The building looked worn down and the area was sketchy.She was the only Indian family in that area. It was dominated by African Americans and Mexican ...mmigrants. Prasad was driving a 2005 Toyota Corolla instead of the Audi A4 they saw in his pictures. He hardly took her out to fancy restaurants or bought nice dresses. He always kept stressing on ‘building a future for them with small sacrifices’.One of the tenants in the apartment was a meth head junkie. The Mexican families never bothered to. My husband and I had been with other couples before but I wasn't sure if Lucy was serious or if she was just joking with the wine loosening her lips a little. I looked at her questioningly and then at my husband. He was smiling; I think he quite fancied Lucy.Lucy looked back grinning. "Its okay," she said. "Why don't you touch it? I really don't mind." I was unsure, but moved across the boat, sitting next to Adam, and still looking at Lucy. She continued to smile and I guessed she was serious.. " Naw," I said in all honesty. "They thought I was a child molester because I live alone and own a dog." You mean Curly," he broke out laughing. "That monster poodle of yours. Damn, they must be desperate for action. That dog of yours scares most guys, how could they even think that you could use it to get close to a kid."Our conversation trailed off to sports and such. After I got caught up on the local news, I said my good-byes and headed downtown with Curly in tow on his leash. I passed a. The sweet, smoky tang of her musk slipped ghost-like through my mind before fading into the mélange of fragrance in our tiny den. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, imprinting the smell in my mind before it could escape in spite of its maddening absinthian properties. I could feel my resolve slowly eroding – or perhaps evolving – and while a small part of me feared the evolution, a growing part of me waited eagerly for the fullness of the change. The very smell of her was awakening something.
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