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Yahin ruk jao mere saat. Tumne apne naam nahin bataya mujhe.” She said.“Mera naam Shweta hai. Main Mumbai ki rehene waali hoon.” I informed her.“Ohh.. To yahaan sirf kaam ke silsile mein aayi ho?” She asked.“Haan.. Aur ab yahaan aagayi.” I told her playfully.“Aao kuch khaalo.” She smiled and took me to her dining table. We both sat down and had dinner together. I loved the food that we both ate. This was the first time I was eating something like this and it felt great. We both kept looking at each other all the while. I noticed her taking glances of my body over my Salwar-Kameez while I kept looking at her in that bridal wear. She looked like a perfect Queen in that attire and her brown skin matched perfectly with her Red Saree. After the dinner we both retired to her bed.“Madira paalan karogi?” she asked me offering wine in a Glass. I gladly accepted. We sat taking sips of the wine and chatting with each other. “Aapke pati nahi hain?” I asked her.“Wo dusre Raj mein gaye hue hain.. I had started forgetting her. Then today happened. Masturbating for the third time this evening, I stepped out of the common washroom. For the entire evening, a family had rented our restaurant for a birthday party. There were a lot of people attending the party.Among them was this Indian woman, a chubby figure, brown-skinned, black hair. Further, she was wearing a sleeveless deep neck blouse under a transparent blue sari. At that moment, she looked exactly like my ex-wife. Watching her turned me on.Here I need to tell you that my ex-wife Joe is not Indian. I mean, except for her appearance, nothing would indicate that she comes from India. She is a brat, a potty-mouth Brit, and a woman who dresses like an American slut. The only times she wore a sexy sari was whenever we had role-play sex.Joe would pretend to be a hot Indian bhabhi. I would be the plumber/electrician/pizza delivery boy who would satisfy her. So whenever I saw Joe wearing a sari, I would get an instant erection. This.
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Seconds later he was standing next to us. ‘Are you following us?’ Julia asked as she sipped her Vodka and Red Bull. ‘Did you want me to follow you?’ He grinned as his friend passed him a pint of Guinness. ‘Not really.’ Julia pouted then gave me a little smile and a nudge. ‘Jesus!’ he gasped as he looked at the TV screen, ‘can’t you lot go out for a drink without having to watch this load of shit?’ ‘It’s not shit,’ Julia told him, ‘and it’s the final tonight. They’re the last three.’ As they bantered about the merits of Big Brother I looked him up and down. He had close cropped hair, just like his friends, only his was flecked with grey making him look the oldest. He was a bit overweight but his arms and chest looked like he worked out in a gym. He must have been in his late forties or even fifty and had gorgeous brown eyes that twinkled like a naughty schoolboy and he had a fading suntan. We both towered above him in our heels as he sat back on the edge of a table drinking his.

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