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She had been my household maid. I remembered her as the girl with short hair. Snapping back into the present, I addressed her:Vikas: Yukta! What a nic... surprise.Yukta: I wanted to tell you on the first day, but you had jet lag.I sat on the kitchen counter drinking a cup of sweet tea while she made evening dinner. Time flew by as we exchanged notes, and she finished her cooking. Yukta was our old driver’s daughter. My family had sent her to school.At 19, she had an abortion, and at 21, she. I was surprised at his reluctance, I had supposed he would want to lookas tarty as possible. The dress was a parody of a pink French maid'suniform, too short and showed the little bit of cleavage he obtainedfrom the falsies, once they squeezed up the loose flesh on his chest bytightening the cords on his corset, it showed over the top of theblouse, looking like it was all him. It also took time for him to getused to the four inch heeled shoes that I locked round his ankles,although he didn't. More

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