The Delhi Deception (20 page)

Detecting the tension between the two women, George steered Carla to another group of people and introduced her to some of his embassy colleagues as well as some English diplomats and attaches from the British High Commission.

Carla recognized the band, playing on a small island in the middle of the meandering swimming pool, from the party at the Kapoor’s. Guests were dancing in the shallow side of the pool, and the atmosphere was unlike anything Carla had ever experienced.

The Americans were discussing the First Lady’s visit to Delhi, and some concerns were raised for her security.

“She keeps changing her itinerary, and she’s accepting way too many invitations,” a man with a crew cut said.

“She’s here on a charity mission—it’s apolitical,” said an elderly woman.

“Oh come on, the First Lady of the United States? It’s never apolitical. I bet there’s a team of political strategists in Washington who have analyzed and proposed every step she takes and every word she utters, all for the benefit of the commander in chief.”

George laughed and said, “We are boring my charming date. Who’s going to beat me to the other end of the pool?” He stripped down to his swimming trunks as he started running to the pool, leaving a careless trail of clothes behind him on the lawn. He was followed by a couple of men who dived in after him.

Carla collected George’s shirt and walked along the edge of the pool, watching the race. The other two swimmers were obviously British, as two distinct cheering crowds formed at the end of the pool, one with British accents and the other obviously American. George swam with the strong, regular strokes of a professional swimmer. An Englishman was catching up, and Carla found herself cheering loudly. George won by a second, and the Americans cheered as if they had just won gold at the Olympics.
Typical
, Carla thought with a smirk.

A waiter gave Carla a towel, which she offered George, who was still laughing in triumph. He held out his hand, and she took it to help pull him out, but he yanked her into the water, head first. The water was warm, and after her initial shock, Carla delighted in the sensuous pleasure. George had his hands firmly around her waist as he pulled her toward him. Their bodies touched lightly.

George smiled roguishly. “Am I going to get a kiss for my victory?”

Carla glanced furtively around her, but the other revelers were partying on the other side of the swimming pool. She looked at George intently. His handsome face was expectant. An uncontrollable desire took root as Carla held his face in both her hands and without a moment’s hesitation kissed him fully on his lips. They were wet and tasted of chlorine.

George held her closer, and they drifted toward deeper water, still locked in the kiss. Opening her eyes, Carla exhaled, air bubbles racing them to the surface. They treaded water in each other’s embrace. Then, as Carla tired, they swam slowly to the edge of the pool.

They got out and found a couple of towels strewn on a double rattan lounger. “Oh no, I hope haven’t ruined Elouise’s kaftan,” Carla said.

“I’ll ask Anne to take it to her Chinese drycleaner’s. She’s always boasting about him.”

“Thanks, George, that’s sweet of you, but I think Anne would sooner shred any garment of mine. She seems to be sweet on you.” Carla winked at George, whose cheeks quickly reddened in embarrassment.

Carla saw a waiter with a tray of corn dogs and asked George to call him over. They sat back on the lounger, enveloped in a sense of calm. With a sigh, George leaned back against the cushions, drawing Carla close to him. Leaning against his chest, she listened to his heart beating rhythmically. She felt completely at peace and closed her eyes.

George kissed the top of her head. “Are you cold?”

“Not really, but I think I should change.” Luckily she had heeded Elouise’s advice and had packed underwear and a linen dress in a basket, left in the jeep. George called Kamal and asked him to bring the basket. Carla changed in a cabaña. While she was brushing her hair, Preeti came up to her and said, “Hi, Carla, I thought I recognized you with George.”

Carla blushed. “Hi, yes, it’s such a fun party. I didn’t think I’d land up in the pool, though.”

Preeti laughed and then, leaning forward, whispered in Carla’s ear, “I know George is irresistible, but be careful.” With a knowing smile she walked out.

Watching her leave, Carla thought,
What is it with everyone, warning me all the time? No one warned me about Andrew. I deserve to have some fun, and George certainly knows how to make me do just that.

Carla walked resolutely toward George; he had changed into a T-shirt and Bermuda shorts. She flung her arms around his neck and whispered throatily, “George, let’s go home.” His eyes bore into hers with hunger. He smiled and answered her with a long, sensual kiss. Without greeting anyone, they left. They sat close in the jeep, their bodies touching. Carla’s skin was tingling, and to her surprise she noticed gooseflesh on her arms.

The drive to George’s place was much quicker, as traffic had eased up considerably. George dismissed Kamal and unlocked the front door, saying good night to the chowkidar. They were completely alone.

A couple of lights burned in the passage and the kitchen. George led Carla to the lounge, and she sat down on the couch while he walked toward the butler’s tray with a couple of crystal decanters and glasses on it. “Can I pour you a single malt?” he asked, holding one of the decanters in his right hand. Carla nodded shyly. He poured the drinks and sat down beside her. “To us,” he said, raising his glass to his lips.

Carla smiled and took a sip. George drank half of his and placed the glass on the wooden table. He took her hand and kissed it. “Carla, are you going to spend the night?”

She nodded simply. He took the glass from her and put it beside his on the coffee table. A happy smile lit up his eyes as he took her face in both his hands and kissed her passionately. Carla’s mind emptied; she was no longer in control of anything. Aware only of George’s soft lips and searching tongue, she felt release deep inside. The will to control how she felt, how she should behave, was lost in the vastness of her longing and desire.

To Carla it felt as if their bodies were defying gravity as they floated entwined in each other’s arms. George’s bedroom was dark except for the glow of the full moon on the white linen of his antique four-poster bed. As Carla fell back against the silky pillows and cushions, she smelled the delicate fragrance of lilies. George undressed her slowly; but she was impatient, and pushing his hands away, she pulled the dress over her head. She undid her bra, but he stopped her from removing it, allowing himself the pleasure of cupping her breasts in his hands as he removed it. George took off his T-shirt while Carla undid his brown leather belt. He watched her, but suddenly shy, she stopped herself from unzipping his shorts. With a faint smile he unzipped and pulled off his Bermuda shorts and, in quick succession, his boxers. Carla’s sharp intake of breath was audible as her eyes glanced over his erect penis. She looked at his statuesque outline in the moonlight and knew that she wanted him more than anything. Nothing else mattered.

George was kissing her toned belly. His mouth was playful as he searched for her. He removed her panties, and as she felt his hot breath on her inner thigh she reached for him. He levered his body over hers, his weight and the texture of his taut skin making her gasp. Then he was inside her. They were still, adjusting to one another and the satisfying feeling of physical unity. Carla and George’s eyes locked. Then as one they started moving, slow and languid; the pure, naked pleasure made Carla cry out as George brought her close to climax, and then with a moaning sigh he changed his rhythm, thrusting fast and precise. Carla bit her lip—she could no longer control her body, a searing light of indulgent relish tearing her body apart. George called her name as he shuddered, and then, spent, he lay down next to her, his hand searching for hers as he gently squeezed it.

Carla opened her eyes; it took her a moment to recall the evening’s events. A happy smile tugged at the corners of her lips. George was still sleeping. He lay on his stomach with his arm across her chest. The cotton sheets were in total disarray, and unabashedly she studied his strapping build. She knew in some part of her that she should feel guilty—what she had done was essentially adultery—but she also felt strangely comfortable in that knowledge. Andrew hadn’t tried to contact her again. In a way, she felt that George had almost shared more with her in this last week than she had shared with Andrew in their entire marriage.

“Hey, how long have you been awake?” George asked with one open eye.

Carla smiled and kissed George on his cheek. “Long enough to study you, I suppose.”

He turned onto his back and pulled her to him, kissing her gently on the mouth. Then, sitting up, he slapped her playfully on her buttocks and said, “We’d better get dressed—Sunil will be mortified if he finds us like this.”

“Oh my goodness, he doesn’t knock?”

George smiled ruefully. “He knocks, but he doesn’t wait to be invited in.”

Carla jumped out of bed, grabbed her dress and underwear on the floor, and went to the bathroom. It took her less than five minutes to shower and dress. When she came out of the bathroom, George laughed and said that was the fastest he had ever witnessed.

“Boarding school, darling, it equips one with some important skills,” she replied with a grin.

George laughed and went to the bathroom while Carla went to the kitchen to make tea. She was searching for the matches when Sunil appeared wearing only a dhoti. “Oh, Madam Carla, what good surprise to meet you so early in my kitchen. What can Sunil make for you?”

Carla blushed and said, “Good morning, Sunil, I’d love a cup of tea.”

“No problem, no problem, Sunil make special chai for special guest of Sahib.”

Carla was blushing furiously, so she left and asked Sunil to bring her tea to the veranda.

George, smelling fresh and dressed in chinos and an Oxford blue shirt, joined her on the veranda. The chowkidar ran toward him with the
Indian Times
. Carla glanced at her watch and realized she had left it in the bathroom.

“What’s the time?” she asked.

George looked at his stainless-steel Rolex. “Almost nine.”

“I should go. I didn’t tell Elouise I’d stay out all night.”

“I don’t think it’s a problem. Have some breakfast with me, and then I’ll drop you on my way to work.”

“OK, sounds good.”

After a quick breakfast of fruit and poached egg on toast, George drove Carla back to Elouise’s bungalow. “Do you mind if I drop you at the gate? I’m a bit late for work.”

“Of course not.”

She kissed him on the cheek, and as she got out George said, “Thanks for last night, Carla.”

She smiled and walked toward the gate, which the chowkidar was holding open for her. Elouise was having breakfast with someone on the veranda. She looked up and, seeing Carla, waved her over. Carla didn’t feel like chatting to Elouise or greeting her visitor, but not wanting to appear rude, she walked toward them. As she approached the marble steps, which lead up to the veranda, the man sitting with Elouise turned around and smiled. It was Andrew.

.

CHAPTER 14

H
arry Singh was eating breakfast in his study when Kishan called Elouise to inform them of their visitor. He looked at his watch and was surprised to see the hour. In Delhi no one made house calls before noon. It was 8:35.

Elouise hurried out in the cream tracksuit she usually wore when dropping the girls at school. Harry continued eating his melon, chewing slowly while scanning his e-mails. Not usually a curious man, he drank his tea in one long gulp and walked toward the veranda through the kitchen. He could see Elouise sitting opposite a man in a light blue shirt. It was Andrew, Carla’s husband. They had met on a number of occasions and though not close were comfortable in each other’s company.

Andrew stood up as Harry slapped him on the back, saying, “Hey, Andrew. Welcome to India.”

“Thanks, Harry. How are you?”

“I’m fine thanks, but what brings you to Delhi?”