Dark Desires: Dark Erotic Tales (12 page)

I laughed the first happy sound to escape me that day.  Little did he know the drink had been my coping mechanism for knowing I would have to join him in his bed chambers as his wife that
night.  I felt less frightened, and better prepared to simply take whatever was coming to me on my wedding night.

Shekhar took my hand and led me quietly away from the party that was still in full swing.  We walked into the bedroom and I fell unceremoniously onto the bed.  Shekhar smiled coolly at me as he walked up to the bed table approaching the telephone.  "Do not go to sleep, I have to make a call," Shekhar said calmly with a strange tone underneath the calm.

I sat on the edge of the bed staring at the floor.  I was vaguely aware of him barking into the phone that he was ready and to send her in.  My head snapped up and I gaped at him, but I did not say a word.  He turned from me and quickly disrobed, wasting no time.  Then he turned and strode back to where I sat on the bed.

Shekhar began gently removing my wedding jewelry and taking it to the bedside table, piece by piece.  Then he pulled me up into a standing position and spun me around so he could begin unbuttoning my wedding saree.  I watched with a pang of sadness as my beautiful gown fell in a pile on the floor beside the bed.  Shekhar stood behind me and I could feel his erection in my back as he reached around to massage my breasts roughly.  Heat began to tingle inside me.  I hated myself and fought my arousal, but I couldn't help it as his hands moved over my body.  The door opened and Manu walked in.  In my drunken state, I didn't even bother covering myself but when she stepped out from behind Manu, my mouth fell open.

There stood Kishori.

"SHEKHAR!"
I exclaimed.  I noticed a slightly alarmed expression on Manu's face at the sound of my distress.  But Shekhar bellowed at Manu to leave and so he hurried out.

"Why is she here?  Why, Shekhar?  It is our wedding night!"

I couldn't bear it.  I couldn't bear to go through the nightmare with Kis again.  Not on this, of all days.

Shekhar's dark eyes narrowed and clouded with anger.  "Do not question me, wife.  This night, this is what I want," he growled.  He put a hand on my shoulder and he shoved me to the ground.  "Suck."

I glanced at Kis and the tears began to flow.  But I knew I had no choice, so I took his throbbing cock into my mouth. 

"
Ahhh," he whispered.  "Good girl," he praised.  I whimpered.

"Stop."

I pulled away from him and my attention shot to Kishori.  She stood still in the spot Manu had left her, and her face glowed with her rage.  Shekhar glowered down at me and then over to her.  "What the fuck did you say?" he whispered.

Brazenly, Kis began to stride toward him.  "I said stop, you bastard.  She's crying.  She doesn't want this.  Now STOP."

Shekhar was across the room so fast I scarcely saw him.  Before I had time to complete a thought, his big hands were around Kis' slender throat.  "I will KILL YOU!" he raged.

An animal like scream rang out in the room.

It wasn't until much later when recalling the moment in nightmares that I realized the scream was me.

I threw myself on Shekhar's back, flailing, scratching, and yanking more viciously than I'd ever have imagined of myself.  Shekhar's hands fell from Kis' throat and she fell like a rag doll to the throat gasping and choking for breath.  Shekhar stumbled backwards screaming himself and he bucked me off.  I clambered to the floor, falling so hard I felt all my bones should've broken.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Shekhar roared.  His first kick landed squarely in my abdomen and sent me reeling backwards several more feet.  He reached down and jerked me up by my neck, only to punch me in the face and send me sprawling again.  I wept and struggled to maintain consciousness knowing that if his rage was focused on me, then Kis could escape.

But that didn't happen.

Instead, his terrorizing rage came to a sudden end as blood and brain matter exploded from his face and he fell limply on top of me.  My mind spun, I didn't comprehend at all what had happened.  But then, Shekhar's lifeless body was rolled off me, and silhouetted by the bright light above, I saw Manu standing there with a gun hanging loosely at his side.  Kis scurried to my side and wrapped me in her arms.

"I'm sorry," Manu said, staring down at his now deceased employer.  He turned haunted eyes to meet mine.  "I'm sorry, Gita. 
That I ever let him hurt you.  Now, you are free…  I hope you can forgive me.

Epilogue

Despite the fact that I was the widow of an important politician, and powerful business man in Assam, I had no authority to help Manu.

But, he accepted his fate willingly.  He never demonstrated regret, and during his trial, he made known what a true monster he'd given over his life to like so many others.  He gladly accepted a death sentence if it meant freeing the women of the Kulkarni harem.

However, in that respect, I did have some power to help.  Despite the raving of my mother in law, I gave each of the workers and the harem girls $50,000 and sent them packing.  I knew many of them would choose to find a way right back into this life, and I prayed for their souls.  Others were grateful to me, their savior.  More and more stories came to light of violence and darkness behind closed doors of the harem, and those who were abused revered me for setting them free.

Kis and I settled up affairs at the Kulkarni estate and made plans for ourselves.  Neither of us had any desire to return to our families, nor after what we'd been through, Kis no longer harbored any illusions about harem life.

Manu was executed on a cool autumn day with storms blustering on the nearby horizon.  By the time his day came, nothing remained of the harem and even Padma was long gone.  Nobody attended his execution but Kis and I and a spattering of reporters.

We shed our tears for him, and we were glad that he died peacefully with a smile on his face.  We took that with us as we boarded a plane right after saying goodbye to the man who'd given his life for us.

Then we left it all behind as the plane carried us away, to our new world, and our new life; together.

Matteo
Sorrention pauses in his race around the bar, to take a look around and marvel at all the people pouring in the door. He's hardly stood still since four in the afternoon; busy preparing the place for a hopping Friday night crowd. Even now
, at nine, he's still incredibly busy making sure everything's running smoothly before he goes on stage with his band. Matteo's wife Morreen is manning the bar while his band plays. He glances toward the front where she is busy mixing drinks. She smiles politely at a patron whose enthusiasm far exceeds Morreen's. Matteo grimaces, wishing she would liven up, worrying that things will disintegrate while he's on stage with her in charge. As if sensing him watching, Morreen's pretty green eyes shift in his direction and catch his frown. She frowns as well, and he recovers by brandishing upon her a vibrant smile. But she does not smile back. She returns her attention to the bar, her face sadly drawn.

Matteo sighs and takes off again. The band is already on stage and has
kicked up the first song. He takes a long legged graceful leap and lands on stage. Grabbing the mic, Matteo begins to belt out the first notes of a driving country song in his low, gravelly voice. Bodies begin to gyrate on the dance floor and as always, Matteo has the audience captivated.

***

"What's that lead singer drinking, do you know?" a girl asks Morreen Sorrention at the bar. Morreen glances back at the stage. Matteo grooves under the colorful stage lights. He wears crisp blue jeans that ride low on his hips and are boot cut, accommodating his pristine black cowboy boots. His white button down shirt is rolled at the sleeves and even from here she can see the flames of his tattoos creeping down his forearms. The several top buttons are undone and a becoming crop of chest hair peaks out. The cut lines of his face are accented with a slight shadow of stubble move fluidly as he sings. As always the sound of Matteo's voice sends a shiver through her.

She turns her eyes back to the tramp standing before her with her heavily made up face and mane of long blonde hair. Though it is February, the girl wears tight cigarette pants and a barely there form fitting halter top that exposes her midriff and nearly everything else. Despite the thick
scent of cigarette smoke and spilled beer, Morreen smells the girl's oppressive perfume. Though the girl looks slutty, she is gorgeous. Morreen is no slouch herself, but lately she hasn't felt she measures up to these pretty young things anymore.

"Yeah, I know what he drinks, he's my husband," Morreen says with not attempt to conceal her contempt toward the girl.

The girl's eyes snap to Morreen and she gives her a snide smile with her ruby red lips. "Yeah? Well what's he drink?"

"
Jack and Coke."
Morreen replies sharply.

The girl titters, obviously enjoying
Morreen's display of jealousy. "OK," the girl says with a smart assed tone, "well give me one then!"

Morreen's
shadowy eyes narrow and her pale cheeks redden. "Do you have an ID?" Morreen growled.

The girl rolls her eyes. "Wow, seriously? They carded me at the door."

Morreen extends her hand. "ID or get out," she snaps.

The girl makes a big spectacle of fetching her ID from her purse, grumbling and sighing. Morreen notes the girl is in fact old enough to be there. By three days. Grudgingly, she serves the girl a weak Jack and Coke. Without a thank you or a tip, the girl plucks the drink from the bar and bounces off into the crowd.

Morreen watches the girl proceed to the front of the stage and hold the drink up to Matteo. Matteo accepts the drink and gives the girl a glorious smile. Morreen watches him bend down and speak into the girl's ear, and then the girl says something back into his ear. Matteo dedicates the next song to his special new friend, Toni Styles.

***

By the band's first break, Morreen's had a few drinks herself. Her poison is
Jose.
She's watched her husband sing, jump off stage and dance with several women, but mostly with Toni Styles who hasn't left the dance floor since she delivered his drink. Numerous regular customers have questioned Morreen about the girl who nobody's ever seen before. Others make off handed comments in front of Morreen about Matteo's performance shenanigans and how Morreen is a hell of a wife to put up with it. Morreen licks salt off her hand, shoots another drink and then sucks the lemon wedge. Then she stalks off into the kitchen where she's just seen Matteo go.

Matteo is counting money on the deep freezer. He periodically hits the registers and takes money out throughout the night and he's counting the take up until this point. "Matteo," Morreen says quietly, her voice not at all matching the level of venom within her.

Matteo glances over his shoulder at her. He says nothing, just continues counting the bills.

"People are talking about the way you're acting tonight."

Matteo sighs and slams the money down. "You made me lose count."

"It's embarrassing Matteo, please…"

Matteo turns and glares at her with sharp dark eyes. She knows he's had quite a few drinks by now too. She knows not to start with him. But she can't help herself.

"Morreen, we own this bar. It's our job to be nice to the customers. We are nice, they spend money, and we get rich. That's the equation. You might try it sometime." Matteo says maliciously.

Morreen's eyes glint dangerously. "Oh, really? You want me to be nice to the customers the same way you are?" Her comment is accusing, but her tone is still quiet. She knows not to push his limits. He doesn't respond well to a disrespectful tone.

"Are you accusing me of something, Morreen?"

"I don't have to accuse you; everybody else does it for me."

Matteo leans into her face. Even in this angry moment, the scent of him intoxicates her. Her head swims with raw anger and burning lust. "YOU
oughtta know better. You should know I love you, fuck what anyone else says. If you can't believe in me, then fuck you too," Matteo growls. He shoves the wads of money into his pockets and bolts from the room.

***

By the time one a.m. rolls around everybody is drunk. The crowd is hammered. Morreen is hammered and other bartenders have taken over, she's too drunk to work. Matteo's hammered and so is the whole band. The music is louder. The crowd is dancing at a feverish pace. Toni Styles is right in front of the stage and Matteo plays to her. He sings right to her, and stares down at her with a small feral smile. Morreen is hunkered in a dark booth watching the scene unfold, searing in anger. This is the story of every weekend of their life. The Toni's of the world are drawn to Morreen's husband and he loves every minute of it. Though he professes his undying love for Morreen, the general public and the low down chatter around the place suggests differently. This is what twenty years of marriage has boiled down to for Morreen Sorrention.