The Stormy Night

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This story is a work of fiction. This story is set in older times so the pace is certainly slower. It is also about the innocence of youth and the slow build up of the erotica. Patience is a virtue when you read this story. The buildup is slow but the rewards are plenty. All characters are fictious and are over eighteen years of age


It was raining cats and dogs when I got off the bus at bus stand. Even though I made a very quick dash to the nearest shelter that was just a few feet away I got drenched. I found an empty bench away from the slanting rain and sat on it to take stock of my plight.

I am Mohan, a twenty two year old engineer, working as an engineer trainee in a reputed private firm in Madras (the city is now known as Chennai). My company worked five days a week. A very good friend of mine was getting married that Saturday night in his native place; a very small town some 50 miles away from Vijayawada. It was an impulsive, last minute decision on my part to attend that wedding.

Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t get a train ticket and had to travel sitting in a bus all the way. Even as I left Madras on that Friday night, a cyclonic storm was making its way towards the South India in the Bay of Bengal. During that night of my travel it intensified further. The bus was buffeted by rain and strong winds and the journey was very wet and tiring. But, somehow, we managed to reach Vijayawada around eight in the morning that Saturday.

I had a cup of hot coffee at the coffee stall and then went to the inquiry counter. My plan was to take another bus to my friend’s town.

“Forget it, Sir! All the buses are cancelled. The storm is going to cross the coast in a few hours quite close to us. Go and find yourself a safe accommodation. Everything is closing down in a couple of hours.” It appeared to me that the inquiry clerk was trying to scare me and getting a kick out of it.

I moved away from the counter and looked around. There were only few people around and most of the stalls and ticket counters had already closed down. Perhaps, most of them didn’t open at all that morning and the few people around were in a rush to go to the warmth and safety of their homes.

What should I do? I have to spend the day at Vijayawada for sure and wait for the storm to cross the coast, do its damage and destruction and weaken. But where do I stay? A hotel is not a luxury I could afford at that stage nor had I come prepared for such an expense. It was the fag end of the month and I was broke as usual.

Murthy! Yes! The solution came to me in a flash. Murthy’s father was a friend of my father. Murthy must be around thirty now. I haven’t seen him in the past five years. But, I knew

Murthy was working in Vijayawada and he lived here with his wife. More importantly, Murthy was highly obliged to my father.

It was my father who helped him secure his present good job with a private company. This was about five years back. Murthy worked hard, did well and got married. Though, I haven’t seen him for a long time I was aware of these developments through my folks. I also remembered someone mentioning a few months back that his house was in the lane next to a famous theater, a landmark of sort in Vijayawada.

I decided to take my chances and find shelter with Murthy. I knew that the theater was only about a mile away from bus stand. But in this heavy rain that was quite a long way. I looked around and found a cycle rickshaw guy who was willing to take me. He demanded thrice the normal fare and I felt, given this weather, he was very reasonable. I got into the rickshaw.

Have you ever traveled in a cycle rickshaw with heavy rains lashing and gusty winds trying to blow you away? It can get really scary! I got totally drenched and so was my small travel bag. I felt awfully bad about the guy pulling the rickshaw. He was unable to pedal the bicycle against the strong wind and so, pulled the rickshaw manually. It took almost half an hour for us to reach the theater.

He stopped at the entry to the lane next to the theater.

“This is your lane, sir.” He pointed out.

I looked. There was no road visible. The lane was like a canal; water flowing down to the other end. It looked at least a couple of feet deep, if not more.

“You will have to walk the rest of the way, sir. I am sorry.” He said. I didn’t argue. I paid his fare and a handsome tip. He deserved it.

I got down from the rickshaw and moved to the shelter provided by a small tree at the corner. I looked into the lane. There was no one around. All the houses had their doors and windows firmly shut. People were sensible and they were staying indoors. I didn’t have any idea about Murthy’s home. I stood there wondering what to do.

My savior was a ten year old boy who came from behind me and was going into the same lane. He was protected by an umbrella too.

“Hello! Could you tell me where is Murthy’s house?”

“Which Murthy?” He asked seriously. I knew that in this part of the Ataşehir Escort town, every other man was a Murthy. I tried to recollect his first name.

The boy was obviously smart and clever.

“Young Murthy sir or old man Murthy sir?” He asked.

“Young Murthy” I replied promptly.

He pointed to the second house on the right side and said, “Upstairs.” He went his way and I blessed him and his parents.

I made my way to Murthy’s house, wading through knee deep water, covering my head with my bag for protection against the heavy rain. I opened the small wooden gate. It was a two storied house a few feet above the street level. There was a small three feet paved pathway around the house and the main door was locked with a big lock from outside. Obviously, they were out.

I found the stair case to my left, climbed the stairs and reached the upstairs portion.

I earnestly hoped that this was indeed Murthy’s place and he was there. I knocked on the wooden door. There was no answer and I knocked harder and longer.

The door didn’t open but a small window to the right of the door and a few feet away opened.

“Who is it?” A female voice inquired.

“Is Murthy sir there?” I asked her.

“No. He is not here. Who wants him?” She asked again.

I gave her my name and introduced myself as a friend of Murthy. To give her some confidence, I told her my father’s name.

It was as if I said, “Open Sesame!” The window shut and the door opened immediately. I rushed indoor and it took a lot of effort to shut the door against the winds.

“I am Jaya, his wife.” She introduced herself.

Seeing my totally drenched condition she went inside and returned with a fresh towel and an ironed lungi (the male equivalent of a sari which one wraps around). I opened my bag, took out my small toilette kit and also a T shirt.

“Dry yourself before you catch cold. You are totally drenched.” So saying, she gestured me to follow her. One of the doors in the next large room had a door that opened to the attached bathroom with toilette. The bathroom had another door that probably opened to their bedroom.

I brushed my teeth, finished my morning ablutions and walked out of the bathroom in a much better shape. She had a cup of hot filtered coffee ready and I really loved drinking that coffee. I needed it!

Jaya told me that Murthy had gone to Raipur two days ago on official work and he was expected back on Sunday evening. I told her about the purpose and details of my own trip and how I am now stuck in Vijayawada.

“I am glad that you remembered us and came here. We are highly indebted to your father. It is because of his blessings and kindness that we are happy.” I was a bit embarrassed by the high praise they heaped on my father; but was secretly proud of him.

“Whether you like it or not, now you are struck with me.” I joked with her.

“Oh! It is really a relief to have company in this horrible storm. I was scared.” She replied.

She quickly prepared a breakfast of hot upma (a south Indian breakfast like a thick porridge) for me. I was famished, it was hot and delicious and I ate a second serving too.

“You must be tired after that overnight journey. Why don’t you sleep off for a while? I will prepare lunch and wake you up.” That was a very welcome suggestion.

She quickly made a bed for me on a folding type cot in the bigger living room which was the second room and I slept like a rock.

At 1pm, I woke up after much shouting and shaking by Jaya. My eyes were refusing to stay open and I went to the bathroom and had a quick face wash. The lunch was ready and spread out neatly on the small dining table. It was hot, spicy and delicious…just the way I liked my food. I praised her on here culinary skills and ate ravenously.

After we finished lunch, I moved to the front room and tried the Radio. The power supply was off. Jaya brought a small battery operated transistor radio and gave it to me.

“You can get the local stations and weather updates on this.” She went back to clean up.

I heard the local news bulletin and it was depressing news. The storm was lashing the coast and all forms of transportation had come to a halt. There was a lot of damage already and the cyclone was expected to cross the coast in few hours time about sixty miles down south to us.

Jaya joined me in the room, sat on the chair opposite mine and listened to the news with rapt attention. When the bulletin concluded, I switched off. She had a worried look on her face. Even though I didn’t show my feelings, I was worried too.

“I am worried, Mohan. They say it is going to cross close to us and do a lot of damage. I hope we are safe here.” She did sound worried.

“I think I should forget about going to my friend’s wedding. I only hope that they all would be safe.” I expressed my own concerns.

“You can’t think of going anywhere now. Forget about going to that wedding.”

I nodded my head in assent. Kadıköy Escort

We heard a commotion from outside. We didn’t dare to open the door. Jaya opened the window partly and peeped through it. Then she asked me to join her. I did.

The lane was now flooded with water and the level was much higher than when I arrived that morning. Few of the houses which were at a lower level were flooded and folks from these houses were moving themselves and their valuables to the relative safety of neighbors’ homes.

Luckily for us, Murthy’s house was built three or four feet above the road level and very safe.

“We are on the first floor; so no worries at all.” I said, hoping to boost her confidence.

“That is true, but, isn’t this scary?”

It certainly was!

We shut the window and bolted it. It was just past three but the light outside dimmed considerably. The house turned dark and Jaya lit a candle.

“Do we have enough candles and matches?” I asked her.

So we went and checked. There were about ten candles and two match boxes in stock. We picked them up and placed them in the top shelf of the open rack there; a dry, safe and accessible place.

“We must use them carefully and not waste any.” I added, unnecessarily.

“Thank God, you are here, Mohan. I just shudder to think of myself alone in this ghastly storm.” Her voice cracked a little and she looked ready to burst into tears.

She didn’t look much older than me so I decided to call her by name.

“Oh! Jaya! Don’t worry. I am here with you now and you need not worry. I will not leave till the storm completely subsides. We are perfectly safe.”

My words cheered her up a little.

I decided to take her mind off the storm. So, I started telling her things about Madras, my job, cinemas and things like that. Jaya was curious and she asked many questions. In the background, even through the closed doors, we could hear the winds howling and shrieking. It was just past five but totally dark.

I switched on the transistor radio.

The storm was going to cross the coast anytime now. People were asked to stay indoors and bolt up their doors and windows, as very high speed winds were blowing. ‘Do not open the doors and windows’ – the warnings said repeatedly.

I got up and checked that the doors and windows were fully closed and properly bolted. Despite that, the front door looked a little vulnerable. So, with the help of Jaya, I moved a couple of trunks against the door, as a sort of reinforcement. Jaya said she would cook some rice for our dinner. Some of the curry and dal that she cooked for our lunch were also available. I went with her to the kitchen to keep company.

Author’s note

At this stage of the tale I would like to tell you a little more about the personalities of both Mohan and Jaya. Mohan was basically a good boy. He was above average but not brilliant at studies and did fairly well at the academics. He was tall at 5’10”, very slim and had average physic and looks. He had a good, middle class upbringing and was taught the basic values well by his parents early in life.

His knowledge about sex was also average; as was the norm of those times. It was mostly bookish and hearsay. Like other boys of his age, he masturbated periodically fantasizing about the bodies of film stars or other beauties. He kept away from the temptation of going to the prostitutes or the like. He knew that he would get married in a few years and then he could have all the sex he wanted with his wife. Thus, sexually, he was both a virgin and a novice.

Jaya was twenty five year old. She too had a middle class upbringing and did her graduation in Arts (known as B.A degree). She was married three years ago and it was an arranged marriage. Her parents knew Murthy’s parents through common friends and both sides liked the alliance and that was it.

Jaya was 5’4″ tall and an average looking girl. She had wheat like complexion and plain features. Everything about her looks was average…her face, breasts, buttocks…were all average. Her most beautiful features were her eyes and her hair. She had big, black eyes that were beautiful and expressive. She also had long, silken, rich, black hair that she normally wore in a single pleat. When in the mood and in the privacy of her home, she would sometimes leave it loose for a day after shampooing it.

She too had minimal knowledge of sex when she got married and her husband was her first and only man. Murthy was only a couple of inches taller than her and was a little obese for his age. He was darker in complexion than his wife and had lots of body hair. Though he loved his wife he was an average performer in bed. After a few minutes of foreplay and kissing he would take his wife in a missionary position, fuck her for five minutes and ejaculate. Once done, he would get off her and go to sleep.

Jaya had an orgasm occasionally and was left fretting the other times. She had no prior knowledge or experience to Ümraniye Escort bench mark. She therefore thought this was normal sex. But, sometimes, she felt that she was missing out on something and sex, perhaps, could be more pleasurable.

Her instinct told her that her hubby was ‘coming’ too soon. If only he could stay harder and longer inside her and fucked her longer it would be much better! She felt it but never dared to tell her hubby. She was scared of his possible reaction.

Though three years had gone by, she had not got pregnant. Her parents, his parents and all relatives were waiting for her to get pregnant. Those days, in our society, if a woman didn’t get pregnant she was blamed as infertile. Though her gynecologist said there was nothing wrong with her and it was only a matter of time before she conceived, she was worried. So, she did what her mother and mother-in-law had asked her to do. She visited temples, prayed to God to make her pregnant.

This was the background of both these characters when they were thrown together by a quirk of fate to face the deadly storm on that fateful day.

Back to the story

Jaya finished cooking and we moved to the front room and lit a candle there. This was their drawing room and had a small sofa and two chairs. They were of the simple and less expensive wood and cane type design. I settled down on the sofa and Jaya joined me. Through the firmly closed doors we could hear the howling of the winds. I switched on the transistor set.

The news was on. The cyclone was moving slower than expected and was likely to cross the coast in the next few hours. The earlier warnings and the predictions of high wind speeds and extensive damage were repeated. I switched it off because we needed to conserve the batteries. With the telephone lines dead from that morning and power outage, we were totally cut off from the outside world. This transistor radio was our sole source of information.

I did the mistake of sharing these thoughts with Jaya. Instinctively, her hand sought mine and held them. Her body shivered a little. She was certainly scared and I felt a surge of sympathy. I moved a little closer to her and gently pressed her hand with mine.

“Don’t worry, Jaya! We are far away from the path (of the cyclone) and we are in a big town. We are not alone. There are thousands around us. We are safe.” I said with more confidence than I felt.

“I know but I am scared…” She mumbled.

To divert her attention, I started talking about movies. This was a subject that obviously fascinated her a great deal. We started talking about my favorite heroines and her favorite heroes. As we kept speaking, I became aware of her body, for the first time.

The sofa, with its back to the wall, was facing the front door. I was seated on the left side of the sofa and Jaya was to my right. Her right hand was in my hands now and as we talked, I became aware of its softness for the first time. Her hand was soft as a flower and her fingers were slim and shapely. Slowly, I let the fingers of my right hand entwine hers.

As I looked at her face, I realized, for the first time, how beautiful her eyes were!

“You have such lovely eyes, Jaya.” I blurted out. My hand gave hers a gentle squeeze.

“Oh! Mohan! So you noticed at last! I was wondering whether you would notice at all! That is the first thing people tell me when they meet me first time…beautiful eyes!” She said that proudly and her face lit up with a smile.

“I too noticed it the first thing but I was scared about saying it out then.”

She just smiled in reply. But now, her hand returned the squeeze.

We kept talking about all and sundry. But we both were aware of the fury of the raging cyclone and were scared. The winds were blowing at a higher speed now. This was obvious from the increased noise level and the tremendous air pressure that was rattling the doors and windows.

“This is getting too scary, Mohan!” Her voice reflected her fear.

There was no doubt about that. But, she was obviously much more scared than me. As a man, I was supposed to provide her some sort of confidence and protection. Instinct told me what to do. I freed my right hand, put my arm behind her, let my right hand rest on her shoulder and pulled her closer to me. She turned slightly to her left, towards me and moved closer. Her left cheek rested on my chest.

“Don’t worry, Jaya. I am here with you and nothing will happen. Don’t be afraid of the storm. It will blow off. Just relax, don’t be tense.” I just kept saying what I thought were comforting words.

My right hand left her shoulder and started brushing her long silken hair tenderly. It was a spontaneous gesture that was aimed at comforting and relaxing her. Her left hand reached for my free left hand, held it and her fingers entwined mine. She gave a gentle squeeze which was an appreciation of my actions and the comfort they provided.

We sat like that on the sofa for long minutes and stayed silent. The silence enhanced the howling noise of the winds which was now like a low pitched shriek of a banshee…a continuous one!

Jaya’s body was still tense and I felt her tremble a little occasionally with small spasms, as if she were experiencing chills.

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