At quarter to 1 the doorbell rang. I jumped up and opened the door and right away I knew that the woman standing in front of me was Priya.“Hi Priya,...Come in”…I croaked…Priya smiled came in and shook my hand.She was quite tall around 5.6, wearing a yellow cotton sari and a matching blouse. I saw a bright eyed intelligent face framed by medium length salt and pepper hair. I knew her age as 47 and I was glad that she looked mature and intelligent.She replied hi, put down the handbag, sat down in. But she was more qualified to make these judgements than I was. If she saw me as hot, her eyes would be the mirror I would use. I told her as much and she beamed at me. Then I made sure to tell her all the things I found attractive about her. Her eyes and hair and smile and laugh. The way she told a story. The way she put me at ease.After a bit more kissing, I broke away from her lips and kissed down her neck. She moaned and threw her head back. I added in a few very gentle nibbles and her. "Look you enjoyed last night didn't you, now tell me the truth." It dosen't matter what I like, my wife would never do that again." Yes she would Steve, if you want it to happen I can make it happen. All you have to do is exactlly what I tell you to do. Just think about what I'm telling you and I will talk to you later."Marcus hung up as I sat there thinking about what he had just said to me. Why had I had I listened to him. He sounded so sure of himself, sure that my wife Barbara would do it. My sister for her part, who was 11 then didn’t see me as her brother anymore (sister in this case), just the household maid. However, as the ultimate form of humiliation, she would call me brother; nothing stings to the core then being called brother when you’re kneeling in a French maid’s uniform by your sister.I’m now 18, at least I think so, I don’t keep tracks of these things anymore. I’ve grown into quite a beautiful ‘girl,’ tall though 5’11?, but my measurements are supermodel like.