South Indian Bitch

AT first, I didn't know what I was looking at and it took a while tofully take in the scene. Kat was kneeling on the bed, staring at thetv. Her hands were between her legs. Finally I understood. I stoodtransfixed. On the TV a woman and a woman were pleasuring each other. Icould hear their groans. I started t feel a funny sensation in my groin.Absentmindedly, my hand crept down to that spot between my legs. Throughthe cloth of my knockers, I located my clitoris and squeezed it between twofingers. Kat's breathing was heavy and getting heavier. Then she moved overto the end of the bed. The bed was a double with metal headboard andfoot. There were two blobs on the end of posts at the corners. Kat liftedherself onto one, flashing me a tantalising glance at the fleshy wetnessbetween her legs. Her thighs were wet. She heaved herself up and down thecold metal until she came. I saw her come run down the post. As shedismounted she turned towards me. She looked surprised to see me and. "With few exceptions, what is marketed as high quality Brie here is bitter and spotted with brown mold. I needed to look far and wide to find even this middling quality cheese."It tasted fine to me, delicate and creamy in fact. I couldn't imagine it being any better, and told her so. Her response: "If I were Judith and you Holofernes, I would cut off your head for impertinence!" A rather drastic remedy, I thought.Rather than cutting off my head, she filled it with a cultural education of sorts. We haunted foreign film festivals, viewed the works of Bresson ("Le Filou"), Carné, Eisenstein, Buñuel, Fritz Lang. She assigned me books to read, and we discussed Goethe, Stendhal, and Balzac. We talked far into the night, and sometimes fell asleep in each other's arms, too fatigued to make love.And there were the long walks in Central Park, the picnics on the lawn by the statue of Sigismund Wasa, mounted, in full battle armor, with crossed swords over his head. "He was king of.
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