Her cheekbones were so dramatic that I once wondered if they were prosthetic, and her brow seemed to dip slightly inward, giving her portrait a look o... subtle menace. Below her portrait was a pale body of perfect curves and smooth flesh, and she displayed it generously in her plaid skirt and midriff-revealing shirt. She was beautiful, and still looked every-bit the teenager I’d known in high school. But it was all a lie. “I feel like your toy.” I muttered. Lucy smiled broadly, her eyes. “Let me guess,” I said, ”you have a cottage on Pine island right?” She looked at me again and said, ”how do you know that?” “Easy, I recognize your boat, you like to water ski in front of my cottage on weekends. I have the blue and white cottage on the south east side of the island.” Her smile was more genuine this time as I became a neighbor instead of some klutzy idiot staring at her ass. “Nice to meet you, my name is Ruth.” “Richard,” I said and as we shook hands our eyed met and smiled at. We share a woman. We’ve been sharing a woman, in fact. And now everything is out in the open. I’m not one of the ‘two wrongs don’t make a right’ crowd, believing in retribution as I do, in justice and fair play, but I’ve taken my revenge. The moral balance sheet is now even, the score settled.“I think that sometimes, people who refuse vengeance do so in the belief that being a martyr gives them some kind of moral superiority, and that they like more than vengeance. Not me. I don’t like passive. Weekends were my own, spent lazing or meeting friends and eating out. Finding going a bit hard, I wrote to my aunt if she could look for a help for me. Pat came the reply, “Can we send Krishna?” “Yes.” was my reply, and sooner than I thought, she was put on a train and sent to Delhi. I met her at the station and brought her home. She was famished as they hadn’t given her any money for the journey, except packed lunch which lasted a day. Her baggage consisted of a jute back with old torn saris.