Dr.Jekyll and Mrs.Hyde

Asian

My sexuality has two contrasting sides to it. To persons who know me I am a monumental prude. Carmelite nuns would appreciate my style of dressing, and the strictest of matrons would approve of the way I behave with men, but inside wild fantasies rack me. Twice I acted out my fantasies. My experience is not unlike that of Dr. Jekyll who from time to time transformed into his other evil half and roamed the streets of London as Mr. Hyde. But my other half is far from being evil. The time and place for these transformations were not inappropriate either. Some may even say that this split personality theory I am advancing to explain myself is pure bunkum, and that I am just a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a slut pretending to be a woman of virtue. They are welcome to hold such a view. Please read my story and find your own answer.

My name is Laila. I am twenty-five years old. I have a good figure. At five feet five inches I am tall for an Indian woman. From the way men look at me I assume I must be attractive. I was born and brought up in Chennai in India. I came to Boston when I was twenty-one on a scholarship. During the MS course I got very friendly with Vimal who was doing the same courses I chose. He is from Delhi. We have the same tastes in music, books, and movies both Indian and Western. We used to do what in India we call combined study. There was no physical intimacy between us. At times in movies Vimal had held my hand, but I used to take it away without making it appear that I dislike it. Vimal got the message and he was careful to respect my wishes. Once we went to Niagara. We stayed in different rooms. The sight of the happy honeymooners had no effect on me.

I have sexual fantasies in which Vimal figured quite frequently. I masturbate too, by rubbing myself. In my favourite fantasy I am lying nude in the balcony of my apartment and Vimal is hugging and fondling me, and we have sex with neighbours watching, and both of us are waving to them. For one with such florid exhibitionist fantasies to be so frigid in real life seems strange. A visit to the Grand Canyon changed all that.

We rented a car in LA and drove to a town called Williams where we booked rooms in a lodge. The lodge was an ancient one. There were several cottages spread out in a vast area of trees and shrubs. The owner, an old couple, were not maintaining the garden well for it was over grown with shrubs and small trees. It was cheap, and that was the reason we chose that place.

We unpacked and left for the Canyon. We stopped the car at the first viewpoint and goggled at the chasm. Vikram read the chart and identified some of the rocky formations. Then we moved to the next viewpoint and goggled at more rock formations, and then to the next and so on. Vimal applied a pair of binoculars to his eye.

“Can you see that group on horses as tiny points,” he said. I peered through the glasses.

“Not horses Vimal, mules. Horses are not noted for surefootedness.” It was our habit to update each other with information. He applied the glasses to his eyes once again and spotted another group a little higher up.

“See that group,” he said pointing. “They are on foot.” It was his turn to update me. “Walking all the way down is possible but one has to stay overnight and climb up the next day. One has to take permits for that.” I had a look at the trekkers.

“I’d like to go down some distance,” said Vikram. “Coming?”

“I don’t mind having a shot at it,” I said.

“Thank you,” said Vikram and took out the brochure to investigate trekking routes.

“Bright Angel Trail and South Kaibab Trail,” said Vikram. “I think we have passed the South Kaibab Trailhead. Soon we will come to the Bright Angel Trailhead. I suggest that we go down. Short distance only for the brochure repeatedly emphasises the difficulty of climbing up.”

At the Bright Angel Trailhead we saw the road winding down for about 200 yards and then switch back in a hairpin bend and after two more bends it disappeared. When it reappeared it was a great distance away.

“Come Laila, we’ll start.”

The descent was by no means easy but I managed. Each turn brought a new spectacular view of the canyon. We identified the lodge where those who had made the reservations stayed for the night. For the first time the Colorado River, the cause of all the mischief, came into view.

“One thousand nine hundred,” said Vikram.

“What’s that?”

“We have strode that number of paces,” explained Vikram. “Two paces make a metre; when we have done two thousand paces we pass the one kilometre mark. It may not be wise to go further.” I agreed. Vikram counted two thousand and stopped. We sat on a boulder and enjoyed the view.

“Ready?’ asked Vikram. I got up for the climb up. The top seemed far away. The misery on the face of those climbing up was not encouraging. I kept my misgivings to myself.

The climb up was difficult from the very start. Soon we were huffing and puffing. Then suddenly I developed palpitations. I stood unsteadily till Vikram zeytinburnu escort held me by the hand and made me sit on a boulder.

“Feel my pulse Vikram.” He counted for a minute and said it was 100.

“I am better now,” I declared after a while. “In a minute or two we can restart.” We did so, and climbed very slowly. We did two hundred yards and stopped—a stiff climb lay ahead. I climbed slowly and a very anxious Vikram walked behind me, ready to catch me if I should fall backwards. I climbed with steely determination and made it to the top of the steep ground and rested for a while and started again. It was then that I collapsed. Vikram caught me before I hit ground, and carried me to a flat grassy patch of on the side of the path and laid me down. He sat down and I rested my head on his lap. The panting gradually subsided. I gestured that I was ready to resume but Vikram restrained me.

“Rest for five more minutes by my watch. I think we can make it to the top by one or two more planned rest stops.” I rested as advised and then sat up.

“I am tight round the chest, Vikram. Please undo by bra hook.” Vikram lifted my T-shirt at the back and unhooked the bra. I took deep breaths to signal my relief.

“I am ready,” I said. I got up gingerly and slowly climbed one short stretch holding on to Vikram, and then rested. Two more rest stops and we were in sight of the trailhead. The climb was over. I stretched on the lawn. Soon I was my normal self. We drank two cans of coke each and declared that we were happy we did not miss the trekking adventure. The drive to Williams was a straight as a ruler drawn line.

“We start at 10 sharp tomorrow,” said Vikram.

I woke up. It was two in the morning. I was thirsty. I drank half a bottle of water. It was hot in spite of the confident purring of the air-conditioner. I changed the setting to ‘colder’ but the machine started rattling. I had to turn it down to ‘cold’ again. I looked out. The moon was shining brightly. I opened the door and peered out. It was cool outside. I went out and closed the door and sat on the steps with my back resting on the door. I saw movement in the hedge to the right. I got up hurriedly and was on the point of going in when I heard Vikram speak.

“Vikram here. Is it you, Laila?”

“Yes. What are you doing there?”

“Same as you. Cooling off. Come here. A cool breeze is blowing.” Vikram had spread a sheet under a hedge on the grass and was reclining on two pillows like a maharaja in his harem. He hospitably offered a pillow. I sat by his side and we talked of our canyon adventure. Like all canyon visitors we also made rough plans of making it to the bottom of the canyon some time in the near future. Few ever do.

I yawned. Vikram made room for me and invited me to stretch. He sat by my side. I got up with a jerk.

“I must have dozed off,” I said.

“I fear it was more than a doze. You were soundly asleep for half an hour,” said Vikram. He sat with his back resting on the trunk of the hedge.

“You must be sleepy too, why don’t to lie down.” He is reluctant so I pull him down. We lay side-by-side holding hands. The combination of bright moonlight, soft breezes, and the closeness that the drama of the climb up had imposed on us started a chain reaction that we could not have controlled even if we had wanted to. We were hugging and kissing. I am vague about what happens next. It is all like a dream. Vimal is on top of me. Yes my thighs are wide open. No, he did not do that. I spread it. He enters me. I was laying still and he is moving up and down, first slowly and then very rapidly. He applies his lips to mine and I am responding. At one point some saliva drips out of his mouth and I lick it. I am sure I lick it for even in that zombied state I am surprised that his saliva is tasteless. He rolls over and I get up and rush to my room, now fully in possession of my senses.

I ran to the bathroom. I felt unclean. It was when I removed the nightdress that I noted the spot of blood, the visible symbol of lost virginity. I do not know why, but the sight of that smear of blood jolted me. I held the spot in front of me and sobbed hysterically. I sobbed as I bathed. I had to clean my inside too. I lay back in the tub and with the handset turned to a jet I douched myself. I wiped and lay down. Knocks at the door wakened me.

“It’s I,” said Vikram. You have half an hour for breakfast,” he said.

“Please do not wait for me. I’ll join you at the breakfast place,” I said.

When I entered the dining hall except Vikram, who was sipping coffee, there was no one there. I collected bread slices and butter and coffee and sat at a different table. Vikram gulped the coffee and came to my table.

“Laila?” he said. I looked up. He could not have missed hostility in my glare.

“Sore with me?”

“Why sore with you. I was equally to blame.”

“Will you permit me to say a few words?” he said. I nodded coldly.

“I have always been your admirer, Laila. aksaray escort What I am going to say is not something I have conjured up today.” He had more to say but I was so obviously disinclined to hear him that Vikram came to the point at once. “Laila will you please marry me?” I was not willing to make eye contact with him. I looked steadily at the teacup. Then I looked up and spoke

“Thanks for asking, but my answer is a definite no.”

“Please Laila. I am prepared to wait any length of time so please consider again.”

“Thanks again, but if you sincerely like me please do me a favour.”

“Of course. What’s that,” said Vikram eagerly.

“Till we get back to Boston we’ll behave as if nothing had happened, but after that please avoid me. Not difficult in this vast country, but if chance brings you near me please do me the favour of getting away. Please promise?” Vikram stood looking at me uncomprehendingly. I got up and moved away. Without a backward look I turned the corner.

Later I reviewed my behaviour; I must confess that it was bewildering. I liked him, and may be I loved him too. I found him sexually attractive or else he would not have been my prime fantasy object. We were matched in every way yet I rejected him so rudely. I was still angry I do not with whom. I must be insane. I cannot explain in any other way.

2

I wanted to get away; I moved to Okalahoma City. I did not take leave of Vikram. I quickly got back into my routine. One day a young Indian sat next to me during a lecture. After the lecture he introduced himself as Bala. He was from the southern state of Kerala. We had coffee in a fast food restaurant. The next day as I was entering the hall Bala saw me and gestured me to sit by his side. We had lunch in the canteen and soon a relationship developed. This went on for three months. One evening we were on a park bench when Bala proposed. I jerked back in surprise.

“I have just proposed marriage, Laila. Surprised?”

“It was so unexpected.”

“What’s your answer anyway?”

“You must give me time till tomorrow,” I said.

I thought about myself and was unhappy at the way my life was progressing. I have never set any goals before me. I drifted along. To others, especially in India, I was a model to follow. I joined a course, did well and applied for the next as most did, again did well and applied this time to an university in the U.S., again as most did, and so on till I had my doctorate. If anyone were to ask me, and many do, as to what I propose to do after I qualify I had no answer. Stay on in the U.S? May be. Back to India? May be

I developed a relationship, and I continued it with no thought of where it would lead. If anyone had asked me (no one did) what my idea was in continuing a relationship with Vikram, honestly I would have to say that I had not thought about it at all. Vikram knew what he wanted. If I had been like him I would also have known that our friendship ought to end in marriage. I was not thinking about it at all hence my anger when that night circumstances forced me into a position where I had to decide. I did not like to be so cornered. Now I had a glimmer of explanation for my bewildering behaviour that day. The time was ripe for me to stop drifting. I decided to accept Bala’s proposal.

Both sets of parents, and relatives living in the U.S. on both sides (and they were many) attended the wedding. Our ‘first night’ was in San Francisco. The next afternoon we were to take a flight to Hawaii for the honeymoon. The most momentous occasion in an Indian woman’s life, the first night, found me with no feeling at all for the event—no excitement, no anxiety, and no fear. But that was to change dramatically.

The room had a scenic window with a view of the bay. Bala pulled the curtain across. Suddenly I had a surge of feeling that I have never experienced before. I was full of lust. Yes lust, not excitement, not anxiety, not fear, but lust.

“Why are you doing that?” I asked. The building closest to us, a residential tower, was two blocks away. “Only with binoculars can those in the building be able to see us”

“If you do not mind I don’t,” he said as he drew back the curtains fully. I was standing looking out of the window. Bala came to my side and kissed me. I turned my head to face him and we kissed on the lips. He undid the zip of my nightdress. The dress dropped and I stood naked before him. I had no feeling of shame at all. I was no more concerned of my nakedness than any nude model. I who never even wore a sleeveless blouse was naked before a man, and was not ashamed.

He ran his fingers over my breast.

“Do they feel as if they have been fondled?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“How do you say?”

“Well, they are defiant. Not even the sag one would expect in breasts of this size.”

“You like them?”

“They are magnificent.”

“Did you expect it to be?”

“From your figure I expected it to be so.”

“Not that. About not being fondled.”

“I ataköy escort was not speculating on that.” He found it funny. He laughed.

“Glad that it is not?”

“I can’t say that it does not matter to me.”

“Are you sure that I am a virgin?”

“One can never be. It does not bother me one way or the other.”

“Inconsistent, aren’t you. Happy that I may not have been fondled, but unconcerned if I am a virgin or not?”

“Seems inconsistent, but that is my feeling.” He stood behind me holding my breasts. I could feel his hard penis against the small of my back.

“Would you be looking for blood in my clothing? I believe Indian men do so.”

“I would not.”

“How literate are you in matters concerning sex?” I asked.

“Previous experience?”

“Not that. I mean have you read about sex, say Havelock Ellis or Kinsey?”

“Not much, but I do a lot of Internet surfing for pornography. I like it. You?

“Kinsey I have read, but like most women I find pornography boring.”

“If you had read Kinsey you must know a lot,” he said.

“I have a lot of general knowledge including matters concerning sex. In India I was in the college quiz team that won three years in a row. We had a coach to guide us in preparing for the tournaments. I still work on my general knowledge as if I have a competition ahead. A nice way of spending spare time. What do you think of threesomes and foursomes?”

“I used to fantasy but now I am not sure,” he said.

I turned round and hugged him. He was still wearing his shirt and pyjamas. I removed his shirt and undid the pyjama tape. He was naked too. I pushed him down on the sofa. I took one step towards him. His eyes were in level with my vulva.

“You don’t shave,” he said.

“I trim it. Do you like it clean shaven?”

“Yes.”

“Can I do so now?”

“Not that urgent.”

“Kiss me there,” I said. I came closer to him and placed one foot on the sofa, and with two hands spread out the inner leaves of my vulva and asked him to lick. He did so expertly on the clitoris. I should have felt a thrill pass through me. Nothing happened. I moved to the bed.

“Do you want me to put off the light,” he asked.

“You want it?”

“I would like the lights to be on.”

“I do too. Some men with binoculars in those rooms would be lucky,” I said and laughed. It was Bala’s turn to tease me.

“So your fantasy is to be seen when you are having sex,” he said.

“I do sometimes,” I admitted. “You?”

“I would be turned on.”

“Would you be turned on if someone sees me naked?”

“I might. I am not sure.”

“You must be familiar with these voyeur sites where men post mostly photos of their wives in the nude. Do you like them?”

“The photos, I like them.”

“The attitude of the men; do you think they are bizarre?”

“No. I can understand why they do it. I turns them on.

“If I pose for a set of nude photos would you post them if you can do it without revealing my identity?”

“I would,” he said after a brief delay. “Are you surprised? May be annoyed too?”

“Neither,” I said, “I must say that you are a honest man. The comments would be pretty crude. Would that excite you?”

“The obscene ones I’ll delete. But if a man expresses a wish to have sex with you I might not mind it.”

“Will it turn you on?” He took time to answer.

“Yes,” he said finally.

“What would be your feeling if I appear in public in the nude?”

“Public, no,” he said.

“When I said public I did not mean out in the open. Suppose I stood nude in this room when the person comes to change linen? Would it turn you on?”

“It would. You?”

“I would be amused,” I said. “Why that wry smile.”

“You are daringly outspoken. I did not expect that,” he said.

“I am more surprised than you could possibly be,” I said.

We hugged and kissed.

He came closer. I touched his erect penis and ran my fingers up and down the shaft.

“Why that wry smile?” he asked.

“Your penis waving about is quite funny to look at.” I retracted the foreskin and exposed the pink glans.

“Like it?”

“Rather.”

I lay back and spread out my thighs. He came up and tried to insert but the penis was flailing about. He could not control its movements. He tried holding his penis with one hand but he was losing his balance. I held it and inserted it. My vagina was dry, but the penis went in. I wondered how Vikram did it for I am sure I was not helping him. Or may be I was. The dryness was uncomfortable. But I moved my hips and he ejaculated. We washed and lay side by side.

“I want some coffee,” I said. Bala rang for room service and ordered. He got up and put on his pyjamas. I just lay with no clothes on. The bell rang. Bala turned to see if I was aware that the bell had rung. Once he knew I was aware of it he opened the door. The waiter, a young and handsome Hispanic, carried the tray with the coffee pot in. I lay naked. He placed the tray on the table.

“Can you mix some coffee?’ I asked him.

“I can, madam, light or strong?” He looked up. The hotel must be training its waiters well for he was outwardly unconcerned. His crotch showed an erection though. Controlling that of course is beyond any training schedule.

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