Ordinary Indian Women's Privacy Being Violated...

The writer in question just happens to be a friend of mine. He told me what happened there on that lake in the mountains. It seems the people on Pleasant Street act the same as always, even if they’re not actually on Pleasant Street. Here’s the story of that summer, as my friend told it to me. GETTING AWAY FROM IT ALL I. The cabin I rented for the summer sat at the end of a narrow dirt road in the middle of lush, green forest. I got my suitcase and portable computer out of my car and walked toward what was to be my summer retreat. It certainly looked rustic enough, cedar shake siding, small windows facing the rear, and a large screen porch across the side that faced the sparkling blue water of the little lake. The interior was cozy, but sparsely furnished. A kitchen-living area, a bedroom and a bathroom were all there was. I looked in the bedroom. There was a king-sized bed in it. The owner of the place apparently believed in fun. If any stray women happened along, I had the perfect. Over the course of the night, he never got the chance to speak with her, but Allison noted his interest and promised to treat the girl as coldly as she could in the future. Nate, though unable to get this new girl, was certainly not going to forget her. He quickly set up a game of strip poker, and invited her to play. She didn’t accept. Nate scowled and, mightily drunk, excused himself from the party as quickly as possible. Allison saw him go. Mel didn’t. She found him slumped in his office chair with a bottle of beer, seemingly absorbed in some piece of writing. “Nate?” He leapt nearly a foot in the air. “Oh, hi Allison,” he said, “Are you, uh, having a good time?” “Yes, yes,” she said, slowly moving towards him. He felt the old feelings for her welling up inside of him, or was that the alcohol? “What are you doing here? I, uh, I’ll be back soon. I was just looking for…” She kissed him without an apology and leapt into his lap. Nate didn’t argue with her, how could he? She was.
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