Hot French Lesbians
Yesterday, Danny found out that one of his friends from home is coming out to visit him, and he can hardly contain his excitement. Apparently she has been “made redundant,” which in the U.K. is the same thing as being laid off. So she is leaving her lover, and coming to India on holiday.
“She’s a hot French lesbian,” Danny told us eagerly, nearly foaming at the mouth. “I don’t know what to do with myself.”
Yesterday, he was reading “A New Earth” by Eckhart Tolle, the modern man’s handbook on spotting and destroying the ego. He looked up from it briefly, his eyes shining, and said, “You know wha? I reckon it’s my ego that wants her to come out ‘ere, so’s I can say that I’m travelin’ wit’ a hot French lesbian.” A delicious smile appeared on his lips, and he said, “Wha’ do you think?” I had to agree with him, but his ridiculous smile kept making me laugh.
Later that night, we were all eating dinner under the teepees. Danny had pinned his pasta to his plate, and was spinning it around on his fork. He looked up, the same bright shine in his eyes and said, “If you all had a hot French lesbian coming out to see you, do you reckon you’d meet ‘er in Delhi, or would you just wait here?” We debated for a few minutes and decided that we would probably wait here, as the journey back and forth from Delhi would be brutally hot and tiresome. “Right,” Danny said smiling, and devoured his bite of pasta.
His eyes were gleaming again today after yoga, and I said, “Let me guess, you’re thinking about the hot French lesbian?”
He laughed and snorted, caught. “Yeah, I reckon I am,” he confessed, leaning down to tie his shoes. When he straightened up, his eyes were glittering. “Did I ever tell you that she knows that I know that she never wears a bra?” he giggled, sounding exactly like Austen Powers. “I told our mutual friend Liz that I can always see her nipples, and Liz told her what I said. She confronted me about it, and I had to admit it was true,” he said, scuffing his feet. When he looked up again, it was clear that he was still lost in his delightful reverie. “I was well excited,” he said, a faraway look in his eyes.
