I hate shopping, especially with my wife. My driver had taken French leave, and I deputed for him. I drove my wife to an exclusive   boutique for women’s clothes. I had parked my car outside and waited in the car, bird watching. The boutique had a large show room and displayed about a dozen costumes in its large window. The mannequins used for display were of the same size and shape, but with different wigs. They looked life like curvaceous beauties.

As I sat admiring the voluptuous women, albeit plastic, I found one of them moving. I rubbed my eyes and wondered whether my eyesight needed checking.

As I had watched the whole spectacle aghast, I didn’t know other surprises awaited me. The mannequin, now turned into an attractive society lady, had picked up a handbag from one of her friends beside her, broke through the glass window and headed straight to my car. She held her head high, swung her hand bag playfully and walked with graceful steps.

“Move over,” she said and pushed me to the passenger seat. Watching the scene spellbound, I readily complied with her order like a supplicant. She had occupied the driver’s seat, found the ignition key in place and started the car.

She drove through dense traffic, as if she had been driving my car in the same city for long. The deft way she handled the car and weaved her way through the traffic without flouting any rule amazed me. I sat beside her speechlessly. Here, I must confess I enjoyed watching her. First, she blew the myth of a perfect woman as she, a perfect woman, sat beside me. Her chiseled features and contours presented a spectacular profile. The delicate fragrance she had exuded added a mesmerizing effect on me.

When she stopped at the fourth traffic light, I said, “You sure are a gutsy woman, and I admire your spirit. You’ve not only walked out of your master’s place but also hijacked my car with exceptional élan.”

“You know something; I was a princess. Don’t gape at me, it was in my last life,” she paused for effect and continued, “Before I tell you my story, I must appreciate you for not being a spoil sport. You didn’t call the police or ask for help. Aren’t you worried about your car?”