Tea and Spices (An Erotic Novel of Colonial India) (17 page)

 
“I like to give you pleasure,” Kalindi agreed.

 
She urged Lota’s lips apart with her own and slid her tongue into the warm, wet cavern of Lota’s mouth. Kalindi felt her blood begin to flow hotly through her veins as the embers of passion sparked with such readiness.

She sank against Lota with an ease borne of familiarity, their breasts pressing together as they surrendered to their mutual lust. Kalindi loved the sensation of Lota’s hard nipples rubbing against hers. She slid her hand down Lota’s belly and into the damp fissure between her legs.

Lota gave a little groan of pleasure, spreading her legs wider apart to allow Kalindi easy access. Kalindi rubbed her finger over Lota’s sex and pushed her finger gently into the tight passage, delighting in the way that Lota’s inner flesh closed around the slender digit.

 
“Wait,” Lota gasped. “I want to touch you, too.”

 
She eased her body out from underneath Kalindi’s, pressing Kalindi gently onto her back. Kalindi closed her eyes and let herself succumb entirely to the pleasure of Lota’s touch. With gentle, exploring fingers, Lota caressed her breasts and abdomen, stroking her palms over the curves of Kalindi’s hips. Kalindi let out her breath in a contented sigh.

No man ever touched her the way that Lota did. In fact, no man was ever as concerned with her pleasure. Lota spread a series of light kisses over Kalindi’s body, circling the buds of her nipples with her tongue and lips.

A rainfall of sensations spilled through Kalindi, centering in the aching crevice of her sex. She twined her fingers through Lota’s thick hair as the room became heavy with the scent of lust. The sheets slipped off their bodies, exposing their naked skin to the humid air.

 
Kalindi parted her legs to allow Lota to relax between them. Their sexes pressed together with an exquisite degree of pressure. Lota gave little moan, rubbing herself against the coarse curls of Kalindi’s mons. Kalindi watched her lover with a heavy-lidded gaze and reached out to clutch Lota’s hips as Lota began to quicken her movements.

Lota put her hands on either side of Kalindi’s head to brace herself, grasping the sheet in her fists as she strained towards release. Her breath emerged from her throat in harsh, little pants.

Kalindi adored the mere sight of Lota, her head thrown back, her skin slick with perspiration, her breasts swaying with the force of her movements. Lota let out a sudden cry. Kalindi dug her fingers into the other woman’s hips, pressing her body downwards when Lota trembled with rapturous vibrations.

 
“Oh, yes.” Lota collapsed and buried her face in Kalindi’s neck as she tried to catch her breath. “Oh, that felt good.”

 
Kalindi smiled and stroked her hands down Lota’s damp back, loving the scent of the other woman’s sweat and lust. She squirmed when Lota dipped her tongue into the warm hollow of Kalindi’s throat, painting a delicious pattern of heat over her skin. Lota lifted herself up and reached towards the night table. She grasped a long, thick candle that Kalindi often had to use when the power went out.

 
Kalindi’s breath caught in her throat. “Just what are you going to do with that?”

Lota gave her a wicked look. “Don’t you want to find out?”

 
“I most certainly do.” Kalindi stretched her body out and lifted her arms above her head, letting Lota take control.

 
“I love your body,” Lota murmured, rubbing her hands over the soft skin of Kalindi’s inner thighs. “I love the way you look, the way you smell, and especially the way you feel.”

 
She bent her head and licked lightly at the dewy folds of Kalindi’s sex. A river of sensations twisted through Kalindi’s body, making her limbs go weak with sheer pleasure. Her sex swelled with the onslaught of passion, and she couldn’t resist bucking her hips upward to meet the touch of Lota’s tongue. Lota teased her gently, entwining Kalindi in the delicious ropes of tension that began to wind around her body.

 
Then, Lota pressed Kalindi’s legs further apart and stroked the end of the candle over the crevices of her labia. The contrast between the hard wax and the soft touch of Lota’s tongue was unlike anything Kalindi had felt before. Her heart slammed against her chest as Lota began to insert the candle into her, filling her with the thick, hard length.

Kalindi clenched her inner flesh around the candle, drawing in a sharp breath at the luscious feeling. Lota moved up to kiss her, still holding the candle end as she began to draw it back and forth from Kalindi’s body.

 
Lota smiled against Kalindi’s mouth and thrust her tongue inside. “Does that feel good?”

 
“Oh, yes,” Kalindi gasped, clutching Lota to her as the candle began to tickle her sensitive nerve endings. “Harder.”

 
Kalindi’s body burned with such heat that she was certain she would melt the wax, but oh, how good it felt. She pushed her hips upward again to meet Lota’s strokes, and then an orgasm rocked her. Her body convulsed violently around the makeshift phallus. Lota pulled the candle out and let it fall to the floor before sinking into Kalindi’s arms.

 
Kalindi closed her eyes, absorbing the arousal still pulsing gently through her. She stroked her hands over Lota’s rounded buttocks and let the heaviness of sleep overtake her.

 
A sudden knocking at the door startled Kalindi out of her slumber. She sat up, waking Lota in the process, and tried to collect her thoughts.

 
“Kalindi? It’s Devora Hawthorne. Open the door.”

 
Kalindi gasped and turned to stare at Lota in shock.

 
“What’s she doing here?” Lota hissed.

 
“I have no idea! Get up!” Kalindi pushed Lota out of the bed and grabbed a white, cotton shift. She pulled the shift over her head, realizing there was nowhere Lota could go. Kalindi scrambled off the bed and went to the window in a panic, as if she could climb out and run.

 
“Kalindi!” Another knock rapped sharply at the unlocked door, and then the
memsahib
pushed it open with an impatient movement.

 
Kalindi’s heart plummeted as she turned to face the
memsahib
. Devora Hawthorne stepped into the room, looking quite English in a beige, cotton dress and a silk shawl with a flowered hat perched on her head. Her gaze swept over the entire room in one glance, her eyes widening as she took in the rumpled bed and Lota sitting there clutching a sheet to her naked body.

 
Kalindi grasped onto the windowsill for support, feeling as if she might faint. How could the English woman miss what was going on here, with two half-naked women and the air thick with lust?

 
“
Memsahib
, what are you doing here?” Kalindi choked.

 
“I came to speak with you.” Devora looked from Kalindi to Lota and back again. Realization dawned slowly in her brown eyes.

 
“I am begging your pardon, please.” Kalindi was terrified the
memsahib
would dismiss her on the spot.

 
Devora was quiet for a moment before a light sheen of perspiration broke out on her upper lip. She shook her head. “No, Kalindi, that’s all right. I shouldn’t have rushed in without contacting you ahead of time.”

 
“I…I am not knowing what to say.” Kalindi glanced at Lota, who looked about as nervous as Kalindi felt.

 
“Never mind.” Devora turned towards the door. “I’ll leave you alone.”

 
“Wait!” Kalindi had a sick feeling that if the
memsahib
left now, she would have far too much time to think about what she had just witnessed. Additionally, Kalindi had to find out why the British woman had come here in the first place, if only to be able to give her what she wanted. Then, perhaps she would think twice about dismissing the two women. “What was it you came for?”

 
“Oh, nothing. It’s rather silly.”

 
“I can make you tea,” Kalindi said desperately, making a sharp gesture at Lota.

 
Lota scrambled to put on a shift, then went to light the stove. Devora looked at Kalindi and lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

 
“I was just speaking with Rohan,” she explained. “I was wondering what you knew about him.”

 
“Rohan?” Kalindi was startled. The last thing she had expected Devora Hawthorne to ask her about was the head servant. “I do not understand.” She hurried to take some clothing off a chair. “Please, sit down.”

 
Devora hesitated, but moved to sit down. “I really should leave. This isn’t necessary.”

 
“No, please stay. Please excuse the state of my home. I was not expecting you.” Kalindi grabbed a hairclip and clasped her long hair at the nape of her neck, trying to pat the flyaway strands into order. “You ask about Rohan?”

 
“Yes, well, he was telling me about how he came to work for the British,” Devora said. “Having lived in an orphanage.”

“Yes, that is true. He told me that once.”

 
Devora looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. With a start, Kalindi realized the British woman was nervous.

 
“I suppose I was just wondering if you knew anything else about him,” Devora said. “He’s very…um, stoic.”

 
“Stoic? What is that word?”

 
“I mean that he doesn’t display his emotions,” Devora said. “At all.”

 
“No,
memsahib
, he is a very cold man,” Lota agreed. She brought Devora a cup of tea and sat down on the bed. “Very cold.”

 
“Do you know why?” Devora asked.

 
“I know he was engaged to be married perhaps ten years ago,” Kalindi said, wondering why the
memsahib
was so interested in Rohan. She hoped Devora Hawthorne wasn’t looking for a reason to dismiss him. “There was a rumor the woman could not provide the dowry, but I do not think that is what happened. I am thinking her family did not want her to marry a servant.”

 
Devora looked somewhat thoughtful. “I see. He was in love with her, then?”

 
Both Kalindi and Lota chuckled.

 
“Oh, we do not marry for love,” Lota explained. “Our marriages are arranged marriages. Our parents seek people from suitable families for us.”

“But if Rohan came from an orphanage, his parents couldn’t have found a possible bride for him,” Devora pointed out.

 
Such a thought had never occurred to Kalindi. She looked at Lota, who appeared equally surprised.

 
“Perhaps it was the orphanage,” Lota suggested.

 
Devora arched an eyebrow wryly. “When he was twenty-five years old, the orphanage sought to find a bride for him?”

 
“No, I am not convinced of that,” Kalindi said. “An orphanage arranged a marriage for his sister, but she was fifteen years old. Maybe Rohan
was
in love with his fiancee. That would be unusual, though.”

 
“Or maybe it was the British family he was working for,” Lota said.

 
Kalindi laughed. “Lota, really. The British would never think to get involved with the Indians, and certainly not in their personal lives and marriages. They are too interested in themselves.” She looked at Devora in horror, cursing her characteristic of speaking before she thought. “
Memsahib
, I am apologizing.”

 
Devora smiled and shook her head. “Actually, you’re correct, Kalindi. The British do not want to mix with the Indians. I seriously doubt that a British family would be concerned with the marital status of one of their servants.”

 
“That is all I know of Rohan,” Kalindi said. “He is a good man, but as Lota has said, a cold one. He does not like to talk, and he takes his duties with great seriousness.”

 
“Yes, I’ve discovered that,” Devora murmured. She stood, placing her teacup on the windowsill. “Thank you for the tea. I shall take leave of you now.”

 
“I’m sorry again for not being prepared for your visit,” Kalindi said.

 
“Quite all right.” Devora glanced from Lota to Kalindi. “What you do in your own time is your business. Good evening to you both.”

 
She turned and left. Kalindi pushed aside the curtain to look out at the street, where Devora Hawthorne was climbing into a
tonga
pulled by a bicycle-riding driver.

 
“Goodness.” Lota flopped back onto the bed with a sigh of relief. “That was unexpected. I wonder why she was asking about Rohan.”

 
“I think she wants to get rid of him,” Kalindi replied. “She doesn’t like him, and I have heard them arguing.”

 
“Why doesn’t she just tell the
sahib
?”