My sleep was disturbed by the noise of someone cleaning the clothes. The noise was of strokes of the brush over foamy fabric; it was coming from the bathroom. I think maybe it’s my wife. But then I recall my wife has left for her mother’s place and won’t be coming back until next week. Perhaps, she is back early. I propose a hypothesis to myself.
I twist and turn around on the bed to crack my muscles. I notice a cup of coffee resting on top of the bedside drawer. I touch the cup and realize that it has been sitting there for quite some time. I sit up on the edge of the bed and yawn as my feet fumble to look for bathroom slippers. When I put them on and, I stroll up to the wide-open bathroom door.
I saw a woman was cleaning my dirty clothes. I’ve been piling them up for the last three days. The pile also had two of my underwear since I’d many underpants. She was not my wife. This woman was more bustier than my wife and a lot taller.
Yesterday evening when my wife left she apprised me about the woman next door who was a gossip friend of my wife. She was also wedded. I have seen her a couple of times in the neighborhood. Last night around 9:00, she brought me dinner. Within few hours, I’d already made a mess of my living room. She scowls, taking a look around the room over my shoulder. She stood tall at 5’9″ with her two inches heels, whereas I was 5’11” myself.
“Ahm,” I clear my throat as she hasn’t noticed me yet.
Her hands settle, she turns around to look at me.
“Sorry, I should’ve asked you first.” She speaks unapologetically.
“Well, I don’t mind,” I said, cocking my head.
I was wearing my boxer briefs and a sleeveless red t-shirt. I also had the morning wood as usual. I didn’t even know her name. The woman was wearing a chocolatey-brown Saree with a white blouse that extended to a little over her elbows.
“What’s your name?” I ask promptly.
She looks at me in disbelief, expecting me to know her name, “Sadhna.”
“Sadhna, can I please use the bathroom for two minutes?” I ask.
“Oh,” She realizes I just woke up. Momentarily, I notice her glower at my morning wood, “Sure.” She gets up and walks out of the bathroom.
We look at each other and smile awkwardly. I then step inside the bathroom and close the door. I tinkle in the toilet bowl without caring to lift the toilet seat and splatter some droplets over the toilet seat as well. I flush the toilet and come out. Only when I was feeling a tad relaxed, I notice her exposed belly. Unlike my skinny wife, she was a meatball.
“All yours,” I gesture her to step in and continue.
“Why do you keep your house so messy?” She asked, resuming the chore.
She was annoyed about that. Her face clearly said it all.
“Why does it matter? I never asked you to do any household chores.” When I asked her that question, it dawned upon me. Why was she doing my household chores? I knew about the dinner, lunch, and breakfast arrangements but not this, “Have you lost a bet to my wife or something?”
“No, eww. Can’t you even lift the toilet seat before you; such a slipshod you are. What’s wrong with you?” She complains about my habit rather than answering my question. Right after that, using the mug, she spills two mugsful of water on the toilet seat.
“What’s wrong with me! What’s wrong with you? You’re the one who sneaked into my house and washing my clothes in my bathroom, and there’s something wrong with me?” I scoff in disbelief.
I notice her pulling out my underpants from the pile of clothing.
“First of all, Shalini gave me the keys so I didn’t sneak in… and second, I can’t stand the sight of an unkempt house. It makes my skin crawl.” She continues stroking the soap over my underpants.
“What the. So is it like you’re suffering from OCD?” I react promptly.
“Yeah, kind of.” She spoke curtly.
“I never thought it was real. You’re the first case I’ve seen for real,” I said amusingly.
“Don’t you have anything better to do? Let me do my thing, and you do yours. Coffee should be over your bedside table,” She responds.
“Yeah, but it’s cold now,”
“I’m not your wife. Go heat it yourself,” She was miffed.
“Fine, fine. No need to be rude.” I said gingerly.
I get the coffee cup from the top of the bedside drawer. Then my eyes meet the thong of Shalini. It was resting under the bed next to the drawer from last night. In memory of my loving wife, I’d cleaned my virile tears with it last night.
“Sadhna, you think you’d be also brooming the house afterward?” I ask casually.
“Do I have any other choice?” She responds to me rhetorically.
“I guess not,” I whisper and drag the panty out from underneath the bed so she could find it easily when she would be cleaning the room.
“I’m stepping out might take a while. A half-hour maybe, can you stay until I return,” I ask as I put on my shirt and a track pant.
“Doesn’t seem like I can leave your house like this before another couple of hours. Good for you that my husband is not working from home.” She responds.
“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit,” I said gleefully.
Later, I return home after half an hour. I did have to buy myself a packet of cigarettes. If Shalini were around, she’d dump any cigarette or their pack in the garbage if she would find it at home. Now that she was gone, I could finally smoke peacefully at home itself.
Sadhna was in the kitchen doing the dishes when I came into the living room. She had arranged the couch and everything how it should be. She’s good and even better than Shalini at it. I walk into the kitchen and check out her posterior. Every time I look at her, I compare her with Shalini in my head. She’s better than her in every way possible.
“Ishaan, can you please try not to make a mess out of your home until Shalini returns?” She turns around, and I’d to tear my gaze off her posterior.
“Why would I do that? It’s my house after all,” I scoffed, “Now that I’ve got a maid for free, I should make good use of her, shouldn’t I?” I tease.
“Shut up,” She blushes, hiding her face from my sight.
I leave the kitchen to go check out the status of Shalini’s thong. Just like I thought, it wasn’t there. I go and check our lawn, where we’d usually put our clothes for drying under sunlight. Sadhna had cleaned up the thong as well. It was hanging right next to my underpants on the rope.
“Maybe there’s some hope for me after all,” I said to myself.
Sadhna was watching me from the kitchen window. I sense her scrutiny upon myself with my sixth sense and spin around on my heels.
She dropped her eyelids without delay but couldn’t suppress her medial cheek fats from manifesting the crimson glow upon themselves.
“Certainly, there’s hope,” I whisper to myself.
To be continued, most probably in private only.
Not sure if I’ll be posting the next chapter for this. But the main idea of the story is simple. Sadhna is suffering from OCD. She does enjoy lovemaking, but she likes it neat and sensual. On the other hand, my character is rough and filthy. Could I convince Sadhna to try it my way? Would she love it if she tried it once? How far can she go?
Hit me up and, we can figure it out together.