The Late Night Stories

The night air smelled of diesel smoke and hot oil. A parotta shop stood open after midnight for the lorry drivers who came in for a late meal, and the tired travellers who came in for late-night travel. The tin roof of the shop creaked in the breeze. Lakshmi, the wife of the shop’s owner, wiped the tables clean after every customer.

Ramesh always came every night with tired eyes from working long shifts on the railways. He pulled up his scooter outside the shop and sat down on the bench at the corner. He was in his mid-thirties,

Lakshmi knew his order by heart. She was forty-two years old, and used to call him ‘Sir’ at first. But after a few weeks, she found herself smiling at Ramesh and calling him Thambi (younger brother).

Her husband, a fifty-year-old chronic arrack-drinker, always slept behind the counter, snoring gently, with a towel over his face.

It was a humid night, and the last lorry driver had just paid to leave and driven off into the distance. The low volume of the TV was the dominant sound in the empty shop.

Lakshmi came out with Ramesh’s steaming egg kothu parotta and salna. She stood over him in her cotton sari, which clung to her, sweat dampening the back of her blouse. Her dark eyes lingered on his lips for an unbearably long time.

“You come because you are hungry,” she said softly.

He looked up at her, heart hammering in his throat.

“Yes.”

She smiled, parting her lips and gazing up at him along the line of his jaw.

“But that’s not the only reason.”

Ramesh’s hand hovered in mid-air. He turned his head and saw she was twisting her fingers at the edge of her sari at the curve of her hip. The scent of red chillies and spices hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of her sweat.

The years of working had etched lines in her face, but she still retained her plumpness and allure.

She strolled over to the entrance, flipped the board over, and drew the thick curtain across the door. In the dim corner, her husband lay in an alcoholic stupor.

Lakshmi strode over to Ramesh and sat beside him. Her knee touched his.

“Eat, Ramesh,” she whispered close to his ear. “I know you are tired too.”

He paused, mid-bite, feeling her eyes on his shoulders and feeling a tightness in his chest.

It was so long since she had been looked at by anyone with desire. After Ramesh walked into her life, he had aroused deep, feverish feelings in her.

He moved to wash his hands at the washbasin. She came up from behind, her chest brushing against his back, her hand resting on his hip.

“In the kitchen,” she whispered into the crook of his neck, “nobody will come.”

He followed her.

The kitchen was small, and lit by a bare bulb which cast harsh shadows over the metal pots and pans. In the corner stood a wooden cot, where chopped vegetables were kept, and where Lakshmi sometimes lay if her legs ached after standing for long hours.

Lakshmi turned to face him. Her hands shook as she placed them against his shirt.

“I should not be doing this,” she murmured.

Ramesh pulled her close, feeling her against his chest, through the sari, and the faint smell of the kitchen smoke in her hair.

He kissed her neck.

She let out a quiet sigh, tilting her head back. Her fingers slowly unbuttoned his shirt, one by one.

She whispered that she liked him, and Ramesh confessed how much he had noticed her looking at him every night.

They kissed each other, and their tongues met in a sudden passion.She drew a soft moan into Ramesh’s mouth. Lakshmi’s hands traced down his chest. It had been so long since she had touched a man like this, her body feeling heavy and alight with passion.

She guided his hand to her blouse, and he unhooked it.

Her full breasts spilt out into his hands, her nipples already hard. Ramesh held her, his thumbs grazing lightly over her sensitive tips. Lakshmi gasped and pressed herself tightly against his chest.

They moved to the cot.

Lakshmi pushed Ramesh down on the cot, and climbed over him. Raising her sari above her thighs, she showed him that she was not wearing panties. She rubbed herself against the bulge in his trousers.

“See how wet I am for you,” she whispered, surprising herself with her forwardness. “I was thinking about this night with you.”

Ramesh leaned up, his fingers reaching between her legs to touch the slickness of her. As his thumb pressed against her, Lakshmi bit her lip to stop the moan from escaping, her hips rocking against his hand.

She unzipped his trousers, freeing the hard length of him, and took him in her hand, stroking slowly against his pulsing tip.

“It is so hard for me,” she whispered. “I want you inside me.”

Lifting herself up, she positioned him beneath her and lowered herself slowly onto him. The heat of her made Ramesh grunt.

Lakshmi began to move in a steady rhythm, her breasts swaying gently above him, sweat making their skin slip against each other. The wooden cot groaned in response, muffled by the distant sound of another train passing.

Ramesh encircled her waist, lifting his hips to drive deeper into her. As he looked up at her, he saw her eyes half-closed in ecstasy.

She moaned softly as he filled her, leaning forward so that her hair brushed against his face, her soft mouth biting gently at his lower lip.

He rolled her onto her back, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. He drove into her with strong strokes. Lakshmi’s nails scraped lightly across his back, her breath coming in fast gasps.

“Keep going... right there,” she gasped.

She came with a powerful shudder, burying her face into his shoulder so that he did not hear her cry. Ramesh kept going, feeling her walls pulse around him.

He could not hold back any longer, and pulled out, spilling hot against her soft belly.

They lay together on the small cot, breathing heavily as the light bulb above flickered once.

After a minute, Lakshmi got up and fetched a cloth from the shelf to wipe them both down. She adjusted her sari and used her pallu to cover the red marks on her neck.

Ramesh then buttoned up his shirt.

She brought him a steel tumbler of water, which he drank, watching her move around the kitchen.

“Will you come again tomorrow?” she asked, her eyes darting towards the stove.

“Yes,” he said. “Same time.”

She smiled.

“I will keep extra salna ready,” she said.

They walked back outside the shop. Her husband still snored behind the counter. Ramesh brushed her hand once before walking out into the night, and she squeezed his fingers before letting go.

The following nights became a routine. Ramesh came every midnight, ordered his egg kothu, and waited for the last customer to leave. Then he would sneak back into the kitchen.

Sometimes they had to be quick; other times, they could take it slow.

Lakshmi learned what Ramesh liked, taking him into her mouth. Ramesh learned what Lakshmi liked, kissing the stretch marks on her hips and the slight curve of her waist.

One rainy night, Ramesh took her to a climax with his tongue, while she gripped hard at the sides of the cot for support.

When the monsoon rains beat heavily against the tin roof, forcing the shop to close early, he took her standing against the wall of the kitchen, their movements accompanied by the downpour.

“I think about you during the day,” she confessed. “When I am cutting onions, when I am serving food... I get turned on just thinking about you.”

Ramesh drove into her harder.

“I come here only for you now,” he said.

Not all the nights were good; once, her husband called out in his sleep, making them stop dead. Sometimes Ramesh was held up with personal matters, and she waited anxiously for him and held him tighter the next evening.

Their secret affair continued for months.

Lakshmi always saved extra eggs for Ramesh, and sometimes her hair smelled of jasmine oil. Occasionally she would hum Tamil movie songs while they lay entwined.

Ramesh would kiss the rough places on her hands or give her a massage.

One midnight, after they had finished and lay quietly together, the city outside was silent.

Lakshmi traced a finger over his chest.

“This cannot last forever,” she said softly. “We have to end.”

Ramesh did expect this would come to an end. He understood her. He used to come regularly and fell for her.

***

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