Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 INDIAN WINTER (Part 2)

   By KATZMAREK (C)

   ---------------------------------------------------

   Author's note,

   This work is my property and cannot be used for gain without my express
permission in writing.

   ----------------------------------------------------

   Jake returned early the next morning.  It was Sunday and the mart was
closed for the day.  He'd thought all last night about the little display
he'd seen through Sharmila's window.  He hadn't arrived at any conclusions.

   This whole cultural thing baffled him.  He realised he knew so little
about Indian culture and customs.  Was it proper for him to suppose she was
masturbating herself for his benefit?  What veil of prudery hung around
Indian sexuality?  Should he pretend this was all an accident, even though
it was pretty obvious she knew he was going to pass her window?  Perhaps it
was important for her to maintain her 'respectability?'

   She had risen, her front door was open, and he could hear the hum of a
vacuum cleaner.  He decided to go straight on up and start work.

   He had a plan, though, one he'd carefully gone through.  At some stage
Sharmila would be coming up to gather in her washing.  What if she caught
him with his dick out again?  What would she do?  Perhaps, later, she'd put
on another performance for him?  If that was so, then that would be proof
positive she was teasing him.

   But if so, then what next?  Can this be taken to another level?  Was she
up for it?  He needed to find out.

   The day was going to be hot.  Jake had decided to wear his shorts.  They
were denim and a little too small for him.  He had a T-shirt but decided to
discard it in favour of a bare chest.  Would that turn her on?  He hoped
so. Checking himself in the bathroom wall mirror, he decided he quite liked
the look, albeit he thought he was a little too pale.  He'd never bothered
to get a suntan and now regretted it.

   He laid out his gear carefully, listening to the buzz from the vacuum
cleaner downstairs.  He trembled a little from anticipation and the dome of
his shorts was cutting into his belly.  He wanted to release it, move his
dick around.  Most of all he wanted to jerk off with the dark Indian lady
watching from the window, wanted it practically beyond all else.

   The buzz stopped and there was the sound of movement downstairs.  It
seemed she was moving furniture back into place, perhaps dusting?  He
couldn't tell.

   Jake was out back for a breath of fresh air.  The smell of paint was
overwhelming.  Presntly he heard her soft feet coming up the steps.  No
wonder, he thought, that he'd missed her walking up yesterday.  She was so
quiet she barely disturbed the dust, but he'd missed his opportunity and he
had to improvise.

   She appeared carrying the empty whicker basket for her laundry. 
Sharmila seemed momentarily taken aback by his appearance; short shorts and
bare chest.  Jake smiled and said hello.

   "It's a nice day, isn't it?" she said, drawing herself to the task in
hand.  She was dressed western style in T-shirt and sweats.  Her hair was
unfettered, and glistening with moisture as if she'd just washed it.  It
was long and hung down to her waist.  On her head was a baseball cap with
the Panther's name and logo, the Australian NRL team.

   "A beauty!" he agreed.  "You support Penrith?" he asked.

   "Who?"

   "Penrith!  On your cap?  The Rugby League team?" He knew he was trying
to make conversation, but he was stuck for ideas.

   "Is it?" she replied, "I don't know...  I got it from somewhere. 
Penrith?  Where is that?"

   "New South Wales," he told her.

   "Ah!"

   "Want a hand?"

   "I have two already.  What would I do with a third?" This time, he was
awake to her corny sense of humour and chuckled.

   He went over anyway and began unpegging clothes.  Her protests were weak
and he ignored them.  "It's quite all right!" she insisted, "I'm quite
capable..."

   She seemed flustered, Jake thought, and for the first time she seemed
unsure of herself.  Whether it was because of his state of dress or his
helping of her, he couldn't tell.  Sharmila wore the same sandalwood aroma
about her that sent Jake's head spinning.  He left her carefully folding
her clothes and fled back inside.

   'Improvise!' he thought, and quickly fished out his dick.  This time
there was no time to fetch a cloth and he rung himself to hardness without
it.  Faintly, he heard her on the steps, a soft padding of feet as she
ascended.  He strained to hear as she came down towards the window.  Jake
closed his eyes and listened intently as the footsteps faltered, then
stopped.  This time there could be little doubt, she was watching from the
window.

   He was so pent up it didn't take long to cum.  Grunting, the stuff
sprayed over his bare thighs and onto the carpet.  The feeling was intense
and his arse rose out of the sofa as he pumped out the last gob of spunk.
As he sat back down, breathing heavily, he could hear the faint footsteps
continue downstairs.

   Jake cleaned himself up with some old rags as he carefully listened.  He
distinctly heard Sharmila's front door close softly and her footfalls as
she moved around.  Would she now return the favour, he asked himself?

   He cluttered about ostentatiously then went outside to the steps,
pulling the door closed with a loud thud.  He then waited a few minutes
before venturing down the steps.  Would she be ready for him?  He hoped
he'd given her enough time to get ready.

   When he came level to her window, however, she was not in the room.  He
stopped, wondering whether he should proceed innocently to his ute to fetch
something or pause to see what she would do.  Jake felt silly just standing
out there.  He hoped there were no passersby wondering what the Hell he was
doing.  He finally made his mind to continue when he saw her come into the
room.

   She'd changed from her T-shirt to another.  This time it was tighter and
he could plainly see her breasts were unrestricted by a bra.  They were
surprisingly large and he could see her nipples through the cotton.  She
was in her panties, white and shimmering like satin.  Jake had a brief
glimpse of a dark triangle and errant pubic hair peeking out below the
elastic.

   Sharmila sat down in the same chair, the one facing the window, and
spread her legs.  As Jake watched, she smoothed her hands down her thighs.
He saw they had a light feathery stubble, she clearly didn't shave her
legs. Her eyes were closed and looked away from the window.  Obviously, she
must be pretending he wasn't there.

   Jake's tongue was thick in his throat, his breath stilled lest he make a
sound.  Gradually Sharmila's hand rubbed the crotch of her panties a few
times before she pushed it under the elastic.  Jake had a fleeting view of
dark pussy hair as she began to stroke herself.

   Did she peek at him under her hooded eyes, he wondered?  He caught a
slight movement of her head towards the window, before she flopped back,
hand moving faster and faster.  There could be absolutely no doubt, now,
this was all for his benefit.  Her excitement was growing, her body
twitched and twisted and she pushed out her crotch, much in the same way
he'd done a half hour before.

   Her rush came quickly and she clamped her legs closed on her hand as the
spasms shook her.  This time he distinctly heard her grunt at the release,
before she flopped down, massaging herself slowly to wind down.

   Mindless of appearances, Jake turned and bolted back up the stairs. 
Inside, he grabbed his dick once more.  This time, he had to work it hard
before he came, and suffered from the rawness of friction burns afterwards.

   'The next level?' he thought.  It had been progress of sorts.  They'd
paid less attention to the charade and deliberately set about putting on a
performance for each other.  But where to from here?  Where was this
heading?  He smiled at the adventure.  He was sure looking forward to the
immediate future.

   -----------------------------------------------

   That night Sharmila was adamant that she'd fetch her own dinner.  Jake
decided not to force the issue and left things as they stood.  He explained
he'd arranged for the electrician tomorrow morning and told her he'd be
only working in the evenings during the week.

   She smiled a thank you.  Jake noticed a gleam, something indefinable, in
her eyes.  Was it his imagination?  He suspected it was, but he preferred
to think there was now a silent communication between the two of them that
was intensely erotic.  But he was content to acquaint her with his
schedual, hopeful as he was, that she'd put on another show for him. 
Perhaps, he thought, this time she'd dispense with a little more clothing?
He hoped she would.

   He knew of a market in the mall that sold massage oils.  He decided he'd
need some if he wasn't going to rub his dick raw again.  Is was a sweet
ache, one that had nice memories, but he thought there were limits to how
many 'memories' he could take.

   With a better idea what Sharmila looked like undraped, his dreams that
night had more detail.  Most of all it was her face, grimacing in pleasure,
that set him off.  He realised he was halfway through the massage oil
already.  He'd better cut it out or he'd run out before tomorrow.

   The next day went agonisingly slowly.  He checked with the electrician
and, yes, the stove in Sharmila's flat had been connected okay.

   Five o'clock came at last and he locked up doubly quick.  He couldn't
wait to get around to see Sharmila.

   He used the pretext of checking whether the stove was going to knock on
her door.  She invited him inside to test it personally.  Jake noticed she
was dressed western fashion in her usual clothes but she wore a heavy
sweatshirt.  The whole flat was scented with whatever she was wearing.  He
noticed a joss stick smouldering on a shelf and worked out why.

   "Well, I'll be getting to work, then," he told her, extravagantly.

   "You must be close to finishing," she replied.

   "A little bit of plastering to do," he explained, "and I've yet to
finish painting the ceiling.  Perhaps," he asked as an afterthought, "you'd
like to check the colours?"

   "I don't know whether I have the colour sense," she told him.  But he
urged for her second opinion and she eventually agreed.

   She followed him up the steps and watched while he unlocked.  The stench
of paint still lingered and Jake threw open the windows.  She cast a
disinterested eye around and told him it was very nice.  The top flat was
bigger and sunnier and Jake suggested she could move in when it was
finished.

   "I'm quite comfortable below," she said, "I have no need of any more
room."

   The conversation paused and she looked anxious to leave.  Jake wondered
what he should do next.  He thought of pinning her to the wall and planting
a kiss on her lips, but she gave no obvious signals that he could detect.
Was she waiting for him to make the first move?  To Jake that'd never come
easy, a fact, he believed, that'd let many a chance slip by.

   "Want to stay," he said uncertainly, "for a bit?"

   "For what?" she asked, curiousity written all over her face.  Again
there was no hint of coyness, of subtle messages in her body language.

   "Well," he coughed, "I thought we could, ah, talk."

   "What about?"

   "Things," he shrugged, "I, ah, just feel like talking."

   "I have washing up to do," she told him, "and there's a documentary on
television soon."

   "Really?  Perhaps I can lend a hand?  Would you like some company
watching this documentary...  on what did you say?"

   "I didn't," she replied, a hint of steel in her tone, "it's about Fiji,
about the military coup."

   "Which one?" he tried to sound light hearted.

   "The latest.  Tell me?  You don't strike me as one who'd be interested
in Fijian politics, particularly.  Why would you want to watch it with me?"

   "I guess," he took a deep breath, "because of the company."

   "You are lonely?"

   "Partly."

   "And the other part?"

   Sharmila really was boxing him in, he thought.  What the Hell was she
trying to do?  "The other part," he said, hesitantly, "the other part is
that I'd really like to hang out with you."

   "I see!" She shuffled nervously, which put Jake more on edge than he was
already.  "And tell me, Jake, what do you expect we would do?" Again, her
voice had a sharp edge.  There was no hint of a tease.  Jake felt any
confidence he had slipping away fast.

   "Watch television?" It was the only answer he could give in the
circumstances.

   "I don't think so," she told him, while edging towards the door. 
Casually, she turned her back and left.

   If it was possible Jake would've kicked himself.  He'd tried to move
things to the 'next level,' whatever that was, and she'd bolted.  There was
nothing to do, he decided, but to leave it, close the door, draw a line, or
whatever cliché seemed appropriate.  The woman had sent out mixed messages
and, in her own kinky, sexually repressed, or whatever, way, he'd
completely missed the point.

   "This never happened," he said to the ceiling, "and she'd never was
here."

   -----------------------------------------

   He tried to work but, again, his heart wasn't in it.  Below he could
hear the muffled drone of the TV, indistinct, unintelligible commentary. 
No doubt it was her documentary.  Funnily enough, he was interested in
Fijian politics and would've quite liked to see it with Sharmila providing
a bit of local knowledge.  Above all, however, he wanted her company.  He
was, he admitted, quite lonely at times.

   Jake decided to call it quits.  He gathered his gear normally, without
making it obvious below he was preparing to leave.  He didn't imagine she
was now going to put on a show for him.

   As he walked down past he window, he noticed the curtain was closed.  It
was now quite dark and there was just a faint glow of her standard lamp and
the flickering of the TV.

   As he came level with the landing leading to her front door, however, he
saw it was ajar.  Something made him decide to pop in to say goodbye.  It
was perhaps good manners, or maybe he had some final glimmer of hope.

   He knocked softly.  There was no answer so he pushed the door further
open, poked his head inside, and called out.

   "Sharmila!  I was just going and I thought..."

   "Come in," her voice called from somewhere, "I won't be a moment."

   The lighting had been toned down.  The TV was still on, the sound turned
down to a whisper.  "Have a seat," her voice called, "and I'll make you
some coffee."

   "Sure," he answered, "thanks...  that'll be good."

   She was in her bedroom, which opened onto the small lounge.  Her door
was halfway open and he could see her moving about by a large mirror on her
wardrobe.

   "You've made yourself comfortable?" she called.

   "Yes, fine." He stared at the TV, some American sitcom where the canned
laughter reminded the viewer where the jokes were.  Sharmila seemed to be
taking her time and he glanced at her bedroom door.

   He noticed the mirror had been slightly angled so, sitting where he was,
he had a clear view along her bed.  He could see her slightly as she sat on
the edge.  He noticed she was wearing some kind of robe.  Jake's
imagination began to kick in.  Was she fixing up another peep show for him?

   By way of an answer, her saw her slowly move so she was sitting
completely on the bed with her back against the pillows.  Her legs stetched
out in front of her.  Jake saw her robe had parted practically up to her
waist.  She was wearing white satin panties.  Instantly, he felt a twitch
in his pants and began to rub his dick in anticipation.

   Beside the chair was a coffee table with a box of tissues.  It didn't
take him long to figure she placed them there so he wouldn't make a mess on
the carpet.  He unzipped himself and pulled his rapidly growing dick from
his pants.  He thought he heard a gasp from in the bedroom, cut off.

   As he watched her, she smoothed her hands over her thighs as before
until they fetched up on the gusset of her crotch.  After lingering awhile,
she raised her arse off the bed and quickly slid her panties down and off.
Flopping back down, Jake had now a perfect view of her pussy; thick thatch
of black hair through which peeked her vagina.  She raised her knees and
spread her legs before her hand began the clutching, squeezing, rubbing
motion.

   Jake felt her eyes on him, lidded and seemingly barely focussed, and her
mouth was parted a fraction.  He took a tissue and placed it around the
head of his dick, then slowly jacked, eyes darting from the woman's pussy
to her face.

   He tried to match his level of arousal with her own.  He imagined his
dick in the place of her fingers.  Almost as an afterthought he remembered
the massage oil in his pocket.  He retrieved it and spread some liberally
over his dick.  In response he heard Sharmila groan and, glancing up, saw
her fingers rubbing faster.

   Jake hastily regained the pace.  Sharmila's arse began to rotate off the
bed in imitation of fucking.  He wondered what would happen if he charged
in there, climbed on board, and not take no for an answer.  But this was
her scene, her kink, and, for whatever reasons she wanted to get her
jollies this way.  Something told him she would holler rape.

   "Ohhh!"

   One of her tits had escaped from her robe, brown, full and crowned with
a beautiful stiff nipple.  It jiggled as she worked herself and she put her
hand on it.

   Jake blasted the tissue.  It took him by surprise.  Perhaps it was the
sight of that breast, shining and suckable.  He grunted as another pulse
shook him.

   "Ohhh!" came the cry from the bedroom, "ohhh, ohhh..." They came
steadily as she ground herself on her fingers, thrusting her pelvis into
the air.  Although her eyes appeared closed, Jake was sure she was looking
straight at him as he pumped the tissue into a soggy mess.

   Suddenly, Sharmila flipped herself off the bed and disappeared from
view. As Jake cleaned himself up and fixed his trousers, she apologised
from somewhere out of sight.

   "I didn't get you that coffee," she told him, "I'm sorry, but it's late,
and..."

   "Yeah, fine," Jake told her, "I'll let myself out."

   "Thank you for stopping by," she said to his retreating back.

   He was flummoxed, but beginning to get the picture.  'It was voyeurism,
right?' he said to himself, 'she get's off on watching.' Strange, but so
did he.  It was like porno come to life.  A porno film where you can smell
the sex and didn't cut from camera to camera.  It was real, not punctuated
by goofy looks and fake orgasms.

   Jake, however, had enjoyed it.  It was the anticipation that something
was going to happen but not sure what.  Ok, sure, Sharmila was going to
frig herself and wanted him to watch.  But it had to be an 'accident,'
timed when he just happened to be passing.

   At the same time as enjoying the ride, Jake was disappointed that it
didn't include touching.  At least at present.  Perhaps that was the next
level?  He looked forward to more 'discoveries.'

   -----------------------------------------

   The next day she came into the shop.  He was in the office behind the
counter doing his invoicing when he heard the buzzer go.  The mart was a
one person operation, not having the turnover to justify hiring an
assistant, so he went out to the counter himself.

   "Hello, Jake, do you mind if I look around?"

   "Sure!"

   Jake watched her as she circulated around the shelves.  She appeared to
have the studied eye of someone who can discriminate between the junk and
the treasure.  Not, he mused, that he'd much of the latter.

   "This is a reproduction?" she asked, picking up a piece of china.

   "1960's Japanese copy," he told her.  He knew she knew.  She was testing
him.

   "You are too honest!" she chided, "I may have thought I was getting a
bargain.  Mid-nineteenth century Wedgewood?"

   "Sharmila," he laughed, "I don't think you'd pay ten bucks for a
Wedgewood dining set anywhere."

   "You may have been particularly stupid?" she twinkled.  "You have any
genuine pieces?"

   "Some Staffordshire up in that display case and some Limoges there too.
Behind you is an early 18th century English carriage clock.  Are you into
firearms?  I have a snaphaunce fowling piece up on the wall, there?"

   "What would I do with a firearm?" she replied, "does it work?"

   "I should thing so.  It's complete, including ramrod and powder horn. 
Don't get many like that with all the bits."

   "Where do you get all this stuff?"

   "The usual," he told her, "auctions, church galas, car boot sales, that
sort of thing."

   "And do you find quality things there?"

   "Sometimes," he shrugged, "mostly junk.  I'm not an antique dealer per
se, just an opportunist.  I only buy what I think I can make a profit on."

   "Of course.  And, do you make a profit?"

   "Pays the bills...  not much else."

   "But you have a good location in the middle of town.  Your lease must be
very high."

   "No lease, I own the building...  inherited from my mother."

   "Then you are sitting on a gold mine!  What you must do is divide it up
into retail space or offer it to one of those large chain stores."

   "I've had a few offers for it," he explained, "but what would I do?"

   "With a couple of million in the bank you could do whatever you want. 
Open another business in the suburbs if you like?  You are silly to sit on
this much valuable land and not make it work for you."

   "A couple of million?  I don't think so.  This building's old, and..."

   "Not the building, Jake, but the land and location!  Don't you know the
three rules of real estate?" Sharmila seemed outraged that Jake should
allow an obvious opportunity go to waste.

   "Sure, location, location, location: but I didn't think land values had
gone up that much."

   "It is obvious the values in this area are going to go through the roof.
Look around you?  The city's getting too expensive for many people so they
are moving to towns like these.  The chain stores realise this.  Whenever
you see them start to go up, you know the area's on the up.  Chain stores
encourage retail traffic...  others will follow, mark my words."

   "When did you become an expert?  I thought chain stores kill the centre
of town?"

   "Specialist shops...  selling merchandise the chain stores won't
touch... niche marketing!  I've studied this at university.  You have a
wonderful opportunity to make a lot of money.  You must pick your time,
then sell."

   Jake knew she was right, but purely from a business point of view.  The
mart, though, wasn't just about business.  It was his home and hobby.  He
tried to make her understand but saw she was struggling with the concept.

   "Perhaps when I retire?" he explained.

   "Do you honestly think you can stand in the way of progress?  Do you
realise the commercial forces you'll be fighting against?  The developers
will have contacts in the council.  They will use every regulation they can
to force you to sell.  There is too much profit here for them to ignore."

   "You think?"

   "I know!  It happens everywhere.  Perhaps even now they are figuring out
how to get the building condemned or get you issued with building
compliance notices?  They'll then impose so many costs on you that you'll
have no option left but to sell." She looked around clicking her tongue. 
"So much junk!" she said in wonder.

   "It's my junk!"

   She shrugged and looked around once more.  She seemed unwilling to
leave, like she had something on her mind.  "Jake?" she said, eventually,
"Mary from the refuge came to see me this morning.  She told me I need to
get out more...  make friends...  'resume a normal life'," she snorted,
unconvinced.  "she told me it was unhealthy to spend so much time by
myself."

   "I suppose," Jake replied, "but how long's it been?  Shouldn't you spend
some time to get yourself in order?"

   "Exactly, that's what I told her.  But she urged me to join a club, find
work, meet people.  She doesn't understand that this is how I prefer it.  I
don't need lots of people, I can take care of myself, I am perfectly
happy."

   "Sure," he agreed, nodding.

   "She said I must be careful of you, Jake.  She said you are a single man
living by himself and probably lonely.  She says you are trouble."

   "Trouble?  Me?" Jake said, astounded.

   "Yes, and you have poor social skills and unable to find a wife.  She
thinks you may be a gay and not know it."

   Jake was speechless in shock.  Sharmila studied his reaction.  "I'm not
any of those things," he protested, "I...  I just like doing my own thing.
She's made a lot of assumptions after only meeting me for half an hour."

   "I don't think you have poor social skills.  I think you may be a little
lonely, but that's all."

   "And gay?"

   Sharmilla blushed and looked away, slightly shaking her head.  "You must
understand, Jake, that I don't trust people easily.  But you, somehow, I
think I can.  Would I be right?  Can I trust you?"

   "I hope so," he told her, not really sure what the point of the
conversation was.  What was she referring to?  Was she suggesting some kind
of relationship?

   "Good!" she declared.  "Perhaps we can come up with a solution to your
business dilemma?  I know what I'm about.  Perhaps you can have your hobby
and make a lot of money as well?  Y'know, it is no crime to have financial
security?"

   "I know that.  It's just, well, inertia, I guess.  Unwilling to let go."

   "Yes, I see.  But you realise you leave yourself open to be taken
advantage of?  We cannot have that, it wouldn't be fair."

   'Was she suggesting a business partnership?' he wondered, 'I provide the
assets and she the expertise?' "Your brains and my brawn?" he said aloud,
not thinking.

   "Pardon?"

   "Nothing," he said, "it's all right!  Perhaps I could do with some
advice?" he added, brightly, "my accountant doesn't seem all that
interested...  just tidies the books up for the tax department."

   "That's criminal!  We need to get the place properly valued and make
some enquiries about the property market, here.  If you want, I will start
today."

   "Sure, but you can't do that for nothing.  What sort of fee would you
expect?"

   "We can discuss that later," she suggested, "I will not rip you off."

   "Okay, I trust you!" Sharmila turned and smiled, her eyes momentarily
losing some confidence.  She strode out of the shop with a spring in her
step.

   Perhaps, he thought afterwards, he and Sharmila might bond over
business? He might have a lot of money to invest.  Naturally, he would
require her further advice.  He took a look around the mart and shivered.
First, he needed to get used to what he was losing.

   This old building full of junk had been the centre of his life for so
long.  Could he save some of the more valuable pieces for an antique shop
somewhere?  Did he have enough for a viable business?  Did he know enough
about the antique trade?  It was a whole different level requiring
expertise and a shrewd knowledge of the market.

   Curiously, however, he felt a mounting wave of excitement, of
anticipation.  Sharmila was going to take him on an adventure, he was sure,
and who knows where it will end up?

   ----------------------------------------------

   KATZMAREK (C)