Desi Aunty Hot Fingring

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‘Do you speak English, Sir?’ she asked the bartender. ‘A little. What you want to know?’ ‘The bus… It had to be going back on the road again I think. We are here now for an hour and a half and all they do is watch the news. I have to get to the airport’. ‘You best come with us then’ she heard a deep male voice say behind her back. Turning around she was faced with a muscular wide shouldered 6′ tall guy with greying short hair of about 50 who spoke with an Eastern European accent. ‘That bus is not leaving anymore tonight. The capital is fallen. People are too frightened to go there. You would not be able to get a plane there. We are going to try south through the desert. You best come with us.’ Talking he pointed her to some other military looking guys sitting at a nearby table eating dinner. ‘Well my offer stands. Think about it’ and he walked over to the table again carrying some drinks. She turned back to the bartender. ‘What he says is right,’ said the man. ‘The airport is closed.. We'd been back in there for a while when she suddenly spoke. Hesitantly. "Paul?" Uh huh?" I was pouring hot red slop into jars I'd removed from the oven."Could you stop that for a second?" Hold on." I put the container back on the bench. "Yep?" I turned to face her, and noticed tears flowing down her face. "Oh, God, Heather, what's wrong?" Nothing. Really, nothing. It's just ... give me a hug?"I took her into my arms, ignoring the heat. "What's going on?" It's just ... you know when I told you about Marcus... ?" I thought we weren't going to talk about that?" I still had her in my arms, and we were both speaking quietly."Yeah, I know. We weren't. But..." She reached up and kissed me lightly. "I needed to tell you." As nice as this is, you're not making a whole lot of sense, Heather." Yeah. You know I said the problem was that I couldn't trust anyone else enough?" Yeah, I remember." Yeah. Well, I realised something just before you got here this morning." What was that?" I realised ....
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I get lonely on the road, and this is a rare opportunity to talk. Are you O.K. with that?" Yeah, I guess so," I replied. "So what do you want to know?" Well, for starters," he said, "what's in the case? Laundry for your mom to wash?" Yeah," I answered."And will she find some strange, crusty stains on it?" he asked."What the hell kind of question is that?!", I said. He reminded me that he was direct, blunt and nosy and that I shouldn't be shocked."Look," he said, "when I was your age, I jerked off a lot, and my mom probably washed a ton of underclothes, sheets and pillowcases just like yours. It's no big deal, O.K.? We're a couple of strangers who will never see each other again, so why not level with me?" O.K.," I replied. "You're right, most of what's in that case has dried semen on it."Next he asked me how often I jerked off, where and when, an so on. My initial apprehension had somehow diminished, probably due to the whisky, but also due to his remark that we'd never see each.

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