The scent of a woman - Part 1

"Daasi, I have invited a friend and his wife over for dinner this Friday", said my Swami. "I expect you to serve us exceptionally well". "It will be my pleasure, Swami", I said with humility. This was nothing new to me. When guests visit our home, I take pride in making sure they were well received, fed and in general feel special as a guest in our home.

On Friday evening, I spent an hour decking myself up. Swami always expects me to be dressed demurely but sexily when guests came to our home. He likes it when I wear an Indian sari which reveals my slim figure, yet makes folks wonder what is underneath the sari. This evening, I wore a backless  sleeveless blouse with a plunging neckline. It was held together in two places: one right behind the neck and the other an extremely thin strip just under my breast line at the back. The blouse was padded and provided support for my breasts so I did not have to wear a bra which would have been hard to conceal since the back was open. I chose a chiffon sari. The sheer material accentuated my body well. I always wear my saris low on my waist as desired by Swami. I have caught many of our male friends stare at my hips because this leaves my belly button exposed.  They look away embarrassed when I look into their eyes and flash a friendly smile. I wonder if they fantasize sexually about me or just disapprove of the way I dress or both.

L and his wife W arrived at our house at around 7 pm. I dutifully greeted them at the door with a bright smile and after they were seated engaged them in small conversation and served them drinks. My Swami presented himself after around ten minutes. As the Lord of the home, he never greets our guests at the door. He expects me to play that role as his daasi. As I conversed with my guests, I sat mindfully in a way that pleases him. My butt rested at the edge of our sofa, my back was straight with my breasts pushed forward, my hand rested on my lap with my palms facing upward to signify that everything I had was a gift from my God.  Swami really disapproves of the way some women just slouch on the sofa, legs spread willy nilly, backs curved, hands lying limp on the sides. He feels it makes them look so unappealing and unfeminine and I have to say I agree. He particularly detests women who lounge around on recliners with their feet stretched out in front of them. We have a recliner in our home. I almost never sit on it. Even when I do, I have never used its reclining features. I park my ass on its edge gingerly and immediately vacate the seat when my God approaches.  This is his seat. In our culture showing the bottom of your feet to a guest is considered extremely disrespectful and even my Swami tries not to use the recliner when there is a guest seated on the other side.

When my Swami came into the room, I immediately stood up as a sign of respect. I smiled at him, introduced him to our guests and quietly moved and stood by his left side, turning slightly towards him. Where I stand with respect to him has a lot of significance in my mind. Some traditional Indian women pick the right side, but my Swami always wants me to his left and it makes perfect sense to me. The left side of the body is where the heart is and so subtly indicates that I belong in his heart. My Swami is right handed and in ancient times, if he were a warrior, would have wielded his sword with his right hand and used his left hand for his shield. Today, I am his shield and as his daasi would use my body and soul to prevent any injury from coming to him. Being on his left also leaves his right side free to meet and greet guests.

As my God greeted L and his wife W, he slid his arms around my waist and gently pulled me towards him, claiming me symbolically in front of our guests. As our guests and my God sat down, I continued to stand and talk as a sign of respect for him. Finally he gestured and offered me a seat beside him, but I politely refused and seated myself on the floor on his left side. I gently placed my right palm facing down on his left foot and he used his left hand to caress my head as if I were his pet. I placed my left hand palm facing upward on my lap. with my leg folded backwards to my left. I made sure I leaned forward slightly so that he had free view of my bare back. This is not the most comfortable position to sit, and puts subtle pressure on your hips, back and your right ankle bone as it rests on the floor but I find that discomfort keeps me mindfully aware of my status and it is a great secret position to assume in public to show your subservience without attracting too much attention to yourself.

L is a Suriname Indian. His ancestors migrated to Suriname around 1870's as indentured laborers. His parents were born there. W his wife is from Venezuela. L is tall, over 6 feet, had a sexy dark chocolate complexion and from the look of his toned body, I could see that he worked out regularly.  W was a stunner. Her dark hair and deeply tanned skin I am sure made her a sexual magnet to many men. They had met when L was vacationing in Venezuela,  had fallen madly in love and had married over the objection of L's parents who wanted him to marry a nice Hindu girl. They had migrated to the US a few years ago. L had met my Swami at a local business conference and they had quickly become close friends.

I really liked the couple. They were friendly, smiled often, engaged in great conversation and were clearly in love and held each other's hands during much of the conversation. L regaled us with stories about Suriname and his whirlwind love affair with W. They were both fascinated to hear about our "arranged marriage" and asked us a lot of questions. After a while, L left with Swami  to prepare a special cocktail for us ladies and left me with W who moved from the sofa and sat down beside me on the floor. 

As we talked she moved close to me and I could smell her perfume. She smelled good. She noticed my wedding chain and was fascinated when I told her that I had never removed it after Swami had tied it around my neck during our marriage.  She leaned in and gently placed her hand right above my breasts and tried to pull the chain out from under the blouse so that she could take a better look at the phallic symbol. When it did not slide out easily, she moved her hand lower and before I could react had two fingers in my blouse. As she tugged on the chain, I could feel the back of her fingers rub against my upper left breasts. The chain suddenly released and the momentum of her pulling jerked me towards her. My face was so close to her now that I could feel her breath. I stayed in that awkward position, my head slightly lower than hers, my wedding chain biting into my skin as she looked at the symbol intently. She finally let go of the chain and as I was straightening myself, kissed me lightly on the cheeks, with a "That is so adorable". I was completely flustered and strangely felt turned on when I heard L laugh from across the room. "Yeah, don't mind W, Venezuelans are very open with their affection".

I jerked myself upright, startled and embarrassed at being caught in this awkward moment, managed a nervous laugh and quickly got up.

"Oh, you have been looking at her wedding chain", said my Swami. "It is fascinating" said W to L. 

"You should see it, it has a phallic symbol on a pendant attached to the chain". "Really?" he said and without warning approached me quickly and seized the chain. I am a petite woman and as L jerked the chain upwards to get a better look, I raised myself on my toes, concerned that his pulling may break it. I glanced at my Swami begging for intervention, but he just stood by smiling and watching my predicament. L bent down to get a better look at the symbol and I struggled to keep my balance on my toes embarrassed by the fact that as he stared down at the chain, he had an almost unrestricted view of my breasts. Suddenly, I lost my balance and to my horror I stumbled face first into his chest. 

I apologized profusely. He laughed and jested "Hey, at least wait till you have a few drinks".  We all laughed nervously and Swami handed both W and me our rather large cocktails. I don't hold my alcohol very well and nervously looked at the size of the glass, but since my God had handed it to me, I accepted it with grace.

We drank slowly and chatted some more and by the time I finished my cocktail, I knew I was in trouble. It had been a particularly strong mix and I was completely drunk.  We had not yet had dinner and it was my duty to serve them and wait on them hand and foot. How could I serve my guests without embarrassing my God in this state?

....To be continued......