Plan le soleil tombant

~Alexie Ivanov~

After a rejuvenating nap, I stripped off all my clothes, ensuring my glasses and ring stayed on at all times. I took advantage of the luxurious bath in my room for a soothing shower. The weather in Cannes proved much milder than in Paris, with the bright sun illuminating the azure sea, and a pleasant cool breeze wafting through the air—a perfect setting for a vacation. Unfortunately, I found myself confined to this vessel, and my sightseeing was limited to the expanse of the yacht.

Opting for a pair of shorts and a floral shirt, I decided to showcase my eight-pack abs, hoping the sight might serve as motivation for a certain someone. Leaving my shirt unbuttoned, I grabbed a book and ventured out to enjoy the weather.

"Albert," I called in the hallway, well aware that in affluent households such as these, it was customary for the staff to be on standby but only to appear upon request.

"Yes, sire," the butler immediately emerged from around a corner, as if he had been anticipating my call within earshot.

Pointing at the dining area on the floor below, I commanded, "Ask them to prepare the grand hall for lunch. I will be hosting Pierre."

I observed a slight twitch, a momentary raise of the butler's eyebrow in surprise. Whether he was truly shocked or not, he never revealed his genuine reactions in the presence of his masters—a true professional.

"Yes, sire," he curtsied before moving to instruct the kitchen. However, as he started down the corridor, I called him back.

"And also, before that, tell them to bring my lunch to my room. Send a girl to serve me, solitary and discreet. It would be even better if she is petite with wheatish skin and curly dark hair, perhaps South Asian. And yes, instruct her to smell like sweet mangos fresh on a summer day."

He nodded in acknowledgment of my peculiar request and turned around, well aware that such preferences were not uncommon in a place like this.

I narrowed my eyes at his retreating steps, a suspicion brewing in my mind. However, I wasn't quite certain enough about my suspicions to articulate them. With that lingering thought, I made my way back to my room and noticed at the end of the hall that Ronald the Mcdonld had returned. Fixing him with a stony glare, I inquired, "Where were you?"

A bit out of breath, the man looked about and replied flustered, "Um…just the washroom." I nodded, entering my room, well aware that he was lying and had been caught at a rather inconvenient time. Piggy and he had been busy gawking at pictures of my attractive wife, but had they been less foolish and checked, they would have realized it was merely images from an Instagram model's OnlyFans account.

Settling into the balcony that overlooked the vastness of the sea, I shook my head, muttering, "Men."

A knock on my door about half an hour later pulled me out of my thoughts. "Come in," I commanded without diverting my attention from my book.

Slowly, the door opened. Ronald entered first, followed by Albert, and then a girl in a maid outfit pushing a trolley of food. Not the classic French kind of maid attire, but a more sexualized costume that barely covered her body, with parts literally spilling out—her breasts and buttocks uncomfortably squeezed by the outfit. I raised my brow in a mix of amusement and disapproval. My, he had quite literally brought a girl who matched the exact description. Beautiful in her own right, she still didn't compare to my Angel.

Slowly, the girl and Albert worked in tandem to arrange the spread on the table set up on the balcony. Before they could finish, I glanced at the girl, my gaze sharp, and gestured for her to come closer. Uncertain, she looked at Albert, who encouraged her. With shaky legs, she approached, standing at a respectable distance. I continued to gaze down at her, noticing her fidgeting with her fingers on the thigh-length skirt she wore.

"Good...afternoon," she said, her English broken. "I am...Madhuri." I showed her my palm to stop her.

"Hmm," I eyed her, taking in all her features. Yes, Nari was way more attractive, but sometimes a man had to engage in distasteful situations as well. Well aware of the gaze on me, I commanded her, "Come, sit down." She looked at me, her eyes hazel with a hint of green, seeming unsure, but she mechanically moved towards the seat parallel to me.

"Wait," I smirked at her. Tilting my head, I pointed to my lap and continued, "I never said to sit there."

Her eyes widened on the brink of tears, but in an instant, she hid them, looking down. Holding her hand in mine, I could feel her shivering in fear. Slowly, she moved closer to me, and with an exaggerated sigh, I pulled her onto my lap. A gasp escaped her lips, and she buried her head in the crook of my shoulder. Taking in her scent, I licked her earlobe and held her firm as I squeezed her rear. But then, as if finally noticing him, I nonchalantly slid back my chair to glance at Ronald.

"My, my, my, Ronald, you can't seem to get enough of me. Didn't I tell you, darling, you ain't my type?" I made a fake sad face that made the man gulp as he proceeded to murmur, "I'll leave you, sire!" But then I told him to stop.

"While you are at it, can you tell Pierre downstairs that I would like to have a discussion with him over lunch?" I told him.

A bit confused, he looked at me. "But aren't you... having lunch?"

Slightly, I squeezed Madhuri's ass once more to elicit a whimper from her. "I'm having a pre-lunch dessert?" I winked at him, a flush rising on his cheeks as he dashed out, shutting the door behind him.

I waited for a few minutes, my smirk fading into a stoic expression, the only sound being the clinking of crockery behind me as Albert finished placing the food. My hands fell away from the girl, and I tilted my head in annoyance. The girl, still clinging to me, sobbed lightly. Sighing, I controlled the urge to push her away. After all, I was the one who had put her in this sorry state. So, I lightly poked her on the head, urging her, "Get off me, girl."

A bit startled, she instantly followed my command, hopping off my lap and scurrying away from me, her head still bowed. I directed my attention at the butler next to the table, his expression unreadable, and said, "Tell your master," I narrowed my eyes, emphasizing, "your real master that they will be getting some delight tonight, so be prepared."

A hint of glee flashed in his eyes, but he blinked it away. Instead, a new persona emerged as he smiled, for the first time since I had seen him, and bowed in an old English manner. "Sure, sire." With that, I nodded for him to leave and diverted my attention to the girl, still sniffing from her sobs.

"Hey," I called her out gently, and slowly she looked at me, her light hazel eyes now smeared in tears. "Listen, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but," I pointed at the door, "I needed that buffoon to go out."

She bit her lips, shaking her head a bit. "No...English," she explained, and I mouthed an 'oh'. Realizing she didn't understand what I was saying, I asked instead, "हिन्दी आती है?" (Do you know Hindi?) She nodded, and I conversed with her in her mother tongue, gently asking her to sit down in front of me and share the meal. Although she was a bit hesitant at first, I served for her, and quickly, she started opening up.

She told me her name was Madhuri, she was from Haryana (a state in India), and at eighteen, her parents married her off to a boy who was an NRI working in Paris. She was very excited to come here, but when she landed, not only did the boy and his parents steal her passport, but they also sold her to a place. From there, she was shipped here, and it had only been a few months of her working in this place. She had heard horrible stories about this place; however, due to her complexion and figure, the master never really called for her.

By now, we had finished the food, and I sipped on an espresso as an after-lunch dessert. Nonchalantly, I asked her, "क्या तुमको घर जाना है?" (Do you wish to go back home?)

She shook her head and replied, "वाहा मेरी फिर से शादी करा देंगे या तो मार देंगे, मैं वाहा वापस नहीं जा सकती भाई!" (If I go back, they will either get me married again or kill me. I can't go there, brother!)

"Hmm," I murmured to myself, a gleam sparkling in my head. "तो तुम्हें क्या करना है? मुझे बताओ, मैं तुम्हारा भाई हूं, तुम मुझपर विश्वास कर सकती हो!" (So tell me, what do you want to do? I am your brother; you can trust me!)

She looked down and told me, "मुझे सिलने का शौक है, मैं यहां पर फूलकारी दुपट्टे और कपड़े बेचना चाहती हूं…" (I have a passion for stitching; here, I would love to sell traditional Phulkari clothes.) I noticed a slight flush on her face, as if she was ashamed of her talent, undermining herself. I recognized such qualities reflected in someone else as well—the fragility of a girl pushed around by the world. A genuine sense of wanting to help tugged at my heart as I thought, 'What on earth has happened to me? Initially, I would just use this girl for my purpose and discard her, but why do I want to help her?'

Pushing myself off my chair, I went to my cabinet, and from a secret compartment in my luggage, I pulled out a card. Walking back, I handed the card to the girl, who looked at it in confusion. At a glance, it looked like an ordinary card, but the raised dots on it acted like Braille, sending a secret message to the receiver.

I glanced at her, bending forward and supported by my knees. I spoke to her in a serious tone, "मैं तुम्हारी मदद कर सकता हूं, पर तुम्हें कुछ करना पड़ेगा। जो शायद तुम्हें अच्छा नहीं लगे लेकिन मैं वादा करता हूं उसके बाद तुम इस इंसान के पास जाओगी जो तुम्हारी कला के हिसाब से या तो तुम्हें वापस इंडिया भेज देगा या तुम्हें धंधा करने में मदद कर सकता है।" (I can help you, but for that, you need to do something for me which you might be a bit uncomfortable with. However, after that, I promise you will meet someone who, based on your talent, will either send you back to India or help you set up your business.) When she nodded in confirmation, I began explaining my plan.

Understanding, she nodded, eager and desperate for a better life. She thought for a moment. It was a rare opportunity, and the girl's features told me that she was calculating her options. It was either trusting me and taking a chance or staying in this horrid place. Either way, she wouldn't be losing much.

After some deep thinking, she finally spoke, "वो तो ठीक है लेकिन इस प्लान क्या बोलोगे भाई?" (That's okay, but what will you say about this plan, brother?)

Getting up, I took in the vast view and smirked, "Plan le soleil tombant." (Plan " setting sun".)

Phew, I had so much fun writing this chapter! It's been a long time since I typed in Hindi, so if you find any spelling errors, please don't judge me.

As for what happened with Madhuri, it's extremely sad. However, this is a harsh reality that has been happening to a lot of people. It doesn't just end with forced marriages or illiteracy; such incidents have occurred even with literate individuals desperate for a better job or standard of living. But on a brighter note, don't worry, Madhuri won't have a tragic ending in this story.

I acknowledge that the methods Alexie uses can be crude, but it's essential to remember that actual individuals affiliated with the underworld can be even more terrible!

Please share your thoughts on the story.

XOXO, Mai