If You're An Indian Wife That Wants To Be...

I was just standing there trying to get my thoughts in order when my mobile rang it was another reporter. “Bobby they had my phone and mobile numbers, I felt trapped,” she said sobbing. “I phoned for a taxi and arranged for it to meet me at the end of the lane on the main road. I threw some cloths on grabbed my handbag and just left, they followed me all the way up the lane asking horrible questions.I jumped into the taxi and offered the man an extra twenty pounds if he made sure we weren’t followed. He dropped me off at Sue’s flat in Notting Hill, thankfully she was in. I never left the flat for three days; the papers were still splashing it, what they didn’t know they made up. The worst part was I couldn’t get in touch with you, I tried, Bobby, God knows I tried. But no one in the military would help, something about bloody security. Sue didn’t have a computer. And Carol and July were out of town.” She was wiping her eyes with a tissue.“Three days ago John found out what he had. It could have been a camera of some description, or it could have been a small telescope. You wouldn't necessarily pick this up unless you had been being paying as much attention to things as I had. I wondered if my spy realised I was spying on him. One Saturday evening I came home a bit before midnight. I had drunk one too many Long Island Iced Teas with my girlfriends and I was feeling both drunk and naughty. I went to the bedroom and flicked the light on. I was almost certain my spy was peeking through the slats of his blind as usual. It was the alcohol that made me do it. Instead of closing the blind and turning the light off, I disrobed then and there. I slipped my LBN (little black number) over my shoulders and stood resplendent by the window in my black bra and hi-cut black panties. I turned around and faced away from the window and bent down ever so slightly to put my dress in the washing basket. Away from the window slightly but no doubt still visible from Unit 3A, I.
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