The Night My Husband Shared Me – Part 2: Rahul

Arjun spoke to Rahul and Karan separately. He told me after — that he sat with each of them alone and told them the truth, the whole truth, and gave each of them the chance to walk away without any awkwardness. That is the kind of man my husband is. That is why I trusted him with this.

Both of them said yes.

Rahul first. That was Arjun’s decision and I agreed with it. Rahul is the calmer one — measured, thoughtful, the kind of man who would make sure I was okay before anything else. For a first time that was important.

The night Rahul was coming I spent the whole afternoon restless. I showered twice. I oiled and braided my hair then took it down again. I stood in front of my cupboard for twenty minutes.

In the end I wore a thin cotton saree — pale pink, almost see-through in direct light — with no blouse and no bra underneath. Just the saree draped, a small tight knot at my waist. The fabric moved when I breathed. In the right light you could see everything.

Arjun saw me come out of the bedroom and went completely still.

“Priya,” he said.

“Too much?” I said.

He shook his head slowly. “Not even close to too much,” he said.

He positioned himself in the armchair in the corner of the living room — deliberately, like a director choosing his angle. He would watch from there. We had agreed. He would not interfere unless I asked. Tonight was mine.

Rahul knocked at eight.

I opened the door myself.

Rahul is 31, tall, broad shoulders, good face. I had known him for four years as Arjun’s friend — at dinner parties, cricket matches, birthday celebrations. He had always been polite to me. Warm. His eyes had always lingered slightly longer than strictly necessary when he looked at me and we had both always pretended not to notice.

Tonight he looked at me in the doorway and there was no pretending at all.

His eyes went from my face down slowly — the saree, the thin fabric, the clear outline of my breasts underneath — and back up to my face. His jaw tightened.

“Hi Rahul,” I said.

“Hi Priya,” he said. His voice was slightly lower than usual.

I stepped back to let him in. As he passed me I saw his eyes go to Arjun in the armchair. Arjun nodded once. Rahul nodded back. Something passed between them — acknowledgment, trust, the weight of four years of friendship containing this new enormous thing.

I got Rahul a drink. We sat on the sofa together. We talked — actually talked, for almost an hour, just the two of us, Arjun quiet in his corner. It was important to me, that part. I needed Rahul to be a person to me, not just a body. He seemed to understand this without being told. He asked me questions. He made me laugh. He was completely himself.

Then at some point the conversation slowed and we were sitting very close together on the sofa and Rahul was looking at me in the direct way he had been carefully not looking at me all evening.

“Can I tell you something,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” I said.

Also Read: FRIGID MATURE WIFE

“I have thought about you,” he said carefully. “For a long time. I felt guilty about it for a long time.”

“And now?” I said.

“And now your husband is sitting in that chair specifically so I can stop feeling guilty,” he said.

I laughed — genuinely, fully. He smiled. His hand came up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, fingers brushing my jaw, and the laughter faded into something quieter.

“Priya,” he said.

“Yes,” I said. To all of it.

He kissed me slowly. He tasted like whiskey and took his time, one hand cupping my face, unhurried, like he had been waiting long enough that a few more seconds of patience cost him nothing. I kissed him back and felt the strangeness and the heat of it all at once — this was Rahul, Arjun’s Rahul, and I was kissing him on my own sofa with my husband ten feet away watching and it was exactly as electric as I had imagined.

I pulled back and looked across the room at Arjun. He was watching with dark steady eyes, forearms on his knees, completely still. He gave me a small nod.

I turned back to Rahul and reached up and slowly unwrapped the saree pallu from my shoulder. The fabric fell away. Rahul’s breath caught audibly.

“Go ahead,” I said quietly.

His hands came up — large and warm — and cupped my breasts, thumbs brushing my nipples, and I arched into his touch with a sharp intake of breath. He squeezed slowly, deliberately, watching my face the whole time.

“You are so beautiful,” he said. Low and completely sincere. “God Priya you are so beautiful.”

“Don’t stop,” I said.

He put his mouth on me and I gripped the sofa cushion and forgot my own name for a while. His hands and mouth were everywhere, thorough and attentive, learning me with a patience that was its own kind of torture. I heard Arjun shift in his chair across the room and the knowledge that he was watching, that he could see everything, doubled every sensation.

“Arjun is watching us,” I breathed.

“I know,” Rahul said against my skin.

“Tell me what you want to do to me,” I said. “Say it out loud. I want him to hear.”

Rahul lifted his head and looked at me with dark eyes. Then he turned slightly so his voice would carry to the corner of the room.

“I want to take you to your bedroom,” he said clearly. “I want to lay you down and take my time with every single part of you. I want to make you come until you cannot speak. And I want your husband to watch every second of it.”

From the armchair, Arjun’s voice came quietly: “Then take her.”

Rahul stood and held his hand out to me. I took it and stood up and the saree pooled on the floor around my feet and I walked with him to our bedroom, completely bare, while my husband followed three steps behind.

Rahul was true to his word. Thorough, focused, generous in a way that felt like four years of wanting condensed into one night. He took his time with every part of me exactly as promised and I gave him everything he asked for and asked for more myself, loud enough that the neighbours could probably hear, and Arjun sat in the chair by the door and watched his wife come apart in his best friend’s hands and arms and mouth and did not look away for a single second.

At the end Rahul held me for a long quiet moment. Kissed my forehead. Got dressed. Came and stood in front of Arjun.

“She is extraordinary,” Rahul said quietly.

“I know,” Arjun said.

They looked at each other for a moment. Then Rahul left.

Arjun crossed the room and lay down next to me and pulled me close without a word. I pressed my face into his chest.

“Okay?” he said.

“Better than okay,” I said.

He held me tighter. Outside Bangalore hummed quietly in the dark.

“Karan next week,” he said.

I smiled against his chest. “Karan next week,” I agreed.

Continue reading: The Night My Husband Shared Me – Part 3: Karan