"Oh my god," she panted. There was something magical about his fingers. They were so gentle and yet so much emotion was in them. Like he'd wanted to d... this for years, had even studied how-"Senthil," she moaned, "where did you learn to do this?"He gave a sheepish grin. "Um...would you believe I read it in a book?" Ohh...whatever...whatever you're reading...keep reading it." She could hardly describe what followed. Those fingers! She let him explore her breasts, feeling them, cupping them,. The daywas warm but cloudy, and it began to sprinkle. She opened her folding pinkumbrella and held it aloft as she made her way through the throng (despitethe rain) of tourists and sightseers, past Nelson's Column (giving alittle wave to the nearest of the four enormous bronze lions at its base),straight towards the unmistakable portico of the National Gallery at thetop of the vast open square.Once inside, she headed down the entire length of the gallery to thefurthest room, as arranged.She saw. More

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