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I’m still nineteen.”I stood steady while I let her gather all her stuff. Once done, she was about to run, but then I held her in place. “Please, let me go. Please!” she begged, but I had a firm grip on her arms. She had her eyes shut and was constantly looking away.“Please don’t! Please don’t!” she screamed, thinking I would kiss her again.I calmed her down and let her tell her story. It was a horrific tale. She introduced herself as Abha Kumari. She was running for over two hours to save her life. She cried uncontrollably while telling her tale.Her parents had sold all their land in their native place and converted it into money and gold as they looked for a new place to settle. They were heading towards the village where I was going when a gang of dacoits attacked their bus. These people weren’t just stealing but also killing the people.Fearing for Abha’s life, her mother sent her away with all their valuables while her father distracted the armed terrorists. As she started. “Tom, I am sooooo wet for you right now.” He turned his face to look straight into my eyes, I saw that glint, and he saw the same in my eyes. Our thighs touched each others, scissored, as we sat opposite each other. I brushed my hand along the outside of his thigh, there was no need for me to look at his crotch; I knew the affect I was having on him. “Come on,” was all he needed to say. We drained our drinks, I grabbed my bag and coat and he took my hand, as we headed for the stairs. He had rung ahead and booked one of the rooms at this small country inn. It was a pretty room, low ceiling with rustic country furniture and a bed covered in floral chintz and lacy cushions. Tom had placed a single red rose on a cushion in the middle of the bed, a small, but perfect gesture of his love for me. I sat on the bed, picked up the rose and sighed; it was so beautiful, not only visually, but in what it represented. But I couldn't take it home with me as I could not risk my husband seeing.
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