Music in My Soul

Music in my soul

No copyright infringement is intended by using the song lyrics. I am not exploiting them commercially.

Neeta drove though the orderly traffic to reach her tall apartment building that contained her small flat on Sheik Zayed Road. It was nine p.m. on the last working day of the week, and what a terrible week it was! They had almost lost their most prestigious client, just managing to hold on to the account just because of some past favors the client owed the owner of the company she worked for. Neeta and her team had worked hard to rectify the problems that almost lost the premium account, and it wasn't easy.

Neeta headed marketing at a famous designer label based in the city, a historic trading post on ancient trade routes. The discovery of oil, the wealth and influence that discovery brought with it and a prudent management of the wealth by the benign autocracy ensured that the trading port would live on for a couple more centuries. The absence of personal and corporate taxes brought businesses and professionals alike flocking to the port. Her boss, the owner of the company, was a famous designer of clothing and accessories who had made a name with her gifted creativity.

Neeta and her team worked with the Operations head, Sunil. Sunil was a technical genius in the industry, there wasn't a bit that he didn't know for their industry. He understood Neeta's problems, having been a marketing guy in his younger days himself. He and Neeta's team worked late, and finally achieved a breakthrough that would solve their problems for the next year. It involved working with suppliers, the finance team and others, but they did it. Sunil headed the Operations team and his word was law there. He ran a tight ship, keeping costs low and the business prospered. Between their boss Layla, and Neeta and Sunil, the designer label created everything that a hospitality business would need - from the uniforms to the cutlery to the fine china to the design of the ambience and even the logo.

Layla was from an ancient business family that was extremely progressive. While many of her friends were married off early to deserving matches and thus were resigned to being eye-candy on their man's hand, she was encouraged to monetize her passion for creative design by her family. Her family had enough resources to fund her business completely, with no arrangements with banks. Though dark-complexioned, Layla was a stunning Arabian beauty who could turn heads without expensive props. The rumour was that Layla was to marry a dashing, handsome prince who sadly died when his parachute didn't open during an adventure activity. Layla had put aside her personal life, and had built a team that could translate her creativity into reality in the quantities that were required.

Over the years, Layla had added to her family's coffers, and had earned her family's respect. She did have her liaisons with males, but she ensured that they didn't interfere in her life or her passions. She had recruited Sunil first, more than ten years ago, and through his contacts she had found Neeta a couple of years later. Together she felt that her label would continue to prosper. Neeta and Sunil handled the business ends nicely, leaving Layla to spend her time and attention on her creativity and personal life.

As Neeta parked her car in her designated slot, her mind kept running through the work they had completed that day, looking for possible holes that could compromise their efforts. She carried her bag that contained her laptop and essentials to the lift, and pressed the button for the seventh floor, where her small one-bedroom apartment was. She entered her apartment and was greeted by her Persian cat, Jerry. Jerry rubbed himself against her ankles, welcoming her silently. Neeta switched on the air-conditioning, deposited her bag on the worktable in the hall before both of them walked into her bedroom, where Neeta undressed quickly. She entered her shower cubicle, and turned on the water. Due to the desert heat, she didn't need to turn on the water heater for most of the year. The comfortably warm water washed over her, and she cleaned off the day's perspiration and dirt. Her body was hairless allover, thanks to a full-body waxing she had treated herself to last week.

As she dried herself off, looking at her body in the shower's mirror, she saw a slightly overweight woman in her mid-forties. Her children (a daughter and a son) were well-settled, and she was finally living her life for herself. Her husband had died five years ago, his insurance and their savings leaving her comfortably well off. She had ensured a world-class education for their children and had set them on their respective careers. As a couple, she and her deceased husband had had a satisfying sex life. Her breasts were large, slightly droopy due to her age and breastfeeding her children. Her nipples were a dark rose color, the same color as her lips. A little belly fat and light stretch marks over her abdomen testified to her motherhood. She was proud of being a good mother and a great wife. Her waxed pussy looked good, she thought.

She had had a boyfriend in college, before she married the man her parents chose for her. She was clear that her boyfriend was not a love affair. She had experienced the thrill of a man's hugs, a man's lips on her nipples with her boyfriend. She had felt his hardened penis over his briefs a couple of times, and he had insisted on sucking her pussy twice. That was the extent of her sexual experience before she got married.

Her husband had taken her virginity on their honeymoon. He wasn't gentle, but she was aroused enough that the pain of her hymen rupturing wasn't much more than a pinch. Within a month she was pregnant with her daughter, and a couple of years later, with her son. Her mom was there with her during childbirth, both her children being born naturally. She had breastfed both till they were ready to be weaned off her milk. As her children reached their teens, the couple began to travel again. His work took them to Switzerland, and to New Zealand. She had accompanied him, the children being accommodated at their grandparents' house during their travel. During her trip to Switzerland, her husband's colleagues had organized a swingers' party, which she found odd - how could the women have sex with other men while their husbands fucked other women in the same hall. After a lot of talking together, she and her husband had agreed to test the waters.

Despite their shyness, both of them had disrobed after some time and had made love to each other, with the others having sex all around them. A tall German woman had come to them after they had finished, and asked Neeta if she could take her husband. Not wanting to be deemed a prude, Neeta had agreed, and had watched the German blonde ride her husband after sucking him hard. Though her husband had encouraged her, she remained unwilling to try the other men, being content only with a couple of Swedes sucking her breasts while she stroked their penises to orgasms. Back home in India, they had relieved those memories, her husband having strong orgasms whenever they discussed the possibility of her being taken by other men at the party.

By the time they went to New Zealand eleven months later, she was ready for more, and she had her first experience of a different penis in her vagina on their last night there. It was yet another swingers' party, but this time at a sex club that they saw advertised. They didn't know anyone at the party, and the anonymity of it all helped her shed her inhibitions easily. Husband and wife had had two different partners each, Neeta insisting on condoms each time she allowed a man into her body. Back at their home in India, she and her husband had spent an entire day reconnecting their sexual lives, Neeta lovingly welcoming her husband back into her, the familiarity both comforting and exciting her as they made love several times during the day. They would use different positions, and he reclaimed her in each of their favorite positions during the course of the day. Her pussy was deliciously sore at the end of that day.

It was three years after this that her husband had passed away, succumbing to a rapidly spreading cancerous tumour in his stomach. He died within nine months of the initial diagnosis, and Neeta and her children had cremated her husband. As per tradition, her son lit the pyre, helped by Neeta's brother. Though her family rallied around her and helped her put her finances in order, she was devastated by the loss of her husband before she could come to terms with his sickness. Her younger sister Anjali had introduced her to smoking, to help her battle the bouts of depression. Neeta was initially shocked that her sister smoked, but once Anjali explained that her smoking was a stress-busting and sometimes erotic activity with her own husband, Neeta came to terms with it. Neeta was careful however, that her cigarette consumption was limited to less than a pack of twenty cigarettes a month initially, and reducing thereafter.

Over the next couple of years, she gradually adjusted to life without her husband, her children's needs helping keep her busy enough to avoid slipping into depression. She still smoked surreptitiously, because she had come to love the rich smell of the tobacco and the way it burned her lungs so deliciously. Her children had joined universities in England and Germany respectively, her daughter specializing in genetics and her son in aeronautical engineering. Her finances were strong enough to support them, and once Sunil, her former junior at work introduced her to Layla and the opportunity to work in the Middle East, her income was enough to take care of her expenses and add to the comfortable nest egg that she was left with.

She hung her towel up and sat on her sofa in front of her flat-screen television, still nude. She picked up her packet of Dunhill Milds from the coffee table in front of her, and lit one up as she mindlessly surfed the channels on television. She inhaled deeply, loving the way the crisp tobacco smoke suffused her lungs as she inhaled. Her breasts rose as she inhaled and held the smoke in her lungs. Her fingers pinched her nipples, her imagination picturing the smoke in her lungs being diffused through the pores in her nipples. She exhaled forcefully, the smoke streaming through her lips in a thin cone. The work tension was gradually replaced by her tobacco high. She spread her thighs, her pussy lips parting. Her left hand roamed over her thighs before she brought her fingers up to her pussy lips, playing with them. She was no stranger to masturbation, having resumed the activity around six months after her husband had passed away.

Her vagina had awakened when she lit her cigarette, and Neeta wasn't surprised that her fluids had spread on the faux leather of her sofa. She relived the party at the sex club in New Zealand in her mind, remembering the feel of the different men in her vagina. Strangely to her, both men had felt no different to her husband once they were inside her. It was only the sensation of their thrusts and their bodies on her that made her aware that the men were different. She masturbated, using her fingers on her pussy lips, on her clit and in her vagina before she had a very satisfying orgasm. She licked her juices off her fingers as she finished her cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray. She rose and slipped into a comfortable night dress.

She checked her laptop. Her office emails were now sedate after the frenzy of the week. Sunil had begun to liaise with the suppliers across the world, arranging the raw material of the right quality and quantity so that he could produce the goods required by their customer well in time, trying to make up for the customer's ire earlier.

Her phone rang, it was a video call from Anjali. She answered the call, and was shocked by a visual of her sister moving around fully nude in what seemed to be a hotel suite. Anjali had muted Neeta, and as Neeta watched, Anjali opened the door to an equally nude man - it was Anjali's husband. Anjali brought him in front of where the phone was placed, and proceeded to fellate her husband. It looked like the husband wasn't aware that their sex was being broadcast, but Anjali kept making mischievous glances in the direction of the phone. He came on Anjali's face, and rose to go into the shower to wash. Anjali rose too, and as her husband disappeared into the shower, she picked up the phone, winked at Neeta with her semen-smeared face, mouthed that she would explain later, and disconnected the call.

Neeta disconnected and replaced the phone, flustered by the sight of her sister's intimacy, the sight of her sister sucking and licking a hard penis on camera. The man's semen had shot out of his penis and he had proceeded to shoot it all over Anjali's face and chest. The amount of semen he shot was a lot, so Neeta surmised that he was ejaculating after some abstinence. Neeta was aroused too, it had been a long time since she had seen a real man's penis, even if it was on video. Since her husband died, Neeta infrequently watched some porn and the men there always had penises that were not proportionate to reality. But this penis was a real penis, average in size and girth. And it was Anjali sucking it off, using her hands too.

Neeta's vagina was wet again. She tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't be denied. She lit another cigarette, and concentrating on the visuals from the video call, she lifted the night dress and began to masturbate again. She came quickly, too quickly, leaving her unsatisfied. Grumpy, she rose, using a damp washcloth to wipe the sofa clean from her earlier emissions. She finished her cigarette, stubbed it out in the ashtray and looked back at the television. She surfed again, but nothing seemed to hold her attention. Frustrated, she changed to the Hindi movie channel, which was playing a monochrome movie of an ancient era. Still frustrated, she switched off the television.

She rose and stepped out onto the balcony of her small flat, overlooking the busy Jumeirah area. She was careful to keep Jerry inside the flat, and not on the balcony. From the seventh floor, the neon-lit area was at its peak. She checked her phone, it was 22.00 hrs and the weekend revelers were in full swing. People of various nationalities filled the sidewalks, traffic moved slowly.

She re-entered the flat, still frustrated and excited by the visuals she had seen on the phone. To her surprise, her phone rang again. This time it was Sunil, he'd reached his home just then and was planning on going out to a famous restaurant that also had live music. He asked her to join him, telling her that this would be their reward for successfully negotiating the nightmare of the week before. She politely demurred, not wanting to be seen with another man. Especially one who was younger and was once her junior at work. However, he was persuasive, and she found herself agreeing to join him. He told her he'd pick her up in front of her apartment building, and would even drop her back once they finished. He promised to be there within three-quarters of an hour and they both disconnected to get dressed.

Neeta sat on her sofa again, Jerry jumped onto her lap, purring. She petted him for a couple minutes, and then began to think of what she should wear. She could be ready in ten minutes. She didn't need an elaborate make-up regime to look good, and she quickly decided to let her hair down figuratively after the tense week. She chose to wear a scarlet top that fitted her well, holding up her large-ish breasts well without the need of a bra. She chose a fitting black skirt and chose her black thong panties to wear under it. She took off her night gown and changed into the outfit. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she decided to add her favorite ring earrings, giving her a fiery Spanish look. She was ready in ten minutes. She looked at her watch, she still had ten minutes to kill before she needed to descend to road level for Sunil. She didn't want him waiting, she wanted to finish this outing quick and get back home as quickly as possible.

She looked at her cigarette pack - the tensions of the week prior had meant she had exceeded her normal consumption. She mentally berated herself, and promised to get back to normalcy from the next day. She lit another cigarette, the last one in the pack, and picked up a fresh packet to carry with her to the restaurant. She inhaled the smoke from her cigarette, feeling the flavor of the rich tobacco swirl in her mouth before she inhaled it into her lungs. She held the smoke in her lungs a little longer, seeking a deeper hit. She wasn't disappointed, and by the time she finished the cigarette and stubbed it out in her glass ashtray, she felt a pleasant buzz.

She rose, checked her bag to see it had everything she may need, put on sensible silver-colored sandals with black highlights on them and strode to the elevator, locking her flat behind her. The elevator arrived almost immediately, and she rode it down to road level. She exited the elevator, and through the glass front doors she could see that Sunil had just turned into the lay-by in front of the apartment building. He got out and opened the door for her, he had worn a very classy evening suit that accentuated his good looks. He looked at her and smiled, and mimicked a wolf-whistle when he saw how smart and hot she looked. Neeta laughed him off and got into the car and shut the door. Sunil got back into the driver's seat and drove them to the restaurant which was a fifteen-minute ride away.

Once they arrived, the valet quickly came up and wished Sunil with a smile, it was obvious Sunil was a regular patron. Sunil held his arm out for her, she took it and he led her into the restaurant. The hostess greeted Sunil by name, and smiled at Neeta warmly. She led them to a semi-private booth with a latticed screen, so they could see the musicians and the stage, but were screened and private themselves. Sunil was surprised, he asked the hostess why she led them here when he had booked a normal table for two. The hostess grinned, said since he finally brought a very pretty lady with himself, that he might need to keep her away from jealous eyes.

Though these semi-private booths came with an extra price, the hostess told Sunil that tonight the premium would be waived for him. She looked at Neeta, and introduced herself. She told Neeta that Sunil normally came here alone, so when he had called earlier and said he was bringing a lady with him, she had already decided to keep this booth for the two of them. She asked Neeta what she would like to drink, and recommended a very special mixed drink that she said wasn't too heavy and actually tasted good. Neeta accepted her suggestion, and the hostess left.

The band that would play tonight was finishing their setting up, it was a trio with one female. Seeing Sunil enter all three smiled their recognition, and as the hostess left, the girl from the band came in, greeting Sunil and pulling him into a light hug. She then greeted Neeta and introduced herself. She told Neeta to feel free to ask for any songs or music she wanted to hear, and left. Neeta and Sunil were seated across a nicely appointed table. He took off his jacket, he was wearing a nice dress shirt that set off his tailored trousers well. Sunil looked at Neeta appreciatively, and told her he was proud to be with such a beautiful woman tonight. Neeta laughed, told him she was aware of his charm and not to waste it on her. Sunil looked into her eyes and in a voice that rang of honesty, told her he really found her beautiful tonight and thanked her for dressing up for him. He told her he did expect her to dress well and formal, but that he was surprised by the simple elegance that Neeta exuded. He told her that both the hostess and the singer were impressed, and that Sunil had gone up several notches in their esteem just because she was with him tonight.