What turns her on?

“OK, Miss Kapadia, how's this one: What turns you on,” I pause long enough to meet her eyes, “sexually?”

“What?!” Clearly Riya is not expecting this. “I can't tell you that!” The sassy grin that had been on her face just a moment ago is replaced by one of alarm and uncertainty. After what she told me about her adventures with her teacher, I didn't expect Riya to be this uncomfortable with this. “Please, Mr. Patterson ... ” Riya's protests fade away and I watch with growing unease as the young woman wrestles with the inner conflict.

“I guess that's a little too-”

“No!” Riya stops me before I can finish her reprieve. “It's all right. My punishment is that I have to answer any question, Sir. Not just the ones I am comfortable with.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, muttering softly as she exhales. “I can't believe I'm doing this.”

“It can't be that bad.” Afterall, what kind of smut could a sheltered young woman like her have that a 60 plus year old man hasn't already heard.

“OK, remember though, you're the one who asked.” Riya folds her hands neatly in front of her before looking up at me with her big dark eyes. “I guess all my fantasies fall into one main theme, a power imbalance between my dominant lover and myself. Remember how I told you my father made the maidservants strip naked as part of their punishment?” When I nod, Riya goes on, her normally proper accent is blurred as she rushes on. “The first time I masturbated, was right after I heard that argument between my parents. I hid under the covers in my room and pictured what it would be like to have to let my master control me like that. To have to take off my clothes while that powerful man watched, and then as I ran my hands over my body, I pretended it was he who was touching my quivering body.”

“Were you a common servant like Avni, then?” I asked, excited by the possibilities, “A dirt-poor ignorant village girl who has to submit to the head of the house?”

“Well,” Riya lowers her eyes shyly, “at the time, Mr. Patterson, we were studying the early British colonial period in school. The books didn't come right out and say it, but it was pretty clear that many of the British army officers took native women as lovers, and not just lower caste girls either. I read one account of a maharaj kumari, the sheltered daughter of a maharajah, who was claimed by an upstart Cavalry officer as part of his share of plunder after his regiment routed her father's forces.” The hands that had been folded primly together were now clenched so tightly that her dark skin was turning white. “I had my first climax fingering myself thinking about that innocent young maiden **** to pleasure the brash Colonel in her own father's royal bed.”

“Wow.” It wasn't much of a response, but it was enough for Riya to keep going.

“That poor native girl went from being a princess to a sex **** for her white master in the space of less than one day.” The sudden racial turn catches me a little by surprise, and Riya seems to understand. “In my mind, the blond-haired and blue-eyed brit first **** the maharaja's daughter to dance for him. As he made her take off more and more of her silks, he mocked her for her dark skin and thick black hair.”

“Your skin and hair are beautiful.” I interject, but Riya is having none of it.

“It's too dark; all my friends say so. Some even called me Tamilia.” When Riya sees the confusion on my face she explains, “Tamils are from the southern tip of the subcontinent, they have the darkest skin tone of any ethnic group in India. The point though, is that thinking about the officer's derogatory slurs just made me wetter.” This is getting a little weird, like people who think Meghan Markle should lighten her skin. Then again, it might have saved her some trouble with the Royal family. I realize that I haven't been really paying attention and turn my attention back to Riya.

“... made her shave all her body hair too.”

“You mean all her hair?”

“Yes, Mr. Patterson.” Riya blushes brightly, “When I swam in high school, I started shaving like that too. I told my mother I had to because of the swimsuits we wore for our swim team, but it was also a chance to put myself in the humiliating position of the raja's innocent daughter.”

There is a long moment of silence as I try to take in all of this. This time when Riya breaks the silence, it is not to add another juicy detail.

“Did that answer your question, Sir.” Riya's smile is still a little sad, but she looks more relaxed now than she did a few minutes ago. “Your new live-in help gets excited by damsel-in-distress scenarios and in particular by nasty racial put-downs that make fun of my own culture.”