1. Sundara - Part 2

    Date: 6/16/2017, Categories: Exhibitionism, Author: blin18, Source: LushStories

    “Hello. Namaste,” he said, his voice was accented with the clipped precise consonants that were so familiar from my parents and their friends. “Welcome to Sundara. My name is Rajit. How can I be of assistance?” I could feel the cotton of my summer school dress brushing across my bare pussy and felt completely exposed, like I was standing on a mirrored floor. Here goes. “Namaste,” I smiled back at him. “Sorry, but now you’ve exhausted my entire Hindi vocabulary.” Voe-cabb-you-lair-ree. Oh my God, I’m talking with my parents’ accent. What’s wrong with me? “No, it is I who should be sorry,” he apologised. “This place, Sundara; it means beautiful and charming in Hindi, so I am very accustomed to serving beautiful Indian women.” He paused and looked away, realising he had just paid a brazen compliment. Looking back into my eyes with a bashful smile he said: “It is not the worst job I have ever had.” Oh, bravo, what a recovery! Aussie understatement from an Indian boy; I could feel Belinda beaming beside me. I was now positive she had scouted this store earlier. I noticed that Rajit was actually a little taller than me; a nice change from peering down at Belinda all the time. I was surprised at how he set off the Indian mannerisms that I didn’t even know I had when I realised I had lowered my eyes and was watching him through my eyelashes. What was more surprising was that I liked the way it made me feel and I found myself smiling and flashing my eyes at him. “I’m going to ... browse,” Belinda said softly, touching me on the hip with her fingertips as she stepped past and around Rajit. Once she was behind his back, she reached down and scratched the back of her thigh, lifting her dress to expose the smooth curve of her bare bottom to anyone watching, which of course was only me. I remembered why we here and felt another flush of adrenalin course through me, setting off tingles in my breasts and deep in my stomach. I hadn’t said anything since Rajit’s lovely compliment and he seemed compelled to save me by continuing as if he was still finishing a thought. “Actually it is refreshing to serve Australian girls,” he said. As he was talking, I began walking towards a row of shoes but I kept eye contact so that he would come and browse with me. “They seem …” he paused to think of the word. “Exotic?” I suggested. Goodness! Did I just say that? He laughed as if I had made a joke rather than a fool of myself. “I was going to say that they seem less inclined to judge an Indian man who is not a doctor or an IT professional.” I looked down and fingered a lovely black sling back so that he wouldn’t see the guilt on my face. I expected that he would judge me because I was Indian and instead I realised that in doing so I was judging him; not by his occupation but by his race. He was right though; many immigrant parents – not just Indians – push their children towards professions that they perceive as being more successful. It made me reflect; as progressive and ...