The
monsoon rain poured down as it had done, non-stop, for three days, swelling the
Yamuna river ever higher, its murky waters encroaching onto the banks where
dozens of old men, some dressed in white cotton robes, others merely in loin
cloths, sat stoically gazing at the angry waters as if waiting for a spirit to
rise up from the deep. They seemed
impervious to the torrential rain, merely figures in a landscape too magical to
be terrestrial, too mystical to describe.
Beyond the river, the most beautiful building on earth stood silhouetted
against the grey sky, the rainfall adding a magical sheen to the imposing
shrine of white marble to which travellers from all over the world had paid
homage for hundreds of years.
On the
dirt road running adjacent to the river, the sight of men trudging to their
homes and farms and the ox carts rattling noisily along, their drivers brown
humourless faces snarling out commands to the recalcitrant beasts of burden,
seemed somehow at odds with the spectacle which formed a backdrop to their
drudgery. To them, the surroundings were
passed with hardly a glance, familiarity breeding contempt, or, at the very
least, indifference. To David and
Rosemary Tyler, who stood in the courtyard of the magnificent mausoleum,
braving the rain and soaked to the skin, the vista was beyond their wildest
comprehension.
"Oh,
David ..." Rosemary gasped softly, clutching her new husband's hand
tightly, rain running in rivulets from her ash blonde hair "... it's so
beautiful, so ... so ... oh, Lord, I know it's stupid but I think I'm going to
cry!"
David
Tyler smiled warmly at his lovely wife, squeezing her hand in return.
"No,
it's not silly ..," he said`, "... it's quite natural when people are
simply lost for words ..., " and he stared up at the magnificent marble
dome which topped this masterpiece of aesthetic beauty and cleared his throat,
"... but, darling, I hate to break the reverie, but shouldn't we go inside
or we will go down with pneumonia if we stand here much longer ...
and that would rather ruin the honeymoon!"
Rosemary
smiled through her tears. "Oh God, if I had to die, I think I'd like it to
be here!" she said softly "I've never seen anything so ...
so perfect!"
Grabbing
her hand, David pulled her along behind him, laughing gaily. "Let’s hope
death is not an option!" he said as they scurried, as fast as decency in
such a place would allow, to the shelter of the mausoleum entrance.
As they
approached the door, they paused under an archway inlaid with a relief of
marble flowers and gasped in wonderment at the delicacy which had gone into
this masterpiece.
"My
God ...!" Rosemary whispered, "... how he must have loved her!"
David
was too awe-stricken to reply and simply squeezed his wife around her waist,
then arm in arm they braved the elements and hurried on to the portals of the
inner sanctuary. As they reached the
entrance, David reached into his pocket and found the obligatory five rupees
which he dropped into the cup of the sightless beggar who sat, murmuring
softly, cross legged outside the doorway, a thin blanket being his only cover
from the warm, intense rainfall which was now turning the courtyard into a small
lake.
Hand in
hand the couple stepped through the doorway into an anteroom where they both
dutifully removed their shoes before taking the short walk into the inner
sanctum of the shrine where the body of Mumtaz i - Mahal, wife of Shah Jehan, lay interred in a tomb of white marble surrounded by
pillars of the most ornate carving.
Rosemary Tyler clutched her husband's hand as she looked round and up at
the gold and ruby relief in the ceiling of the tomb.
The
silence of the place impressed itself upon both of them, such a spirit of
reverence here, such indescribable beauty.
Neither spoke but held hands tentatively as they allowed the atmosphere
to envelop them and stayed for nearly half an hour
before bidding a reluctant farewell.
When they stepped back into the courtyard, the rain had eased a little
and, seizing his wife's hand, David pulled her along behind him as he half
walked, half ran down the courtyard to the huge central square which stood between
the Taj Mahal and the Red
Fort. Waving his hand, David hailed a
taxi and he and Rosemary gratefully dived in, both brushing the rainwater from
their hair and clothes.
"Victoria
Hotel!" said David and they settled back to relax as the taxi commenced
the short drive back to the heart of Agra.
Rosemary slid down in the seat, her head on David's shoulder, her arm
gripping his and she looked up at him, her face flushed and happy. He stroked
her cheek tenderly and smiled.
"Beautiful, isn't it, my love, beautiful beyond belief!" he
said happily.
"Oh,
David ...," she replied,
"... I think I have fallen in love with this country, I feel
heady and ecstatic ... almost drunk!"
David
grinned. "They say that anyone who
comes to India can never truly leave it ..," he said, "... and I'm
beginning to understand what they mean!"
Their
idyll was interrupted by the cabbie ostentatiously spitting into the palm of
his hand and wiping the palm on his jacket, an action which saw Rosemary screw
up her face and grimace at her husband, then settle back, eyes closed, for the
rest of the journey. Eventually the
dusty desert path turned into a road and tall buildings began to proliferate on
both sides. They were back in central
Agra, amid the jostle and the noise, and within minutes the cab had lurched to
a halt outside the once splendid Victoria Hotel.
David
and Rosemary walked up the steps of the faded, colonial style building and
checked in, Rosemary still brushing the rainwater out of her clothes and
hair. As they reached the hotel room,
David suddenly put his arms around his wife and kissed her passionately on the
lips, forcing her mouth open and allowing his tongue to explore hers. She responded eagerly, recognising the signal,
knowing what would happen once they were inside the room and she was happy,
almost deliriously happy.
Once
inside the door, Rosemary fell flat on the bed, her arms outstretched, her legs
straight out in front of her, and she lay still and stretched, easing the
tensions of the day out of her body.
David looked down at her, at the ash blonde hair lying in ringlets
around her lovely face, her big blue eyes inviting, her
sensual mouth slightly open, waiting. He
looked down at the pale beauty of her delicate neck, rain water still nestling
in the hollow of her throat, then his eyes travelled down to the swell of her
breasts rising and falling under the thin summer dress which now clung to her
body like a damp rag. The effect
highlighted every contour of her body and he stared at her legs through the
thin print dress, one slightly raised emphasising the
outline of her shapely thigh through the thin material.
David
began to breathe rapidly as he sensed his erection becoming painfully demanding
and he leant down and kissed her lips again before sitting beside her on the
bed. He continued to kiss her as his one
hand reached down to her feet and he began to stroke the curve of her ankle for
a few seconds before moving his hand very slowly up under the long skirt,
gently massaging the inside of her leg.
"Mmmmm ... that's nice," she murmured softly before
resuming the kiss, deep, passionate, tongues mingling and searching, her hands
moving down his back in a gentle, tender glide.
As
David's hand reached her inner thigh, Rosemary began to feel the familiar
tingle in her loins and she opened her mouth wider urging an even deeper
mingling of their tongues. His hand was
stroking, caressing and kneading her soft inner flesh, ever higher and pushing
up her skirt until it lay across the junction of her legs. She paused in the french
kissing for just a moment.
"David
...!" she whispered in mock reproof, " ...
I'm soaking wet!" and he grinned.
"So
you should be after all this foreplay!" he said and she giggled, pulling
him towards her and opening her legs wider to grant him total access. David's hand sought her panties and his
fingers began to gently stroke the crease of her vagina through the thin silk
before his hand reached the elastic at her waist.
"Lift
up your bottom!" he commanded softly and she did so quickly. He pulled
down her panties to her ankles and with a quick flick of her legs, Rosemary
kicked them free. She lay
back, skirt right up to her waist now, legs wide apart so he could see
everything. As he leaned forward, his
hand roaming through the soft blonde pubic hairs, Rosemary unzipped his pants
and took out his penis, swollen and firm.
She was delighted and reassured, for, though she had never told him so,
Rosemary was sometimes disappointed at how long it took her husband to reach
full erection ... but not today. He was
virile, energetic, dying for it and his hand moved down to the warm pink slit,
surprised and delighted that she was already wet.
"God, ... you randy little bitch!" he whispered tenderly
and she ripped all his buttons loose and tugged his trousers and underpants
down, pulling him on top of her. David slid easily into her moist cunt and
Rosemary began to gasp and grunt loudly as the forceful, insistent penis slid
in and out of her, creating magical sensations in every part of her body.
Eventually she began to scream as she reached orgasm, until David tenderly
paused in his lovemaking to put his hand over her mouth.
"Just
my luck to marry a screamer!" he said, grinning, "... you'll get us thrown out of
here, the walls are so thin!"
Rosemary,
her face flushed with desire, her eyes moist, hung on to him, urging him
further in. "I don't bloody care ...! God, I want you
...! Now finish it, David, ... don't leave me
like this!" and he smiled and resumed the deep thrusting into her vagina.