Tradition and Triumph Once More

I woke up with a start and realized that Srila was twenty-five minutes late. Just as I toyed with the thought of calling her, there was a sharp knock on the door! I peeked through the viewer and my heart sank as I saw the uniformed hotel concierge instead. I opened the door irritated and was about to be snappy when I saw her standing by his side.

"Good evening, sir," the smiling young lad greeted. "The lady was lost trying to find your room."

I ignored him while Srila thanked him as he turned to leave. I took a moment to look at her pretty unblemished, ageless face. Her radiant smile beckoned and quite naturally she stepped into my arms. We hugged may be for a minute or two and we stepped inside the room. She had a small shoulder bag which she dropped by the door and then I was hugging her again and I moved my face to her neck and kissed her gently. She was sweating deliciously from the heavy Chennai heat and her personal aroma was very stimulating. She was wearing a sari and my hands walked onto her midriff as I gently nudged the door shut.

I felt it all at once. The gentle pressure of her magnificent twin orbs on my lower chest, her curvaceous torso pressed against me, my hands feeling the cool smooth flesh of her bare waist and my emerging erection digging somewhere into her lower tummy. In those few moments, we bridged that gap of time; a leap across eleven years. I felt her positive facial expression. I had to take her lips and I did.

She tasted the same but I thought her response was a tad tentative. I pushed my tongue into her. There was no resistance. We separated if not for anything else but to affect a proper greeting.

"So beautifully wonderful to see you again, sweetheart!" I blabbered.

She just smiled and I took note of her. Not a tiny bit of change in her appearance. She had cut her hair very short to a girlish bob. Her skin was still glowing with extended youth. She wore a very thin cream cotton sari, which was appropriate for the weather. It showed off her magnificent shape. The sea blue blouse brightened her wheat complexion and dark eyes that now wore a soft sexy smile.

Yes, she was as beautiful and attractive and sexy as before! I only hoped that she had changed her conservative attitudes towards sex.

I invited her to sit down in the ample living area in the suite and watched her as she moved to the chair with the same feminine elegance I knew.

She was still smiling when she said: "How have you been?"

"I am fine. Been a bit crazy busy as the company is focused on growth and expansion almost recklessly. But I get time to relax now and I am so very happy to be here. Can I get something for you to drink?"

"Yes, please. Something soft. Orange juice, may be."

I called room service to order and then walked back to her side and knelt by her and admired her again. I put my arm around her neck and she responded with that trademark look. Shyness combined with sexiness is how I would always describe it.

We indulged in small talk till the drink arrived as I did not want any interruptions after I got going. She asked about my life and I enquired of hers. The tall glass of juice arrived topped with a huge slice and plenty of floating pulp. As the waiter left, Srila sipped and then gulped half the glass and said it tasted good. She offered some to be and I took it with gratitude to share a glass as the first token of intimacy.

"I missed you so much!"

"Me too." She responded. "You look just the same except for a few more grey hairs at the temple."

"You simply look gorgeous, darling. How do you keep looking so young?"

She just smiled and looks down when I put my arm around her and kissed her again on her lips. I continued to leave a trail of kisses on her cheeks and forehead and neck and as her first positive response she put the drink down and had her arms around my neck and returned my kisses.

With that reciprocation, I needed no invitation. I held her shoulders and smothered her with a passionate kiss on her lips long and deep. I noticed her eyes were closed and then she slowly started to stand up and I realized that was more comfortable than being seated in an armchair. I gently walked her back against the wall and worked my hungry lips on her with gentleness alternatively with roughness. When I left my trade mark trail of soft pecks form her lips to her shoulders I heard her moan and she had her arms up as if offering herself to me. I moved to her soft breasts for the first time and ran my hands up and down over her sari and blouse and I could swear I felt her nipples harden. I kissed the front of her neck and she moaned again, only a bit louder. I cupped her right breast as I held her tight against me. I started my grind and bent my knees to align my pelvis against hers.

I knew my bulge was pushing against her mound as I rubbed in every kind of motion I could imagine. The thin material of my shorts without underwear left little of my manhood restricted. Then I slipped down pushing my erection between her upper thighs. I slowly lifted myself upwards millimeter at a time until I reached her heavenly pubic mound again and she jerked and sighed.

I reached down with my fingers and touched the centre of her being. She opened her eyes and smiled. Then she brought her hand forward and felt my penis and giggled at my shameless lust in the form of an unbridled hard on. I leant on her again and began fondling that beautiful butt, running my fingers down that crevice and then grabbing the wholesomeness of her ample muscle encased fleshy spheres. She brought her hands in front to my shoulders again and looked into my eyes.

"We are away from each other for so long. We can't be just doing this?"

"What?" I looked right back at her.

"I mean. Let's take it slow and easy. Please?" She was looking into my eyes searching for a message from my soul

Oh, lord, I thought. She is going to make me go through all those hoops again. This girl! I dropped my hands off and let her sit down again. I noticed that she had brought a little night bag. So, she was going to stay. I concluded that I had time and I could take it at her pace and even enjoy the slow seduction that Srila herself had taught me.

I sat next to her and talked of all the possible mundane stuff that I could think of. I hoped that this trip which cost me so much money and time and energy would not be a waste.

I went back to where this journey began, less than twelve hours ago.

Apprehensive eagerness

I settled down comfortably in my business class seat on British Airways flight BA0035 from London Heathrow to Chennai, India. The official part of my trip was done and I was reasonably satisfied with the deals I had struck. I laid that to rest as the pleasurable leg of my travel had begun. I had taken time off to visit my old flame. I had just been pampered with a four-course meal with a choice of the best French wines. I was eying the exquisite single malt whiskey there was on offer for the dinner and I settled on the seat that went flat bed. I had five days in Chennai with her before I headed back through London again, home to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

It was in another part of the same state in the US that I had met Srila, a beautiful single Indian woman, who was in her late thirties then. [Described in Tradition and Triumph and Tradition and Triumph again] We were seeing each other for about 18 months when she decided to go back home as she reckoned that was the best way for her to get back her life and profession which she perceived she had lost with her divorce. I tried to dissuade her as much as her friends did but she was adamant. So, she left and we mutually decided that we remain just friends.

That was eleven years ago. We kept email contact, chatted and had the occasional phone conversation but she was pretty certain of what she wanted between us and cleverly discouraged any recollections of our intimacy and rather obviously changed the topic when I suggested we meet. This meeting was, therefore somewhat of a surprise. I told her I was coming to Europe and that I could easily make it to Chennai and after a few preliminary and obvious questions including if I was in a relationship, she agreed. If you knew Srila, you would know why I was surprised. She was an extremely conservative Indian and kept worrying about what others would say and was paranoid about her good reputation as a traditional Hindu woman. She was strikingly young and innocent looking but she had a powerful tongue and an extremely confident demeanor coupled with obvious above average intelligence.

The punch line in my rather short association with her was that she was very good to look at and deliciously desirable but also unimaginably hard to get. Each of my first few intimate episodes turned out to be seduction marathons. We settled down to a fairly regular episode in bed thereafter but they were punctuated by times when she simply refused. We never lived together because of her rather archaic conventions but overall I enjoyed her as much as I could. There were plenty of titillating memories of the stages I had to go through to have her, but when she went over a mysterious threshold she morphed into a different being altogether. She began with what can be termed as compliance which switched to participation and then she almost took over proceedings with her entire body and soul. When in that stage or arousal she could be no different from any other.

There was one occasion, though that was atypical. It was the last time we made love and it was my home. We were well into our regular hugging, kissing and foreplay and then she said this: "Now will you take me into your bedroom and make love to me?"

I should have been stunned by this sudden jump to second base at our last meeting. I guess I was too engrossed in her and the significance of the event that I just complied sans thought. We were soon very naked. She then made me sit on my bedside armchair, brought out a condom package, opened it and put it on me expertly, kneeling in front of me. Then she actually climbed onto me skillfully guided me in and rode me till I came. It was more like she making love to me in the end!

Admittedly I experienced a peculiar kind of loneliness after Srila left. I was wondering if I had actually fallen in love with her. Things changed, however after about a year when I met Samantha. She was also of Indian origin but was from Trinidad.

If any two persons were diametrically opposite in personality, it would be Srila and Samantha. While Srila was on the petite side though curvy, Samantha was a big girl with a broad frame, darker skin and a hard, athletic shapeliness. In two hours after I met her for the first time we were in bed and right throughout our love making she kept spewing expletives which was a turn off initially but I started to get used to and subsequently got into them with responses of my own in the same vein. She was crazy about sex and variations without being too kinky and often times wanted a second session in the same night!

The relationship ended abruptly after four years when Samantha went from weed to mainlining and she ran into cash issues.

Interestingly I still felt attracted to pretty brown girls and the next one was also an American but born to immigrant Indian parents. Amali was a slim and tall pretty girl with beautiful eyes and thick black hair but less curvaceous. She presented the same personality to me as Srila and I took her up as a challenge and it took me about eight months before I could say I was actually dating her. She kept me hanging for another six months before I realized I was probably wasting my time.

I still hung in there hoping against all odds and it was more than a year after that I had to disconnect her from me. She was shocked and did not understand, of course. We never had sex.

I spent the next four years or so in barren land working my job and earning myself a good reputation and building what was called professional equity.

Then Srila appeared on my horizon like a mysterious, enchanting, long lost Indian queen! She would be special to anyone if they knew her and her story. [Trials by Transformation]. It may be relevant to understand then, why I was both taken aback and thrilled when the opportunity showed up.

After a nap, then dinner and then a nap again on this flight, we landed in Chennai. The culture shock of masses of people hit me right away. The vibrant colours and bustling crowds and the unusually excessive decibels of a mixture of different sounds brought the visual spectacle to life. Driving in a taxi to the Taj Coromandel Hotel about an hour away was like finding your way in organized chaos with a cacophony of honks and amplified roadside music. All new to me, I took it in and placed it in my heart alongside Srila's image.

I suddenly remembered I promised to call her on arrival and I did.

"Hi!" Her usually exuberant voice came through giving me a ping of excitement.

"Hi, darling. I am on my way to the hotel. I'll call you after I reach to tell you my room number."

"Oh, OK." She sounded a bit unenthusiastic. Did I sound too direct? An invitation to my room as the first part of a greeting would normally raise Srila's eyebrows. I guess that's what happened.

After sharing some information about my journey, I hung up.

I reached the hotel with my baggage and as I walked to the check in counter, the opulence of the luxurious lobby took my breath away. The smart clerk speaking immaculately British English and more than sufficiently polite, got the paperwork done in a jiffy and I was in a cold shower in my suite in a couple of minutes.

I let the water wash away the grime of travel and lower the body temperature to make me think straight again. Very quickly Srila's sweet face appeared in my mind's eye. I did not want to think too much about the hours ahead but did not want to eliminate the possibility of that special brand of intimacy either. She was such a wonderful woman in every way!

I remembered the words of a friend, who was a recruiter of some sort for porn. He had measurable metrics for figures, breasts, butts, thighs and even female genitals! Why I thought of Romario D' Zilva and his theory of quantifiable beauty was only because Srila's stats on every count matched the top notch.

As I toweled myself dry I noticed the stirrings of an erection thinking about this beautiful, intelligent and confident Indian woman. I put on a pair of cream cotton shorts and a loose white tee and called Srila to let her know that I was in Room #1223.

She sounded excited this time and said she would arrive in about 90 minutes, given the crazy rush hour traffic. My excitement was more or less a bit of nervousness on two counts. First, Srila was always difficult to have sex with and I wasn't kidding myself that I might fail. Secondly, it has been a good eleven years since we met and god knows what she would look like. The former was a real concern as she always needed a reason to be intimate in her own words and the latter I brushed aside given the way she looked in her thirties. In her own words again she always looked much younger than her age.

While I churned that over in my mind rather anxiously, I realized that my five-thousand-dollar detour may not yield dividends after all. Srila's constant reminders that we were just friends worried me. I encouraged myself that time was on my side and watched a bit of the local television and actually dozed off sitting.

It was then that I heard Srila's knock. Back to the present, I realized that I was lost in my thoughts as Srila was relating her professional growth and the different jobs she had taken since she left the USA. I gathered a few key points to understand that she wrote a lot, like she did before and was comfortable as a teacher of language and literature with an occasional but lucrative opportunity to translate English text to Tamil, her mother tongue.

As I was experiencing the first pangs of hunger I offered to take her down for an early dinner at the Southern Spice, a cozy restaurant on the ground floor. I was delighted that Srila now drank wine and gently sipped through a glass of red at dinner. She was still a vegetarian, though.

Back in the room and after a spicy meal of Indian flavours I felt the romantic mood returning and in anticipation I looked deep into her eyes as she sat on the edge of the bed. I swooped down on her surprising her as she drew in a sharp breath and then relaxed as I petted her head and caressed her smooth cheeks with my lips. She seemed to be getting back in rhythm and I slowly tilted her backwards to lying position. I walked my open palmed hands over her lovely breasts and felt her chest moving with the intake of her now deep breathing. I devoured her lips again and very gently crept under her blouse at the shoulder.

"No!" Her voice sounded distant and almost unreal. "Please."

Comprehend, I couldn't. I almost lost it but I stopped to look her in the eye. There was no smile but some anxiety. She looked back and then her eyes looked like they were pleading.

"Why?" I whispered. "Why, darling? I am so thrilled to see you and am so aroused." I was not sure I sounded graceful.

"I can't, Chuck. We have been apart and I don't think of you like that anymore. I am sure you too look at me like a good friend. How can we have sex?"

I had that mysterious feeling of whether I expected that or not. A bit of surprise and disappointment blended surreally with a sense of déjà vu. Have I lost her again? The sinking feeling of defeat grabbed me not for the first time on this trip alone.

I stared at her. "I am so disappointed, Srila. You don't like me? Have we not been intimate before? Come on!"

As she continued to look back into me, I lost my grip for a second. I put my arm around her and pulled her down with some force. She fell backward and in that fraction of a second I managed to sneak up her sari and layers of other garments and actually touched her soft womanhood covered by her panties. As she fell backwards her thighs parted and I even slipped into that awesome crevice over thin fabric and drew a nice intimate upward stroke.

The sharp intake of breath and even a stifled moan could have encouraged me but she shoved me aside with surprising agility and sat up and then stood and turned back to stare at me with that fire in her eye.

"What the hell are you doing? Do you think you can turn me on and off like some... some switch in your head?" Her face softened. "I am sorry. I am being rude."

I was stunned into silence. She rearranged her sari and without saying anything else she walked briskly into the bathroom. I got up walked up to the door heard the rustle of clothing inside and then the very familiar sound of the toilet seat going down. Soon the sound of her peeing came through and I grappled with the thought if, in the circumstances, that was erotic or not! I couldn't help myself imagining her sitting there with her panties down and her incredibly smooth thighs and her lovely bush peeping in between. I even heard her rip the toilet paper, then a bit of silence and then the flush. I moved away as I heard the tap and her splashing some water on her face perhaps and after a few more seconds of silence the door opened.

I was facing away and her steps behind me stopped.

"I am going!" She still sounded upset. I turned to see her picking up her bag. "I am sorry but I can't. I am not made like that and I have told you a number of times. Please!"

I had to admit that I was a bit hasty and even clumsy. I justified that by thinking that the woman I was with alone was so attractive, I have had her before, and I had been starved of sex for a good four years. Yet, I should have known her disposition and slowness. That was her trademark.