. And then I shriek again as, before he’s even come up for air, I feel his mouth on my pussy under the water, his teeth taking playful little nips at my clitoris. When his breath gives out, he surfaces, pulling me to him, and, with seemingly no effort on either of our parts, his cock slips inside me.
For a moment we just stand there, lost to the moment, looking at each other in the pale light. Then he pulls me over to one side of the pool and, as I lie back against the edge, arms outstretched to steady myself, breasts pale and jiggling, he humps me hard, feverishly, his mouth fastened on my shoulder so firmly I know his teeth will leave marks. At length, tiring a little, we climb out of the water and lie on the side like beached sea creatures. Then he turns me over and enters me again, and we both come with cries that sound like pain.
We’re on one of the loungers, me sitting between Charles’s legs with my head back against his bare chest, when Nadia appears. Modesty has prevailed, and we’re partially dressed, me in my dress and Charles in his trousers. At first I panic, thinking that someone must have known where we were, and hence what we were doing, to have directed her to us. But it soon becomes apparent from the look of surprise on her face that she had no idea she would find me here. Then I notice that she’s carrying a towel rolled up under her arm and I realise she’s come for a late-night dip. Thank God, I say to myself, she wasn’t here half an hour earlier.
On the other hand, as this is the first she even knows of Charles’s existence, it must come as a shock to find me all snuggled up with him like this, so I jump up and walk towards her. I go to embrace her, but she seems to be sulking, so I don’t force the issue.
‘Have you had a nice day?’ I say.
She nods and says peevishly, ‘And so have you, by the looks of things.’
‘Nadia, I’m sorry …’ I begin, and then the words stop coming and I just stare at her, thinking about how all this must look.
She waves one hand airily, sits down on a nearby recliner and starts to take off her clothes.
I gesture back at Charles, where he’s sitting finishing up his drink. He raises a hand at Nadia.
‘Nadia, this is Charles Hoffmann,’ I say. ‘He’s staying in the hotel on business.’
She nods and stands up in her bikini. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she mutters, or something like it, and then she holds her nose and leaps forwards into the water without testing the temperature first.
Charles and I exchange looks, our Rajasthan trip in jeopardy unless I can do something to thaw the ice. I’ve taken enough liberties already; there’s no way I can swan off up north with Charles for a couple of days of wild sex and leave Nadia in the lurch. For a while, as Nadia notches up the lengths, he remains where he is, seemingly contemplative, and then he gets up, walks slowly alongside the pool to where I’m standing watching my daughter.
‘I was going to try to talk to her,’ he says. ‘But she looks like a tough cookie. I think I’ll fade away into the background, let you guys sort things out.’ He takes my hand, discreetly. ‘I want you to come with me,’ he says. ‘I want you. Let’s talk in the morning. My flight leaves just after midday so we can play it by ear.’ He squeezes my hand. ‘Sleep tight,’ he says, and already I’m thinking of the night without him, of how I’ll get by without his big beautiful cock within reach, seeking me out or waiting to be sought.
When Nadia’s worked off some of her fury in the pool, we head down to our room and I order us some hot chocolate on room service as she showers. I don’t want to rush her, but I can’t miss this opportunity with Charles. I’ve never felt this kind of excitement about a man, at least not since my teens, and if I blow it I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. The thought of living without the kind of sensations and emotions he has called up in me over the past night and day makes me feel sick. What would be the point of going on?
Nadia comes out of the bathroom, swathed in a bathrobe, pink and glowing from the shower, and I’m startled by her beauty. Of course, having seen her almost every day for the last eighteen years, this shouldn’t come as a surprise to me. But when she’s free of make-up like this, her wet hair pulled back from her face, free of all artifice, even I can still be amazed. I wonder at the fact that she never has boyfriends, or anyone who lasts more than a week or two. They’re always incredibly good-looking, clean cut, polite – a mother’s dream. But she never seems to form an attachment to them, to judge by her coolness when the relationships come to an end. I’ve never once seen her cry or even look downhearted about a boy.
At her age, I was wild, at my most sexually prolific. Just thinking about that time makes me wonder all the more at what happened after that, at the waning of my appetites when I married Ravi. I loved him, I suppose that was the thing, and so I accepted that sex wasn’t a big deal for him. Or perhaps I hoped that I could teach him that it was a big deal. But the kids came along not so long after we got married, and in quick succession, and the exhaustion made me forget how wonderful sex can be. I lost myself along the way.
Now I’m forced to admit it: I’m a sexual being who has needs, vast needs. And Charles is a man who can answer them. I can’t let him go, not now. I have to build a bridge back to Nadia – for selfish reasons of course, but also because she’s my daughter and I love her and want her to have fun too. Who knows, perhaps she can discover herself during this trip, sexually as well as in all the other ways that are possible? Or is sexuality an integral part of discovering oneself?
‘Mum?’
I’m still staring at Nadia but thinking about Ravi when I realise she’s trying to talk to me. I sit up in my chair. ‘Yes, darling?’
‘I said, who is that guy you were with?’
‘I told you, he’s a businessman staying in the hotel.’
‘And you’re – you spent the night with him?’
‘Honey, I’m so sorry. I should have told you, should have left you a note. It’s inexcusable. But to tell you the truth, I was a silly girl and had a bit too much to drink. I didn’t mean not to come back. And when I did you’d gone out.’
‘I wasn’t going to wait around for you.’
‘No, I realise that. I didn’t expect you to. But I’m sorry I worried you.’
‘And what about this guy, this … Charles?’
‘Oh, darling, what do you want me to say?’
‘Well, nothing, I suppose. There’s not much I can say. It’s your life. You’re old enough to know what you’re doing.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ I say with a chuckle, trying to inject some humour into proceedings. But when Nadia doesn’t pick up the bait, I continue. ‘He’s a good man, I really like him. Perhaps I have rushed in a little, but – well, I’m on holiday, we’re on holiday. We’re not here for long, so there wasn’t the luxury of time like there is in real life. It’s not like we had time for two weeks of dating before making up our minds whether we were going to take things further.’
Her face relaxes a notch or two. ‘Sure,’ she says. ‘I guess I can see that.’ She looks down at her nails, and I wonder what she’s thinking about.
‘What about you?’ I say. ‘What have you been doing all day – and this evening?’
‘Oh, nothing much. Wandering about, museums, seeing the sights.’ She hasn’t looked up from her hands, and I sense there’s something on her mind, something she’s not telling me about where she’s been and what she’s been doing, but I decide not to pry. I know her well enough to understand that it won’t reap any rewards. She’ll only talk if she wants to, and not necessarily to me.
I feel a jab of guilt. Perhaps this is all my fault. It’s hardly as if I caused Katie to be ill and to drop out of the trip, but Nadia wanted to do this with someone her own age, a soulmate. Instead she’s lumbered with me, and I’m not sure we’ve ever been close enough for her to consider me a candidate for the role of confidante. The last thing I want is for her to feel lonely.
I lean forwards in my chair, blow on my hot chocolate. ‘Nadia,’ I say. ‘The thing is … the thing is, like I said, I really like Charles. I feel this is something that could go somewhere. And … well, he’s making a two-day trip to Rajasthan tomorrow afternoon, and he’s invited me along with him, and …’
Nadia sits down, looks at me squarely. ‘Rajasthan wasn’t part of the plan,’ she says. ‘Or at least not yet. We’d agreed we’d head up to Delhi and Agra, then Varanasi.’
‘We’d talked about that, yes, but nothing was set in stone.’
‘It wasn’t set in stone, but …’ She shakes her head. ‘You’re … you’re hijacking my holiday.’ She looks around her. ‘I certainly never intended to stay in a place like this, for instance. It’s hardly “the real India”, is it?’
‘You don’t even know what the real India is.’
‘I know better than you. At least I’ve been outside the four walls of the hotel since we arrived. I’ve not been holed in a bedroom shagg –’
I raise a hand in admonition. ‘Nadia, please.’
‘OK, I’m sorry.’ She does look contrite, and for a moment I watch her as she gazes across the room, lost in thought. ‘Fine,’ she says at last. ‘It’s no big deal. We were going to go to Rajasthan at some point anyway, and it would be mean-spirited of me to refuse on principle, so if this fling means so much to you, we’ll go.’
I start at the word ‘fling’. Is this all it will be? But I decide not to challenge her, knowing that is how it must appear to the outside world. ‘You’re an angel,’ I say instead. ‘We’ll have a good time, I promise you. Charles will be in meetings some of the time so he won’t monopolise me. I promise not to disappear again. And he … he’s such a sweetheart, Nadia. He’s even said he’ll pay for your hotel room.’
Nadia’s face clouds. ‘I don’t want that, Mum. I didn’t come to India to stay in five-star hotels. And I don’t want your … your lover’s charity. Or bribery, perhaps I should say. I’ll come along because we’re travelling together, and because I don’t want to spoil your fun. But I’ll find myself a hostel, thanks very much all the same.’
‘Fine. I’ll tell Charles.’
‘So what’s the deal with him? I mean, presumably if he’s here on business, he’s not hanging around forever? You two don’t have plans to go on together somewhere after Rajasthan?’
‘Oh no, Nadia. Don’t you think I’d tell you if that were the case? We haven’t actually discussed it – the future, I mean. But I gather from what he’s said that he’s due in New York next week so I know he won’t be around too much longer.’
‘Well, in that case, don’t get your hopes up, OK? I don’t want you to be let down.’
I smile wryly, amused at the idea of my daughter giving me romantic advice. ‘It’ll be fine,’ I say. ‘I have a very good feeling about Charles.’
9
SITTING ON THE plane, having grudgingly accepted Charles’s offer of a plane ticket – the only real alternative was a long overnight bus ride, which would leave me shattered and with little time in Udaipur itself – I look up from my glossy in-flight mag full of ads for stuff no one needs and study Charles as he taps away on his laptop. Mum, beside him, is reading a thriller, one hand on his leg, high up and close to his groin, as if she can barely keep her hands off him. Although Charles is way too old for me, and not at all my type, I can’t help but feel a little twinge of envy that Mum has so obviously found someone who does it for her. There were never any displays of affection at home and, after all she’s done for us, she deserves her moment. Only I hope for her sake this turns out to be more than a moment. She seems hooked on Charles, but I’m wary of his intentions towards her. He’s a smooth operator, and she must know that – perhaps it’s even part of his appeal. But is he more slippery than he appears?
I think back to last night, and it seems like a dream. In fact, when I did finally fall asleep, after sorting things out with Mum, it was to restless visions of Asha and Vashu. Of Asha on the beach, sitting astride the other girl and throwing back her head in a paroxysm of joy. Asha dozing, post-coitally numb, a diamond winking from between her glistening lips. Her hand on my ankle – another invitation I didn’t dare take up. And then I dreamt of Vashu, lying naked behind me, his prick in his hand, straining for me, a little bead of pre-cum shining at its tip. But as I’m reaching for it, hand trembling, Asha appears in the doorway, smiles, walks towards the bed and impales herself on Vashu with a yelp, and I’ve missed my chance again.
I woke up with ripples of pleasure going through me, and I realised I’d just come in my sleep. Lazily, I p
ut my fingers to my drenched snatch and worked at it again, slowly but firmly, until I was climaxing again, drawing out the moment this time, making it last, savouring every contraction, every throb of my clit, relieved that Mum seemed to be sleeping the sleep of the dead.
The plane lands and within minutes we’re in a taxi heading for my hostel, which I booked on the internet before leaving Mumbai. There they drop me off; I wave goodbye, having arranged to meet them for dinner, and head inside. The Panorama, as described on the travellers’ websites I looked up, is clean and comfy, and full of backpackers. I instantly feel more relaxed than I did at that stupid place in Mumbai. After inspecting my room – basic, but with a funky hanging hammock chair – I head up to the roof to appreciate the stunning view over the city and Pichola Lake, the largest here. In the middle of it I can make out the hotel to which Charles and Mum were heading, the Lake Palace, which truly is a palace, one that was constructed entirely of marble and seems to float on the lake like a mirage.
I must be mad to turn down an offer of a night or two in such a fairy-tale place, I think, but then I look back around me at the other travellers on the terrace and I remind myself of why I’m here. Mum and I have different agendas right now, and while she enjoys her five-star luxury and pampering, as well as Charles, I will set out to discover the city.
One of the other travellers, a guy in his late teens or early twenties with shoulder-length blond dreadlocks, is smiling over at me. ‘Just arrived?’ he says in a sunny Australian accent.
I return his smile. ‘Is it that obvious?’
He comes towards me, one hand outstretched. ‘Christian,’ he says.
We sit down. He asks me where I’ve come from and what my plans are, before filling me in on his six months of travel around India. I drink it all in, and at length take out my notebook to jot down a few specific tips and recommendations. Without my going into too much boring detail about my mum’s sexual reawakening, we establish that I’m as good as alone here, and Christian suggests that, since he’s been here a week and knows the place pretty well, he shows me around for the afternoon.
Chilli Heat Page 5