Lifting her knees, the silk slips down to pool across her hips and expose the delicate folds of her intimate area. The night air touches the wetness ...f the nectar collected in her flower. Running a fingertip over her labia, she splits herself like a fig. The pinkness of her inner folds visible should someone gaze upon her. The manicured red nail tickling her sensitive nubbin with a sigh. Caressing her breasts, she teases herself into excitement. Her cream forms a pearl within her flower which. Her mother, raised in India, married at nineteen and who had spent the last seventeen years in London, was petrified of driving on the ‘wrong’ side and limited her driving of her Mercedes to dropping Rashmi at the train in the morning, and picking her up in the afternoons, with an occasional foray to some local shops. Their cook did all the grocery shopping.Rashmi’s father Amit, educated in the UK, and a vice president for a multinational bank, also drove a Mercedes and he traveled into Chicago. Not afraid are you precious? Goahead, make Joyce feel sooooo good," she says in a hot breathy tone.The bus sits there, processing, the side door open, the other guards notseeing much in the darkness, it's just the paperwork needing to becompleted and soon Joyce will be leading the inmates to processing asusual. But there's more than they realize going on."Mmmm, that's it baby, mmmmm. You like that don't you," Joyce coos, in afeigned Jane Mansfield breathy-hot tone as she moves her stiletto. I got up as she came towards me, and said, "You've changed. For the better." She sat down and ordered the same without looking at my glass.Twenty years ago, I was her first boyfriend. After school, we'd lost contact, and now was the chance to pick up where we'd left off. Two broken marriages, a c***d each, the usual stuff. "The immortal gods must have a plan for us," I said, half meaning it. The chances of running into each other on the web? Well.After dinner, I asked if she'd have another.