‘I guess. Why?’ ‘Do you mind if I hold it?’ Michelle asked, looking out the passenger’s side window. ‘You want to hold my hand?’ She loo...ed over at him and answered, ‘Yeah. When I’m not feeling exactly mentally connected to someone, it makes me feel better to physically touch them. So you’re still connected in some way. I don’t know. It makes me feel better.’ ‘You can hold my hand.’ She grabbed his hand and interlaced their fingers. She was right. The tension in the car immediately lessened. . The motifs on the front of the blouse, while traditional, were arranged in a manner that visually accentuated the contours of her oh-so-suckable breasts. None of this was lost on the Thakur who watched every move of his bahu, reminiscing of the time he had caressed that back and watched it weave and undulate as he rode her like a stallion, from behind. Or of those breasts, which in his mind were desperate to be released from the confines. The boisterousness of Holi is the one occasion when men. More

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