She was nonplussed. ‘I am sorry. That’s very nice of him. And this?’ she asked, opening out a sequined dupatta, ‘It is very pretty, but I didn’t ask for this.’

‘That goes with the other things. Nothing extra.’

She draped it over her head and looked around for a mirror. ‘Where can I try them on?’ she asked, taking the bundle under her arm. I showed her to my bedroom. I was left alone for some time. I poured out a whisky and gulped it down neat. I moved from the chair to the sofa.

Georgine came out in Punjabi clothes. The dupatta was like a small white cloud studded with stars haloing her red hair, face and shoulders. The clothes fitted her: it seemed as if she were formed to wear Punjabi clothes. ‘How’s that?’ she asked pirouetting on her toes.

‘Very becoming! Much nicer than anything you’ve worn.’

‘Thank you, I sort of like it too.’

She came and sat beside me on the sofa. She opened her handbag, ‘How much does he want for this?’

My voice stuck in my throat, I forced it out. ‘Nothing. Allow me the privilege of making this a present. Please!

‘Thank you and all that. But I know you can’t afford it.’

‘Yes I can; and it’ll make me very happy.’

‘Okay, if it’ll make you happy.’ She turned round and gave me a quick kiss on my beard, ‘Thank you, pop.’

The kiss paralysed my tongue. After a while I was able to say: ‘And I owe you money. You paid me for the outings out of your own money, didn’t you?’

‘How do you know?’

‘I rang up your uncle.’

She turned scarlet. ‘That was a dumb thing to do! What did he say?’

I took her hand in mine. ‘Don’t worry. I did not tell him you had paid me. Now I can earn a double fee.’

‘You cunning ole Oriental!’ she laughed. ‘I’m relieved to know my ole uncle doesn’t know.’

‘Why didn’t you tell him?’

‘I dunno.’

The initiative was now mine. ‘Maybe you wanted to be with me without his knowing.’

‘Maybe,’ she replied tossing back her hair.

Any experienced lecher knows that one should not waste words with a teenager because when it comes to real business she gets tongue-tied or can only say ‘No.’ It is best to talk to her body with your hands. That excites her to a state of speechless acceptance. I ran my fingers up and down her lower arm. She watched them till goose pimples came up. Thereafter all I had to do was to put my arm around her waist, draw her towards me and smother her lips, eyes, nose, ears and neck with kisses. She moaned helplessly. I slipped my hand under her kamiz and played with her taut nipples. Then I undid her pyjama cord and slipped my fingers between her damp thighs. A little gentle ministration with the hand made her convulse and she climaxed groaning ‘O God! O God!’ She lay still like a human-sized rubber doll. I put my hand on her bosom. She slapped it and pushed it away. She picked up her clothes and went to the bedroom. She came back in her jeans, tossed the bundle of salwar-kameez and sequined dupatta on the settee and strode out of the apartment.