Desi Wife Has An Affair, Dirty Hindi Audio

The smoke, the fire. The TV cut to the Pentagon. Shit! My aunt works there! I ran and got dressed and then sat in front of the TV, watching, waiting for news. I cried, thinking one of my favorite teachers was dead. My aunt, was she alive? The phones to Washington D.C. were busy. My mom called, I kept her updated as she continued at work. The afternoon wore on, I cried as the Towers collapsed. Panicked as the Flight Number was confirmed. The shrill ring of the phone made me jump again. I grabbed it and on a shaky breath, whispered Hello. ‘Star, she’s okay!’ ‘What? How?’ ‘Professor Jones, their car had a flat, they missed the plane! They just showed up here at the College! They didn’t even make it to Logan! They didn’t even know!’ Again the tears cascaded. Now, if only my Aunt was okay. I skipped class Tuesday evening, waiting, wondering. Every time the phone rang I snatched it up, fearing, yet needing to know. The TV stayed on well into the night as I watched in horror, the news. The house had wood floors and an open floor plan. The furniture was modern and mostly decorated in whites or grays. There were pictures on the wall from various family events. I found one with her husband and sized him up. He was of average build and didn’t seem more than four or six inches taller than her. I suppose I could take him, or at least defend myself long enough to get out if he made an appearance. We walked to the kitchen which followed the same modern theme as the rest of the floor. Stainless appliances, dark stained cabinets and granite counter tops. The pizza box from earlier was still on the counter. “How was it? The pizza?” “Tasty.” She set the beer in the bottom of the fridge, removed two from the box and set them on the counter. She closed the fridge and took a magnetic bottle opener off the door and freed the bottles from the grip of the metal caps. “Glass?” “No thanks, bottle is fine.” “Fine for me too, Jimmy. So, what did you think of my little show for you.
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