Indian Mother Daughter Love Ch 01

Just over a month ago, when sitting at my desk in the Indian branch of an international merchant bank, my post-lunch reverie was broken by an insistent telephone. Picking up the receiver I heard the voice of our departmental manager. Her name is Belinda and she was new both to the office and to India, to which she had been sent by our bank’s New York office.

‘Sema, this is Belinda. I’m glad I caught you. Can you pop through to my office please.’

This was an unexpected summons and it was with some unease that I made my way down the corridor and approached the heavy wooden door of her office. Now 30 years of age, I had been at the bank for some five years and had rarely come before the notice of the management. Anonymity suited me. Since high-school self-confidence had not been my strong point. Though my appearance was far from unpleasing - or so I liked to think - my body had matured early and left me feeling always awkward and self-conscious.

The root of the matter was my breasts. From my mid-teens onwards they had grown to become large, full, and heavy. B and C-cup bras had given way to D and now DD-cup. My hips and arse had filled out in proportion. The result was a sense of isolation. I envied my school and college friends their lithe bodies, their graceful movements, the tight tops they could wear. I could never have worn such clothes. I felt old, matronly, frumpy beyond my years and my behaviour changed accordingly. When my girlfriends sat in the college café flirting with the male students I took refuge in the library with my books.

Academic success followed - but not social. It had been a similar story at the bank. I worked hard as a data analyst and my work was respected. But I mixed little with the other employees, male or female, and still lived with my mother. Inevitably I was very much a virgin. This gives you some idea of the kind of person that it was that entered the manager’s office that warm April afternoon - unaware that her life was about to change. Forever.

Behind the desk sat Belinda. In her late 30s, she was an attractive woman. Her hair was black and well styled, framing nicely her rounded face and clear complexion. As she rose to greet me I was struck by the way in which her grey suit hugged a firm and shapely figure. Her skirt extended to just above her knees, revealing smooth and well-toned legs. She seemed to have everything: looks, brains, wealth. I envied her.

After taking my hand in hers she led me to across to the sofa positioned by the large window of her office. I sat down, watching as she picked up the phone to order us coffee, before settling down next to me. As she sat she crossed her legs, exposing still more of her feminine assets. I couldn’t help allowing my eyes to take in her beauty. It was not a situation to which I was accustomed. But it was nice just the same.

‘You will be wondering why I’ve called you through, Sema, so I’ll get straight to the point. I want to offer you a position. I have come to realise that I need a personal assistant, someone to work with me in restructuring the company and extending its operations. I need someone I can trust and rely upon, who understands our business and local conditions. I’ve been impressed by your work since I arrived here and yours was the first name that came to mind. It will mean your sharing this office with me, and accompanying me on visits back to our New York office. There will be a lot of work. But your salary will increase - and I hope that you’ll enjoy the work. Do you think you might be interested?’

I realised this was an offer I’d be foolish to turn down and signalled my assent. By now our coffees had arrived and Belinda proceeded to fill me in on what the job entailed and her visions for the company. As I listened my admiration for this woman only increased.

Her confidence, her command of detail, her professionalism, were all impressive. Yet there was something more. I found myself drawn to her vivacity, her flirtatious habit of crossing and re-crossing her legs and running her hand through her soft hair. Above all I relished her aroma of perfume and raw femininity. I began to relax, smiling and revelling in her company. In retrospect it was clear that I was, strange to say, being prepared for what came next - though at the time it was a bolt from the blue.

‘Since we are going to be spending so much time together, Sema, I think it useful if we know a little about each other. Tell me about yourself…’

I described my background and current lifestyle and how I still lived with my mother - my father having deserted us shortly after I was born.

‘So, can I assume there is no man in your life?’ she asked.

I nodded my assent. Emboldened I responded:

‘And you?’

‘Well, I do have a partner back in New York. He’s a lawyer. I do miss him - and I'm happy to say he will be flying out to visit me in a few weeks time. But there's something else I need to tell you, Sema, something private. If it makes you uncomfortable I hope you’ll tell me.’

She fixed her gaze on me now, leaning towards me as she shared her confidence and lowered her voice.

‘I think I ought to tell you Sema that I'm actually bisexual. Over the years I've been with women as well as men - and sometimes at the same time. I do hope that’s not a problem. If it is, if it’s something that you think you will find awkward or will affect our working relationship, please tell me. I don’t want to place you in a false position.’

Now this was something I had not anticipated - indeed, I had barely even contemplated such a thing in the abstract. In fact I was so surprised at what I had heard that I hardly credited it. Surely this beautiful feminine woman could not have meant what she said - surely I had misheard? Blushing deeply I could only mumble my reply.

‘No, no, of course that’s not a problem. Not at all. I don’t mind - really.’

Belinda leant forward and placed her small hand on my knee.

‘Good, I'm so glad that’s okay. I am already looking forward to our new partnership. I'm sure we will make a great team…’

At no point did I consciously realise that this first conversation with Belinda represented a turning point in my life. But the effects were felt very soon - within hours in fact. For that night, as I lay in bed, my mind ran and re-ran the events of my meeting. And one word continually recurred to me: ‘bisexual.’ It was not an idea I’d ever given much thought to. Now it obsessed me. This woman, so beautiful, so alluring, so much a male-dream, was, by her own admission, attracted to women as well as men.

I tried to grasp what this meant. And this meant visualising what it involved, giving some content to her phrase ‘I’ve been with women as well as men.’ I began to imagine Belinda were her female lovers. I pictured her walking hand in hand with some equally beautiful woman. I imagined her sitting in a bar or restaurant with her lover, squeezing her hand, flirting, allowing feet to touch. I imagined them dancing in nightclubs, pressing their bodies together, exploring their curvaceous forms with soft hands.

Above all, I pictured them kissing. Not forceful and quick kisses of the kind I had seen men and women exchange, but slow and sensual kisses as full feminine lips met and explored their needs, tongues meeting and making sweet love, oblivious of time, wishing only to know and enjoy female attraction.

As I contemplated these scenes a warm glow suffused me. And without thinking, I found my hand sliding down between my legs. Most evenings I loved to stroke my moist pussy lips and massage my clitoris as I drifted into sleep. Occasionally I brought myself to orgasm.

But this night was different. My cunt had never been so alive, so sensitive, so hungry - and so wet. I pulled the sheet from off my hot body and spread my legs wide to give me full access to the pleasure my fingers were bringing. As I stroked my pussy with my right hand I allowed the left to squeeze my left breast which was aching in a way I’d not previously known. Instinctively my nipple had hardened and I pinched it gently, teasing it to a greater fullness. And all the while my fingers delighted in the honey that was oozing from my cunt lips.

Was this what Belinda’s cunt was like when she took her lover into her bed? Was this what it meant to meant to share your body with another woman, to open your cunt to the attentions of delicate feminine fingers? And all the while I saw Belinda exchanging kisses, sensual, deep, devouring kisses with her lesbian lover. She was luxuriating in her lover’s touch as I was in my own - making love to myself as I watched these two women in my mind. There was no question that I would orgasm, and despite my efforts to delay the moment, it surged through me uncontrollably as I bucked my pelvis, rubbing my clit against my fingers and whimpering in an agony of sensation I’d never remotely known in my life.

As I lay on the bed, recovering from the experience, I reflected upon what had happened. It had all happened so quickly, so unexpectedly. What did it mean? That I didn’t know - or perhaps dare to contemplate. All I knew was that it was deeply satisfying - as my cum-soaked fingers and the large damp patch on the sheet amply testified.

The following day I rose early with a new energy. I washed my hair and allowed it to hang free - not tying it up for convenience as was my custom. I shaved my legs too - which was not something I always did! - and selected my best skirt, which fell only a little below my knees - somewhat daring for me. Why was I taking such pains? My new job? Perhaps. But I know now that there was rather more involved. For in truth I was dressing to please Belinda.

I found Belinda already in the office when I arrived and wearing a blue pin-stripe blouse and tight blue skirt. She came forward to greet me with a broad smile.

‘Mmm, you look good today. I love your hair! Its such a gorgeous length’

She reached at out her hand and ran it through my hair, letting it tarry for some time.

‘Its so smooth and thick. I wish I had the kind of lovely hair you Indian women possess. I hope you'll wear it open from now on Sema - it makes you look delicious.’

I blushed again with embarrassment - but did not pull away. I revelled in Belinda’s praise. For the first time in my life I felt noticed and appreciated. I knew I wanted more.

This first day set the pattern of our working relationship. We worked well as a team. But equally important we gelled completely as personalities. I wanted Belinda to notice me and praise me. And she never failed to do so. As the days passed her responses and reactions increasingly shaped my dress, my demeanour, my life. My lipstick became a darker and more luscious red. I applied eye shadow for the first time. I wore more jewellery. I scented my body and manicured my nails.

In short, I underwent a transformation. From a dowdy and rather awkward blue-stocking I began to flourish, for the first time, as a woman. It was an exhilarating feeling and, to be honest, I hardly questioned the cause of this change, for if I had I would have had to come to terms with the fact that the person who was releasing this new me, for whom I was dressing and whom I so wanted to please, was a woman.

And every night, as I lay naked in bed and allowed my fingers to explore and caress my pussy, it was Belinda’s image that formed before my eyes - Belinda in various attitudes of lesbian love with a wide variety of women. And it was not long before one of the women with whom I saw her making sweet love was me.

One morning I finally plucked up the courage to wear a tight suit I’d purchased some weeks before. The skirt was short and tight, hugging my full arse and exposing my smooth legs from above the knee. The jacket too was tight and the accompanying blouse clung to my ample breasts. These were not something I’d ever wanted to expose before, and for my journey to work I covered myself in a long shawl.

Inside the office though I slid off the shawl and walked towards my dear Belinda, who was standing at the filing cabinet. When she turned to greet me she let out a low whistle.

‘Mmm yes, who looks hot today? I really love the outfit - you carry it off so well. Turn around for me.’

I did as I was instructed.

‘God, you’ve got such a great figure. This is the just the sort of thing you should be wearing. And I think you should leave the front buttons undone.’

At this she reached forward to unclasp the buttons on the front of my jacket. But such a bland description far from captures the intense magic of that moment. For my beautiful Belinda stood close before me and gazed deep into my eyes. I opened my eyes wide, desperate for her to sense the longing that dwelt within me but frightened yet to reveal my feelings. Still holding my gaze she raised her smooth hands and unclasped my buttons one by one. The fabric, hitherto pressing against my bosom, swung free. Belinda smiled and then lowered her gaze to my breasts.

‘That's better, I think? You have got such gorgeous large breasts, Sema. You certainly shouldn’t hide them away. They will make a man very hot to see them - and at least one woman too.’

She slid her hands now inside my jacket and to my waist. I took in my breath sharply. I stood rigid. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, she slid her hands up towards the curve of my breasts. Finally, she enclosed them in her slender hands, exploring the contours, and caressing me with infinite finesse.

‘I love the fullness of your breasts, Sema. They are so ripe, so soft. I wish my breasts were so large and sensuous. I love women with large breasts. You must be proud of them. I think, in this office, you needn't wear this jacket top, do you? I think I’d like to get a better look at you…’

Belinda gently slid my jacket off my shoulders and let it slip to the floor. I made not a move, but was breathing hard, my cleavage, now clearly visible against the tightness of the fabric of my top, rising and falling with my breath. I felt as if Belinda was undressing me with her gaze - I felt almost naked already, exposed to her view.

‘Doesn’t that feel better? I don’t think we need to be so formal around here in the future, do we? After all, it's only us women - we don’t need to worry about any men interrupting us now do we…?’

For the rest of that day I was in heat. Belinda had ravished me with her eyes and touched me with her feminine hands. Best of all, she had shown me how much she noticed and appreciated me. My efforts were far from in vain. I knew now I was noticed and, dare I hope it, desired?

Yet being so horny had its downside. I was perpetually in heat! In the evenings I devoted myself to relieving my tensions - surfing lesbian websites, reading lesbian stories, and pleasuring myself to orgasms. My infatuation had begun with Belinda. But this woman had opened up a world of new experience which I’d never previously dared to imagine. My lesbian fantasies filled my days and nights. What I didn't know was that fantasy was about to become reality - in a way that was, if anything, even more extraordinary than the changes that had already come over me.

I remember that evening with crystal clarity. It was hard to forget! My mother had already gone to her bedroom and I had taken a shower. After putting on my short night dress I climber into bed and turned off the light. I began to gently stroke my pussy and drift into my fantasy world when I sensed the door open and opened my eyes to see my mother walking towards the bed.

‘Sema, darling, I hope you don't mind my coming in. I couldn’t sleep and felt like some company.’

‘Of course mum, I don’t mind, please join me.’

My mother sat on the bed next to me. She reached out her hand and clasped mine.

‘You are such a dear daughter to me. You know how much I love you. I wanted to tell you that - I don’t do it often enough, do I?’

‘Oh of course you do, mum. I know how much you love me - and you know how much I love you too.’

‘And you know, Sema, that my love for you is unconditional. I’ll never judge you, you know that. I love you for what you are. You must do whatever makes you happy. You have my support, my dear, one hundred percent.’

These were not my mother's usual words. I wondered what she was driving at. I felt a little uneasy and embarrassed - after all, I’d just been stroking my cunt and imagining making love with Belinda, running over the events of the day. I had not expected to be talking with my mother! My mother leaned across now and began to stroke my forehead with her hand.

‘I know I've been teasing you about your new appearance and asking if you’ve got a new male admirer. I think I've been a little unfair. I want you to know how good you look. In fact, you’ve been looking most beautiful. I'm so proud to have you as my daughter.’

I could feel the emotion in my mother's voice. Instinctively I reached out to her and hugged her tight, pulling her generous body against mine. We held each other close for some minutes.

‘Thanks mum, that’s so sweet. I'm glad you're proud of me. But then - I'm so proud of you, for the way you looked after me and supported me when father left us. And if I look good mum its due to your genes - and you are a beautiful woman yourself.’

Smiling, my mother sat back and continued to stroke my face, letting her finger run over my warm cheeks.

‘Darling, there's something else I need to say - I don’t want to keep any secrets between us. Last week, darling, when I was tidying your room, I found the printouts you'd left by your bed. I know I shouldn’t have read them - but they caught my eye and I couldn’t help it. I'm sorry.’

Now my embarrassment turned to mortification. I knew what those sheets referred to: they were lesbian stories I’d printed out off the net. And my mother had read them! I felt humiliated and deeply upset.

‘Oh mum, I'm sorry, really sorry. They were just some things I printed out by mistake, I meant to throw them, I'm sorry…’

My mother pressed her fingers to my lips.

‘Hush, my sweet. There's no need to explain or apologise - no need at all. It's I who must apologise for reading your private things. And I want you to know my darling that I understand. There is no need to explain anything to me. I accept and love you as you are. And if there is a person whom you are attracted to, and that person is not a man, I‘ll accept and love you still.’

My head was swimming at this point. I was lost for words and again could only reach for and hug my mother, clasping her tight and pressing my face into her soft hair.

‘Oh mother, I'm so confused. I'm not sure what is happening to me. I did print out those stories, and I did enjoy them, and now I feel so degraded - I've let you down. Please forgive me, I wont do it again - I don’t know what came over me, I wasn’t thinking straight…’

‘Dear baby, you haven't let me down at all. You’ve made me so proud of you; I love you so dearly. And there is another confession I need to make.’

Again my mother pulled back slightly and now held my head between both her hands, gazing into my eyes.

‘Darling, when I started to read those stories I admit I was startled and surprised. But I could have stopped, honey, I didn’t have to keep on reading. But I did, darling, I read them through, once, twice, three times. I read them through, dear, because I enjoyed them. I thought they were beautiful. I was so moved by them. You see, darling, I understand why you read them - because I feel the same way. I've felt the same way for a long time. Its just I've never had the opportunity to discuss or share or explore my feelings. So you see that I must thank you, my daughter.’

It was my turn to be startled.

‘Mum are you saying that…’

‘Yes, I am saying that. I am sexually turned on by women - I have been for many years. Even while I was married to your father. Can you accept that, baby, can you accept your mother still?’