Desai’ number. I want to finish what I started.After dialing him, a woman picks up after a few rings.“Hello?” she asks.“Is Mr. Desai there?”...I ask, not bothering to change my voice. There’s a pause on the other line.“Yes, just a minute,” she finally says. I can hear some mumbling between her and Mr. Desai in the background, and then he answers.“Hello?”“Hi Mr. Desai. This is Deepak from college,” I say. There’s a quiet gasp from the other end.“Hold on just a second Deepak,” he mutters. I hear a. The elevator dinged as we arrived on the ground floor and I worked as hard as I could to make my face calm and collected. Just another lunch with a potential client, I repeated over and over again in my head. “What client has his cum pooling in your pants while you go on a date with him?” a voice asked in the back of my mind.He led me down the street to a very classy Italian restaurant. I cringed mentally when I remembered that I was in jeans. The waiter seemed to have the same thought. Desmond. More

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