Desi Girl Audition Scene 1

My husband looked at me, still unawares as to what I was doing or showing this stranger, 'What', he started to say, but I put me finger to his lips and shushed him.'Don't look around', I said quietly, 'there is a man looking at me, and he is stroking himself', I said thickly.My husband looked at me with a fixed gaze, then his eyes traversed the short distance down to my indecent pose, 'Your panties', I smiled wickedly, 'he can see everything', I murmured, as if terrified the stranger would hear my dirty confession.'Do you want him', my husband asked over and over again, softly, and I moaned, 'Yes', to each dirty mouthing, his hand stroking my inner thigh, his fingers wet with my exertions and vaginal secretions, I was being fingered in the most delicious way, and I dropped from my propped elbow onto my back and crushed my breasts as if kneading bread, the hardness of my nipples sending wave after wave of indulgent pleasure, my hips writhing on the green grass, I wanted to scream out. There was a world outside represented in these magazines, a long way from country villages and domestic drudgery, where a girl could go out for the night, dance the night away, and return home with the man of her dreams. And this man was someone who, with a little patience and the benefit of having read articles in magazines like this, would be nothing but putty in the hands of a modern Ms. Before long, it would be roses, wedding bells, a sporty Audi TT, and one of those diamonds that were featured in those decidedly erotic advertisements. Suddenly, Heather heard the familiar squawk of a startled pheasant followed by the low buzz of his wings. She jumped to her feet and looked out of the window to see Gerry’s Mazda parked in front of the cottage. He was early! She watched as he got out of the driver’s door, opened the rear door to retrieve the jacket of his suit he’d hung up, and, with a swift manoeuvre copied from The West Wing, slipped it over his shoulders. Heather hurried down.
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