Sita The Indian Goddess

You won't find much sex in this short tale, readers. But be polite, and read it anyway. Reactions, feedback are important to us struggling writers.

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I want to share with you an experience I had last year, in summer. I was on one of my regular visits to family.

One evening, I went to a very popular restaurant with a girlfriend. It was a fixed price, unlimited self service restaurant, with a choice of Indian, Italian, Japanese, Chinese and European food all laid out in warmed bins. You eat until you can't eat any more, is the idea. Or, as I sometimes say: eat until you explode.

The table we were given was by the front window, on a dais slightly raised above the main restaurant floor, and we found ourselves looking down on a table alongside, a short distance away, occupied by a family of Indian origins. As you know, there are many descendants of Indians who came to the UK from India, which was part of the ancient British Empire, after the 39-45 War and they have integrated into the British way of life, being now third and fourth generation Brits. This family was man, wife and two children - a girl aged about 10 and an older boy.

For a moment, it occurred to me that the couple might be grandparents, but for the purposes of this story I will treat them as husband and wife, parents of the children.

The little girl especially was a bit noisy, and both kids were getting excited playing with their iphones, which first drew our attention to their table.

As I looked over, my eyes met those of the Indian woman, who was facing my way. My heart missed a beat. Those eyes were the blackest of black and seemed to sparkle just for me. I was almost transfixed, and had to force myself to look away so as not to appear impolite; but she gave me what appeared to be a genuinely warm and welcoming smile, showing perfect white teeth, so I smiled back, then looked away, slightly embarrassed. I did not want to appear to be spying and eavesdropping on their family evening.

To me, at first, this seemed like a typical Indian woman, if more attractive than most. I have seen many around the area; the Indians are often successful business people and this family looked well-to-do. She was dressed in modern clothing (not a sari), a robe which hinted at Indian style but was not classic ethnic dress. She had a curvy upper body, which I could see above the table level, but which could not be considered overweight. She had prominent breasts, which looked perfectly full and rounded, but the neck of her dress was high and showed no cleavage. Later, I would discover that her legs were covered by her long silk dress, but her slim hips belied her stunning bosom.

I sometimes watched her eat and took in the movements of her delicate, long fingered hands. Her face was lovely, her skin a light brown; her black hair was drawn back. Her age would be difficult to judge, but somewhere over 40, I guessed.

There was this certain something about her, overall, that was special. But it was her eyes which drew me in, as though to absorb my whole being.

From that moment, it seemed that every time I looked over towards this family's table (and I tried not to make it too obvious), the woman locked eyes with me and smiled. I didn't know what to think; what did this look mean? Was it innocent? Was it an invitation of some kind? Was she just naturally friendly? Was she apologising with her smile for the rowdy kids? I was puzzled, enchanted, and excited all at the same time. She was becoming irresistible to my eyes and I was already fascinated by her presence.

I was pleased that her husband, a much older man it seemed, had his back to me and was preoccupied with the children. He was thick set and swarthy, and greying. As he turned, I noticed he had a fat belly, and from his way of dressing, I guessed was a business man of some kind.

As the evening wore on, going to and from the serving area to reload my plate, at odd moments I managed to exchange a few words with this woman, when her husband and my girlfriend were not nearby - nothing really of consequence, just ordinary comments about the food. I was more and more drawn to this Indian beauty.

Then towards the end, she asked me if coffee or tea was included in the menu price, since there was no apparatus on view and she would be desperate for a cup of tea after her meal. As we spoke about this, smiling at each other, we both stood looking directly into each other's eyes and neither of us blinked; it was as though we could not tear ourselves away from the moment. She was like an Indian goddess. I wanted to drown in her eyes.

My heart was beating very fast, I was afraid she would hear it resonating. On an impulse, I leaned towards her and speaking softly said, "I am Bob, in another life, I would have liked to know you. I think you are amazingly beautiful." I could smell a discreet perfume and a hint of Indian spices. I'm sure my voice trembled with excitement.

At that moment, my girlfriend began to walk over towards the food area, so I went off nonchalantly to reception to ask about coffee and tea. When I got back to our table, the smiles across the short distance continued between us as discreetly as possible, but my girlfriend did make a comment that implied she thought someone over there was 'fancying' me. She is perceptive that way, like most women. I simply laughed it off: how could a young married Indian woman be interested on an old fart like me?

Then, the most astonishing and unpredictable thing happened. My girlfriend does not care for desserts, so I went alone to see what was on offer - ice creams, gateaux, fruit. This beautiful Indian woman also came alone over to the corner where the desserts were laid out, but instead of taking her plate, she hovered near to a small passage which led to the cloakrooms. She smiled beautifully at me and beckoned me over with a wave of her elegant hand. I was out of sight of my girlfriend now, so I walked over to this Indian beauty, who edged back along the passage towards the toilet doors. She turned around to face me, looking into my eyes in just the same way as she had all evening, and with the same gorgeous smile. But there was a perceptible change in her face, almost a frown, and seriousness in her eyes.

She came up very close to me, took both of my hands in hers, and squeezed them very gently, saying, "I should also have liked to know you in another life. My name is Sita. I know nothing about you, but your eyes tell me that you are a man of great passion. I think we could have made beautiful music together. But it can never be; we meet too late, and the world would be against us."

She spoke clear English, but with that Indian way of talking that sometimes gives the impression of mumbling. I gave a sad smile, simply nodded in such a way as to say 'I know' and to express my regret for something that was impossible. But I felt an erection forming in my pants as I gazed unblinking into her ebony eyes and enjoyed the feel of her cool skin on mine. I wanted to say 'there must be a way', I wanted to pull her into my arms in this hidden corner, but did not find the courage.

Sita then turned my hands over, palm upwards, brought them up to her breasts, and pressed on my hands, holding them against her soft but firm mounds. I felt ecstatic. The blood was pounding in my head and my cock now throbbed; this would be one of the most erotic moments that I would ever remember. Of course, she was fully dressed and there was a robe and a bra between my hands and her body. But for the merest hint of time, I caressed the breasts of this Indian beauty, felt in my palms her erect nipples standing out through the silky fabric. I also felt her heart pulsing and she let out small gasps; I knew she was also deeply moved by this moment of token surrender to me. I knew she was also a woman of great passion; in a very short period of time, across a noisy restaurant room, we had recognised the same in each other.

Still holding my hands, she now raised them to her face and kissed the back of each hand, before giving me a last, almost sad smile, letting go and turning towards the ladies' cloakroom. I watched her rear sway, committing this image to my memory, until she disappeared into the cloakroom.

I then got my dessert and returned to our table, still in a state of immense excitement. I was afraid that my girlfriend would notice my condition, but she said nothing to indicate that anything was amiss.

Soon after, we had finished our meal so it was time to leave the restaurant; the Indian family were still there, and more surreptitious glances had passed between Sita and me since our brief intimacy earlier. As we passed their table for the last time, I wanted to reach out to her in some way - a word, a gesture. But I knew it would be foolish. All that was permitted now was a smile, a look and a polite nod 'goodnight' on our way to the cash desk.

Outside, as we walked towards the car, I looked across and caught a glimpse of Sita the Indian goddess through the front window of the restaurant; her face was turned in my direction and she was smiling; I convinced myself that was a special smile for me.

I wondered if destiny would allow me to gaze upon her beauty again, one day...perhaps in another life.