He was a Tamil, and his English was accented but fluent. Probably better than George’s French. So much for telling Mary what he planned to do to her once they were home. Too bad. He would have loved to see how long she could remain impassive while he talked. Oh man, the woman was driving him nuts. She could put on a holier-than-thou look while playing with him. It was a definite turn-on. If she wanted to play games, he wouldn’t let her down. So while having a conversation with the taxi driver about the latest political developments in Sri Lanka and the ethnical conflicts that tore apart his country, George showed Mary he could play too. Sliding his right hand under her skirt, he tugged at her panties. She obliged by lifting her hips long enough for him to bring the panties down to her knees. She did that while looking straight ahead as if she was doing nothing more than enjoying the Paris scenery through the window of the taxi. She remained calm as his hand slowly crawled back up. When he almost reached the apex of her legs, she shook her knees to make her panties fall to her ankles and gain some freedom of movement.
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