Desi Indian Paid Sex Series

"Your pass, sir."I fish the card from my jeans pocket and surrender it to grasping, white-gloved fingers. My mugshot and the details printed beneath it areexamined with Schutzstaffel thoroughness. Each strand of my long,disobedient light brown hair, each photon reflected from the lenses of myglasses, each bristle of my moustache is subjected to the same rigorousscrutiny. A few more like this cunt at the airports and ferry terminals,and drug smuggling would be as obsolete as serfdom."Everything okay?" I ask in an effort to ease my growing frustration."It's just that I've been told to deliver this dead expensive piece ofmachinery to HMS Almandine. I can't hang around 'cause apparently theorder came from as near to the top as you can get, and if I'm late I knowfor a fact my bollocks are going to end up nailed to that flagpole. Youcan ring Derek Graveney at 20 Store if you don't--"The sentry's gaze wanders to the plastic bag resting on the frontpassenger seat. His expression becomes more. I kept seeing it stomping out of my life. Why in the fuck did I care? But for some reason that I couldn’t put my finger on, I did care, and I found myself caring for her in a way that I hadn’t for any other woman before. I avoided Marshal at work the next week, Monday I kept my office door closed the whole day. Tuesday I flew out to the manufacturing plant in Phoenix, which was good for the rest of the week. I’d managed to avoid Marshal, but the worst thing was, I keep running into Lynn in my head. I tried my damnedest to forget about Lynn, what was it about her? She was like when a song gets stuck in your head, I replayed her image over and over. It was much worse when I tried to sleep, I imagined things about her I had no reason to know. In my mind I saw the subtle curve of her calf, a scar barely visible on her knee, the smooth skin of her hip. I could smell the shampoo in her hair, and the taste of her lips was all too real to me. There were so many vivid pictures of her that.
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