Indian Gay Sex Story: Misunderstood: 2

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Indian Gay Sex Story: Misunderstood: 2

Indian Gay Sex Story:

Satheesh –

I walked into the lobby at the staff entrance. I swiped my card there too and headed towards the admin office. Pinki, the admin support waved out at me from her cabin. I walked over to her and knocked. She nodded and I pulled open the door, “Morning Meri Jaan… kaisi hai re tu?” I smiled.

Read the fist part of the Indian gay sex story here!

“Hey Chef, kaise hai aap?” She smiled back. I shifted my neck tie and showed her the rash, “…had fun last night… what about you, choti kaisi hai?”

Pinki looked up at me and sighed, “Same ole, same ole… Garg is out of state. Kuch Business kaam se gaya… So no sex there. And Ishita came down with fever. So was up all night with the ice bath.”

“Hmmm..” I sang, “…you do look really tired bachcha. Chutti le lo na aaj.” I said.

“Nahi re… Next week is an annual function at her school. She is singing a solo. I need to be there for that, varna jaan legi meri, meri bachchi..” she laughed.

I moved in closer to her and kissed her on her forehead. “You do too much you know,”I said. She hugged me in return.

“Sab ki kismat aapki tarah nahi hoti Mr. Class Representative. Paach saal mein Executive ka position koi bhi nahi le paya hamarey batch mein, infact hamaery poore collage main bhi.” She said tapping me on my back. “Look at me, I’m still struggling as an Asst. Admin Director.”

“I know na… it’ll be six years coming May right?” I asked. She nodded.

“You are the youngest Executive Chef in all of Mumbai. How did you get this lucky?” She asked. I laughed. “Aap sab ki dua hai na… Mujhe to sidiyon ko chadhna hi tha.”

I hugged her again and gestured to leave. I checked my watch, “Fifteen minutes to swipe in.” She smiled back.

“Accha sun Satu”, Pinki stopped me by pulling my wrist. “…there’s this new intern starting from today. Some Kushal or Kunal fellow. Che mahine ka probation hai, so make sure he’s worth it.”

I nodded, “Hmmm… so how was the interview?” I asked. I happened to be out of the kitchen the day he was interviewed and had no idea who he was.

“Sheetal keh rahi thi ke bahut sehma sa aur chup chap sa banda hai. He is good in following orders. Hamein kya… Kaam barabar kare, bas.” Pinki retorted. I nodded. “Hmmm… True.”

“Have him wait outside my office once he’s in. Sade saat baje bulaya usse na?” I asked. Pinki nodded and showed me a thumbs up. “Main cafeteria jaa raha hoon, coffee marne. Tere liye kuch lete aaon?”

Pinki waved her hands gesturing no. She had just received a call and was blabbering something over the phone.

I moved out of the cabin and headed downstairs to the employee cafeteria for my regular cup of morning coffee and bread rolls.

Kushal –

I focused down on my wristwatch. The dial showed seven: fifty-five. Fuck, I thought. I’m bloody late. God knows what’s going to happen at work today. I left home at six-fifteen but the rains had delayed the local trains from Dadar. I’m a gonner I thought sadly. I was to catch the six: thirty-five fast to Churchgate but the rains had delayed it. I had calculated the time well in advance several times over in my head for days. With the six: thirty-five fast, I’d reach Churchgate in 20 minutes. It was a 5-minute walk to Ahliyabai Holkar Chowk. A ten-minute bus ride to the President hotel bus stop and a fifteen-minute walk to the Taj hotel from there. In completion, it would take me approximately fifty minutes to an hour to reach my final destination. So I’d still have fifteen minutes to sign in.

Sadly, today was not a day when time, weather and fate would cooperate. I struggled with the odds and somehow reached the main gates of the Taj by nine o clock. I struggled to catch my breath and arrived at the main entrance. “Staff entrance kahan hai bhai sahb?” I asked the security person. He pointed round the bend as said, “Aage se right le lo Sir. Wahan gate hai, entry kardo wahan pe.” I smiled back at him, nodded and proceeded to the curb. He was a huge dark-skinned fellow. Years of ushering guests in and out of the hotel quadrangle under the hot Mumbai afternoon sun had made him tan. Even with a poor wage and extreme temperature cycles, its people like him that I’d salute. The true soul of the people of Mumbai. They can withstand anything you hurl at them. Even today the security fellow stood there unmoved in his yellow colored raincoat all drenched and still smiling at everyone who surpassed him, ignoring his very existence.

I stopped back and smiled once again, “Bhaiya, aapka naam kya hai?” I asked. “Sahab, mera naam Kishore hai.” He replied. “Kishore Ji,” I added, “Thank you.” He waved out to me and I continued trotting on the solid sidewalk, my shoes splashing the much and water that had collected beneath it.

I entered the main security cabin and shook vigorously at my umbrella. I made sure all the excess water droplets escaped the smooth head of the device. I closed the umbrella and placed it along with my backpack on the belt of the x-ray baggage scanner at the entrance of the cabin. Post the July 2006 bomb blasts, security had tripled here. I did recall the sign in procedure, as I underwent it the day of the interview too. Once I picked up the bag and umbrella from the opposite end post scanning, the security head asked me where was I to go and who was I to meet. I informed them that I was to meet a Ms. Sheetal Dubey in HR.

They made a few calls and asked me to head inside with a security guard to usher me. I reached at the HR office and greeted Sheetal. She asked me to meet a Mrs. Pinki Katkade at the Admin Office. I met her too and she took me to meet the Head Chef, some Chef Satheesh Shetty. She asked me to wait in his cabin and he’d return after his rounds. Nervously I sat down on one of the chairs opposite his desk and peered down at my hand – nine: thirty-five, it read.

I tried exploring the kitchen across the room but his glass cabin was surrounded by blinders on all four sides. Those were also closed. The main door to the cabin was also frosted, so anything happening inside would be lost to the hustle-bustle and utter commotion that rang throughout the kitchens outside.

Around ten, a tall looking figure swang the main door open. “Abey, uss chutiye ko bol, Cederick needs the delivery by eleven. Uske paas sirf ek ghanta hai, to get his show on the road. If he can’t handle it, ask him to FUCK OFF… I’m sure I’ll get a more capable person to do my work. That Incompetent bastard…” His face was all sweaty and red.

Satheesh and Kushal –

Sathish entered his cabin and noticed a rather fragile looking newbie who’d been sitting all aimlessly staring at something far off into oblivion. He closed the door behind him, “Hi, morning. I’m Satheesh.”

Kushal smiled nervously and stood up.

“Sit… sit…” Satheesh gestured as he moved towards his side of the desk. Kushal still anxious slipped into the chair very carefully.

“Good Morning Sir…” Kushal started. “I’m Kushal Tondon. I’ve come here for the job. I’m from St. Stevens, Bandra.”

“Oh, the new intern huh?” Satheesh said smiling. “Yes…” Kushal added.

“And Kushal, why are you late? If I may ask? Weren’t you supposed to report in my seven?” he asked looking straight at the frightened boy.

“Sir, aaj barish bahut ho rahi thi. The six: thirty-five fast wasn’t on time.”, Kushal said looking down at his shoes.

“Baarish ya no bearish, you do know that this is a job and not a college lecture right?” Satheesh bellowed at Kushal. Kushal petrified out of his wits still kept his eyes focused on a dark spot at the middle of the floor, a spot he’d been focussing on for the last five minutes.

“Hello, I’m talking to you Kushal.” Satheesh snorted arrogantly. Kushal moved his gaze to Satheesh, his eyes glistening with moisture, an emotion he was trying to hide so desperately.

“Sorry Sir… kal se time pe aa jaunga. I’m so sorry.” Kushal pleaded.

Satheesh fell back in his chair and said, “Kushal, I’m sorry. You see I run a really tight shift here and I am a person who regards discipline and punctuality above all rules. My kitchen starts at seven am sharp and I need my men in here by six-thirty.”

Read the hot and steamy Indian gay sex story of the separate lives of a chef boss and his gay intern colliding into a romantic clash!

Kushal feeling overly embarrassed was trying to stop the tears from rolling down. Satheesh starring daggers at him, his face still red continued, “Aap ek kaam karo, apply for the MTP next year.” The MTP or Management Training Programme is meant for graduates who’ve just passed out from college. Its an intense year of hard work and pressure. Once they complete it, they skip the lower levels of the commis and gain a position as a demi chef of a chefs de partie. It’s what’s trending in the hotels these days. A clever strategy to get ten times the work done by just one mere person.

Kushal looked up with wet eyes, “Sir, I’m sorry. I really am. I promise that I’ll be on time tomorrow.”

Satheesh stood up from his chair and looked at the frightened little cub. “Get out of my fucking cabin Kushal and go home. You’re fired! End of discussion…” Saying this he slammed the cabin door behind him and disappeared into the garde manger section of the kitchen.

To be cont’d…

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