Helen Goes for Mr. Sunday

The Evening That Changed Everything: Part 7

Helen stared at the little girl.

"What do you mean by slave?" she asked Machhi, her eyes clouding with fear.

"I passed a massive loan for her parents a few months ago. The father put up his apartment as security. You think, what can go wrong," said Machhi. "The entire fucking building was an illegal construction and collapsed! The parents are dead. The security is gone. This one walked out as if nothing happened. A truly remarkable scene, I tell you," said Machhi, patting the girl's head hard.

The girl tightened her grip around Helen's legs.

"She obviously can't earn the tens of lakhs that she owes me. So now she is my personal slave," said Machhi. "Hell, she can't even speak!"

"What do you mean by personal slave?" said Helen, her toes curling up involuntarily.

"Well, what do you think?" Machhi winked at Helen. "Except I have never gone the distance with her. What a shame. I could do it, you see, and then get her stitched up, but the connoisseurs can tell, you see."

"What connoisseurs?" snapped Helen "What are you going to do with her?"

"Sell her, what else?" said Machhi. "It's my observation that nine-year-old virgins fetch the best price. This one is past ten, but hey, this one's different, isn't she?" Machhi bent toward the girl and plucked her cheeks. "Look at her. Will probably grow up to be something like you." The little girl started palpitating. Helen had a grim twist to her mouth.

"And mighty talented too. You want to see?" said Machhi, and pulled the girl away by her hair.

"Don't touch her!" said Helen. "Manhandling a little girl doesn't make you a man, you bastard."

Machhi dragged her farther away. "Do that sexy dance of yours," he said, taking out his mobile phone and putting a South-Indian song on.

The little girl shook her head, sobbing.

Machhi slapped the girl hard across her left cheek. The white cheek became red.

Helen froze.

"Do it!" commanded Machhi. "I'm restarting the song for the first and last time."

Machhi restarted the song, which began with some sort of metronome playing.

The little girl bent her knees, moved her feet apart, raised her arms, and bent her elbows. Then she started swaying her torso from side to side, eyebrows fluttering, and facial expressions erotic. Then with a creeping movement of her feet, she moved forward and posed again, throwing a sidelong glance at Helen and gliding her neck. Then at the next beat, she started making unbelievably graceful movements, her face a remarkable canvas of emotions. Getting her hands into various positions, she fluttered her fingers, and flexed her wrists, making eye movements in sync with her hands, her breath moving in and out at equal intervals.

Helen began to choke up. Machhi looked on proudly, doing random dance moves of his own.

The girl continued putting on a mesmerizing display of mime through the micro-movements of her facial muscles, eyelids, cheeks, and mouth, synchronized with her hand movements.

"Enough!" Machhi suddenly said, stopping the song. The girl carried on for a while, still without missing the now absent beat, before tentatively stopping, looking at Machhi anxiously.

"Buy a ticket it you want to watch more," said Machhi to Helen. "Now tell me. How much do you think she'll fetch me?" he asked Helen.

"You bastard!" said Helen.

"Though, of course, I can't wait too long. Six months at best," said Machhi, almost talking to himself. "I hope you have the money to pay off your EMIs, or you'll be putting on similar performances," said Machhi, menace dripping from his eyes. "And those will be much more than this."