My Indian Lady

This story about a couple is true. I've changed the people and the situation, but the emotions, the love and the discovery all happened.

When I was divorced I bought a nice small top floor flat in the city of Glasgow with a wonderful view across the city looking at the beautiful tower of the Bute Hall of the University. It was quite a quiet area and I was very happy there. I had various girlfriends but no real serious relationships. After having been married, and quite happily, for 18 years, I got divorced for reasons too complicated to explain here. I wasn't ready for a new full commitment and, besides, I'd not met a woman who made me think of that, not yet at least. I was 44 years old and fit, working out regularly at my local private health club and cycling about 300 miles a week in the summer time, less in the winter.

Just down the street and round the corner from my flat was a ubiquitous Pakistani corner shop. There seemed to be corner shops owned either by Indians or Africans all over the city, and in every city for that matter. They were always useful because they were open when no other shops were open, early in the morning, late at night and during every public holiday. Very useful. This particular shop was owned by a very nice couple, both in their 50s, and they alternated their work, but it was always one of them in the shop.

One day I went into the shop and there was a new woman behind the counter. She was Pakistani like the owners, and probably about 40 years old but with an incredibly welcoming face and very pretty. She looked at me, sizing me up, and I looked at her, sizing her up. Actually, it's bad to say it like that but, in those few seconds, that's exactly what happened. There was a bit of electricity in the air.

Her pretty face was almost without any make up apart from a very small touch of eye shadow. I liked that because I hate women with too much make up on. I always find it so false and dread seeing them in their natural state without it. That and women who smoke turn me off completely and I'll ignore even the most beautiful looking woman because of that. Pernickety or not, that's me and the way I've always been.

This woman though, apart from wearing virtually no make up, had long shiny dark hair about a third of the way drown her back and it was beautifully brushed. She was wearing a very pretty green and orange sari that looked of good quality. I must admit, though, that I know nothing about saris apart from the fact that they make Indian woman look very attractive a lot of the time. This one was one of the bare midriff variety and it showed off her nice flat stomach and her tight fitting short blouse top showing off the fullness of her breasts. They weren't big but nice and round and the whole ensemble was very pleasing to the eye.

"Hello," I said. "I haven't seen you before."

She told me, in a lovely lilting and gentle voice, but in perfect English apart from a slight Indian accent to it, that it was the first time that she had worked in the shop. She said she was a friend of the owners, lived not far away, and she was going to work there a few times a week so that the owners could have time off.

I bought a couple of items that I needed, paid and looked at her before leaving and said "See you again soon then?"

"I hope so," she replied.

I went back to my flat, not thinking much more about it. A few days later I went back to the shop, just to buy some milk actually as I'd run out, and there she was again. I hadn't thought about her being there this time, but her face lit up with a smile when she saw me and I smiled back. Maybe she smiled at everyone who went into the shop. I was the only one there the last time I saw her there and I was again the only one there this time. This smile was more than just a polite smile though, it was done with the eyes as well and it lit up her face. I smiled back, showing my delight at seeing her too.

"Hello again," I said.

"Hello," she said. "I was wondering if I would see you again."

That gave me a nice feeling inside. I got my milk and went to the cash desk with her behind it and said "You told me you live not far away. I presume you mean that you live here in the city?"

"Yes," she said. "I have a flat just off Byres Road."

Byres Road was a main street just five minutes away by car or twenty on foot and it was a road I often frequented because there are lots of nice restaurants there, my bike shop (I love cycling) and also my bank!

"Really close then," I said. "Have you lived there long?"

"Just over a year," She replied. "My husband left me for a younger model. I can't say I'm sorry he's gone, and so I'm starting a new life and enjoying it at the moment."

"Well, that makes two of us. I've been divorced for five years now. I must admit that I was the wayward one, not my wife, but I had no intention of marrying the other woman. My life just came to a junction and I realised that I had to leave and I've not had a single regret. I hope that doesn't sound hard, saying it like that, even though I had, on the whole, a good marriage. As for other women," I said, "at the risk of sounding corny, the older models are often better and some are far more good looking. Most of the younger ones tend to use too much make up and God knows what they look like when they wake up first thing in the morning with no make up on."

She gave a little giggle at that and said "I've never worn much make up. I prefer people to take me as they find me and, if they don't like what they see, that's their problem. My husband left me for his secretary whom I have seen once and she's a giggly young thing with blonde hair (she's Scottish, by the way), but you can see the dark roots and she splashes on the make up. Each to their own, but my husband has always had an eye for gullible young things to fuel his ego and libido."

"It seems that you're better off without him then. That is unless you loved him completely and you were very hurt by the way he left. From the way you've just spoken of him, though, it seems that that wasn't the case, unless I've completely taken your comments the wrong way."

"Not at all," she said. "In fact I was glad when he went and he's not left me completely penniless. I'm working here to help my best friends and to pass the time for a bit. It's nice to meet different people as they come into the shop. Some are very rude, but others are a delight to meet and speak to," she said whilst looking me straight in the eye with a lovely smile.

"I hope I come into the second category then. I don't think I've been rude to you so far have I?"

"Not at all," she said. "In fact it really gave me a lift seeing you coming in the door just now. I was wondering if I'd see you again. Do you live close by then?"

"Yes, just a hundred yards round the corner on the top floor."

"Oh that's nice. I like this area. It's quiet and away from the mainstream, but still close to all the main shops and good areas, but not too far to easily get out of town. I don't have a car though. Believe it or not I can't drive. I never wanted to and my ex always drove, even after he'd drunk too much. He'll get done one of these days. He never drove too fast though, I just worried about him getting caught."

"I have a car, I need one for my work, but I do a lot of cycling and it's certainly good being able to get out into the country quickly." I looked at my watch and suddenly realised that I had to go to work. "Gosh, I'm sorry," I said, "I have to go to work. Do you work regular hours here? Maybe we can continue our chat another day if there's no one else in the shop."

"I'd like that very much. I'm here every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday afternoon for definite and sometimes at the weekend. My name is Eila by the way," and she spelt it out for me.

"OK, I'll stop off on one of those days when I'm free. That's a nice name, Eila. I'm David. Nice talking to you."

"Bye David, and see you soon."

I left the shop.

I was working the next days that she was in the shop and so it was over a week until I was able to go again. This time, before going down to the shop, I cleaned my teeth. I don't have bad breath but I just wanted to be ready. I hoped that she'd be there. It was a Thursday afternoon and nice and sunny which always puts people into a better frame of mind.

My heart started beating a bit faster as I got nearer the shop. How stupid. I'd only spoken to her properly once but it was a nice encounter and I'm sure she liked it too. Besides, there is occasionally a time when sparks can pass between two people, and I know that this was one of them. I got to the door, which was all glass, and I saw her looking at me as I arrived. She must have seen my shadow, and her face lit up with a big smile. I walked in and, again, I was the only person there. I went straight up to the counter but she came round in front of it to meet me and we stood, a couple of feet apart, both smiling and looking at each other.

"Hello." we both said at the exact same moment. Nice.

"I was wondering if you'd be coming back." "I've been working all the other days," we both said at the same time again.

"Ah, so that's why," she said. "I was sure that was the reason and not that you didn't want to speak to me again."

I was glad that I'd cleaned my teeth as we were now only about a foot apart. I quickly look her up and down. Another nice sari with pretty little light blue shoes to match the darker blue of her sari. Again the bare midriff and the nice round breasts. Still hadn't seen her bum though as she'd always been face on to me.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Very well thanks," I replied. Just then someone else came into the shop and turned to go down one of the rows. I signalled to Eila that I'd be outside and left the shop. The client was in there for a good five minutes and I pretended to be using my mobile when he finally left. I quickly went back in and she said "I thought he'd never go. He started chatting to me, trying to chat me up actually, but his manner of speaking was terrible. Probably because I'm Pakistani and don't merit any politeness. It happens from time to time unfortunately."

"Yes, there will always be people like that. If I were to chat you up I'd be polite and as nice as could be," I said.

"Then you must be chatting me up because you're polite and as nice as could be," she said with a grin and a twinkle in her eye.

" I admit that I was looking forward to seeing you here today and hoping that you'd be here. It was lovely to see your smiling face when I opened the door."

"It was lovely to see you coming in too. I saw your shadow and just knew it was you, even before I saw you. Or maybe it was wishing it was you even before I saw you! Anyway, it was you and it's nice to see you." She suddenly looked down after saying that and then looked back into my eyes and added "That sounds like a bit of a come on as well doesn't it? I hope you don't think me forward for saying that?"

"Gosh no," I said. "It's nice to know you like talking to me as much as I like talking to you." I thought for a moment and I suddenly realised what I should say, so I started and to heck with the consequences. Some things have to be done or said or you'll forever regret not doing or saying them. So I opened my mouth and started.

"I don't suppose, instead of chatting in the shop and being interrupted by people all the time, you'd be able, or like to, meet for a chat and a coffee, or whatever you drink, one day when we're both free would you?"

"I'd love to. So much nicer than being in my flat all alone with just my thoughts."

"Terrific," I said. "Do you want to fix a time just now or do you want to wait for a while?"

"Why not fix it now? I have virtually no social life apart from meeting with a few of my women friends whenever we feel like it, so let's fix a time when we're both free and take it from there, if you're ok with that?"

"Perfect," I said. I got my diary out and we then worked out the following Friday afternoon when we were both free. "Where would you like to meet? We could meet in Byres Road if you like, plenty of choice."

"Why not," she said. "Although I'd love to see your flat one day, just to see how a divorced man lives on his own. I've never had that privilege. My ex just came home from work and sat on his backside, didn't help me in any form whatsoever. Fortunately we only had a flat, although it was a very nice one as my husband had a good well paid job, and we didn't have a garden as I'd have been occupied with that too if we had."

"I'm fairly house proud," I said, which was actually true, "and I love cooking too, although I'm vegetarian and have been for about ten years now. I'd love you to see my flat. I feel sure you'd like it as it's on the top floor and it's got a lovely south east view across the city and so gets the sun for most of the day, the sun going into the bedroom at the back for the end of the afternoon and the evening. I love it."

"Sounds gorgeous. I'm vegetarian too, have been all my life. Why don't we make it your flat then? How about just after lunch and we'll have plenty of time to chat, or you can throw me out if you get bored?"

"Even better," I said, "would you like to come for lunch as well, nothing fancy but easy as we're both veggies?"

"I'd love to," she said. "Then I can sample you cooking, see your life style, talk to you and see if the real you is as nice as the polite customer!" She grinned at me. I was already starting to like this woman who had a childish way of being, which was very nice.

We arranged a time of half eleven the following Friday. Gosh, a week and a day away. It seemed ages and I suddenly wanted to see this lovely woman a lot more. We exchanged mobile numbers just in case of any last minute problems and, just as we did that, two other people came into the shop and so I left, giving her a little wave of the hand as I went out of the door.

I had just got back into the flat when my mobile sounded and there was a message from Eila - "Next Friday is a long time to wait! I'm looking forward to it though. Just thought I'd check your number. Eila XX."

I wrote straight back - "A shame we couldn't find a sooner time. Hopefully the wait will be well worth it. You got the right number ;-) XX"

So the week passed. I couldn't go to see her in the shop as I was working and I decided to do a simple soufflé for our lunch together with individual apple charlottes for pudding. Nice and easy but pleasing on the eye at the same time. At least I hoped she'd find them pleasing. I'd wanted to send her several SMS messages all week but resisted the temptation. Heck, we were just having lunch together and I didn't want to pressure her and intrude into her life before I got to know her. Mind you, I was already hoping that we'd get closer by the end of the day. I liked this woman. She'd struck a chord in my being and it was vibrating very nicely. I felt good. I felt good about her, about the prospect of seeing her and being with her again.

On the appointed day I'd got the food ready, just the egg whites to beat for the soufflé to put it in and to cook with the Charlottes. At eleven I was just getting out of the shower when I got an SMS and it was from Eila.

"I'll be with you in half an hour, just in case you'd forgotten XX"

I wrote back straight away - "How could I forget? All ready and prepared, including me! XX"

Just before half eleven I went down to the entrance at street level. It was a nice warm sunny early May day. Nice. I didn't know from which direction she'd come as she could either come down the hill from the left or up from the right. I banked on from the left and, bang on the half hour, that's where she came from, in a taxi. I wondered why she'd done that but suddenly realised that she'd be wearing a sari again. At least, I presumed she would be, and so a taxi would be more practicable. She paid the driver and got out with a big smile on her face.

She looked absolutely stunning, no other word for it. She was wearing cream shoes, very light and pretty ones, and a ravishing cream sari with gold bits in it and a matching cream short sleeved blouse with, again, that lovely flat midriff showing. She looked a million dollars, particularly with her little white matching clutch bag. I just had a shirt and trousers on, smart ones though. I hated ties. She quickly came up to me and put a hand on each of my shoulders, our first physical contact, and kissed me. Not on the cheek but lightly on the lips. Eyes open and looking straight at me.

"I never, ever imagined you'd be waiting down at the entrance for me. What a fabulous welcome and thank you," she said.

"It was worth every step of the way," I said, "particularly seeing you in that gorgeous sari."

"I knew you'd like it. It's actually my favourite and I only wear it for best occasions and very rarely. You are, it seems, a best occasion." Again that lovely cheeky grin.

"Come. Let me show you my humble abode," I said and I took her hand in mine without thinking, she didn't pull hers away, and I led her gently up the stairs. We walked up, me in front, still hand in hand. Half way up she slipped her fingers between mine in a small sign of intimacy. I stopped and looked back down at her and squeezed her fingers. She smiled at me and squeezed back and we continued up to my front door. I'd not locked it, so we went in, hand in hand still, and I turned to reach behind her to push the door shut. That pushed me gently against her and I felt the roundness of her breasts pushing against me and her face, her mouth, were just a couple of inches from mine.

"Welcome," I said. "That was a long week, but I'm so glad you're here. I must admit that I wanted to send you an SMS several times but didn't want to intrude. So I waited."

"I wish I'd known that because I wanted to write to you too, but I thought you might be a bit annoyed and so I didn't either." Again the lovely smile.

I took my mobile out and started writing.

"What are you doing? I've only just got in and you're sending a text. That's one of my pet hates and I think I'd better tell you right now," she said. This time there was no smile. I didn't smile either because it's one of my pet hates too. I didn't say anything but, just then her phone sounded with an SMS.

"You'd better read that," I said, "then no more phones until you leave. In fact we'll both switch them off. How's that?"

She read the message and then looked up at me and I'm sure I saw a little moisture in her eyes. She was looking at me with a mixture of comprehension but also bewilderment. She was reading the short SMS that she'd just seem me writing and got all hot under the collar about. It just said - "You are stunning. Welcome into my life."

She reached up (she was about three inches shorter than me) and kissed me gently and slowly on my lips. Her eyes were shut this time and her kiss lingered like a feather, but oh so intimate, for about five seconds. Then she slowly moved back and looked at me, not saying anything, but with that questioning look in her eyes again.

"It's one of my pet hates too," I said. And I switched my mobile off and put it on the hall table. She did the same with hers and put it beside mine and then reached up and kissed me again. Again it was a light touch on the lips and that was all, but it was oh so intimate once more.

"Please show me your flat," she asked quietly, taking my hand again. So I showed her. Toilet and shower room on the right just behind her in the hallway just after the entry door and the bedroom with king size double bed (and not much more room for anything else apart from one fitted wardrobe and chest of drawers) next to it, both facing the back of the property. Then a small windowless kitchen but full mod cons in it apart from no dishwasher as there just wasn't space. Then, to the left, the lounge with the lovely view SE over Glasgow. It wasn't a big flat and certainly only just big enough for two.