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51 Shades of Brown, (BONUS) Excerpt #38 [Chapter 149]
Sharadhashivakarisubhashini could no longer contain her excitement.
She had loved every minute of her college experience so far. The freedom to schedule her classes. The opportunity to order pizza instead of eating leftover rotis. The possibility of tasting her first alcohol. The ability to stare at, and even touch, college boys. The chance to experiment. Try new things. Explore. Become a woman.
Her campus offered her so much.
Thus far in her life, she had been shielded from the temptation of nibbling on forbidden fruits by her strict Indian parents, whose singular obsession was maintaining her appearances as a “good little Indian girl” among the local Desi community in her hometown.
All of her new university classmates laughed in awe at her profound lack of even the most basic pop culture knowledge. Not only did she not know about the armpit hair on Miley Cyrus; she didn’t even know who the hell Miley Cyrus was.
To a neutral observer, this reflected the crowning achievement of her parents’ 18 year crusade to make sure she focused on her studies and Bharatanatyam dance lessons.
However, to Sharadhashivakarisubhashini, this felt more like a tyrannical campaign to stifle her blossoming sexuality.
But now, she on the prowl for a hot hunk of meat, and there wasn’t a damn thing her Indian parents could do to stop her.
Sharadhashivakarisubhashini and her roommate, Jenn, had ventured into a campus frat house for the first “Greek Mixer” of the year. This was an early chance for the frat members to check out the newbies rushing for sororities. This would be a veritable meat market.
When she entered the house, she gasped out of shock. She had never before witnessed such a homogenous concentration of Caucasians in one location!
The chaotic scene overwhelmed her senses. Most of the male students were already sloshed beyond comprehension. Each frat brother maintained a perfect hair part, befitting of money-hungry oil industry executives.
All of them wore khaki shorts, a tucked in collared Polo shirt, and a blazer jacket with sewed-on elbow pads.
Many gathered around a keg to chug watered-down tasteless domestic beer, slap each other’s asses in a homoerotic fashion, while only referring to each other by last name or by the term “bruh.”
Other frat brothers focused on their intense game of beer pong while yelling homophobic insults at each other while in various states of undress.
A few more frat boys gathered around a foosball table, presumably to play table soccer, but possibly to pin down yet another female victim.
Two super religious frat brothers knelt in the corner while praying and sipping beer. Dave Matthews Band’s greatest hits blasted from the stereo system, filling the chamber with echoes of his underwhelming lyrics yelled in his garbled, annoying voice.
Jenn turned to Sharadhashivakarisubhashini and exclaimed “OMG! This party is, like, so effing cray-cray!!!”
It certainly was cray-cray. No doubt.
But Sharadhashivakarisubhashini somehow felt out of place for some reason. Her name barely fit on her adhesive nametag. Her skin tone was…darker than the rest. She suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment and began to think of her mother, a powerful Aunty-Ji pillar in her community.
She heard her mother’s voice say “Chi, chi, chi! Beta, what in the bloody hell are you doing here?! This the perfect opportunity for you to review your physics problems right now! Go back to your dorm at once! You know damn right you should not be thinking about experiencing pleasures of the flesh! Focus on your studies! Focus on your studies! Focus on your studies…”
“Whatevs” thought Sharadhashivakarisubhashini. This was her time. She controlled her own destiny. And what she wanted was a man to show her the way…
At that moment, her gaze fixed on a mocha-colored figure that stood out as a man amongst boys. Unlike the other social Neanderthals, this gentleman, clad in a neatly-pressed 3 piece Italian designer suit, sipped a glass of cognac while surveying the debauchery in the frat house.
Enter Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram. A hero rises.
Both Sharadhashivakarisubhashini and Jenn stared in ecstasy at this Indian specimen who stuck out like a throbbing sore thumb. He was the only male in the room brave enough to flaunt a massive, bushy, lustrous mustache, which shimmered from coconut oil lubrication. His was the largest mustache she had ever seen. She fantasized about probing her fingers into his mustache and using the oil in his whiskers to cook a midnight snack on her roti pan in the dorm kitchen. God, she wanted to feel that coconut oil. She wanted his coconut oil on her. Everywhere.
Jenn leaned in towards Sharadhashivakarisubhashini and discretely uttered “OMG! That guy totes is a IILF!”
“A IILF?!” responded Sharadhashivakarisubhashini.
“Yeah, like, you’ve heard of MILF, right? Like, replace the M with an ‘I’ for ‘Indian’ and that’s, like, IILF!” replied Jenn, astonished that her roommate didn’t know about this common colloquialism.
And goddamn, was she right. Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram was totally a IILF in her mind.
Sharadhashivakarisubhashini began to profusely perspire when she realized that her presence had caught the attention of the Brown Knight. She started to fan herself with her term paper while this international man of mystery approached her. Upon his arrival by her side, the waves of air carried his scent of Indian spices and testosterone.
Somehow, he managed to sense her discomfort with the sociocultural segregation imposed by the college Greek system. He soothed her by saying “You don’t have to forsake your identity and assimilate into this depraved Greek system of conformity. Be your own woman.”
Sharadhashivakarisubhashini felt so at ease, and mustered up the courage to talk back to this Indian supernova celebrity. She remarked “I’m not a girl…not yet a woman…”
Sri-Sheshadariprativadibayankaram flashed a devlish smile and whispered “Bae, let’s blow this joint and watch some streaming Bollywood movies on Netflix at your dorm.”
Sharadhashivakarisubhashini seductively winked at her roommate Jenn and softly said “Join us…”
The Brown Knight then walked out the frat house door flanked by the two curious females who on the cusp of maturing into women that very night, while beginning to massage coconut oil oozing from the pores on his hands into the upper arms of the two ladies he now embraced.
As the threesome exited the frat house, the fraternity president [known only as “Peterman”] analyzed the situation by yelling “Bruhhhhhhhhhhhh…”
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