It was certainly an awkward way to get to Jaipur. My driver Raj was either lost, stupid or both, but I didn't mention anything and just waited to see if he would eventually pull over and ask. At least the car was air conditioned, and in the sweltering heat I'd rather be inside than out. I was being reassigned from Delhi (after being reassigned from Manchester) thanks to my now-deserved reputation of ignoring work for play and taking a special delight in exploring people instead of files and documents.
Finally, Raj rolled down his window and yelled out, ignored by the first passerby, similarly by the second, and finally catching the attention of the third. As it turned out, we had missed the roads that cut in to the city; that idiot was headed to Agra! A wave of heat slugged across my face and I let out a groan, half at Raj's incompetence, half at the increasing beads of sweat on my upper lip. "Pull up the window, let's go!" I protested at my driver. He muttered something under his breath that was probably "Yes sir" but with the tone of a swear. He swerved a turn and we were now headed back to Jaipur.
Reaching the city itself brought two things: more traffic and less boredom. I watched as waves of people streamed by the car, determined young men with leather bags hanging across their chests, limping old men with wise beards and toothy smiles, groups of women laughing and chatting, their saris coloring a forever-festive scene. Someone was selling plastic toys, surely made in China. "Oh Raj, you literally always manage to drive by the busiest market in town!" I half-lamented. I was going to be late, naturally, though much preferred this to sitting in front of Colonel Whoever as he spoke about something involving the Queen, I presume.
Raj turned a sharp corner, slamming on the brakes to avoid clobbering a rickshaw, the three-wheeled devil that was literally everywhere. The screech of the tires drew some attention from the shopkeeper nearby. His eyes stuck to me as if it was my fault. I felt embarrassed for a second, as if it really were, and turned my head to get away from his still-glued gaze. To my right, a cow laying lazily in the best shade, an old man with a crooked cane, and a sprightly young woman just passing him. I followed her with my eyes while Raj and the rickshaw driver decided to start arguing. Raj's arguing was much better than his driving.
She was young, probably in her mid-to-late 20s, not thin but slender and elegant. Her footsteps were graceful, music-like not in distinct notes but almost as if a flowing melody. She was dressed in a brilliant green, detailed with an orange trim that I imagined must have delighted her when she first saw it in the market. She had passed too quickly for me to see her face, but I could imagine her: lips and lashes, for certain, with healthy cheeks and deep eyes.
"Raj! Move ahead, go slowly a little.."
Raj was finishing up his argument anyways. He must have noticed my head was turned. "Sir," he snorted, "You are up to your no-good tricks again?"
I looked at him through the mirror and chuckled. I gave Raj a hard time occasionally, but he was also my trusted friend and knew of my trouble-making in Delhi (certainly long before my commander knew). He gently pressed the pedal and the car gently glided past the girl.
I could see her now, somewhat as I had imagined, but decidedly more enchanting. She had beautiful long lashes that showed off her gleaming, almond-shaped eyes. Full, healthy lips. A cute chin and artsy nose. She had a slight flush to her cheeks. She was taller than I originally thought. Her chest was generous.
I rolled down my window, "Hey! You there, come here!" She stopped in her tracks and pointed to herself. I hadn't paid attention to her hands: soft, elegant with long, tapered fingers, small wrists wrapped in golden bangles. They moved poetically, first to fix a wisp of hair, next to reposition her top. I couldn't tell if she couldn't speak English or if she simply couldn't hear me. I tried being more direct.
"Hello, nice to meet you. You mustn't walk under this scorching sun. Come, come, let me give you a lift!"
She smiled; it was either bashful or a trick. It didn't matter to me much longer as she started walking towards the car. As she opened the door, I realized that I would be sent back to London for more severe punishment if I arrived at my station in Jaipur with a girl in tow, literally hours after being reassigned from Delhi for a similar infraction.
"Raj! Call the station and tell them the road is blocked and we're going to be a few hours late."
Raj sighed. The door was now open and she peeked down, almost asking permission again with her eyes. "Come on in!" I said, "My name's Peter, you?" She moseyed into the seat, "Hello, I'm Nisha," she said, now finally making more eye contact. She was entrancing, her accent irresistible.
"So, where are you going?" I asked, and Raj stepped on the gas.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/3audol/journey_to_jaipur_chapter_1_mf