My Struggles with Trupti Ch. 01

"We're next to the emergency exit window. We gotta know where to pull to open it. In case there's an accident." she says to me cheerfully, in an accent I have trouble placing.

"Oh yeah." I say. Thanks for pointing out one accident related thought that I had somehow managed to ignore. "Major responsibility, huh?"

"I guess." she shrugs. "Imagine if we crash going at 80 miles an hour, the bus is on fire. And the only way to escape fire is to properly open this window."

I cringe and look away. I feel like slapping her. Angry as if she is bringing up this topic on purpose just to torment me. But she doesn't know me. How could she?

She puts her other bag under the seat.

I continue, "So what do you do?"

"Excuse me?" she says, cocking her eyes.

"I mean, what do you do for a living?" I ask.

She looks at me with an amused expression on her face.

"You know." she says. "I can't help but think you're asking me this just so you can tell me what you do. Like your career is the only thing you have going for you."

"What? No! I was just..."

"I do lots of things but currently, I am here for dildos." she says, reaching for the other bag she has just put under the chair.

"Ummm...what????" I ask, scarcely able to believe my ears.

"I make dildos." she says and opens her bag. I see a couple of dozen dildos of different kind laid out neatly. "You know, devices to help women achieve satisfaction."

"Oh." I say, squirming in my seat. It is so weird that I was just thinking about the antecedents of dildo making, and here I am seated right next to a professional. At least she is a woman. If it had been a man talking about dildos, I probably would have jumped out of that emergency exit window.

"Didn't I see you in that sex store earlier?"

I blush and nod.

"I am also considering making other stuff. So I was picking up some samples. You didn't buy anything, did you?"

"No."

"Too shy? Well, that's the driving force behind my business. Selling dildos online. Many women are like you, uncomfortable with their sexuality. They want to shop online but don't trust the websites. So I have a partly online partly offline business model. I advertise my stock online, but deliver it discreetly by myself. Payment only on delivery. Women feel comfortable buying such stuff from another woman."

"Oh." I am surprised again that she is running the very business I was thinking about earlier.

"You seem like the type. Here's my card if you ever need anything." she says, handing me a card from a stack in the side-pocket of the bag.

"Trupti Darshan." I read, and am taken aback. I steal a quick glance at her and look at the card again.

"You're surprised I am an Indian like you." she says, with an all-knowing smile.

"No..." I say, then, "I mean...yes. I had you pegged as a..."

"As a what? Latina?" she asks, closing the bag.

"Yes."

"Just because I haven't braided my tresses and dressed like a matron? And I am showing cleavage?"

"No, of course not."

"All Indian women don't have to be like you, you know. Uncomfortable about their sexuality, timid, unsure, relying on some corporate job to prove their self-worth." she non-chalantly says, putting the bag under the seat again.

"Excuse me!" I say, looking very offended. I took enough crap from Jan at work. The last thing I needed was some stranger treating me like shit.

"How is your life working out for you by the way?"

"It's good."

"You look like shit. I don't mean you are bad looking. You have bags under your eyes, stress on your face, and thin red veins all over the white of your eye. I think your life must be shit."

"You don't know me." I say defensively. Her face softens and she smiles. She puts her hand on my shoulder and rubs it.

"Alright, I am sorry. Anyway." she says. "I am like you. Got a masters degree after college, got a well-paying stuffy corporate job. But then I realized that wasn't the life I wanted to lead. So I changed course."

"By selling dildos?"

"Yeah, want one? Free sample!" she takes a dildo out of the bag and offers it to me. A couple of people around the bus look at us with surprise. My face is flushed with embarrassment.

"Trupti, please!" I whisper. She starts laughing and puts it back in the bag.

"You're a walking cliche of voluntary repression. So where are you from?"

And that is how I met Trupti Darshan. On a nondescript bus back from Baltimore to New York City. She was occasionally arrogant and dismissive, but had this good listener quality too. And I couldn't help but speak to her. I really needed someone to listen to me. We spoke throughout the bus ride. It was mainly me speaking about my job. My frequent travels. Trupti just listened. With a faint smile on her face. Some time during that conversation, I must have nodded off.

Because the next thing I remember, my head was on her shoulder as we pulled in to the Port Authority bus terminal in New York. We parted ways with a quick peck on each others' cheeks. She told me to stay in touch. I am thinking, I will never probably see you again in my life.

-----

I reach my apartment. Dig into my purse for my keys. Can't find them! Where the heck are the keys? Ten minutes of intense search, and I still cannot find my keys.

"Sorry ma'am." the security guard of my building says. "They don't give us night shift guys the extra keys. You'll have to wait until morning when the daytime guards come."

Great! What am I supposed to do now? I walk to a hotel close by, with my bags in tow. Sold out. Not a single room available. Fucking tourist season. Seven more hotels in a 4 block radius. All sold out. No vacancy.

I walk out of the eighth hotel, dragging my bags behind me, my arms starting to hurt. Maybe I should call someone and crash with them. But who? I have no close friends in the city. Or in any other city to be honest. I reach into my purse, and pull out a card. Malay. I consider calling him. Worry about how it would look. It would look like I was looking for a booty call. Would that be so bad? He isn't a bad looking guy. I let my mind drift, then pull it back. That's not how I was raised, I scold myself.

See the next card. Trupti Darshan. The woman I had just met. Still, a woman nonetheless.

"Hello, Trupti here."

"Hi Trupti. It's me. We were just on the bus from Baltimore together."

"Oh yeah. Braided hair. I remember you." she says, laughing softly. "What's up?"

"Ummm... you wanna meet somewhere for a drink?"

There was silence for a few seconds.

"Trupti?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Where are you?"

"Upper west side"

"Okay. Meet me at 69th and Amsterdam in 20 minutes."

--

Half an hour later, we're sitting at a corner booth in a bar-and-grill. Trupti enthusiastically sipping on her long island ice tea. Me, sipping on a diet coke. I have had a few drinks socially in the past at work events, mostly red wine, but that was only to not stick out from the crowd. I never really enjoyed drinking. Dad always said that alcohol is the gateway to hard drugs and a wasted life. So even as Trupti is relishing her booze, I decide to stick to diet coke.

"I think I left my keys at the hotel in Baltimore. Or maybe I dropped them in the bus." I tell her.

"Hmmm... so you're locked out of your own apartment?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"And your biggest worry is...will you be in time for work tomorrow, right? For your Wall Street job?" Trupti asks.

I only smile sheepishly in response.

"So, do you have a nice Indian guy you're gonna marry? Someone your parents chose for you?" she asks, completely changing the subject.

"My parents are dead." I say. I don't add that if they were alive, yes, I would probably have married a guy they chose.

"That is so COOL!! So are mine!" she says, excited, as if we both just found out we belonged to the same sorority.She raises her hand for a high five.

"I wouldn't say it's cool."

"Oh come on. I mean yeah, it sucks that they died. But didn't their death free you?"

"Free me?"

"Yes, free you. From their value system. Their rules. Their expectations. Their emotional shackles. I know it did for me. When I was growing up in India..."

"You grew up in India?" I ask, surprised.

"Yeah. You think just because I don't have a fobby accent, I was born in the US? I came to the US after college, just like you." she says.

"Wow, I had no idea." How can someone sound so elegant even after growing up in India? I still struggle differentiating my V's and W's.

"We're very alike, you and me. In a lot of ways. Both weighed down by what our parents think is right and wrong. Forced to live by an outdated code in a changing world. Except that I have started abandoning the code. You, braided hair, are clearly sticking to it."

"That's not entirely true, Trupti. I mean I..." I protest.

"Let me ask you this. When was the last time you got laid?" Trupti asks, finishing her drink and beckoning for another one.

"Excuse me?" I say, looking scandalized.

"You know what I am asking you. When was the last time you got a man between your legs? Had your clit played with? Got your cunt plowed? Had sex? Got laid?" Trupti asks as the waitress comes with her drink. The waitress shoots me a puzzled look, and walks away.

"That's personal." I say, looking offended.

"That pretty much answers the question." Trupti says.

I say nothing. Trupti starts laughing. She then changes the subject to something less offensive and we start talking again.

That's how Trupti operates in conversations with me. Switching rapidly between being a sympathetic listener and an arrogant bitch putting me down and ridiculing me. Is it any surprise we ended up like we did, knife threats followed by fingering?

---

Two hours later, Trupti and I are in an alley behind the bar. She, five drinks down and visibly drunk, is smoking a cigarette. I am standing next to her with my luggage.

"Yes, you can." she says.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"Yes, you can stay with me tonight. That's why you called me, right? You wanted a place to stay for the night and you have no friends except for someone you just met on a bus?"

"Trupti! No, I mean..." I start stringing together words of protest in vain.

"Come on. It's okay. You can stay with me. Us Indian women need to have each other's back."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yeah, come on. Maybe I could even teach you a thing or two."

Trupti says and starts walking west along the alley. I follow her with my luggage. We walk two blocks to a dark secluded area and she stops. There are two homeless guys across the street from us, drinking something out of a paper bag and talking in whispers. She looks at them and says,

"But there is one condition for you to live with me. I want you to do something for me."

"Okay?" I ask, putting my purse on top of my suitcase.

"I want you to tear off my clothes. Strip me naked."

"What???" I say so loudly that the homeless guys start staring at us.

"You heard me. I will put my coat here." She keeps her long coat on my luggage and said, "You, tear off my clothes. Strip me naked."

"Why???"

"Have you ever been naked outdoors?" Trupti asks.

"No...have you?" I ask, curiously.

"No, but I have always fantasized about it. I'd never have the nerve to do it myself. So you need to do it for me."

"Trupti, I don't know if I..."

"Oh come on. Don't be such an old maid." Trupti says and shoves me hard. I stumble a little.

"I am not being..."

"Yes, you are. Okay. here's an idea to motivate you. Either you tear off my clothes, or I will tear yours off." Trupti says, advancing towards me.

"What????"

"Yes, strip me naked. Right in front of these two homeless guys. Or I do it to you." Trupti says, breathing heavily.

"Okay...I don't want to do this, Trupti. I think I'll just go to a hotel." I say, backing away.

"Too late!" Trupti says and lunges towards me.

I gasp in shock as I feel Trupti's arms wrapped around me, pushing me to the ground. She starts tugging at my shirt, exposing my stomach. I fight back, and she breathlessly says,

"All you have to do is, take off my clothes."

I try resisting her, but she is overpowering me. I finally decide to just do what she wants. It is her wish after all. Trupti is still wearing the tank top and the mini-skirt. I reach for the neck of her tank top with my flailing arms and pull hard. There is a loud ripping sound as the flimsy tank top tears down the front, revealing that she isn't wearing a bra. Trupti's big tits, almost exactly as big as mine, break free and are visible to me and to the homeless guys.

"Good, very good." she says. And then yanks at my shirt really hard. I hear its buttons pop and soon, it is in her hands. I am lying there on the pavement just in my bra.

"Trupti, you're crazy!" I say, trying to push her off, and simultaneously trying to hide my nearly naked boobs.

From the corner of my eye, I see the two homeless guys approaching us. They are staring at the spectacle in surprise and delight. Two topless women, wrestling on the pavement.

"She's crazy." one of them says to the other.

"Yes, she is." I say, doing my best to fight Trupti off, and they smile.

"Hot bod on her though. Are we gonna get some tonight, you think?" the other guy says.

"Damn, look at them titties! She is stacked!"

Trupti, still pinning me down, smiles at them and winks.

"Now, take my skirt and panties off before I get you naked." Trupti says, and starts tugging at my pants.

"Me?" one of the homeless guys asks, excited.

"Not you!" Trupti says derisively, looks at me and repeats what she said.

"Trupti, please, stop." I shriek. The homeless guys are now just a couple of feet from us. And staring in delight but still looking nervous.

"I'll only stop when I am naked." Trupti says and keeps tugging at my pants.

I finally decide to play her game. Put my fingers in the waistband of her skirt and yank hard. It comes apart without any resistance, and Trupti is now fully naked except for her panties.

"Good job. Now the panties. Get them off before I get you naked."

The homeless guys, both of them kinda old, are now standing right over us, staring in amazement. I am very conscious of the fact that they are staring at my boobs along with Trupti's shapely body. I know that if I don't do what she's asked me to, they will be staring at my naked body before hers. That is motivation enough.

I yank at her panties. They slide down her thighs, exposing her trimmed pubic hair.

"Good going." Trupti breathlessly says, resisting my attempts nevertheless. Is this woman bipolar, I wonder. Says she wants me to strip her naked but keeps fighting it.

A minute more and her panties are in my hand. Both of us are breathless. Trupti, bare-ass naked, sitting on the pavement laughing. Me, topless, with her panties in my hand.

I am about to reach for my coat to cover myself up, when I hear Trupti say,

"You guys like what you see?"

I turn around and see Trupti talking to the two homeless guys. The two nod. She gets up, still naked, and touches each of their bearded cheeks with her hands. Her hands then go down to their crotches which are bulging visibly.

"Trupti, what are you doing?" I say, putting my coat on cover my nakedness. but she ignores me.

"Both you guys are getting blowjobs tonight. How does that sound?" she says. The two men make guttural sounds of approval. "But just blowjobs. You try anything else and I'll scream so loud, Commissioner O'Neill will come running."

"Deal, miss."

Trupti then reaches into their pants with either hand and takes out their dicks. The dicks look hairy and dirty, but very very erect. I watch in fascination as she gets on her knees, takes one of the dicks in her mouth and starts sucking hungrily.

"It tastes so awful. But it feels good." Trupti says, looking at me. "Want a taste?"

"I don't roll that way." the other guy says.

"I wasn't asking you." she says, looking at me.

I shake my head. The men thankfully are now ignoring my presence altogether, focusing their attention on Trupti. Both of them are playing with one boob each as she continues to suck their dicks one by one. I try to look away, but I cannot. Here is a beautiful young woman, fully naked, in the back alleys of New York City, sucking the dicks of two old filthy homeless men.

As grotesquely erotic as the sight looks, it does not last too long. Both the men come very soon, spraying their jizz all over Trupti's big boobs. One of them then reached for her ass, but Trupti thankfully slaps his hand away, reminding him of their deal. She meticulously licks their dicks clean, and then gets up. And walks away, leaving their spent dicks hanging. Walks past me, picks up her coat and puts it on, covering her nakedness.

"Alright, let's get going." she says to me and starts walking.

I stare at her for a few seconds, unsure of whether to go with her. But then I start following her. Despite myself, I had enjoyed the perverted scene that had just unfolded in front of me, and I am curious to see what would happen next if I stick around with her.