"I put my palms together fingers pointing up in front of my chest. "Namaste, Meera."Meera smiled widely acknowledging my action. She did the same. "Na...aste Richard Sahib." She gave a little bow. This was a remnant of a traditional courtesy in India known as 'touching feet.' They didn't actually touch feet; it was symbolic. The bow demonstrated that she acknowledged me as of superior caste. I didn't see myself that way but caste is ingrained in Indian society."It's good to see you again after. His hands moved down her back and firmly grabbed her arse, squeezing it and lifting her onto the sink. She slid her tongue into his mouth and he could taste the lemons from her drink, his hands now tangled in her hair when he broke the kiss and feverishly ran his tongue down her neck and she gasped. He hooked his thumbs under the straps of her dress, moving them down her shoulders and pulling down the material until he could marvel at her breasts. He buried his face in them, engulfed in her. We were allocated to our new platoons and sections, and I was assigned as the 2i/c of number four section, six platoon, Bravo Company. The only face I recognised in my new section was Rumpole Stilkins, my former legal advisor at Aldershot.Rumpole Stilkins was a good example of the type of soldier who had been 'volunteered' for the new unit, well, at least those drawn from the Green Jackets. He was a proficient soldier, knew his job well, and carried out his duties efficiently. He was well. There was no way she did not feel my hard cock up against her. I put my hands on her hips and started to grind myself into her. She didn't object to this, so I kept holding her tight against me.It was to crowded that nobody paid attention to us. I was a bit nervous that somebody would see and react to our dirty dancing, but he were fully clothed so they could not say much.Then I felt her hand reach back and rub my cock. She definitely knew now. I felt her pull down my pants and expose my cock..