Lady Ann's Holiday: Chapter Thirty Three - Part Two

2

Burt hurried down from the hayloft and round to the front of the building where Harry was tapping his foot, arms folded, a slight smirk on his face.

“I’m sure you ain’t been oversleeping again Burt,” he said. “That’s right, ain’t it? You’ve been up for an hour working hard already.”

Burt froze, unsure how to respond.

“Cus of course if you ad been sleepin then I’m sure you’d be more than happy to work on this evening until all the jobs are done.”

“Er, aye sir,” replied Burt. “I’d never finish for the day without everythin bein done.”

“Good lad.” Harry winked and Burt brightened. The old man was certainly showing a different side to him now that he was back and working hard. It made him feel great to be home. This was where he belonged, not in prison.

He’d slept more deeply than ever the night before, tucked up on his pallet. He’d never felt so happy to be somewhere and had so much gratitude to his master, the Earl, for saving him from that terrible fate.

“I’d’ve thought you’da been waiting at the gate for Lady Ann to arrive Burt,” said Harry. Jeb stuck his head out the stable door and chuckled good naturedly. “She’s comin back this morning.”

Burt flushed from neck to crown. “Uh yes sir. I mean, no sir. “

“I woulda thought you’d have got spruced up for the great lady. You look like you crawled through a hedge backwards then took a bath in pigswill.”

Harry and Jeb laughed out loud, this time not so good naturedly. Burt turned a darker shade of pink. “Well I got me chores to do ain’t I,” he stammered.

“Go on, gerout of ere,” said Harry, still chuckling.“The pigs want feedin.”

“Yes sir.” Burt hurried off and got to work, starting to feel anxious.

It was really happening. Today! She was really coming back!

There were so many conflicting emotions in his mind; obviously fear of the humiliation he might feel being a servant in front of the woman he used to be, but also the delightful expectation of seeing that beautiful princess that he adored so much again. He was terrified of acting servile in front of her but also guiltily attracted to the dirty idea of that. The filthy part of his mind wanted nothing more than to be trapped in that bewildering humiliation.

He wished he knew the precise moment of her arrival. He dearly wished that. He hated not knowing; wondering what act of labour he would be caught in.

How would it feel to be sweeping the courtyard, or shoveling horse dung, or toting sacks of grain, and freeze to hear the rattle of the coach wheels; the clop of the horses? How would it feel to turn and see her for that first time?

His head felt hot, a headache scratching at the crease in his forehead. A shudder ran through him from top to toe. He felt energised and tired at the same time; restless and jittery.

But he had his jobs to get on with. Even with her ladyship coming back that didn’t give him leave to shirk his responsibilities as a working man. He’d given his word to the Earl.

He just wished he knew what would happen when she arrived.

Would she want to swap back immediately or did she plan to steal his former life?

And if she did want to swap, what would he say to her?

 

Lady Ann's Holiday: Chapter Thirty Three - Part One

 

Servant & Lady

1

Ann had a delicious breakfast in the hotel dining room with Richard, sitting quietly thoughtful.

“Ann dear, you seem of dour disposition today,” said Richard. “Are you alright?”

She smiled quickly and falsely. “I’m fine, thank you darling. Just considering what it will be like to be home. So much… has changed since I was there last.”

“Indeed it has my dear. You’re soon to be married to the most eligible bachelor in England. Your life is about to be transformed in ways you can’t possibly imagine.”

Ann gave something that was half way sigh and half smile. “You’re righter than you know.”

Richard went back to his paper and Ann toyed with her food, not thinking anymore about what decision she would make; she’d done enough dwelling on that, sleepless in the night. Instead she tried to imagine what it would be like seeing… that dirty man again for the first time in almost a month.

A smile played on her lips and then became broader. There had been such an extended rise toward their meeting again at last, it was hard to believe it was really going to happen. When the exchange had first happened, she’d had an entirely different idea of what it would be like. Back then she had purely been doing this under the orders of the former Ann, hoping for some kind of reward of affection. Now, so much had changed, making her understand exactly how low in value any reward would have been.

Now, instead, she had all the power. She was the refined lady; he a bootlicking servant. If she chose she could keep this life forever and condemn him to that one. As a lower class working man, that urchin simply had no say in the matter.

It was delightful to chew that power over in her mind, to relish the control she had over that feeble man’s destiny.

What would it be like to entirely relinquish that power? Some part of her tingled at the idea of that, the same somewhat erotic side that had existed in the original Lady Ann and drawn her to the swap in the first place – that made her push the change to the lower limits of her status and intelligence.

She practically buzzed at the concept of surrendering all her beauty and wealth in return for nothing but poverty, filth and ignorance.

She closed her eyes and shook her head.

Was she really so rash and foolish as the original Ann that she would consider such a thing purely for the masochistic excitement?

She looked at Richard’s stern brow and concentrated gaze on his newspaper.

No. She wasn’t a foolish woman. She was strong and proud and refined. But she had had her doubts. She had been desperate to be a man again – to have that strength, anonymity and sexual promiscuity.

She sighed and covered it up to avoid Richard’s querying glance by putting her cup to her lips.

They would leave right after breakfast and catch the train the rest of the way. Then she’d see.

When she saw Burt…

When she saw him, she’d know what she was going to do.

 

 

Workman: Chapter Four - Part Nine

9

We left the Hunter’s Moon together into a fresh and clear spring night. There wasn’t a soul in sight and the street was silent. The sky was cloudless and filled with stars.

“We’ll go back to yours,” said Sangeeta, slipping her arm through mine. “I don’t want to see Rasheed if I can avoid it.”

I found myself shrugging. “Sure thing. If you like.”

I had no idea what I was thinking.

We were both quite drunk but it wasn’t far to walk. Sangeeta pulled me to a stop before the end of the row of shop fronts though and put her palm flat on my chest. “Can you just hang on a second? I want to pop in here.”

She was gone inside before I’d even had time to register that it was a convenience store. I saw her recede toward the back, checking left and right with her head as she walked. I scratched my head, turning away.

What the hell was I doing?

But what did it matter? It was like Sangeeta had said. There was only here and now. Nothing else mattered. I could over-think it but the alcohol on my veins coaxed at me not to bother. I could choose to contemplate the rightness of all this or I could go with the flow. I wanted to go with the flow. I really wanted that. Just imagine this was real – that I was really Geoff – that this beautiful and funny woman wanted me. And she did want me. I knew she did. And this wasn’t pretend. I was a man.

My brain was aflow with rationalisations, but the fact was that none of them mattered and neither did the thin girly voice beneath them all saying I was doing wrong. I was simply too pissed to care.

Sangeeta emerged, grinning, hiding the bag she brought out with her, but not enough for me to see that it wasn’t just one item. The items I was thinking – hoping – she’d bought might be in there, but there were other things too. She pushed the carrier into the top of her own bag and gave me a flouncy and very feminine prod with her fingers.

“Keep your eyes forward mister,” she said. “What’s in there is none of your business.”

We walked up the hill into the Chauncy suburbs, remaining arm-in-arm. The trees were ancient. There were street lights but the overhanging foliage blocked out a lot of the light leaving long swaths of blackness between amorphous zones of faded illumination.

We alternated telling long jokes, doing full characterisations and kooky accents for the different characters. Sangeeta was hilarious and shockingly politically incorrect. As for me: normally I was terrible at jokes – forgetting punch lines and losing the thread half way through. The new me was a natural comedian. I had a brand new grasp of timing and a portfolio of different intonations from all over the world.

When we turned into my drive I was finishing a joke off about the prime minister, the queen and Jesus arguing over the last parachute in an out of control plane and Sangeeta was hooting with laughter. It rolled out of her then raised in volume and pitch, rolling out again. I was laughing too and we crashed against the front door in another long clench, buried in the shadows, lips pressed together, tongues finding each other inside our mouths. Then Sangeeta remembered the joke and broke out from the kiss with laughter and I joined her, searching for the front door key while I went on chuckling.

“Wow,” whispered Sangeeta as I led her in. “This place is huge.”

“If you like things to be huge then you ain’t seen nothing yet baby,” I replied.

She smirked saucily. “I like the sound of that big boy.”

“You want the tour?”

“Later.” She came to me in the shadowy hall and slipped her fingers into the top of my jeans, tugging my waist up against hers. I leant down to kiss her again but she stepped away playfully and said, “Which is the lounge. Through here?” She started walking.

“Yeah.”

“And that’s the kitchen back there?”

“Uh huh.”

“Good.” She ran her fingertips down the join at the front of my shirt. Go into the lounge and sit down. Relax. I’ll be through in a minute. Put some music on if you’ve got it.”

She gave me a little push on the arm to twirl me round and urge me through the doorway. Mystified and intrigued I followed her instructions and she disappeared toward the back of the house with her bag.

I put some low music on and stood waiting; then I sat. I leaned back, then forward, then I followed her suggestion and reclined in the armchair. It was a big lounge with old fashioned furniture. The only light was a lamp with a fluted and dusty shade. It gave the entire room a dim glow but left long streaking shadows that made half of everything black.

Sangeeta was gone for longer than I was expecting and the liquor was making me drowsy. I closed my eyes, enjoying the enveloping peace and the gloom. I gave the tiniest start when I heard her enter the room behind me and say, “Stay sitting there. Don’t look round yet.”

“Sounds almost frightening.”

“Just wait until you see what I’ve got.”

She set something down on the oak table behind me then appeared above my head, stroking my stubbly cheek with her smooth hand. “Relax big boy,” she said.

“What have you got there?”

“Trust me.”

I smiled, closing my eyes and Sangeeta undid the top three buttons of my shirt, probing inside with her hands, stroking my broad hairy chest then working back to my neck, kneading the muscles there; massaging my shoulders.

It felt wonderful.

Then I opened my eyes in surprise when something unfamiliar touched my face and neck; something warm, closing over it. It was a towel, steaming and hot; a delicious and soothing sensation.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Something my father taught me how to do.” She smiled. She stroked my face again then wrapped the hot towel up around my neck and cheeks. “I’m going to shave you.” She smiled again and the lamplight sparkled in her eyes.

She went out of my field of vision and I lay back, enjoying the tranquillity and heat. She let the heat sink into me for a while then she reappeared, sliding the towel off me and lathered up my neck and the sides of my face.

“I’m going to leave you with a goatee,” she said. “I think you’d look gorgeous with one.”

I shifted, unsure, still coaxed into going with the flow, but wondering what that would be like. My stubble was thick enough but it was like it would be a further transformation deeper into manhood. The initial physical change had been just the first step. The mental changes and slowly encompassed me ever since, but I still seemed to be on that journey and having a trimmed beard seemed like a doorway somehow; as though it were an acceptance of entering another stage. I felt as though if I said yes to this then I was opening myself to a deeper immersion in masculinity.

“Is that okay?” she asked.

I looked at her pretty face; her playful mischievous eyes; and I murmured the word, “Yes.”

She leant into me, putting pressure with both hands on my chest, and kissed me tenderly.

She went back to the table and returned with the razor. The top button of her blouse was undone and the dip of her cleavage was enticingly visible. I couldn’t take my eyes off it until the blade caught the light, distracting me.

With one hand on my upper arm and a knee resting on the centre of the seat, between my legs, touching my inner thighs, she started to work, gently scraping the blade across my neck and down my cheeks.

She manoeuvred round me, always touching and stroking with her spare hand and I wallowed in the growing essence of pleasure and repose. Her expression was so perfect in its concentration and mirth and the more it went on – the more she pushed the transformation on – the more I wanted her; the less I cared about who I was before. My entire existence became just this series of moments. There was no Alison in the past or future. There was only Geoff and Sangeeta.

She finished the shave and used the towel to wipe away the excess lather carefully, then she smoothed aftershave onto my cheeks and neck with her hands, not taking her eyes off mine.

I reached up and touched my smooth cheeks. They felt lovely and still warm. Then I felt the bristles of my new goatee beard and the moment I touched it, the erection that had been building in my jeans swelled.

My body moved without my command with an almost savage urgency. I went forward, grabbing Sangeeta’s shoulders and kissing her hard, opening my mouth and tilting my head, over and over, needing to devour her. She kissed my back, fondling my sides, and then suddenly she was snatching at my shirt front with an equal fervour, fumbling with the buttons; undoing one, then another.

I gently nudged her out of the way, gripping the centre of the join then ripped the shirt open down its length in one movement.

“Oh! I like it!”

“You’ll like this better,” I said, grabbing her again and flipping her up into my arms, making her cry out in alarm and delight. I carried her to the table then set her down. Her eyes were clasping all the light in the darkness; reflecting it back. She struggled with her own top, pulling it at. I waited, impatiently, then I couldn’t stop myself and I went in with my big hands and tried to help her; but it was caught on something. It wouldn’t come.

“Rip it off.”

We shared a grin, then I clutched the fabric at the seam and tore it off in one great swipe of passionate fury.

I pushed her down onto the table as she grasped now at the buttons on my jeans. Her skirt came up easily revealing long muscular tanned legs, gorgeously soft and smooth.

I wanted her so badly. Nothing could have held me back now. There was no room in my mind for the fact of my fairer sex. I was nothing but a man. It was my encompassing identity. I wanted nothing on this earth but to couple with this beautiful and delightful woman.

She slipped a sheath on me from her bag while I kissed her neck and then she fell back and I drew her toward me. My jeans and boxers dropped into a pool at my ankles. I kicked them off and marvelled at the pulsing cock unfurled between my legs. Pulling on Sangeeta’s knees I slid her to the edge of the table

“Oh yes!” she cried. “Yes! Like that!”

I grabbed her hips and thrust forward, pulling her against me, forcing my cock into her burning centre, and the sensation was like no other. It was everything. It was all the world. It was the crock of gold at the end of the rainbow. It was infinitely better than then the urgent lonely gropings of the night before. My entire body tensed rigid and a long scraping groan issued from deep in my throat.

Then again it was urgency and passion; Sangeeta, reaching up with her lovely slender fingers to caress my chest, as she curled her head back one way then the other, moaning in rising pleasure, the fingertips of her right hand stroking her lower lip back and forward.

It slowed; just the gentle rocking of our bodies, back and forth; back and forth. Sangeeta raised her torso, arms propping her up and I kissed her chest, her neck, her face, her mouth. I cradled her and her hands found my muscular shoulders, my broad pecs, my strong stomach, the top of my hips; drawing me back and forth; back and forth, just smiling at one another.

Her eyes closed and she groaned again, her head lolling back. I kissed her neck and she scratched my back with her fingernails. I gritted my teeth and whimpered from the abrupt spike of passion.

In my groin the power was building. I knew it was too soon but I needed it now. I couldn’t stop or slow down. I had to speed up. I had to ride it. I was like an animal. I had no will or desire to stop now – to draw it out. It had to be now.

My pumping became frantic and I rammed into her. I lifted her off the table, her legs wrapping round me. She started to cry out too but I could barely hear it. I had to do this now. I had to possess her in this way. She had to be mine right now!

A feeling came unlike anything I could have imagined – something completely new – but I recognised it nonetheless for the only thing it could be. Then it was gone. But I didn’t stop. I went on thrusting harder and harder. We locked our lips together and she went on stroking and scratching and groping. The feeling came back; vanished; came back; building.

I couldn’t believe it could feel so good. I couldn’t stop pumping. The sensation was starting to overwhelm and paralyse me but I didn’t let it. I went on doing it to her; with her. I went on crashing against Sangeeta until it really was too much; until the white razor edge of the ecstasy wiped out all cognisance. My legs shuddered. I barely kept us vertical.

“Oh God,” I moaned. “Oh Jesus Christ. Oh yes. Oh yes. Oh yes. Please. Yes.”

It wiped over everything. The world was gone. The room was gone. Even Sangeeta and I were gone. That nothingness lasted for a drawn out time and then the world started to creep back in. Only slowly. Only gradually. The pleasure went on buzzing throughout my body and my soul.

Soft lips found mine and we kissed again but I was breathless. I couldn’t focus enough to return it properly at first.

Then we were kissing long and passionately, still clenched at our waists, her legs still curled about me.

We kissed and kissed until we had to stop; trying to catch our breath and weary and very, very happy.

Workman: Chapter Four - Part Eight

8

I was almost jogging by the time I reached the pub toilets.

I bashed it open far harder than I should have. I still didn’t comprehend the strength in these man’s limbs. I went to the sink and splashed some water on my face then glowered at my male reflection at it dripped away, furious at myself in an unquantifiable way: for turning into a man in the first place; for doing it again; for kissing Sangeeta; for not staying and kissing her again... I had no idea of why I was angry; I just was.

I made a fist of my hand and looked at the ring in it then back to my fiery eyes. This ring was the problem and it had been from the moment I slid it on. It had solved a few problems but had caused a hell of a lot more. It had to go. It had to go right now.

I grabbed it firmly and yanked. It wouldn’t come off. I twisted and pulled; twisted and pulled, determined to get it free. It started to move and simultaneously I got the first shimmer of the vein scratching and the crackle of the initial flash. I pulled harder, sliding it up to the first joint, and the sensation spread through my body. I looked into the mirror and saw the change starting to happen.

Then a knock came at the door.

I froze, the chilled sizzling working through my veins.

The knock came again.

I couldn’t be caught in the middle of this.

I had to put the ring back on.

But I couldn’t do that! This had gone far too far already. It had to end once and for all!

I ripped the ring off.

The door started to creak open.

The crushing numbness was all over my body now. Another flash came, dazzling me.

I ran into one of the cubicles, the change in mid-flow and slammed the door behind me, throwing the bolt with slim feminine fingers, gasping to draw in air, pain streaking up my back.

I bent double then threw my head back, clattering against the inner wall. I leaned against the back tiles , winced and then felt the final shudder.

I was myself again. I was a woman; dressed in the same faun trousers and a V-necked T-shirt I’d put on that morning as Alison, my hair tied back. I touched my stomach, my shoulders, my breasts, feeling odd and uncomfortable, curiously embarrassed to have these squashy orbs on my chest. I felt the drop in height, the loss of strength. It was horrible. I didn’t feel right at all. At least I wasn’t wearing a skirt. That would have been really weird.

I closed my eyes tightly, squeezing out the end of the transformation.

Then I heard a woman’s voice and I realised consciously what I’d known the second I heard the fist knock.

“Geoff?”

Sangeeta had come into the men’s room after me. She was standing right outside by the sinks where I had been six seconds earlier. She was right the other side of the flimsy wooden cubicle door.

“Geoff? Are you in there?”

I didn’t speak. My voice box was locked down tightly. How could I speak? What could I say? I was a woman! She’d know I wasn’t Geoff the moment I opened my mouth.

I said nothing but I was breathing heavily. Her footsteps came closer to the cubicle door but she didn’t speak again. I rested my forehead on the wood, hating myself all the more.

I thought she was going to leave, but instead she started to speak again and I could sense the emotion in her voice alongside the guilt it imparted to me.

“I know you’re in there Geoff,” she said, “and... I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t know if I’ve done something or if... I don’t know... if you’re married or...”

My head gave an involuntary shake.

There was a long pause. She didn’t say anything out loud but there was a whisper of words hidden in her breath.

She was going to leave. I was being a bastard. Of course she was.

And I had to let her go. 

I opened my hand and looked down at the ring in my palm.

“Geoff...”

One footstep away. Then another. A long pause.

She was almost at the door.

I gritted my teeth and pushed the ring back on.

The pause continued as I staggered back, leaning against the inside of the cubicle in spikes of agony, then the footsteps withdrew, faster now, and the outer door opened.

“Sangeeta. Wait.”

I opened the cubicle door and stepped out, the last shimmering effects of the change chuntering away beneath my clothes. She was in the doorway, her face a mixture of hurt and anger, but when she saw me; saw the sorrow in my own expression; her fury melted away.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know... what the hell is wrong with me. It’s just that I think I—”

“It’s fine,” she said, cutting me off. “Really.” She looked away then back at me.

I took a step toward her. “Sangeeta...”

“Here’s an idea,” she said. “Cause I think people worry far too much about things nowadays, right? We’re always questioning what things are and what they mean and where they’re going, and then we get a load of hang-ups as a result. Everything gets complicated and we start freaking out and something that could have been... so simple... ends up being this big mess and—” She dropped her head back and smiled then lowered it back to face me, the smile turning into a grin. Then she gave a little sigh. “Let’s just have a bit of fun. What do you think? This isn’t the future. It isn’t tomorrow or next week. It isn’t a month from now or a year. It isn’t wedding bells, or children, or holding hands in an old folk’s home. It’s tonight. That’s all.”

The corner of my mouth tilted up into a point. “Tonight...”

She stepped into the room, letting the door drop closed. “I fancy you. You fancy me. We’re both phenomenal kissers.”

I chuckled and she giggled then we both laughed.

She looked so damn beautiful.

She came up to me. “How about we just enjoy ourselves for a bit and forget about all that other crap?”

I looked down at her. My right hand rose to her cheek. My left stroked her bare arm. We both smiled warmly and now my eyes were moist too.

“How about we--?”

I kissed her.

It was just brief and just purely sweet; or it was meant to be; but it went on and on until we’d both been swept up in it again, until we were almost pawing one another in passion and delight.

Eventually she pulled away and Sangeeta met my eyes with simple happiness. “Let’s get out of here,” she whispered.

I nodded.

 

“I normally don’t snog blokes in the loo until at least the third date.”

Workman: Chapter Four - Part Seven

7 

This was the guy that Sangeeta was supposed to marry... Rasheed.

And in that first dozen seconds while he was just standing there looking faintly indignant and the two of us were; to be honest; looking guilty and caught in the act, I sized him up, head to toe, and a series of fairly surprising thoughts occurred to me.

1)      I didn’t like him;

2)      I reckoned I could take him in a fight;

3)      I had quite the swell of jealousy;

4)      There was no way I was going to let him get his mitts on Sangeeta.

Sangeeta’s hand pulled out from under my shirt guiltily fast. She masked the movement to some extent but there was an element of naughty school children caught by a teacher to it that I didn’t like and that made me feel a spike on anger toward this intruder.

“Rasheed,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. What are...” Glance at me. “... you doing?”

She turned in her seat to face him. “I’m just talking; to a friend. I told you I was coming here to do that.”

He shifted. “You didn’t say it was a man.” The look he chucked me was like molten metal.

I wanted to speak up but I didn’t want Sangeeta to feel I was interfering and I had a bad feeling I’d sound like a lion defending his mate if I did. I decided to keep my mouth firmly shut.

“Look Rasheed,” she said. “I’m sorry to have left you on your own but you didn’t let me know you were... visiting... and I had plans already. I can spend some time with you tomorrow night.”

“I’m not sure I feel comfortable knowing you are out with another man,” said Rasheed. “I know you don’t like the idea of arranged marriages but your father has made it very clear that—”

“Hey!”

Rasheed stopped in mid-sentence. He looked at me, startled. Sangeeta turned to me as well. I paused, then I gave him a very warm king-of-the-beasts smile. “Maybe it’s none of my business,” I said. I paused again. “... but I get the impression that this young woman has been... quite explicit on her wish to have an evening out... with me.”

Rasheed took on the mien of an overfull teapot. When he started to speak I raised my hand and he stumbled over what he’d been about to say.

“I have no problem with you Rasheed,” I said, “Really. But I think you hit the nail on the head when you mentioned that Sangeeta is uncomfortable with the idea of an arranged marriage. That’s fairly clear, right?”

Rasheed looked to Sangeeta then back to me. “I suppose.”

“So if you’re really hoping to marry her, do you really think turning up unannounced and muscling your way into her flat is the best way to do it?”

Rasheed’s discomfort settled in deeper.

I gave him another warm smile, not dissimilar to what a pride’s alpha male might give to some whippersnapper with designs on the sexiest lioness. “Let me make a suggestion,” I said. “If you’re really interested in Sangeeta then respect her space and her privacy. The best thing you can do? Get back on the train to London. But if you’re determined to stick around, pack up your things and book yourself into a hotel.” I glanced at Sangeeta then dropped him a shrug. “That’s just a friendly opinion; one man to another.”

Rasheed faltered, looking between us again, then blanking me, he said, “Sangeeta... I think we should go somewhere and talk. Why don’t you come away now and we’ll do that?”

She looked down and away and then slowly back up at him. “No Rasheed,” she replied. She put her hand round mine on the table. “You heard what Geoff said; and I think he’s right. That was good advice.”

There was an extended crackling silence, then with one last molten glare at me, Rasheed turned his back on us and walked away.

I watched him go, feeling kind of stunned, not sure where any of that had come from or if it was the right thing. What the hell business of mine was it to stick my nose into this? I had no idea what the cultural etiquette was and I’d waded in like a... like a man!

I turned to Sangeeta. Her face was lowered, her brows knit. “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t know why I said all that. I shouldn’t have done your talking for you. I guess... I guess I’m an old-fashioned guy and... I don’t like to see a lady being hassled.”

“Thank you.”

“What?”

She lifted her face, turning it toward me; smiling; and her eyes were moist. “I’ve had my father battering away at me for so long; different men I didn’t choose throwing themselves into my path, trying to be modern and western but still just following all the traditional crap... and...” She gripped my hand tightly. “It just feels nice... to have someone I like for a change who stands up for me.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I sputtered for a second, then I opened my mouth to respond and before I could say anything she put her lips to mine, taking my shoulder in her fingers and pulling herself tightly against me.

My eyes fell closed and I tipped into the smouldering well of the passion, its intensity swallowing me in sublime and balmy darkness.

I put my hands to her face, holding her close and she enwrapped my in her arms. We kissed and we kissed and we kissed and we kissed.

And when we broke contact finally, the kiss went on sizzling on my lips and in my chest and in the light of Sangeeta’s beautiful eyes. For an extended moment we both hovered in that perfect uncomplicated instant, then in a thundering rush I realised what I’d done – again! – and I pulled away. I got to my feet.

Sangeeta reached after me. “What is it? What’s wrong? I thought—”

I had to get out of there, but I couldn’t do this to her again. How could I? Especially after what she’d told me in the beauty parlour that morning. Instead of breaking off completely I just stood there in an extended moment as awful as when Rasheed had been here.

This was wrong. It was completely wrong. I wasn’t this man she saw. I couldn’t keep any promises my actions were making. I was leading her on terribly.

“Geoff?”

“I...” I looked toward the exit. “I have to...”

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to go to the... men’s room. I’m sorry. I have to go. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait...”

I didn’t wait. I turned my back on her too and I hurried away as fast as I could into the darkness.