“Okay,” it was more question then statement. Rae-Ann nodded her head, the braided knot of her dark hair dancing. “Good.” Calloused hands caugh... the edge of his shirt and hauled the dark cotton over his head, revealing work-hardened muscles, not flashy, rather the sort earned through honest sweat. He dropped the polo beside dark leather loafers, pulled the matching belt, springing the buckle, loosening the jeans to hang on bare hips. Rae-Ann slipped her tongue across dry lips, as she met his. Growing up in the middle-class suburbs of Delhi never had we hoped that destiny would bring us such a wonderful life. My dad, 40-year old Rajeev Kaul is a former stock-broker turned the general manager of a big commercial establishment. My 36-year old mom Prerna Kaul is a newly-appointed writer of some lifestyle magazine of international reputation, which by the way I never cared to know about. My sis Shereen who recently turned 18 has joined a course in fashion-designing and has her interests. More

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