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I was lying down when she ran in and jumped onto the bed. I did not say or do anything so she climbed over me and lay down. She faced the wall, giving me her back. I ignored her and thought about Rachel. I was hard again. Karen turned around and teased me with her hands.It was a version of the catch-my-hand game I had played with Iris. It ended with me pulling Karen mostly on top of me by grabbing her hands and extending them over my head. We were face to face; I kissed her.She struggled so I let her go. I thought that would be the end of it and I could get back to reliving my fantasy. Karen played it off as a part of the hand game though. The next series ended the same way, Karen getting kissed. She struggled, but a teenage-age body wriggling on top of me just made me hornier.I turned us so we faced the wall and pressed against Karen's back. I smothered her struggles. She stopped moving so I backed off. Yet again, I thought she would leave.She did not.I looked at her back, thinking. Anna had planned to see this movie for a long time. She decided she would go even if she did look a little out of place as a single girl at a "Date" movie.The movie theater was unusually crowded this evening.There was a varied mix of patrons but Anna could tell the majority were young couples drawn to the sensual yet romantic subject matter. The shapely young redhead felt a little strange to be by herself in a crowd of obvious loving pairs. She saw the lights starting to go down low and decided to forego the usual popcorn and diet drink that Don always bought for her.Before she reached her seat, the lights began to seriously dim and she found herself in the dark climbing over various sharp pointed knees and softly yielding thighs impeding her semi-blind move to an empty seat.As she settled into the cushioned seat, Anna was aware that the last pair of legs that she brushed against belonged to a tall young man hanging on every word of the sexy blond hanging on his arm for dear life. It.
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Nearly every Sri Lankan he’d ever known had lived in the West for years, if not decades. He had never been there himself — his parents, unlike some others, had no interest in visiting. Both regularly denigrated it as a “primitive” place and considered themselves well rid of it.He’d often argued with them on why they hadn’t taught him Tamil. “Why do you want to learn that language?” his father would ask. “The whole world is learning English and you want to learn Tamil?”“Your grandfather always said that the mark of an educated man is speaking good English,” his mother would chime in. Of course, at the next party all the relatives would be happily gabbing away in Tamil — or sometimes even worse, crowding over a Tamil video — and he’d be the one person left out. Sooner or later somebody or other would always utter the tired words, “Why is it that you cannot speak your mother tongue?” Heads would nod in unified disapproval. His parents never said a thing in his defence.Manjula was.

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