Indian Maid Priya Got Fucked In Kitchen

I've been told that my own eyes, of such an unexpectedly pale blue, are startling and captivating and repellant and riveting and amazing and weird. I don't think anyone can look at them and be blasé about them. They're a curse as much as a blessing. Malia's eyes made mine look like a cheap parlor trick. They were every color except blue. Or perhaps they were as blue as her mother's, but her father's side had gathered all of the other colors of Maui to hide that fact." I'm sorry," I managed. "I didn't mean to disturb you." You didn't," she said, smiling. "I had no idea you were there until you spoke. You arrived quietly, or I would have noticed. I'm Malia." I'm Gary." Somehow it didn't feel right to offer her my hand, not yet. "You belong here." Mmmm. I live in a village above us. I learned to swim in this cove. My pinky toe met a crab for the first time right over there when I was three. I reflexively looked over to where she indicated with a nod of her head, not that it really. How can you kill a dead man?So, once again I was alone. I was dying and I was alone. What now, bright boy?Seven days later I got a call from the police informing me that the driver of my wife's car had been released on a technicality. Some rookie cop had screwed up the booking and a clever lawyer had gotten him free. The driver's name? Harve Lattimor.I waited a while; biding my time, getting things ready. Plotting and planning like I used to do while playing games when I was a boy.I sent Mom and Dad back home, and started going to class again. I returned to my little room in the dorms. I pretended to study. Pretended to care about whatever drivel they were teaching.In my spare time, of which there was far too much, I stared at the face in my bathroom mirror and wondered who the hell he was. He didn't look like the me I remembered. The face was sorta familiar, but it never seemed to move. His eyes looked like mine, but they were lifeless and dull. My hair was red. The emotionless.
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