Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows

Preetam adjusted her dupatta. ‘That’s fine,’ she said stiffly.

‘Suit yourself,’ Nikki said. Inside the pub, the widows had gathered by the table closest to the entrance. They were right about being stared at. The few customers and bar staff looked at them with mixed expressions of amusement and curiosity.

‘Why don’t we find a quiet corner,’ Nikki suggested, leading the way to the back room, which was actually just a less popular part of the main area. Arvinder, Bibi and Tanveer shuffled along silently, clutching their bags tightly.

They settled around a long table far from the other customers. Above them, there was a window facing the pavement. Preetam’s feet shifted into view and then disappeared. Nikki noticed Arvinder watching her. ‘Shall I try to get her inside?’ Nikki asked.

‘Nah,’ Arvinder said. ‘Let her get to know your neighbourhood.’

Bibi looked around. ‘Does it have to be so dark? Why do these goreh all like to come into these dark caves to do their drinking?’

‘It’s not just white people who come in to this place,’ Nikki said. ‘I’ve served drinks to Indians here as well.’

‘I had a bit of whisky once. Just the bottom of my husband’s class. I was having a very bad cold and he said it would soothe my sinuses but it was terrible. It burned my throat,’ Tanveer said.

‘I used to drink wine with my husband,’ said Sheena. ‘The doctor told my husband it was a healthy alternative to drinking beer all the time, and that he could have one or two glasses a night. I started drinking it with him.’

‘The doctor recommended this?’ Bibi asked. ‘An English doctor, I’m sure.’

Sheena shrugged. ‘Yeah. It wasn’t my first time drinking alcohol. I used to go to after work drinks with my colleagues when I worked in Central London.’

Nikki’s phone pinged in her pocket. She opened a message from an unknown number.

Hey Nikki. Once again I’m so sorry. I’ll explain everything tonight xx Jason.

Nikki looked up. The women were now bickering over whether Sheena’s doctor should be jailed for recommending wine instead of medicine. Nikki glanced out the window. Who was that talking to Preetam? A man in a familiar pair of slacks whose face was blocked by the bus stop sign. Preetam shooed him away with a wave of her dupatta. ‘Get away from me, you idiot!’ she shrieked suddenly. Nikki shot up from her seat and ran outside. It was Steve with the Racist Grandfather.

‘Namaste,’ he said with a grin and a wave. ‘I was just trying to direct this lady back to the Tandoor Express.’

‘Go home, Steve. You’re banned from the pub.’

‘I can still hang around outside,’ Steve said. He turned to Preetam and dipped forward in a deep bow. ‘Chicken tikka masala,’ he said solemnly.

Preetam turned on her heels and marched right into the pub. When Nikki caught up with her, she said, ‘Hai, anything is better than standing outside in the cold with that lunatic.’ Nikki laughed and gave her a hug. ‘I’m so glad you’ve decided to join us,’ she said, steering Preetam towards the group. The widows cheered when they saw her and she blushed and waved.

‘Who has a story to share?’ Nikki asked.

A moment passed, and then one tentative hand appeared. Bibi. ‘I thought of mine on the way here,’ she said.

‘Go on,’ Nikki said. She relaxed into her chair.

‘The Woman Who Loved To Ride Horses,’ Bibi said. The women broke into giggles.

‘Did she also like to ride rickshaws on particularly bumpy roads?’

‘And lean against the washing machine while it was on the vigorous spin cycle?’

‘Quiet,’ Bibi commanded. ‘I’m trying to tell my story.’ She cleared her throat and started again. ‘The Woman Who Loved To Ride Horses. Once upon a time, there was a woman who lived on a large plot of land. Her late father had passed it down to her and had given her instructions: don’t marry anybody who is money-minded, because he will try to transfer ownership of the land … ’

All of the women were attentive except Sheena, who slumped in her seat next to Nikki. ‘Do you want to help me with the tea?’ Nikki asked quietly. Sheena nodded. They excused themselves and headed to the bar. Nikki prepared a tray of cups and put the kettle on. ‘Would you like something to drink?’ Nikki asked.

‘Some wine would be nice,’ Sheena said. She threw a look over her shoulder. The widows were too engrossed in Bibi’s story to notice their absence, much less the wine that Nikki poured for Sheena.

‘You look tired. Is everything okay?’

‘Just a hectic day at work without enough sleep last night. I was up till late talking to Rahul,’ Sheena said. ‘I told him that things were moving too quickly.’

‘How did he take it?’ Nikki asked.

‘Eventually, he was all right. We had a long conversation. But his initial reaction surprised me. He became defensive. He said, “But you’re enjoying it!”’

‘So he thought you were accusing him of disrespecting you?’

‘Yeah. I said, “Just because I like it, doesn’t mean I can’t change my mind and decide to take things slow, all right?” And this look crossed his face – it was like he was taken aback but also impressed.’

‘You gave him something to think about.’

‘The funny thing is, I was surprised as well. I didn’t realize what I wanted to say until I said it. That’s why I avoided talking to him in the first place.’ Sheena took a few sips of her wine and sneaked another quick look at the widows. ‘These storytelling sessions are good fun but I think I’ve also learned to speak up for what I want. Exactly what I want.’

Nikki remembered the unexpected rush of confidence she felt when she stood up to Garry and Viktor. ‘Me too,’ she said. ‘And I didn’t think I needed any help in that department.’ They exchanged a smile. At that moment, Nikki felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for Sheena’s friendship.

They returned to the widows after Sheena finished her drink and Nikki handed out cups of tea. Bibi’s gaze had gone dreamy as she built her story. ‘Straddled on the back of this magnificent stallion, she commanded his every move. His muscles moved steadily beneath her, grinding against her most intimate places—’

Bibi’s narration was interrupted by the arrival of another pair of Punjabi women. They looked out of breath and were so relieved to have a seat that they didn’t seem to mind being inside the pub.

‘I’m Rupinder,’ one woman said.

‘I’m Jhoti,’ said the other. ‘Manjinder is coming too. She’s just finding a place to park.’

‘We were right behind the rest of you,’ Rupinder Kaur said. ‘But Jhoti here spotted someone she recognized and we had to pull over a little side street and duck down while she tried to figure out if it was him.’

‘Ooh, who was? A secret lover?’ Tanveer teased.

‘Rubbish,’ Jhoti said. ‘It was Ajmal Kaur’s nephew.’

Of course the women had a radar for detecting members of the community, even when they were outside Southall. Arvinder caught Nikki’s smile. ‘You know him?’ she asked.

‘No,’ Nikki said.

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