Uncle ke kapdo ko laat markar sofe ke neeche dhakel di aur fir jaakar darwaaza kholi. Samne papa hi khade the.Papa: Kya hua, itni der lagadi?Papa anda... aate hue living ko dekh pooche: Ashok kidhar gaya?Main: Aaa woh ha-ha-ha woh mere bathroom gaye hai.Papa: Tumhare bathroom? Waha kya karne gaya?Main: Are papa, woh unhe toilet jana tha shayad, abhi abhi hi gaye hai.Papa: Hmmm itna time kyu lagaye darwaaza kholne mein?Main: Woh uncle ko apna bathroom dikha rahi thi, usi waqt aap ghanti. But the dress she was wearing wouldn’t have been paid for from just modelling fees, it was exquisite and screamed Italian or French Couture. It appeared to be a mixture of a fine wool-crepe and chiffon that though it hugged her slim body still swayed gently, not allowing the eye to follow its precise shape too closely. Not the kind of dress I would even feel comfortable wearing for a night at the Opera, let alone something I might slip into to meet an escort-girl. ‘I’m so glad you chose that. More

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