My Indian Princess and Wife

I kept running into her, young Indian gorgeous. We kept making eye contact, but briefly, as she always looked down and turned away when we did. My mind, over several weeks of seeing her in various New Orleans music venues, began to race and conjure images of this little Indian princess. The whole lowering the eyes and the demure attitude were a real turn on. So call me a chauvinists. I liked it. I wanted to get close to her but had to tread very carefully, not too aggressive, so as not to run her off. At one point I even turned to Ramesh my Indian friendly to break the ice or maybe translate, if needed, who promptly hit on her. I should have seen that coming. Fortunately for me, she sent him packing without a word.

This whole demure tease went on for some time until I and Mr. Jack Daniels finally got the courage to just ask her to dance. I wasn't feeling too confident having, up to this point, only made momentary, very momentary eye contact. I made my way across the room towards my Asian princess. She was engaged in conversation with a friend, her back to me. I took a deep breath and touched her shoulder. She turned and smiled, a first for us. "Would you like to dance?", I asked and anticipated her response, probably a polite heavily accented decline and a quick look away. I was prepared. This was first contact. I had a plan. It might takes weeks or months before she relented. But she didn't turn or look away. She looked deep into my eyes with hers, so dark and absolutely mesmerizing, smiled broadly and said, with a heavy valley girl accent, "OK, but you're gonna like have to excuse me 'cause I'm like totally drunk." And with that she placed her arms around me, one to my shoulders and one to my waist.