Yes, after a few objections

“Mr. Patterson, I don't understand ...” It isn't exactly a flat-out rejection, but it is hardly the submission I am hoping for.

“You were masturbating in your room last night.” If I have to I can always break out the video, but Riya's face tells me everything I need to know.

“I'm so sorry, Sir.” For some reason the apology sounds better with her posh British accent. I am reminded once again that Riya comes from an upper-class family, and I decide to use that against her.

“What would your father say if he knew you were touching yourself like that?” Her soft brown eyes widen in alarm and her head shakes nervously.

“No, Mr. Patterson, you can't tell him.” Her small hands reach for my arm as she pleads with me. “He has so many other worries right now. I don't think he could take it.” Thanks to Jamal, I knew much more than Riya thought about her father's embezzlement troubles, but there's no need to share that with her either.

“The fact of the matter is, Miss Kapadia, you've put me in an awkward position.” I take a step closer to her as I explain. “I thought that as a woman from a conservative culture that this wouldn't even become an issue, but after hearing you last night I couldn't sleep at all.”

“I am so sorry, Mr. Patterson.” I take another step closer, confident now that I'm going to get what I want.

“I expected that from my American tenants.” I lie easily, “But when those little sluts got me all worked up like this, they'd spread their pretty legs and let me bang them.” Riya's big brown eyes widen when she hears the crude words, and she takes a half step back as if she wants to run but knows she has nowhere to go.

“I've never done anything like that, Mr. Patterson.” I soften my tone and make what I'm demanding sound more like a compromise position.

“I know, Honey,” I take her hand in mine and squeeze it gently, “but you've put me in an awkward situation, and I can't even call your parents ... ” I wait a full second and then, with an audible gulp, Riya gives in.

“I'll do it.” She whispers as she licks her lips nervously, “I'll do what you want, but I might not be any good. I've only done this one other time.” I admit, I'm a little disappointed that I don't have a clean slate to work with like I thought I would. Curious about her experience I push a little.

“So, you lied to me when you told me that you never had a boyfriend.” Riya shakes her head in alarm. She is after all, very aware of what happens in this house when a girl lies to me.

“He wasn't a boyfriend; he was my Maths lecturer.” This is getting interesting, maybe Riya has a thing for older men. I waited patiently until Riya realized I was expecting a lot more details.

“I was naïve and clueless, and Mr. Patel made me feel like I was the only student in the whole class who mattered.” She touches her lips unconsciously and I know that it is only a matter of time before those lush lips are going to be wrapped around my cock. “He coached me in Chess too, and he offered to drive me up the coast to a tourney just outside Mumbai.”

“I did pretty well for an amateur, and after I got knocked out, he took me to a fancy restaurant to celebrate. After we ate, he drove me out to a rocky point by a lighthouse to watch the sunset. It felt perfectly natural when we started kissing, like I was meant to be with him.”

“So, you had an affair with your teacher?” I ask, I sounded like the classic case of a older man grooming a **** target. A few years ago before Alison, it would have pissed me off, but who am I to be throwing stones.

“It wasn't really an affair, Mr. Patterson. I ended up sucking him off in his car but that's as far as it went.” Riya shrugs her pretty shoulders and lifts her gaze back to meet mine. “Turns out that he was already on probation for this type of thing; when the headmaster found out he drove me up to Mumbai alone he sacked him the next day.”

“I'm sorry he hurt you like that.” After hearing about Riya's first real sexual experience I feel like a jerk and start to back away. To my surprise, Riya stops me.

“You're not like Mr. Patel, Sir.” She lifts her head in an unmistakable invitation. “I want to do this; I just might not be any good.” I kiss her softly, but just once before she slips out of my arms and sinks to her knees. I remember a line in Pretty Woman about prostitutes not kissing their Johns because it was too intimate, and even as Riya is tugging at my belt buckle, I wonder if that is how she feels about kissing her landlord.

At the moment though, I have other things to think about.