Author's Note:
Welcome to my new story. Hope you enjoy it. Bollywood celebrities mentioned in the story are completely fictional. All characters in the story are above 18 years of age while engaging in sexual activities.
***
I lay on my dorm bed at 1:30 in the night. My residence hall room, in the University of Texas, was dark. The other bed in the room was empty. Diego had already gone home, earlier that evening, for the summer holidays.
I lay on my front, propped up on my elbows. My phone leaned against the pillow, playing an Instagram video. It was professionally shot and featured a hot, mature woman doing yoga workout. She wore a sports bra and skintight shorts, showcasing her curves. The attire accentuated her lovely firm breasts and taut, round ass. She was incredibly well maintained for a 44-year-old. My cock gave an involuntary lurch as she bent forward. Her deep cleavage and the top of her breasts were on full display for a moment.
She looked like someone 10 years younger and performed the various
asanas
effortlessly. The moves, completely innocent to the regular eyes, felt extremely sensuous to my gaze. My lust filled, 20-year-old, brain showed me a different image; the woman lying naked on her bed, writhing with pleasure. She finished the last yoga pose with a
namaste
and blew a goodbye kiss to her followers. I closed Instagram on my phone and opened WhatsApp.
The last message from her, a few hours earlier, read --
Goodnight. Fly safe kiddo. Mom's waiting for you.
***
I got into the cab the next morning. A small trolley bag and a backpack were my luggage for the trip back home. Settling into the back seat, I buckled up for the half hour drive to Dallas Fort Worth International airport.
My thoughts turned to mom as the cab started driving. Samaira was a Bollywood celebrity based in Mumbai, India. She started her career as a model and VJ. A trained dancer, she had swiftly transitioned into Bollywood, doing dance numbers and small roles in movies. Although, never making it to the big league, she remained a popular celebrity. Her romantic relationship with Bollywood superstar, Ardaas Khanna, resulted in an unplanned pregnancy at the age of 24. This led to a quick wedding and I, Arhaan Khanna, was born.
Growing up, I received all the love and care in the world from mom and dad. Although they were both busy with their respective careers, they always made time for their only son. As I entered my teens, my parents grew apart gradually. They argued a lot, sometimes leading to shouts and fights.
"Your dad and I are going through a rough patch, kiddo. Happens in most marriages," mom said. She had come to my room one night after a particularly nasty shouting match with dad.
"Are you guys thinking of divorce? I heard that word during your... argument."
"We don't know yet. But no matter what happens, your dad and I will always love you," she said, kissing my forehead.
I paid the cab driver and entered the airport. My flight was scheduled for 11:50 am. I completed the check-in, grabbed my boarding pass and lined up for the security check.
I recalled dad's words from five years earlier. My entire world had just shattered.
"I'll always love you, buddy. Never forget that," dad had said, his eyes moist and voice choked up. "I'll see you on the weekends whenever I am home. Or you can come visit me on sets. Whatever you wish. This house is always open to you."
I had hugged him and cried openly. My parents had finally divorced and mom got my custody. I got into the car and mom drove off. We moved out of dad's house into mom's duplex within Mumbai.
The security personnel called me forward and frisked me gently. I collected my phone, laptop and backpack from the scanner and proceeded towards Customs and Immigration.
My life went through quite a few major changes after my parents split. Thankfully, money was never an issue. Dad paid for my education and child support. Mom started working again. She was still in great shape and went back to modelling. She opened a yoga studio and had Bollywood celebrities and other rich clientele lining up. She appeared as a judge in several dance, fashion and talent reality shows. Slowly and steadily, she rebuilt her brand and celebrity status.
Customs and Immigration was passed without any issue. I went to the lounge area, bought a cup of coffee and settled down on a chair.
When I had turned 18, mom had started dating again. Through common friends, she met Nakul. He was a young actor in Bollywood and 12 years her junior. The two got into a relationship. It was slightly awkward for me to read, mom being ridiculed on social media for dating a much younger guy. Vile, nasty stuff was written about her. The same social media, hypocritically, never bat an eyelid when my 50-year-old dad romanced actresses half his age in the movies. Mom had a frank discussion with me before embarking on her new relationship and I supported her wholeheartedly. She introduced me to Nakul. I had known him only by reputation and had seen a few of his movies. He seemed like a cool guy in real life and I was happy for mom.
A few months later, I moved to Texas for my higher studies. Shortly after, Nakul moved in with mom into her house.
Life at Arlington was very different than Mumbai. I had been to the US earlier on vacation with my parents. I had also spent a few months in the country, visiting my aunt and uncle, during my high school holidays. I quickly adjusted to life on the campus.
The biggest and most pleasant change was my relative anonymity. Nobody gave a shit that I was the son of a Bollywood superstar. I found this blessedly relaxing, free to go anywhere and do anything without fear of being scrutinized. I made several new friends at the university. They treated me normally just like everyone else. They became his friends because they liked me, not because they wanted to be in my parents' social circle.
I got in line with the other passengers at the gate after the announcement. The line slowly moved forward until I showed the boarding pass and got onto the bus, waiting on the tarmac.
As the bus started moving the passengers towards the plane, I remembered my high school friends bitterly. I studied at the prestigious Dhirubhai Ambani International School in Mumbai. My friends there had all been from families of Bollywood celebrities, businessmen and politicians. It was an elite school catering to the rich and influential. I had always been a popular kid. Yet, only a few weeks after my parents' divorce, many of my friends started to avoid me.
"Oh, that's strange! I thought I'd invited you. I wondered why you didn't show up," Karan said, when I had asked why he hadn't invited me to his birthday party. "No big deal, bro. Definitely next time."
Many of my 'best friends' planned outings and trips while conveniently forgetting to invite him. This sudden change was baffling yet not wholly unexpected. I realized those fuckers were waiting and watching, if I was still tight with dad even though I stayed with mom.
Anaya, my girlfriend of the time, was mercifully, more straightforward.
"Arhaan, I like you a lot. But we can't see each other anymore. Right now, you're not good for my image," she had said. "Things might change in a few years. We can absolutely be a hot couple again, once you make your Bollywood debut."
Bitch!
That was the last time I had spoken to her. The whole incident had changed my entire perspective about who I was and who my real friends were.
I boarded the United 358 and got to my seat. Storing my backpack on the overhead compartment, I settled down. Wireless headphones over my ears, I buckled in for the flight.
Most surprising phenomenon at the university had been my new friends' reactions to mom. They had absolutely freaked out when I had shown them a family picture.
"Dude, no way! That's your mom? I thought that's your sister or something," Diego said.
When Diego, Erik and Cho realized mom was a bona fide celebrity, they quickly got to her IG. They scrolled through her posts, eyes popping out.