It was his eyes I noticed at first, big, dark brown, and kind. And then his skin. He was an Indian, but much darker than most Indians I had seen around my city, a lovely deep dusky color. He was 19 and in college, trying to make a bit of money in his spare time. And he posted a flyer through my door offering to do gardening and odd jobs. I needed a gardener, so I called him, and he turned up on his bike. I was in my early 30s back then (this was quite a few years ago now) and I had been married for four or five years. My husband’s job sometimes took him abroad and this time he was going to be away for several weeks. It was early summer and everything was growing fast. We had a big garden, very private and secluded, and I couldn’t do it all myself. I liked this young guy, so we arranged for him to start a couple of days later. But the garden wasn’t the only thing in need of attention. I had always had strong needs since I was quite a young woman. I am fairly uninhibited, and I was very ...
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