“Hmm,” was Vidya’s terse reply.
I spent the next few days trying to figure out how to expose Gaurav. I knew I had to do it without any help from the Board of Directors. I went over all the deals, but there was no legal proof of his involvement or of any kickbacks. Every night Vidya would force me to recount all of the happenings of the day, and I would have to confess to her of my futile efforts. It wasn’t looking good.
I also tried to find evidences of Gaurav’s philandering. We all knew he fancied himself a ladies man, and during the company trip to Goa when his fiancée couldn’t join us, there were rumours of two or three girls in his room at night. However, no one would testify to anything and the matter died there. Nevertheless, even this was an exercise in uselessness. Gaurav was simply too careful, and he had too much on the line, to leave any evidence of his infidelity lying around.
After the fifth night, with me at my wit’s end and Vidya unable to sleep, she just blurted out, “I should just go to bed with him, and you can tape it and show it to his fiancée!”
I froze, and gazed at my wife to see if she was joking.
Here, I should pause and take a few minutes to tell you about my wife Vidya.
I feel very lucky to have a beautiful goddess like Vidya as my wife. At 5’8″, Vidya stood taller than most Indian women. She was my height, and that too without heels. She kept herself fit with regular exercise. Her breasts were slightly bigger than average, and she had wide hips and a broad ass. When she walked past any construction site, she always attracted whistles and catcalls, and when we went clubbing, men often hit on her, sometimes in front of me, asking her out for a “sexy time”.
When she wore a sari, Vidya could rival any Bollywood actress. Since Vidya was voluptuous, she loved to wear tight clothes that showed off her curves. Vidya usually wore a flimsy almost see-through blouse with no bra, and thin chiffon saris that left her ample midriff bare. She loved to flaunt her toned tummy and her navel. Several times this factor has gotten us better service at restaurants as waiters would rush to serve us, just to catch a glimpse of her fabulous boobs constrained against a tight blouse, or the sight of a perfect milky white belly. When I would go shopping with her, sometimes I let her walk ahead, just so I could catch other men checking her out, their gaze fixated lustfully on her sashaying buttocks which her sari would tightly cling to.
I knew Vidya was no virgin when we got married, whereas I was (Vidya is my one and only). Ours was a quick courtship — we dated very briefly — yet Vidya made sure I knew what I was getting into. In her own words, she was a prime slut and a “randi” (crude Hindi for ‘slut’) at college.
“I probably had more guys deposit their cum in me in a week than most women have in their whole lives.” She once told me, when I had asked. “In college my legs were open to many. I loved to fuck and had a string of lovers, and I was used by everyone — from the students to some of professors to even a couple of the night time security guards.”