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" Your boss," I filled in.He slowly nodded. "I really like Beth though, but ... Anyway I saw her coming out of his room with her dress nearly torn off...and her cheek red. 'He raped me, ' she said. I froze. 'Fuck you, ' she yelled and dashed to her room. He soon followed. He pounded on the door. 'You're going to give this up for a... '" I know what he thinks of me," I said."Yeah, so he's screaming and then pleading and then demanding. Finally he tells me to break down the door. I had keys and. "OK Boo-Ya, time to go up." I could almost feel his toothsome grin.The tunnel wasn't a long one. This wasn't wartime Germany. It was only 10 feet long, starting on our side by a rubbish tip which disguised it well enough from the eyes of our warders and carefully calculated to break into the open again just 5 feet on the other side of the wall. It was only called a tunnel because of the section that went under the wall. The rest of the time it was just a very deep ditch.It took another hour to. Never have been. For me, the challenge of overcoming the inertia of my groggy sleep state conjurs mental images of Houdini, breaking free of a straight jacket and fifty iron chains while under twenty feet of water. Yet somehow, I always manage. And as I was stumbling though the garage, groggily searching for my car to go to work, I bumped into Claire.Normally the sharpest, most together person at the office, today she looked every bit as exhausted as I was."Long night?" I asked."Didn't get a. I had only one son and naturally I used to make him happy by meeting all his demands.My husband was an executive in a MNC at calcutta where we were staying then. Husband used to go office at 8 in morning and returns by 8-9 in night. At one afternoon about 4 pm son asked me to come to market for some buying and roaming around.I dressed up in saree, petticoat, bra and blouse. I never wore panties under saree.We took a taxi and started. He told something to taxiwala and son sat besides me on back.
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