Night with Purnima Bhat At 8:15 PM the incessant ringing of the phone startles me. I pick up the phone placed on a table near the bed. It is a male voice. I cannot make sense of what he wants to say. He seems to be speaking a foreign language. I ask him to repeat what he has said. ‘So you have an appointment with Purnima Bhat today evening?’ he asks. ‘Yes.’ ‘She shall call you within ten minutes and reach your room within half an hour.
So please do not move out the room.’ He hangs up. I find that my heart is beating furiously as my anxiety scales a new peak. I cannot sit or stand still. I walk about in the room. I recall the August afternoon thirteen years ago when I was sitting on a chair outside a room of a member of the Union Public service Commission waiting to be interviewed. That was the only day in my life when I had felt so excited and anxious at the same time. But this is a different feeling. The anxiety is there because I am expecting something pleasant and not something awful. I am going to be entertained by a most beautiful woman: the kind of woman one sees in films, on TV and in magazines but never meets in real life. I check the white paper bag containing currency notes. It is there. So there is nothing to worry. God knows what will happen if the girl comes but I cannot find the money that I am supposed to offer her. The mobile rings and an unknown number is displayed on the screen. ‘Hi Mr. Vasudeva. I am Purnima Bhat. What is your room number?’ ‘Eight zero one,’ I reply.
She says that she shall reach my room soon. It is 8:30. I spend a few more anxious moments walking about in the room. Finally when the call bell rings about fifteen minutes later, I almost faint with excitement. I look out through the keyhole. Yes it is she! Her hair is brown and loosely spread over her shoulders. I cannot see her facial features through the small keyhole. She walks in as I open the door. She greets me in English. She is wearing jeans and a red top. She indeed has ‘a smile that can tame the fiercest tiger’ as claimed by the website. She is quite thin and short, has pearly teeth and expressive eyes. She has beautifully trimmed her eyebrows and her hair is golden brown. I offer her a chair. She continues to smile as she sits down on a seat. ‘Shall I hand you the money?’ I ask. She nods to indicate her willingness. I hand over the white paper envelope. ‘So this is twenty. May I count it?’ she asks. I ask her to go ahead. I sit on the side of the bed waiting as she sitting on the chair right in my front counts the cash carefully. ‘It is okay.’ she says as she puts the envelope in her purse. She picks up her mobile phone. I know that she is sending an sms to her agent indicating that all is well. The sms sent, she moves to the bed and sits near me. Her mobile is similar to mine. ‘Same mobile,’ she exclaims as she places he mobile near my mobile on the side table. ‘Do you want dinner?’ I ask politely. I am determined to treat her in a polite way. For she is one of the few women who have offered themselves to me. That I am paying a hefty sum for her services does not matter. And most women would go to any length in protecting their chastity leading to never ending frustration in the process. ‘No not now. But do you want dinner right now?’ ‘I had something in some other hotel in the evening. I am not hungry at the moment.’
I do not want to rush through, because I want to make the most of it. To begin with I start a conversation. ‘To which place do you belong?’ I ask this question because I want to check if she is the real Purnima Bhat. ‘To Delhi.’ ‘How long have you stayed in Delhi?’ ‘For the past 15 or 16 years.’ I instantly know that she is not the real Purnima Bhat. The real Purnima belongs to Kashmir and has lived in Delhi only for the past five or six years. ‘But the website says that you belong to Kashmir?’ ‘I am originally form Kashmir but now settled in Delhi.’ “Shall we have a bath together?” “No I had a bath just before coming here.” I too had a bath just before her arrival. Like me she too has had a bath to prepare herself for the occasion.
I begin gradually. To start with I kiss her hands. She removes her top and jeans. She is wearing a black bra and a black panty. I stop her and ask her not to remove the undergarments. She is mine for the night. There is no need to hurry. I want to get excited gradually and build up my passion step by step. Her legs and arms are smooth and hairless. She has a silver ring through her navel. But she asks me not to touch it because she finds it painful. The beauty of her slim, fair and hairless legs is however marred by some scars of wounds or boils sustained in childhood. It is the night of passion. I want to kiss every part of her anatomy. I begin with the feet. I begin by kissing her toes. “Nobody must have kissed your feet.” She nods in assent. I move upwards towards the legs. By the time I am kissing and stroking her thighs I am quite excited. Now I ask her to remove the bra and panty. Her breasts are conical and just of the right size. This is the way breasts should be: Neither too small nor too big. Her pussy also appears small and lovely. “Shall I kiss you down there?” She nods in assent. I kiss her down there passionately. She appears wet and worked up. I would have liked to suck her love juices, but the fear of contacting some disease prevents me from doing so. “Do you engage in oral sex?” I ask. “I don’t do it usually but I can do it for you.”
“And what about penetration from behind?” “No I don’t do it.” “Not anal sex but vaginal penetration from behind- the way animals do it.” “That I can do.” She knows that I am ready for the sex act. She takes out a Kamasutra condom from her purse. “I have brought condoms with me,” I say as I remove a condom from a box of ten that I have placed under the pillow, “will you fix it on me.” I lie down on the bed with my penis fully erect as she removes the condom and puts it on me. She seems quite skilled and does it quite quickly. “Will you come over me or should I be on the top?” she asks. So she wants to be on the top! She is the first woman I have met who wants to be on the top right at the outset! I continue to lie down on the bed as she mounts me. She is quite wet as she begins hopping on me. She is like a sophisticated masturbation machine. I never knew that a woman could fuck a man so fast! Now I understand why she wanted to be on the top. She wanted to be over with it as soon as possible. The testosterone capsules and the Cialis tablets I have taken earlier appear to be working. I do not ejaculate despite all her efforts. After a few moments I ask her to stop because now I want to be on the top.
The advantage of the “missionary position” is that I can lick her lovely breasts, earlobes, throat, arms and armpits as I make love. She likes my kissing her throat and earlobes and gets quite excited. She is all wet. Liquid has come out of her pussy and made her thighs wet. “Do you always get so wet?” I ask. “Yes,” she says as she reaches for her towel to wipe off the liquid. “No don’t wipe it off,” I say, “I like it.” I wipe off the liquid with my hand and put it on my penis. She lets out a moan of pleasure as I enter her. She is much shorter than me. My powerful thrusts are too much for her. Her whole body moves up and down as I continue with the thrusts. Once again I am able to continue for a long time. She starts making pelvic thrusts so that I may come.
She appears tired. Her vagina is dry now. “It was so wet only a few moments ago and now it is so dry. What is the mater?” “It happens with me that way. I shall be wet when we start doing is after some time.” My efforts at prolonging the sex act have not proved so useful after all. I should have ejaculated earlier I realize. It is difficult to judge if the expression on her face is that of pleasure or pain. It must be painful because she is dry now. “Tell me if it hurts. I shall stop it.” She does not say that it is painful, perhaps because she has been trained to allow her clients to continue without showing that it is painful. I remove my penis, indulge in foreplay so that she me get wet again. But my efforts are futile. She remains dry as before. I too do not find it pleasant, so want to finish it off and ejaculate soon. She goes too the bathroom to clean herself.
She looks more beautiful as she comes back to the room stark naked smiling. He legs, the pubis, and above all the smile are enchanting, captivating. “Now you can go to the bathroom to wash yourself,” she says. I never wash myself after the sex act. I decline the offer. It is 10:15 PM. “Shall we have dinner now?” I ask. “Yes.” I pick up the menu. We both read it and try to decide what to order. “The rates are astronomical,” she says. She is right. No dish is priced below Rs. 300. We ultimately decide to have shahi paneer and naan. She wants dinner in the room itself. She is not willing to go to the restaurant. Room service can be accessed by pressing a single key on the phone. She knows this. The guy at the room service notes down the order. “Give me half an hour,” he says as I disconnect the phone.
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