My eyes are still staring straight ahead and I'm shaking like a leaf. "Joanie," he whispers, so close I can almost taste the words. "Yes," I gasp. "... want you..." He pauses and I melt a little bit. "To run." I don't need to be told twice. The words are hardly out of his mouth before I start pushing against his chest, trying to get around him, just a second for a headstart. He's solid muscle though and I can barely move him. His eyelids flutter open and he looks down on me lustily as I expend. He allowed his hair to grow and wore the common Indian garb of a dhoti, frequently being mistaken for a fakir.“Two widely spaced events that occurred in Coimbatore changed my life. The first happened about ten years ago when I was part of the large crowd listening to the well-respected guru, teacher, Maharishi Acharya Vijadit. I had heard of him when I was in the north of India and made a special journey to Coimbatore to sit at his feet and learn from him. What he said went straight into my. More

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