The second week was pretty much like the first. Wasim visited Monday and Tuesday, Feroz on Wednesday, and Wasim again on Thursday. Which is today. I had just finished seeing Wasim hump Vidya against the wall. So tomorrow being a Friday, it was likely to be Feroz’s turn.
Now you are all caught up.
The next day (Friday) I had an unfortunate number of problems at work in production and thus had to spend long time in meetings to smoothen it out. By the time I was done, it was 1.30 pm. A notification on my laptop had told me that the camera app had started recording. I went back to my office, closed the room’s door and sat myself in. I opened the app and started to watch live.
I was watching the living room. There were three voices in the screen.
Feroz.
Wasim
Vidya.
As the buffering stopped and it became clear, I could see that Vidya was in the centre of the room, fully dressed in a black sari, and Feroz and Wasim, also fully dressed, were standing on either side of her.
Wasim turned to Feroz. I could see he was angry. Uh oh.
“Did I not tell the bitch about the yellow sari?” He thundered at his fellow guard.
Feroz, ever eager to be on the right side of Wasim, nodded.
“You did, Wasim bhai. You told the bitch to get a yellow sari yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that.”
Vidya could do nothing but just glare at Feroz. Despite the nice way he treated her, and she him, in the presence of Wasim, Feroz was not her ally. In her presence only he always referred to her respectfully as memsaab even as he fucked her. In Wasim’s presence she was the “bitch”.
“I think Vidya memsaab sometimes forgets her position in this arrangement.” Wasim remarked. “She is a high class memsaab and malkin of this house, and we are the guards, yes, but first and foremost, she has to keep us happy. Isn’t that right, Feroz?”
“Yes, Wasim bhai.” Feroz replied. “I think we should make that clear to her.”
“Okay, memsaab!” Wasim turned to Vidya and barked. “Come over here and kneel!”
My wife reluctantly walked over to where he was standing, and knelt down in front of him, facing the guard.
“Wasim …” My wife pleaded. “I am so sorry.”
Wasim gently patted her on her right cheek. Vidya trembled slightly at the touch. She knew he was about to slap her, and slap her hard.
“I told you, memsaab,” He grunted, “I want you to wear a yellow saree today. Yet you are wearing some other colour.”
“I … I don’t have a yellow saree, Wasim.” My wife tried in vain to reason with him. “I told you this before.”
“Then you should have gone and purchased one, memsaab.”
“I wanted to!” Vidya was earnest. “But I honestly had no time and-”
SLAP!
Wasim bent forward slightly and gave her a tight slap across her face which nearly sent her to the ground. And then he raised his hand again. Even Feroz flinched at the suddenness of the slap, and turned away, not looking.
SLAP!
Vidya’s eyes moistened as she fought back her tears. She wasn’t going to give Wasim the satisfaction of seeing her cry, even as the marks of his fingers appeared on her rosy cheeks.