???!!!???!!!???It was short and simple, but it said it all. I lifted the pen from the table and I turned the page over. I wrote a poem:Girl on a BedA ...lear and shining Jewelon the petal of a pure peach-colored flower, drifting precariously on an uncertain streamabove the sparkling ripplesthat carry her courageously to unknown ends -She loves me...The depth below is scary though.One slip and she could fall under, lost, beyond my reach forever, leaving an empty petal, drifting down the stream. When she had come down form her sexual high I hit the button turning it off. Looking over at me she could see the gleam in my eyes and knew shhe would be in for a long day. The only disappointment at work was that I wouldn’t be able to see her face everytime she came. We had been there for about an hour when I hit the button the first time as I stood up to look over the cubicles to see her getting up and almost running for the bathroom. In less than 10 minutes I got an e-mail telling me she. Me, my friend & the servant huddled up in a family van & rode there. So many people there, so many colors & smells, such a clash of senses. The Pujari, hindu priest was a mature man, no older than Daddi but he definitely works out. So this Pujari did his chants, blessed people & then for some reason my friends dragged me to be blessed by him. Don't know why since I was not Hindu, I never expressed interest in the hindu religion until Punjabi Daddi invited me to a nearby cement hut where the. I write some gay and lesbian stories, a few incest stories, but my favorite is writing about family love.”“Can I read some of your stuff,” I ask“I’ll have to think about it Jay, I don’t want you to think less of me.”“All I can say is that I have read a lot of erotica, so nothing would shock me.”“Well, I have to get going Jay, but this date was surprising, you can ask me out again if you want,” she says. “Can I use your bathroom before I go?”“Sure, first door on the right,” I respond.Brandi was.