“You are such a bitch!” I laughed.
“I know!” she squeaked. “It gives me warm happy feelings in my tummy!” Then really howled when I poked her in said tummy, then tickled it. She ended up even more out of breath, and it took her a while to retain enough oxygen to tell me she really didn’t think she was a bitch. . . while flashing a huge smile.
I yawned, and she found herself satisfied with that. Picking a safer subject, she tried, “How much more of the temples do you have to shoot?”
“Almost done with the outside. Still got the whole inside to go.”
“There’s an inside?” came the yelp I really should have expected. . . right in the ear. Again. Also as usual, rubbing the lobe did not seem to help. “What did I tell you about that?”
“Not to do it!” she replied promptly, but her grin mitigated any type of apology. “Please tell me about the insides. Are they as fun?”
Knowing I was going to get yelled in the ear again sometime no matter how I admoshined her, or how often, I relented with a sigh and set the scene, since I had been inside on previous trips. “More depictions of gorgeous women cavorting with deities as light pours from balconies. Shadows are cast seductively over the carved walls, which is good for an imagination like yours but bad for photos.”
“Take what you can get, bub. Tell me more.”
“The Kandariya Mahadev–fat chanced I pronounced that right–Temple is considered the finest, with almost nine hundred statues inside and out. Ganesh and the seven mother goddesses are the most prominent–”
“How do you know so much?” she whispered furiously.
“I read and remember.”
“Not all of the sculptures are about sex, of course, but there’s an exuberance to their daily activities: one lady is stretching so beautifully, another is playing with a ball–which I love–another is admiring her reflection in a mirror. . .” I grinned at her.
“Better,” she proclaimed with a smirk.
“But of course there’s also the kissing caressing couples, bodies entwined in blissful union. . .”
“Poet,” she whispered, nuzzling her head against my shoulder, like she was getting ready for a nap.
“There’s one very graceful lady who’s taking a bath, but is getting out of it to peek at something, I think a wedding procession.”
“I wouldn’t get out of the bath for that,” she yawned.
“You’re not a normal girl.”
“Thank you!” she purred dangerously, then looked chagrined when I chuckled.
“You’ll like this: the images of Parvati and Shiva in the throes of amorous passion are symbolic of the cosmic union that makes the world go round.”
“That is exactly what I’m talkin’ about!”
She lost that famous exuberance when I told her I had another meeting, and since she was in no mood to go back to her hotel, I told her I trusted her enough to let her stay until I got back. Not that one should ever fully trust a redhead, she smirked to herself, then really went crazy when I told her I had a surprise for her later. . .
This meeting worked out a hell of a lot better, but when I got back to the hotel room I found her fast asleep, no doubt having frittered away all her energy in her nervous quest to figure out the surprise. . . though she was right back to hopping around aimlessly like a demented or rabid redheaded bunny when she was woken up. It was the same at dinner, where I forced her not to order soup or curry, since she’d likely miss the target with the spoon. I made a mental note not to go this route again, if the relationship lasted long enough, figuring it would be better to lie than to have her go through this again. . . or have to watch it.
Eventually the smirking driver dropped us off at an elegantly understated mansion, which only deepened the mystery in her eyes. Handing her out of the car, noticing she was still vibrating, I soothed her with voice and hand along her luscious red hair. “Old friend lives here. . . well, not so much an old friend, more like someone who owes me a favor for something from a few years back. Never thought I’d have the chance to collect. . .”
“This is not helping my nerves at all, bub!”
“That’s just because you’re crazy, and you would be even if you weren’t a redhead.”
“Can’t you just go along with it?”
“I can try,” she tried, though she sounded dubious.
Having been in the mansion before, it was easy to find the way to the room in question, with Emily surprised that we’d simply waltzed into the place without anyone greeting us, or even seeing them in the hallways. Nah, he’s fixed it so that we’re alone in here. He’s got everything planned. . .
Not to be continued. . . use your imagination