Us ney koi mana nahinkiya aur chup chaap lety rhi mainney is ka faaida utha ker us ke hnton ko choomtey hua us kee kameez utha di us k mamey zayada ba...hey to nahinthey lekin phir bhi acha size tha mainney us ka bra bhi utaar diya aur us ke mamon kobhi choosney lag awoh bhi gara honey lagi main ney us ko choomney ki intehaa kerdi us ka shayad first time tha is liye woh sharmaa bhirahi thiaur pagal bi ho rahi thimai ney us ki shalwaar ke ooper se hi us ki phuddi per haath phera to mujhe wahan. I didn't know what to do. The look on my mother's face and her bodylanguage told me that she was not bluffing. I still could not utter thewords. I confessed that I knew what she was talking about. My motherwas having none of my attempts at a vague acknowledgment. She insistedthat I describe it to her with lots of details.I hung my head in shame. That was so embarrassing and mortifying tohave to admit it to her. But I had no choice. "I dress up in yourclothes," I confessed."Excellent, I. Nash stood alongside the twitching woman watching the disappearing pariah. ‘I can’t believe I just did that, and he took my money. That’s nothing but corruption, we’re supposed to be an incorruptible society.’ Nash asked lazily: ‘Do you attend church?’ ‘Yes, I do. But what relevance is that?’ ‘It indicates your lack of worldliness, I guess.’ ‘To hell it does!’ The woman flounced up into the Chevy, slammed the door, grated the gears as she moved forward but had to wait for passing traffic to. Standoffish. Even conceited. This girl seems warm and friendly and ... and ... approachable. Suddenly, I’m looking forward to the long flight ahead.“Which school?” showing off my knowledge of the crazy quilt conglomerate of campuses that are CUNY.“Hunter. On 41st Street.”“Then you must be enrolled in the Art School.”Her smile flashes and something thrills inside me. “Yes, in Studio Art. Are you from the City? How do you know so much about CUNY?”“No, no, I’m from Houston,” suddenly aware of my.