The first time I met Lisa (name changed) was when we were grouped together for the interview in Bangalore. Being two Malayalee girls fresh out of engineering college in an unknown city was reason enough for us to bond together. But that’s where the similarities ended. I was a brought up in a small village in Kottayam, studied in a catholic convent and then in a very traditional college. Lisa, on the other hand was a product of the metros – born in Mumbai to Malayalee parents and did her engineering in New Delhi. She was at home even in a new city of Bangalore and quickly made friends, especially with the boys. She was an extrovert, outgoing, attractive, dressed fashionably and wore branded accessories. I remember that my blue churidaar looked so inadequate next to her sharp pant-suit. She had saloon coloured, straightened hair and reeked of an expensive perfume. I instantly admired and respected her.
Both of us got the job and were posted for a month’s training in Mysore. She was excited. I was overwhelmed with the prospect of shifting to a strange city for a month. She promised to take care of me. She kind of adopted me, as you would adopt a stray puppy. She always looked at me with just a tinge of sympathy in her eyes.
The day we landed in Mysore, Lisa triumphantly found us a small house to rent, in less than 2 hours. She strutted around the city as if she had lived there all her life. As soon as we settled in, she set out on her pet project of giving me a makeover. She took me to a high end saloon and got my hair, nails and face done. It piled up an intimidating bill which she happily paid with her card. I promised myself to pay her back when I receive my first salary. She went ahead to pick up new clothes, trendy metal jewellery and a handbag for me. I realised that my salary may now be inadequate to pay her back.
At the training class, she was the centre of all the attention. She flirted carelessly with the guys and the occasional instructor. Everyone around her treated her like a princess and were eager to please her. I was invisible, out of their radar. At home, her phone kept beeping with sweet messages and unsolicited calls, which she nonchalantly ignored. She rued that the boys weren’t cute enough and there weren’t any hip pubs in the vicinity. She gossiped non stop of the sleazy information she had about the guys and pompously told me tales of her past smutty adventures. I envied her further.
Staying with her, I tried emulating her routine of exercise, beauty products, waxing, tried a bit of alcohol and smoked for the first time. She was proud of the progress I made, but she had bigger plans for me.
She once caught me ogling at a dark skinned young boy who works for the neighbourhood dhobi and ironing guy. He was in his early 20s, was tall and looked quite robust. He wore only shorts, was athletic and had an earthy, musky odour. Lisa teased me incessantly for lingering my gaze on his body. I pointed out that like all the other men in Mysore, the boy had eyes only for her.
It was true. I have seen him stare at Lisa – particularly at her breasts when he would drop off or collect the laundry. Lisa wore tee shirts and shorts at home. Her fair, waxed, slender legs would catch everyone’s attention. The boy was also mesmerised by them, but he would soon divert his stare at her fully covered breasts. Was he looking for a hint of cleavage or imagining them naked in his head? Even though, I was fairer and had larger breasts, mine were hidden under layers of salwars, kurtis and what-nots. Lisa noticed his leacherous stare on her bosom the next time he dropped by. She playfully told me that she could make him stare at me and completely ignore her, if I did exactly as she told. I gleefully agreed.
We had only a few more weeks of training left. Hence, we put our plan into action at the earliest. She asked the boy whether he could collect our laundry in the early hours of the day, everyday. He readily agreed – possibly dreaming about Lisa’s shorter shorts and flimsier tops. Lisa then went ahead and brought me a white sleeveless, mid thigh length dress with a deep neck. I had never worn a short dress until then. I tried it on and immediately felt slutty. She asked me to wear the outfit for the boy the next day. I was so excited that I didn’t even sleep.
The next morning was unusually cold and my heart was pounding, my throat dry. My entire body was tingling with excitement. The boy came and collected clothes from Lisa, as usual taking in the view of her legs and breasts. Then Lisa called out to me inside the house, asking if I had anymore clothes to give him. I sashayed my way out of the room with a few more clothes and for the first time caught his complete attention. My legs were more shapey than Lisa’s, my thighs were more plump, making the dress outright vulgar. The neckline of the dress plunged in to show off my cleavage. The breasts were held up and close together by a good brassiere. He looked at me – wide eyed, open mouth, leacherous, savouring every inch of my legs, dying to grope my bountiful breasts and probably beating himself up for not giving enough attention to me earlier. It felt good!
The moment he left. We both burst out with laughter. Lisa went around the room mimicking his stare and my stance.
I asked her ‘what is your plan for tomorrow?’
‘Oh, you want to do more tomorrow?!!’ she asked back giggling uncontrollably.
I thought she will bring me a new dress. Instead she brought a pair of scissors and started working on the white dress that evening. She trimmed out 4-5 inches of length from the skirt and started working on the neckline. All the while she kept joking how the boy would’ve masturbated today thinking of me. I didn’t tell her that I masturbated today thinking of him.
The next day morning, I put on the altered dress. I realised that Lisa has cut the length too short and my panty would show if I bend even a bit forward or backwards. She had even made a small slit on one side. I had to pull up my panty as high as possible to prevent it been seen through it. Instead, he was to be treated with the sight of of my sides of my ass, almost all the way up to my hip. But, this was nothing compared to what she had done to the neckline. The cleavage was so deep that, no matter what brassiere I wore, a part of it showed. She asked me not to wear a brassiere but I protested and wore a maroon pair. The straps of the dress were also thinned out so much that they were thinner than the straps on my brassiere. She had cut portions on the side of the dress so that, if I lifted my arm, my armpit and the sides of my brassiere would be visible.
Like last time, I stood in front of the boy when summoned by Lisa. I acted like I was counting the clothes that he had to take to his master, avoiding making eye contact with him. He was sweating, breathing hard and ogling hungrily at my breasts. If he was any older or bolder, I’m sure he would have grabbed me. I realised that a top fell on the floor from my hand. Without a second thought, I bent to pick it up – showing off my ass and panties to the leacherous gaze. I’m not fully sure, but I think I saw a small bulge in his shorts. As I handed him the clothes, he stared straight at my breasts – not making any pretence to hide his gaze. He was being emboldened by our antics. I quickly walked away indoors.
Lisa came up a few seconds later. This time both of us were turned on. We weren’t laughing – just breathing heavily, sweating in the cold morning air and smiling.
‘Tomorrow?’, she asked.
‘No inners tomorrow’, I replied.
She continued to smile.
I did not give Lisa the dress to make anymore alterations that night. I woke up quite early and wore the dress with nothing underneath it. I felt instantly turned on imagining how the boy would look at me today. My nipples were hard and poked through the fabric, their brown faintly visible through the white of the dress. The cleavage wasn’t perfect without the brassiere but, my breasts felt bouncier and seemed to move around with my every move. A quick turn to either side would pop out the opposite breast to bring atleast a part of my nipple out of the dress.
I was confident about my breasts. It was my buttocks that I was worried about. They looked big and a bit flabby. If I wore the dress long enough, the skirt would climb midway up my ass by itself. I had just trimmed down there the night before and now I debated in my head whether ‘clean shaven’ was the way to go. But, now I did not have the time. Plus, I knew if I touched down there, I would end up masturbating again.
Lisa called out. I realised the boy was already here and strutted out inelegantly, almost clumsy with my walk. The moment I stepped out, I felt betrayed. The boy was transfixed on Lisa. She was wearing her training bra and a panty; and she was striking a vulgar pose in front of him. I looked at her in anger. She looked back and winked at me. The boy noticed me but didn’t realise that I wasn’t wearing inners. His gaze reverted back to Lisa, who was almost fully naked.
I decided not to let her take away my morning glory. I called out his name and the moment he looked at me, I raised my right hand as it to caress my hair allowing him to gaze at sides of my breasts from the cut of the cloth they Lisa had made. And, when I put my hands down on my hip, my right breast promptly popped out of the dress. His mischievous hot stare and the snippy cold air had made my right nipple as hard as stone. The nipple was now outside the dress and invited him to play with me. I sensed that he is moving towards me, when Lisa leapt forward and without a moment’s hesitation put her hand in his shorts and groped inside for his organ.
(To be continued….)