I'm a Master in India

“I say, ladies, if you're looking for some fun, I can help you find it. Any kind you want.”

“Can't you do it? We can pay.”

The small-faced girl reached out and ran her finger down Ron's collar, silently loosening his buttons along the way, her technique so exquisite it was breathtaking.

The other girl behind her playfully licked her lips, her flirtatious eyes roaming over Ron's strong chest.

“Hold on,” Ron said, grabbing the girl's wrist. “This isn't within my service range.”

“Don't be so tense. You're the only Indian man who's interested us in the two months we've been here. The others… sorry, no offense, but the other Indian men are really disgusting.”

As she said this, the girl grabbed Ron's hand and pressed it to her chest.

“Ladies, you have great figures. But my religious beliefs don't allow me to do this. By the way, what should I call you?”

“Mary,” she said. She had a small face and bright red hair. Very pretty, with a perpetual smile in her icy blue eyes.

“Lena,” said the other girl, who had a round face, blonde hair, and slightly full lips. Very sexy, and also very pretty.

The two girls exchanged a glance. “Are you serious? There's a religion like that in India?”

“Absolutely. India has so many religions that I can't even count them all.”

“Okay, we don't mean to offend anyone's beliefs.”

Mary took a small step back, and Ron's hand followed suit.

Honestly, the pressure was tempting, but going all the way was out of the question.

No one knew if there would be trouble after playing poker with them, and Ron didn't want to guess.

Like I said before, Mumbai's waters are too deep. The more you come into contact, the more obvious this feeling becomes.

Buttoning his shirt back up, Ron put on a gentlemanly smile. “So, is that all for today?”

“Before we leave, would you mind discussing another deal?”

“What?”

Mary winked at Lena, who put her backpack on the bed and began to take things out one by one.

They were all exquisite digital products, including cameras, portable music players, and even game consoles.

In a short while, there were seven or eight items on the bed, taking up about a quarter of the space.

“Tell me, did you ladies rob a tour group?”

Mary giggled, and Lena simply blew him a kiss.

“Okay,” Ron said, raising his hands in surrender. “According to the rules, I shouldn't ask where these things came from.”

“Someone said you have a good reputation, so we made a special trip to Mumbai.”

“So, they weren't originally from Mumbai?”

“Mhm.”

“Then there's no problem.”

Ron clapped his hands together casually. Dealing stolen goods outside the city was one of his principles.

“So, you can help us find a good outlet?”

“That depends on the goods you have.” Ron took out a pair of white gloves from his pocket.

You have to love what you do, and when it comes to inspecting goods, he was a professional.

White gloves don't damage the customer's items, nor do they leave fingerprints, making them a must-have for black market enthusiasts.

Ahem, actually, only Ron was so particular. The other Indians just grabbed them, not caring about any of that.

The most valuable items on the bed were the four cameras, including Ricoh, Nikon, and Canon, with new retail prices ranging from $400 to $800.

The portable music players were all Sony, which retailed for around $200 new. The remaining Nintendo handheld was worthless, $150 at most.

After carefully examining everything, Ron nodded in satisfaction.

“The condition is pretty good, there shouldn't be a shortage of buyers.”

“Yes!” Mary and Lena cheered and high-fived.

“So, when will we complete this transaction?” The two seemed a little impatient.

Ron took off his gloves, tilted his head, and said, “Grab your things and come with me.”

In Mumbai, this kind of small business was common, and it wasn't the first time Ron had handled it.

Just last week, a tourist who his company was hosting asked if he could help sell a camera.

At that time, Ron realized there was profit to be made, and sure enough, after inquiring around the black market, he opened a new door.

The Indian black market sells everything, from living people to gold luxury goods, to ordinary Bollywood movie tickets. There's nothing you can't buy, only things you can't imagine.

And the black market is also scattered in various large and small markets throughout Mumbai, according to the types of goods traded.

To deal with these popular electronic products, you had to go to the "Thieves Market," which was well-known among the locals.

“Chor Bazaar, Mumbai's largest flea market, has everything here, even more than department stores.”

“Is it safe?” Mary asked, looking at the noisy and crowded market, both excited and worried.

Ron smiled, opened the car door, and walked straight to a policeman.

Then, to Mary and Lena's shock, he slipped 50 rupees into the policeman's pocket.

“It's safe now.” Ron smiled and gestured for them to get out of the car.

“God! You're openly bribing a policeman?” And that's when they were carrying a backpack full of items of unknown origin.

“Yes, this is a legitimate bribe, a specialty from India.”

Ron said it so frankly that Mary and Lena couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or introducing Indian customs.

“So, this is a smuggling place protected by the police?”

“Don't make it sound so bad, we usually call it an unofficial duty-free zone.”

Unofficial duty-free zone? Mary's poor brain wasn't even as big as her thunder.

After a long time, she realized that the two were saying the same thing.

Ron, familiar with the route, took Mary and Lena to a small shop in the market.

There was a handwritten sign on the open door.

Radio Clinic - Specializing in Electrical Repairs and Electronic Equipment Sales.

The owner, Vikrant Deshpande.

Vikrant Deshpande was burly, in his fifties, balding in the middle, with gray hair and thick white eyebrows.

He sat behind a sturdy wooden counter, surrounded by radios playing loudly, portable music players that had been taken apart, boxes of parts, etc.

“Ron, welcome back!” Vikrant Deshpande's eyes were drawn to the other two figures at the door.

“Vikrant, big business today!”

“I see, theirs are indeed big, bigger than Indian women's!”

Ron glanced at him and then turned to look at Mary behind him.

“I just measured it with my hand, it's quite substantial.”

“Oh, damn it.” Vikrant swallowed hard. “I probably can't afford it if it's both of them.”

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?”

Ron and Vikrant were communicating in Marathi, which sounded like gibberish to Mary and Lena.

“It's nothing, I'm helping you build a relationship so he can give you a good price.”

Mary and Lena were skeptical, their intuition telling them that the old Indian man's eyes were lecherous.

“Okay, bring out the stuff.”

“Right here?”

“Where do you want to do it? In some dark, airtight room?”

Mary shrugged, and she and Lena placed the items from their backpacks on the counter one by one.

“Damn, this business is more exciting than I thought!” Vikrant swallowed again.