I sat in Raul’s caravan, propped seductively along the sofa and waited. It wasn’t particularly comfortable so I was thinking of unwinding myself when Rahul flew in and shut the door behind him. “How did you get away?” I asked

“Oh, I just told Amala her haired looked a little frizzy. The star of our show went mental and refused to film anything more until her hair was fixed. I ran off and left her arguing with the director.” “That’s a bit cruel,” I slapped his arm playfully as he moved closer to me.

“Oh, it’ll be fine, that woman has a meltdown over the slightest thing. Anyway, I want to forget her now, I’m admiring the sexy woman before me.”

“Do you like it?” I asked twiddling at the material.

“I love it,” he responded, “the way your curves are all accented by the flowing material and the shimmering of it that makes me think if I just look hard enough I could see your nipples is very alluring.”

He ran a hand down my arm and linked his fingers with mine then encouraged me up out of my seat. “Dance for me, Janeman, please?” “i don’t know if I-”

“Please?” He cut me off and laid his hands on my hips, “just sway for me, move your body for me, let me see how you look.”

I swayed nervously from foot to foot and looked down at the floor, my cheeks hot and I imagined as red as my sari. “That’s it, my dove, that’s it, keep moving, I love it, dance for me.”

I looked up and met his gaze. He really was appreciating every move of my uncoordinated body. I found his open encouragement made me move in a slower, softer way. I moved my hips as well as my feet and soon my shoulders joined in. “Yes, yes, you’ve got it now,” he crooned as I waved my hands in front of me, beckoning like I’d seen in so many Bollywood films before. He came closer and I laid a delicate hand on the soft white silk of his costume.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I like to know what I’m getting into.” He said, hooking a finger into my Sari and working the material free.

“Me too,” I said and popped open the buttons beneath my fingers until the silk shirt fell away and revelled his chest adorned with the familiar silver Amulet, the travelling home of his Djinn Johnny who I was certain was back in the hotel in his preferred home, the tea kettle.

He continued to unwind me and I spun around for him like a dirty Bollywood ballerina. I spun around and got dizzier and dizzier, the golden patterns on the body and boarder of the fabric turning into a flame like blur as I twirled. I giggled when I finally ended up in his arms, naked, the soft, sensual fabric in a pool around my feet.

He didn’t speak, he kissed me with a ferocity that set my blood on fire. He laid me back on the sofa behind me and kissed down my body. His lips skimmed down over my heaving breasts, tickling and taunting my stiffened nipples and continued with purpose over my stomach, his every kiss feeling like reverent adoration.

At the junction of my thighs he moved me until he was sat between my legs and his kisses continued, his tongue swirled like a Bollywood dancer over all the creases and bumps that made me buck and scream with delight. My lover knew just what I liked and he kissed and sucked my delicate pussy lips with great care and attention.

“I need to be in you,” he gasped as he came up for air, denying my the pleasure that was about to break. Hurry, oh hurry, Rahul,” I begged, “I’m so close.”

He pulled down his voluminous pants and exposed his hardness. I licked lips as I lifted up to watch then sank back with a moan as he pressed his cock into me. I ran my fingers down to my clit. I needed to come and as I rubbed against my delicate nub I could feel his pelvis above me.

He leaned in and fucked me hard. Slammed his dick into me over and over again. he was moaning, hissing and calling my name and all I could do was pant and growl and scream “yes,” over and over as I teetered on the hostile border between joy and ecstasy.

I slipped over and my body exploded with pleasure. I came hard, pushing my face to Rahul’s for a kiss as I contracted around his cock. He roared into my mouth as he came and I drank in the sound of his climax. We shuddered together, gasped and moaned as he settled to lie between my breasts, resting on me in the afterglow.

“I will have to buy you a thousand beautiful saris,” Rahul mumbled, “and see you in and out of every one.” “A thousand? That borders on obsession my love,” I chuckled.

“I cannot help being obsessed with your beauty,” he replied.

“No wonder I love you.” I stroked his hot, sticky skin absent-mindedly.

“Rahul?”

“Yes, Janeman,”

“Would you wear a Sari for me?”

“For you, anything,” he replied, “though my hairy legs will not look so good beneath the delicate fabric.”

“Make sure I’m out of the damn country for that,” a familiar voce echoed from the amulet around Rahul’s neck. “Johnny,” he cursed, “you’re not meant to be here.”

“And you’re not meant to be shagging your missus, you’re meant to be filming.” The djinn’s voice replied snappily.

They continued to argue, I settled back and smiled. What a wonderful life, a djinn, a Hollywood hunk and the life of my dreams. It might have been bordering on the ridiculous but I thought it was all Bolly-Brilliant.