Hot Campus Teens

She was dizzy with the smoke. The traditional wedding had
lasted almost three hours, and the heat and oil fumes from the
ever-present lamps had combined to make Raji feel slightly queasy.
And the chanting. It went on and on and on in Hindi incomprehensible
to a girl who’d grown up with a New England accent. She was suddenly
homesick - for America, for Connecticut, for forests and hills and
snow and people you didn’t have to watch every word around for fear of
treading on some custom you didn’t understand. Despite the cold and
pain that had driven her to this wedding in the baking heat of New
Delhi, Connecticut was home. And it was much, much too late to go
back. She was married. The wedding reception was ending now, and it
would soon be time to leave with this kind-seeming stranger, to go to
the house of his mother (whom Raji already despised), to go to his
bed. And all her American casualness about sex, the casualness and
experience she had counted on to see her through this ordeal, suddenly
was meaningless. She was scared. Why, oh why had she agreed to this?

He sipped at his drink.
She smiled at the older man. “No, I agree with you Jason.” Her voice
was that of an angel spending holidays at a favourite pool hall,
mellifluous yet strong. “Did you notice how they argued earlier? Must have
been a stressful evening for them.” Lydia’s moist, chocolate coloured eyes
moved casually to the area around Daniel. She gently smoothed her dress.
Jason cocked a grin and inclined his shock of silvery hair. “Still,
all in all, it’s been quite successful so far. I’ve enjoyed myself quite
thoroughly.” He lavished a bright smile on Lydia. Daniel performed an
internal roll of the eyes.
Lydia seemed to bypass the personal implication. “Yes…” she murmured
in her silken voice. “I’ve never seen so many of the Rich and
Self-Important in one place before.” Jason and Daniel both laughed.
Daniel smoothly took the opportunity to join in. He held the amused
tone of a popular radio DJ: “The important thing is that they know we
commoners respect and admire them for showing up en masse for us. It’s the
personal touch, you know.” Lydia grinned at him; Jason managed a polite
smile. Daniel guessed by the handsome old guy’s appearance and demeanor
that he was old money himself.

On that gorgeous woman, the dress lulled you. It said she was too
beautiful to be dangerous, too soft — too lush — on the outside to
possess a hard core. It took an adult jaguar out of the rainforest and
transformed her into a curled up, night black Persian. Every deliberate,
graceful gesture became the flowing gesture of a fairytale, virginal princess.
Her chestnut brown hair fell in soft waves around a classically lovely
oval face. Naturally red lips bore no trace of lipstick; they drew the eye
regardless whenever her smile lit up fully. Her unfurrowed brow and
flawless skin implied that she was about 25 years old. The woman’s deep
brown eyes looked around attentively. She smiled often, lips parted
slightly, teeth pearly as she breathed with soft and luscious ease.
The radiant woman stood by one of the ballroom’s ornate pillars across
a marble floor cluttered by VIPs. The crowd swirled and flowed like a
muttering tide, content with lively chatter. When one whorl of people moved
aside for a moment, Daniel glimpsed her then for the first time, and simply
blinked. She was laughing with a small group at the opposite end of the far
room, making animated, airy motions with her gloved hands.

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