On a deserted road, under the silver gaze of a full moon, an Indian couple succumbs to their restrained passion. The man, his hands steady on the wheel, feels her touch, light as a feather, on his thigh. She leans in, her breath hot on his ear, whispering endearments in their native tongue. He pulls over, the car idling as he turns to face her. Their eyes meet, a silent understanding passing between them. She unhooks her sari, letting it fall, revealing her curvaceous form. He reaches out, his fingers tracing the curve of her neck, her collarbone, her breast, igniting a fire that consumes them both.