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Ab woh Pooja ki chut se khel raha tha. Usne Pooja ki saari ko serkaker uper ker diya. Jisse usse Pooja ki gori jhanghe aur gili – chikni chut ab spast dhik rahi thi.Pooja:” Manoj ye tum kya ker rahe hoo. “Manoj ek dam se daar gaya aur apna haat Pooja ki chut per se haat hataliya.Manoj: ” Kuch nahi bhabhi.” “ab aap kaisa mehsus ker rahi hai.”Manoj ke hath hataaty hi Pooja ney soch ke ye to gadbad ho gaye ab us ki aag jo Manoj ne lagai thi kese bhjhy gi. Us ne sari position ko dobara sambhalny ki koshish ki.Pooja: apna haat kuy hataliya bhut accha lagraha tha, tum bhut accha malish kerte hoo.Manoj: bhabhi aapne thik hi kha mai bhut accha malish kerta hoon. Aap ke paas kaam kernese phele mai body malish ka hi kaam kerta tha. Mai her terh ki malish ker sakta hoon. Agar aap kehe to mai aapki bhi ker sakta hoon.Pooja: to phir kerone se roka kisne hai.Manoj : mai abhi tel leker aapke poore badan ki malish kerdeta hoon bhabhi.Manoj tel leker aata hai aurManoj: bhabhi aap apni ye saree utar. It was a collage of photographs of her fiancé. Her beloved Dickie smiled back at her. One picture showed him in his dress uniform and another kneeling by his armoured vehicle in the Iraqi desert. In the centre was an elegant note of condolence with the broad signature of Phillip Mountbatten, Colonel in Chief, Queen's Royal Hussars. She fought back the tears, as she thought of a gentle young man, killed near Basra almost a year ago. She gently touched the picture. Somehow, Kim felt strangely comforted by the pictures and the note from the Prince. She felt less lonely. Kim glanced again at the decorations, the tree, and the presents. She was confused and bewildered but a new strength flowed through her. Kim turned and walked towards the kitchen drying her tears as she went.Her sobbing stopped by the time she crossed the small bed-sitting room and stood before the kitchen table. Slowly she placed her purse, the chips, and the note on the table and removed her coat, dr****g it over the.
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She turned to look at me, joy in her eyes.I could not see what she had chosen and she paid for it.Holding it behind her, she approached and then took a step forward; I could feel her breath upon me.“Close your eyes English.”As I did, she kissed me softly and took my hand. In it, she placed a small cylindrical box.“Okay, you can open them now.”Looking down, it looked like a music box with a small winding mechanism at the side. It clicked as I gave it a few turns. Delicately, it played ‘La Vie En Rose.”She beamed, I did too, “English, when you hear that, you will think of me.”I nodded, “Yes, I will. It is wonderful, thank you.”I still have it to this day.-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-Elodie was my best friend, someone who I thought I lost once to chance, and someone I won without realising it. The yearning of our emotions brought us here: a statement of feelings felt and those to come. The words and the physicality took their rightful place now; they nurtured our feelings for one.

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