She just asked me to go to her flat tomorrow exact 6. I agreed for that but various thoughts were coming into my mind. Why she called me? Maybe she wa...ts to have sex with me? No because she is a very decent lady and she warned me not to take that topic again. I was full confused but eagerly waiting for next day.So the next day after finishing off my work I went to my room changed my dress and messaged her can I come now? She replied yes.So I went to her apartment 7th floor 704. I rang bell she. She lived in a fashionable neighborhood that came as no surprise. The house was French Mediterranean architecture and surrounded by immaculate landscaping. The furniture was elegant but a bit pretentious for my tastes. This time Dorothy Winthrop ditched the nerdy glasses. She wasn't nearly as severe looking as when we first met. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds. Her hair was no longer braided but fell loosely on her shoulders. Her clothes were simple; a loose fitting casual summer dress draped. She asked for pain-killers. I obeyed her and gave medicines. She was lying in those wet sari.I asked her that she should change her sari but she was not in that position. She asked me for blanket and guided me to the cup-board when I returned with blankets I was shocked to see her because she was in her half-necked blouse and wet petty-coat. She had removed her sari and most of her cleavage was well visible and as her blouse was also wet her tits were also clearly visible. I had never seen her. So the two of us would walk, not talking, just smoking cigarettes stolen from my mother’s drawer, sometimes holding hands. Every once in a while I would glance at the rings of smoke as they climbed towards the clouds, wrinkling my nose as the smoke’s pungent tang tickled my nostrils. But then I’d feel his hand slip into mine, never sweaty, just cool and soothing. My heart would beat so fast when he held my hand. It was such a gesture of innocence, not meant to be romantic—but somehow, as I look.