Indian Aunties.

Subah jaakar shaam ko aana tha…maine jaane se mana kar diya…gavi ko bhi maine kaha ki mere laptop pe games khelna to wo bhi maan gaya…sabhi chale gaye aur mujhe keh gaye ki main uska khayaal rakhu…thodi deer baad maine usse pucha yaar tumahri koi gf nahin hai…to usne kuch deer meri taraf dekha aur kaha ki nahin….maine kaha ohh yaar kyun aisa kyun hai…usne kaha ki use darr lagta hai larkiyon se baat karne ko..maine kaha daarr kaisa ..dekho main bhi ik ladki hun…. Main aachi hun naa…usne kaha haan…maine phir kaha yaar ik swaal puchu…usne kaha haan puchooo….Me—ladke bathroom kis jagah se karte hain…Gavi–shi…yeh kya baat kar rahe ho..apko maalum nahin..Me–maalum to hai lakin wo jagah dikhti kaisi hai…Gavi–aap kahan se karti ho…Me–tumhe dekhni hai wo jagah…Gavi—haan mujhe pata hai kahan se karte hain lakin kabhi dekhi nahin…mujhe mauka mil gaya aur main khari ho gayi aur apni jeans ki zipp kholi…uski aankhen aab badi ho gayi thi…woh tik tikayoi nigah se dekh raha tha..maine apni jeans. Nevertheless, what I really found compelling was her new friend. She was relatively tall (about 5’7”) paper thin, with a tiny, delicate frame, creamy skin, large brown eyes, and short, slicked back, coal black, hair. She wore a simple single piece dress that d****d her body as if it was still on the hanger — a flapper dress as from the 20’s which worked beautifully against Karen”s suit. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was unbelievably compelling: so diaphanously thin, so ultra-feminine, so fragile, yet, so sensuous. I had meet her. I went up to Karen and said “Hi,” and we talked for a second until she introduced me to her new friend, Morgan. Somehow, I had to find a way seeing her away from Karen. I know that sounds deceitful, but I was obsessed. As I talked with her, all I could see were her delicate features: the tiny bones, her thin, gossamer arms and swan-like neck. I could feel my heart pounding as I tried appear calm and nonchalant. Then Karen said she saw somebody she had.
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