Helen Goes for Mr. Sunday

Who is Mr. Sunday?: Part 1

The bridge was in a state of major disrepair, with bushes and moss growing indiscriminately all around it. Except for the moonlight, the only illumination came from some sort of light source--possibly a lamppost--on the land on the other side of the bridge. The water close to the shore was anything but clear, with empty cigarette packs and beer bottles and other sorts of waste and litter floating in it.

Helen plucked out a knife from underneath her kurta and brandished it at the man in front of her, stomping her feet. A metallic clang reverberated through the structure of the bridge. The man, who was perched atop the railing of the bridge, looked amused.

"Ah! And here I was, thinking I'll be the one drawing first blood," said the man, winking at Helen.

Helen studied him carefully, her stance alert.

"I'm glad you thought of bringing along a prop--it does add weight to the scene, but you know as well as I that you won't be using it in this scene," said the man cockily.

"What makes you so sure?" challenged Helen.

"Well, let me sum it up for you, so you can put your gray matter to better use, which is to figure out how you can give me an explosive head," he said snottily.

Helen brandished the knife again.

The man seemed completely unaffected.

"Look, let's face it: for all practical purposes, I'm the new owner of your property, off which you were earning rent, your only source of income. Your medical intern stipend is a joke and probably lets you buy only your monthly quota of sanitary napkins. Oh, in fact, since you are an extern, you probably don't even have a stipend! Either way, you have no money to pay your education loan EMIs, and Machhi is inches away from your ass. In short, you are screwed. Or are about to be. By whom, is your choice."

Helen stared at the man disbelievingly.

"Now, to your good fortune, I got to you first. In return for banging you at least thrice every day, I'll protect you from Machhi and Bhau, so they are left with only one another's asses to screw. Poor buggers," said the man. "What's more, I make love like a stallion!"

Helen brandished the knife again.

"Look, this is your only chance," said the man, now sounding slightly irritated. "Unless you do exactly as I say, you lose everything forever. So save your hormones for a little later, and hand over that useless little prop to me."

Helen stared hard at him for half a minute or so.

He held out his palm. Helen flung the knife off the bridge, into the water.

"Smooth move, but you are down a knife. Add Rs. 200 to your debt. In fact, my dad works in a knife factory. I'll get you one for cheap."

Helen stared at the man.

"Now, my dear, start making me happy," said the man, spreading his thighs apart.

After a few moments, Helen slowly moved closer to the man, squatted down, and moved her fingers toward his trouser's' zipper.

The man pulled out his mobile phone, started the video recorder, and pointed it toward Helen's face.

Helen slowly pulled down his zipper.

The man threw his head back.

Helen looked up at him.

"I have waited for this moment ever since I set my eyes on your impossibly beautiful body," said the man, his head still back.