The girl’s eyes were filled with tears instantly.“Yes, how can I help you?”, I said formally.“Didi”, she exclaimed tearfully.In a moment, I recognized her. It was my baby sister Nisha (Yes, I named my daughter after my sister).Nisha (my sister) was only 11 when my father cast me out. It had been 8 years since I last saw her. With big firm breasts and a beautiful face, she had grown into a lovely woman. I threw myself on her and began kissing her face like crazy with tears flowing down my eyes. I had failed to notice that my loose towel had fallen down and I was standing naked outside my house. Like I used to do many years ago, I gave her a few smooches.“How are you, kiddo?” I asked, kissing her.“I am fine, didi”, she replied.As I welcomed my sister, a car horn honked.“It is the cab. I have to pay the bill”, she said.“Allow me”, I said, stopping her.I went inside, took the money out of my purse, and came back. I was still naked and had not realized it. As I lived alone, I was. We laughed and yelled incoherent noises of uncontainable joy and greeting, nonstop, for about twenty minutes, as we grappled and gambeled about in the hundred-plus degree desert heat. Finally, we took our blissful bizzareness inside to avoid both heat stroke and the 911 wrath of outraged neighbors.It was about ten minutes later... Wrapped in a couple of damp towels, an exquisite vision of loveliness came slowly floating down the long, shadowed hallway towards me. One long, bare arm was cocked above her head, balancing the turban about her wet hair. The slim fingers of her other hand held the horizontally striped folds of the second towel about her tall, lanky beauty. There was the barest suggestion of an impish smile playing at the corners of Shannon's mouth as each gliding stride displayed the smooth length of an incredibly pale leg. The intermittant glimpse of damp, red-gold curls, coyly peeked from under the split of the towel as she sashayed from her bath. My gaze shuddered up.
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