The story you are about to read happened a few years ago. It has been part of my life and a well kept secret (at-least not many were privy of the deeds that I initiated) yet here I am sitting in front of my computer and letting my fingers run through the keyboard while I float in the mood for sharing my inner most secrets.
Let me start by explaining where I am from and a little bit about me. I am from the southern part of India. South India is humid, hot, and sultry during the majority year. While southern India experiences rain during the right season, snow has never fallen and the winter temperatures hardly dip below 18 degrees. You may ask why women wear long flowing dresses that cover every inch of our bodies, but it may surprise you that most of the women, including yours truly (atleast half the time and at the insistence of my mum), we wear sarees.
Even though my parents studied in United States, one a Harvard and the other at Yale, they decided to come back to India and stay close to family and friends. This has been the major reason for my western upbringing, the other being my university education at Oxford (Oh yes! I am not a dumb arsed blonde. Mind you!!). But ever since I started living in the conservative part of India, my mum often kept tabs on my shopping.
Whenever I was about to go shopping, she would always say, “Ani, no more buying one of those tiny things alright?”
“Tiny things” meant skirts in her lingo. I would smile cheerfully and even wave at her while I left home and later that night I would return with one of two nylon minis that were secretly hiding in my handbag. Oh, in case you are wondering “Ani” is my short name that my mum calls me, but not-so-close friends call me by my full name “Anita.”
Now that you know my name, let me fill in the remaining bits. I am 22 and standing at a height of 5’7, pretty tall for an Indian girl. I was the tallest girl in my high school when I studied in India. Even now I am the tallest among my friends, as the only friends that I have now are the ones back from high school. The ones from aerobics and my dance partners don’t count, so I don’t intend to include them in my friends list. I am fair with creamish skin which is owed to a northern bloodline, even though we are settled in the south. I suppose the other feature that most guys like about me is my shoulder length perm hair. I got a perm after a lot of debate with my brother, it was his idea but I must admit, he was right about how I do look. I knew he must have been imagining me in all different kinds of hairstyles, but since he is my brother, I didn’t much think about it at the time. It was back then when I returned from Oxford and I kept maintaining the same hairstyle ever since.
There is another part of my body that guys notice about me – my 38Ds, but I think breasts are over emphasized!! Nonetheless, it’s a bit awkward while every other guy stares down at them, even while they were conversing with me. There are times where I bring my defiant self out and walk to the grocery store at the end of our street in just my half nightie. I don’t bother wearing a bra while I go out on such petty errands. Whenever I reach the ground floor of our apartment in the elevator, the first person that I encounter is our watchman. He is a good chap but I knew he got more than a good look at my taut nipples through my thin nightie. I would give him a sly smile and walk out on our street with my breasts jiggling under the thin layer of my fabric. I would notice a few turned heads and even whistles but none ever dared to approach. It’s a good thing to be admired.