I was on holiday in India. It was the last day, back in Delhi, in a quite posh hotel. They had a buffet, but also waiter service. From where I was sitting, I could see an Indian party at some distance, several people middle-aged or young including one spectacular long-legged beauty in sculpted blue jeans. At that point I could not see her rear, but I had no doubt of its quality or presentation.
Then she got up to walk past me to the buffet. I kept an eye open discreetly, anticipating the return journey. A waiter, a small man much shorter than her, was bustling along in the opposite direction. They passed one another. The waiter turned promptly, and with every appearance of being engaged on some errand unless one studied his eyes, followed her back to the buffet.
He had no errand other than the enjoyment of her bottom. Oh, and when she came back I enjoyed it too. |