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They were patient. He dawdled. A young man came to see him. Kishore was a devastatingly handsome, cultured youth with an incredible physique. They discussed it in his board room. Kishore was gentle, persistent, patient. Avinash expressed reservations. He knew nothing about Hedon & Venery. Kishore smiled.
"You don't need to know about us, sir," he said smoothly.
"I think I do."
"With respect, sir, I disagree. May I point out that, on the other hand, we know quite a lot about you?"
"What does that mean?"
Kishore smiled and motioned to his assistant, another good-looking youth. The man put three folders before Avinash.
"What is this?"
"Please. Do have a look."
Casually, Avinash flipped the first folder open and flicked a couple of pages. He froze. He felt his heart pounding in his breast and he began to sweat, his body cold.
They were dossiers.
Full, detailed dossiers, complete with dates, names, places, amounts, photographs. About his brothel. All its operations. Its accounts and revenue. Its structure and management. Everything.
He opened the second. It contained a similar dissection of his electronics company. It showed the amounts he had siphoned off and diverted to expansion of the brothel business.
The amounts he had sent abroad illegally. His smooth duping of banks, financial institutions, investors. The way in which he had amassed a personal fortune and how he had invested it.
Struggling to remain calm, he closed it and opened the third.
It was the most horrifying. It had a detailed account of how he had come into the brothel business, with whom and when, what he had done since. There were photographs. Stills from his tapes.
Shots of him filming the sexual antics. Shots of him orgasming as a couple writhed before his array of cameras.
He closed the folder and gently put it down. Kishore looked at him impassively. Avinash tried to keep his voice and manner neutral, inscrutable.
"Interesting. You have long arms."
"Very long, sir."
"Blackmail, then."
"No sir."
"What, then?"
"Merely a way of persuasion, sir. One that you are not unfamiliar with yourself, if I may be so bold. Going back to the time with Kavita. Then others. Nimisha, I believe, is still in service."
"Indeed."
He smiled thinly. Nimisha was still very much in active operation at his brothel. Just a few days earlier, he had watched her at work as a young client laboured over her luscious body, moaning and gasping as he rocked his cock greedily in and out of her cunt.
Nimisha whimpered and writhed under her lover, her hips juddering up and down, her body rocking and lurching under his thrusts, her breasts jiggling and bouncing, her face a mask of lust.
Her *kajal* rimmed eyes were glassy with lust, her mouth open, her nostrils flared. She moaned thickly and begged for more. The client plunged into her.
He looked at Kishore thoughtfully, tapping the files with a fingertip. The material was devastating. He would be ruined within days; his business, his career, the brothel, his family – he would lose everything.
He looked at Kishore. They both knew it. Avinash smiled.
"Actually, I don't believe you will use any of this."
"You're right. It's unlikely."
Avinash chuckled softly. "You people must be very good."
"Thank you, sir. We try to be."
"I cannot refuse."
"No, sir."
"How much, then?"
Kishore named the price. It was significantly higher than the first offer.
"You have the cash?"
Kishore smiled and nodded to his assistant. A briefcase was put on the table.
"The bills are unmarked." Kishore said. "You wish to have them counted?"
"That won't be necessary."
Kishore rose with a smile and held out his hand. His grip was strong and firm. Avinash looked at him steadily.
"Your boss is a lucky man."
Kishore looked at him quietly. "It has been pleasure doing business with you, sir. But this meeting never happened. I was never here. Nor my assistant. Nor you. I have no boss."
"I understand."
They left quickly. Avinash phoned the brothel and spoke to Karan. He knew already. Hedon & Venery's people were already moving in. Avinash sighed and disconnected. The phone rang.
It was his mother. He groaned. She had found another girl for him to see. His parents were now obsessed with getting him married. His protests were brushed aside. He played along, taking the path of least resistance, suffering through agonising interviews with girls, rejecting them steadily.
Here was another, someone called Anuja, a young lawyer, it seemed.
"Yes, *aai*," he said. "I'll see her. Yes, tomorrow. Yes, in the evening. No, I won't be late. Yes. I'll wear the new suit. Yes. Okay. Say hi to papa. 'Bye."
Dropping the phone, he turned in chair and looked out of the huge window and wondered what would happen next. One chapter was over, one door closed. He was knocking at another. Marriage.
He shook his head. It couldn't be. He was never going to marry. It was impossible.
It took him a week, and the tape from Rio to change his mind. He watched it repeatedly, masturbating furiously. The girl was incredible. The tape was stunning. It was a Hedon & Venery production, made by the same people he had sold out to.
He was marrying one of their girls. She would be his. He could use her as he liked. She would fuck for him. He could watch her, tape her, film her. And no one would know. His parents would be happy. He would be happy. She would keep fucking as she liked, as he liked.
It was a perfect solution. He laughed to himself.
EVEN THE WHORRORSCOPES MATCHED.
THE END
"You don't need to know about us, sir," he said smoothly.
"I think I do."
"With respect, sir, I disagree. May I point out that, on the other hand, we know quite a lot about you?"
"What does that mean?"
Kishore smiled and motioned to his assistant, another good-looking youth. The man put three folders before Avinash.
"What is this?"
"Please. Do have a look."
Casually, Avinash flipped the first folder open and flicked a couple of pages. He froze. He felt his heart pounding in his breast and he began to sweat, his body cold.
They were dossiers.
Full, detailed dossiers, complete with dates, names, places, amounts, photographs. About his brothel. All its operations. Its accounts and revenue. Its structure and management. Everything.
He opened the second. It contained a similar dissection of his electronics company. It showed the amounts he had siphoned off and diverted to expansion of the brothel business.
The amounts he had sent abroad illegally. His smooth duping of banks, financial institutions, investors. The way in which he had amassed a personal fortune and how he had invested it.
Struggling to remain calm, he closed it and opened the third.
It was the most horrifying. It had a detailed account of how he had come into the brothel business, with whom and when, what he had done since. There were photographs. Stills from his tapes.
Shots of him filming the sexual antics. Shots of him orgasming as a couple writhed before his array of cameras.
He closed the folder and gently put it down. Kishore looked at him impassively. Avinash tried to keep his voice and manner neutral, inscrutable.
"Interesting. You have long arms."
"Very long, sir."
"Blackmail, then."
"No sir."
"What, then?"
"Merely a way of persuasion, sir. One that you are not unfamiliar with yourself, if I may be so bold. Going back to the time with Kavita. Then others. Nimisha, I believe, is still in service."
"Indeed."
He smiled thinly. Nimisha was still very much in active operation at his brothel. Just a few days earlier, he had watched her at work as a young client laboured over her luscious body, moaning and gasping as he rocked his cock greedily in and out of her cunt.
Nimisha whimpered and writhed under her lover, her hips juddering up and down, her body rocking and lurching under his thrusts, her breasts jiggling and bouncing, her face a mask of lust.
Her *kajal* rimmed eyes were glassy with lust, her mouth open, her nostrils flared. She moaned thickly and begged for more. The client plunged into her.
He looked at Kishore thoughtfully, tapping the files with a fingertip. The material was devastating. He would be ruined within days; his business, his career, the brothel, his family – he would lose everything.
He looked at Kishore. They both knew it. Avinash smiled.
"Actually, I don't believe you will use any of this."
"You're right. It's unlikely."
Avinash chuckled softly. "You people must be very good."
"Thank you, sir. We try to be."
"I cannot refuse."
"No, sir."
"How much, then?"
Kishore named the price. It was significantly higher than the first offer.
"You have the cash?"
Kishore smiled and nodded to his assistant. A briefcase was put on the table.
"The bills are unmarked." Kishore said. "You wish to have them counted?"
"That won't be necessary."
Kishore rose with a smile and held out his hand. His grip was strong and firm. Avinash looked at him steadily.
"Your boss is a lucky man."
Kishore looked at him quietly. "It has been pleasure doing business with you, sir. But this meeting never happened. I was never here. Nor my assistant. Nor you. I have no boss."
"I understand."
They left quickly. Avinash phoned the brothel and spoke to Karan. He knew already. Hedon & Venery's people were already moving in. Avinash sighed and disconnected. The phone rang.
It was his mother. He groaned. She had found another girl for him to see. His parents were now obsessed with getting him married. His protests were brushed aside. He played along, taking the path of least resistance, suffering through agonising interviews with girls, rejecting them steadily.
Here was another, someone called Anuja, a young lawyer, it seemed.
"Yes, *aai*," he said. "I'll see her. Yes, tomorrow. Yes, in the evening. No, I won't be late. Yes. I'll wear the new suit. Yes. Okay. Say hi to papa. 'Bye."
Dropping the phone, he turned in chair and looked out of the huge window and wondered what would happen next. One chapter was over, one door closed. He was knocking at another. Marriage.
He shook his head. It couldn't be. He was never going to marry. It was impossible.
It took him a week, and the tape from Rio to change his mind. He watched it repeatedly, masturbating furiously. The girl was incredible. The tape was stunning. It was a Hedon & Venery production, made by the same people he had sold out to.
He was marrying one of their girls. She would be his. He could use her as he liked. She would fuck for him. He could watch her, tape her, film her. And no one would know. His parents would be happy. He would be happy. She would keep fucking as she liked, as he liked.
It was a perfect solution. He laughed to himself.
EVEN THE WHORRORSCOPES MATCHED.
THE END