Adultery Radiance of Vanitha

[adams_masala]

The surrogacy clinic greets them with the polished warmth of a spa. Soft lights and chic decor blur the line between hospitality and medicine. Vanitha glances at the orchids lining the reception desk, their purple blooms perfect enough to be artificial, but a close inspection reveals the intricate flaws of nature. The sight both comforts and unsettles her, a reminder of the process they're about to finalize. Ashok stands at her side, his posture a portrait of calm determination, though she knows the weight of this decision presses on him too. She recalls the conversation from last night, her resolve to not let SilverFox77 disrupt what they’ve planned. This morning, a direct message from him tried to change her mind, but she left it unread, focusing instead on Ashok's promise that they’re in this together. The receptionist greets them, her smile bright and practiced. "Vanitha and Ashok? We've been expecting you."


Vanitha nods, feeling the surreal reality of their names being known in such a place. "Yes, that's us," she says, her voice carrying a note of confidence she hopes Ashok hears. 

"Please have a seat," the receptionist continues. "The coordinator will be with you shortly." 

They settle into the reception area's designer chairs, and Vanitha picks up a brochure. The slick paper feels cool against her fingers, the words inside detailing the journey to parenthood, promising the miracle of life with glossy assurance. Beside her, Ashok leans forward, elbows on knees, the anticipation visible in the set of his jaw. Vanitha watches him, reminded of the unread message she saw that morning. From SilverFox77. It sat in her inbox, a tempting whisper, but she resisted. 

Ashok's voice pulls her back. "Are you ready?" he asks, searching her face for any sign of the uncertainty she held last night. She meets his eyes, her smile a calculated brightness. 

"More than ready," she lies, willing it to become the truth. They both rise as a young woman with a tablet approaches. Her clothes are as crisp as her voice.

"Vanitha and Ashok, I'm the coordinator. If you'll follow me, we'll discuss everything about your surrogate." She leads them down a corridor where clean lines and soft colors maintain the clinic's dual identity, a place that promises both science and solace.

They enter a private meeting room, a space designed to ease anxious minds with its plush seating and tasteful art. Vanitha notices the details, the way the polished surface of the coffee table reflects their apprehension. Ashok is the first to speak.

"Thank you for seeing us," he says, his tone carrying the formality of a man who wants to make a good impression. "We wanted to discuss the timeline and make sure everything's set with Latha."

[adams_masala]

The coordinator nods, her eyes bright with the enthusiasm of someone who loves her job. 

"Latha is wonderful, and she's very committed. You're lucky to have her. And I see we've already received your frozen materials. Everything is ready to proceed as soon as you're comfortable."


Ashok's confidence seems to grow with her words. "That's great to hear," he says. "We've been thinking about this for a long time, and we feel ready." His words echo their discussion from last night, where 'we' meant so much more than Vanitha had dared to tell him.

Vanitha listens, the words bouncing off the walls of her mind as other thoughts crowd in. Is she ready? Does she want to be? SilverFox77's intrusion unsettles her again, the stranger's images leaving an indelible mark on her certainty. Why, out of everyone, did she let him into her life? His blatant audacity lingers like a question she's too proud to ask.

The coordinator taps her tablet, making notes, glancing at Vanitha with expectation. "Do you have any questions or concerns? The initial steps can feel overwhelming, but we're here to guide you."

Vanitha hesitates, her smile poised, as she recalls the sensation of lying on a clinic table, needles and sterile lights overhead as they harvested her eggs. It seemed so clinical, so detached. She wonders, not for the first time, if she's missing an experience, a connection, by not carrying the child herself. But then she thinks of her body, the discipline, the control she's fought to maintain, and the haunting presence of those unsolicited images. Is her fear of change really so selfish?

She leans forward, adopting Ashok's earnestness. "We just want to be sure we're making the right choice with Latha. That she's prepared." The question is meant to sound practical, but beneath it lies a deeper uncertainty she's not willing to voice.

"She's a great match for you," the coordinator assures, a practiced smile accompanying her words. "And her commitment is absolute. You couldn't ask for a better surrogate." 

Vanitha glances at Ashok, his excitement clear as he nods along with the coordinator's reassurances. He seems to believe in this path so completely. She tries to mirror his enthusiasm, telling herself this is what she wanted, what they both need to be happy. 

They finalize the details, Vanitha's signature looping across the screen with the fluidity of a decision that seems set in stone. She wonders if the ink will dry or if it will smear under the weight of her hidden doubts. 

"You're making a wonderful choice," the coordinator says, shaking their hands as she escorts them back to the reception area. Ashok looks at Vanitha with eyes full of hope, and she smiles back, fighting to suppress the conflict inside her. As they step outside, the sun bright and incongruent with the burden she feels, Ashok slips an arm around her waist.

"It's real now," he says, his voice filled with an optimism she both envies and resents. 

She leans into him, the familiarity of his touch a comfort and a reminder. "It is," she agrees, her voice softer, edged with an emotion she can't quite name. The words feel hollow, the reality not as solid as she hoped. She pictures her life like those orchids — flawless at first glance but with unseen imperfections lurking. 

Ashok watches her, reading the unspoken tension, and gives her a reassuring squeeze. "Remember, we're doing this together. I love you."

Vanitha smiles, trying to absorb his certainty. She recalls the unread message waiting, a reminder of the impulsive decision she's too proud to retract. Maybe it's not too late to delete it all, forget the haunting glimpse into a different life. But another part of her, the part that opened the first one, wonders what she's giving up. "I love you too," she whispers, holding him close as they walk away from the clinic, the smooth path of their plan paved with her secret uncertainty.

[adams_masala]

Chapter 18: Latha’s Pregnancy & Vanitha's Vacation

Vanitha was a beautiful contradiction. The grace of her traditional sari flowed over the sharp angles of a modern life, wrapping around a heart caught between promise and possibility. 

With surrogacy process completed they will have a baby without Vanitha having to sacrifice her physical appearance, she will have her body untouched.

Alone in her American apartment, she cradled her phone with manicured hands, reading and rereading a message confirming Latha’s pregnancy.

Latha is pregnant, Ashok and Vanitha’s baby is in their surrogate Latha.


Her fingers lingered over the screen, a tremor in their elegance, as a new text appeared. SilverFox77. A celestial Apsara, it called her, drawing her into an orbit of explicit desire. In the background, Ashok’s face was a silent video, his voice a distant corporate hum. Her heart knew his routine, every tap of his keyboard like a second hand. The craving in her pulse told a different time, one where her desire eclipsed her discipline. She exhaled slowly, a pause in the universe, and then replied with trembling courage to both messages. One thank you. One yearning.

Her phone screen glowed like a small sun in her hand, casting light on her face as she wavered between tradition and temptation. She knew she should be elated with the confirmation of Latha's pregnancy, the first critical step in her and Ashok's plan for a family. Yet her mind circled back to SilverFox77. Even the name thrilled her with its boldness, a mystery unfolding with each new word. The message lit up her phone again, vivid against her hesitations.

Her fingers shook with anticipation and fear as she typed a response to the surrogacy agency, confirming Latha's pregnancy with a polite but muted, "Thank you."

She now has doubts about not carrying a child on her own, after seeing the most amazing cock on her phone, even though a strangers cock, the life essence, the sight of such engorged testicles , made her wonder about carrying the child on her own. But it’s too late, also it will be a far cry to have her womb filled with SilverFox77’s semen. She shook her head and came to reality.

“Why no reels for some times? Are you ok?” Asked SilverFox77.

“Just needed some space," she typed back. "Life is...complicated right now."

Three dots appeared immediately. "I'm here if you need to talk. Always. I miss looking at your bare midriff in low hip saree."

Each message from SilverFox77 was a spark, illuminating the shadows she didn't know were there. Her lips parted slightly as she read, daring to savor the unfamiliar thrill, the sweet burn of wanting something beyond her reach.

Across the room, Ashok's face was a study in concentration, his eyes fixed on the laptop screen. She watched the silent play of his expressions, the brief moments when his gaze shifted to check a document or make a note. There was comfort in his predictability, but also a deep and widening void. She remembered a time when his mere presence was enough to ignite her, when the shared dream of a family felt like everything she could ever desire. Now that vision was diluted, more a shadow of itself than the luminous goal they once shared. Her breath caught as she looked back at her phone, her resolve faltering.

Selvam tried to see if he can make her come to Chennai but had no hope of seeing Vanitha. Even if he managed to make her come to chenai what will he do as SilverFox77, what will she think if she knew it’s her devolved mama, Selvem?

But he still messages “Apsara, a visit to Chennai might be just what you need” trying his luck.

She thought of Latha, of the commitment she had made, of the hopes and responsibilities intertwined with the news she should be celebrating. She thought of Ashok and the plans that now seemed less vital, more like anchors than wings.

Vanitha smoothed the folds of her sari again, seeking solace in the familiar rhythm of the fabric beneath her hands. The motions were meditative, but no comfort came. Her heart was beating in two distinct patterns, each pulse a testament to the duality she couldn't reconcile. One urged her to respond to the surrogacy agency with a simple affirmation, to remain within the lines she had drawn for herself. The other whispered of freedom, of giving in to the tide that pulled her toward an anonymous yet thrilling connection. SilverFox77's messages were poems in a language she hadn't dared speak, enticing her to utter a single word: Yes.

Ashok's voice broke through, staticky and remote. "Vanitha, I was thinking may be you should think about taking a break and go to Chennai. Until the baby comes,” He glanced at her briefly, his eyes already drifting back to his work.

Careful to keep her voice even. "It's an idea worth considering."

Her understated response didn't break his focus. He nodded, offering little more than a token smile before resuming his task.

“You will be busy once the baby comes, it will be a good distraction if you take some time back in Chennai, see your friends.”

Vanitha watched him, wondering if he sensed the rift that had grown between them, the subtle erosion of what once seemed so solid. Her hands were steady as they adjusted the laptop screen, but inside, she was a whirlwind of unanswered questions and unexplored desires.

She stood and moved around the room, the soft rustle of her sari trailing her like a whisper of things unspoken. She busied herself with tidying, a ritual that usually brought order to her thoughts, but found herself repeatedly drawn back to the phone, to the messages waiting to be acknowledged. Even as she picked up scattered magazines and rearranged throw pillows, her mind was elsewhere, tangled in a net of fascination and fear.

"I know you are occupied," came another message, an eloquent bait to the snare of her curiosity. "But you should know I dream of you."

Vanitha felt the words like an electric current, both shocking and invigorating. This was not the careful script of her married life, not the planned and plotted course she had charted with Ashok. It was something else entirely, raw and untamed, and it thrilled her in a way she couldn't easily dismiss. She imagined the writer of these messages, SilverFox77, perhaps as an artist or a poet, someone who lived by passion rather than routine. It was an image that appealed to her deeply, an alluring specter of what might be if she dared to stray from the path she was on.

Her hands returned to the phone with an urgency she couldn't mask. She scrolled through the messages, each more daring than the last, each a siren call to the part of her that craved something more. Her traditional values wrestled with this newfound yearning, but the struggle only heightened her intrigue. It was as if she were watching herself from a distance, a poised and disciplined woman teetering on the brink of a choice she never thought she'd have to make.

Ashok finished his work and strolled across from the office room in their home and came near Vanitha. He hugged her from behind and spread his palm under her saree to feel her flat tummy, caressing her navel.

“God, I’m happy I don’t have to sacrifice this body for a baby” he wisphered as his cock begun to bulge and poking her bountiful assault wrapped in saree.

“ppurrriiiiinnnnnggggg…..” FaceTime call notification startles both of them.

Selvam was on a FaceTime call. Selvam's voice arrived before his image, the digital echo of his wisdom settling around her like a familiar shawl. “Congratulations da!! So happy for you two” Selvam exclaimed.

“Thanks pa”

“Thanks mama” Vanitha joined.

“Are you ok Vanitha” asked Selvam with a concerned tone. Ashok explained how Vanitha felt and without missing a beat Selvam said…

"A visit to Chennai might be just what you need," he said, seeing through distance and technology to the truth she could hardly admit to herself. "Is it that obvious?" Her words were a quiver on the air, barely audible over the clamor of her unsettled heart. His face flickered into view, a mosaic of calm and certainty. 

"Emotional support is just as important as physical well-being," he reminded her gently. It was the voice of a father, of a mentor, and Vanitha knew it was the one she truly needed to hear.


After few days, Vanitha made up her mind about going on a vacation to Chennai. Her movements were as measured as her heart was wild, her hands packing with care even as her eyes strayed to the phone and the secret life it offered. She closed her suitcase and held her breath, stepping into a new journey with a storm of desire and doubt.

Selvam FaceTimes to confirm her flight timing to pick her up. His concern was a living thing, reaching across the ocean to wrap around her like a protective embrace.

Vanitha wished it were as easy to wrap herself in such assurance. She shifted slightly, the movement betraying her tension as she smoothed the edges of a cushion. Her American home, filled with the comforting smells of sandalwood and jasmine, felt suddenly foreign to her. 

"You’ve always been strong," he said, the words filled with a tenderness that both comforted and pained her. "But everyone needs a little help sometimes."

"Sometimes I don’t feel so strong," she admitted, her voice barely louder than the soft hum of the call. Selvam's image flickered, a heartbeat of digital life, steady and real where her world felt uncertain. She looked at her hands, neatly folded in her lap, and for a moment she saw herself through his eyes: A young woman far from home, navigating challenges that seemed to multiply with every step. Her gaze lifted back to the screen, to the one person who had always known how to untangle her fears as a father figure, little did she know he is also SilverFox77.

"I worry that I’m too far away from home, and if this vacation is needed" she confessed. "Too far to handle all this on my own." The quiver in her words gave them weight, a resonance that couldn't be ignored. Selvam nodded, his expression thoughtful and kind.

"You are never alone, Vanitha," he said, his tone like a warm hand on her shoulder. "You may be out of sight, but you are never out of mind. Not mine. Not Ashok’s."

His certainty pierced her doubts, and she felt the sting of tears threatening to fall. His wisdom was a balm she desperately needed, yet the thought of leaving the home, taking a vacation, filled her with apprehension. "And not the surrogacy agency's, I hope," she said with a faint attempt at humor. Selvam chuckled, a rich and familiar sound, easing her anxiety for a fleeting moment.

"You are much more than just a client to them," he assured her. "Or should be, at least."

The reminder of their commitment to the surrogacy plan anchored her briefly, yet it was not enough to still the storm inside. Even the assurance of the pregnancy's success felt hollow, overshadowed by the chaos of emotions she couldn't seem to control. "What if I've bitten off more than I can chew?" she said, her candidness surprising even herself.

"Then take smaller bites," Selvam advised, his metaphor drawing a smile from her at last. It was the smile of a woman still not certain where she belonged but finding comfort in the love and support she had left behind. "Start with the visit. It will do you good to be around family. You'll see."

The call ended, the screen going dark with a finality that left Vanitha momentarily adrift. The space Selvam had filled with his understanding seemed enormous now, a vast landscape of possibilities and pitfalls. She drew a deep breath, knowing that what she felt now was excitement as much as fear. Her gaze settled on the suitcase in the corner, a silent witness to her impending decision.

She moved toward it, each step an affirmation, her resolve slowly gathering strength. The act of packing was comforting in its simplicity, something she could control amid the chaos. Her hands were sure as they folded her sarees, each one a story waiting to be told. The vibrant silks and intricate patterns were threads of her identity, the past she couldn't leave behind and wasn't sure she wanted to. They were a lifeline to the girl she used to be and the woman she hoped to understand. As she set aside her toiletries and favorite books, her fingers brushed against her phone.

Its cool surface was a reminder of the heated messages she couldn't bring herself to ignore. SilverFox77's words had opened a door she never knew existed, a glimpse into a world as thrilling as it was dangerous. She shook her head, willing herself to focus on the task at hand, but her thoughts were as tangled as the clothes she now neatly arranged.

The suitcase grew heavy with possibilities, both real and imagined. She packed with precision, yet each item carried the weight of her conflicted heart. The vacation to Chennai felt enormous, a return to comfort and familiarity, yet it also loomed large with the potential to redefine everything.

Vanitha paused, holding a framed photo of her and Ashok. They looked blissful and certain, the future a bright and untroubled path. She set it on top of her clothes, a reminder that certainty was a fragile thing. She stood back, surveying her work, her face a portrait of resolve mingled with longing. 

It was then that she allowed herself to pick up the phone in earnest. The messages were still there, as undeniable as her racing pulse. "The way you are now, in that room, in this moment," SilverFox77 had written. "That’s how I see you, and I can hardly breathe for wanting." Vanitha closed her eyes, a shiver of emotion rippling through her. It wasn't only desire that spoke to her in those words. It was the lure of being truly seen, of stepping out from the well-rehearsed roles and finding what lay beneath. 

She clicked the suitcase shut, her actions quickening as if to outrun the growing storm inside her. The modern lines of her home blurred, becoming an indistinct backdrop to her urgent motions. The space felt at once too large and too constricting, a reflection of her life caught in transition. She paused again at the door, her hand gripping the handle, her resolve nearly faltering.

The airport was a rushing sea of motion, a thousand stories beginning and ending in the busy terminal. Vanitha stepped into the flow of people, a lone figure among the bustling crowd. The noise and chaos mirrored her thoughts, a clamor of doubt and determination. She clutched her bag with one hand and her phone with the other, the two objects her anchors and her burdens. 

The announcements and conversations around her faded to a distant murmur as she stood at the gate, the finality of her decision echoing in her heart. Was this a retreat or a beginning? A search for clarity or a flight from consequence? Her thoughts spiraled, but one truth remained: She needed to find out. 

Vanitha boarded the plane, her face a study in conflict, her movements resolute. She settled into her seat, the din of the airport replaced by the low hum of the engines, a steady drone that drowned out the uncertainty clamoring in her mind. She exhaled deeply, watching the world through the small window, knowing it would look different by the time she landed.

Her phone buzzed with a final message, a tiny thrill and terror in her hand. She glanced at it, a small smile touching her lips despite everything. It was a risk, this journey, a leap into the unknown. But it was hers to take. As the plane ascended, she held tightly to her hopes and fears, knowing the flight was only the beginning.

 How the hell am I even going to meet SilverFox77 even if I wanted to, do I even want to? That’s not why I’m going to Chennai. I need to relax and gather my energy to raise a baby, that’s why I’m going to Chennai. Her mind batteled.

[adams_masala]

IMAGE OF VANITHA ON HER WAY TO CHENNAI FOR HER VACATION!

[Bowlg78]

Bro... waiting for...bang of Vanitha..by..selvam...

Waiting the way selvam tease her...to..break..her...

Modest..sacred nature...to ..have him

Especially she overcome the feeling of surrogacy..

By through him ...

[adams_masala]

I added some pictures of Vanitha. Are the images loading? Someone please confirm.

[Vijay42]

I added some pictures of Vanitha. Are the images loading? Someone please confirm.

No bro ...How much photo has been recorded in this story, and this story depends on the body, dress, and feelings. I like a photo

[adams_masala]

No bro ...How much photo has been recorded in this story, and this story depends on the body, dress, and feelings. I like a photo

Not a lot but few posts with my comment starting “IMAGE of Vanitha”. Wait for few seconds for it to load. Let me know if if you still don’t see it. There are pictures of her in her waist chain with a leaf pendant nuzzled between her thighs.

[Karmayogee]

Excellent update

[Vijay42]

[Arul Pragasam]

Super bro

[adams_masala]

Nanba, please don’t pictures on my story. I will do it when I feel it’s required.

[Anu.007]

Super

[kuttoosan009]

No words to appreciate you bro.............. its outstanding.......

[Vijay42]

Bro waiting for next updates....

[parottamaster]

Very nice updates

[Rockket Raja]

Amazing one. By the time she returns to US, she should be pregnant with Silver Selvams child in her womb

[Dorabooji]

Lovely writing indeed

[Krish World]

Is she going alone for the vacation?? Who else is going to screw her? Interesting updates!!!

[adams_masala]

Chapter 19: Vanitha and Selvam in Chennai

A clutch of taxis vie for attention like suitors at a pageant, each honking louder than the last. Vanitha breathes in the heat and smog, a welcome change from the antiseptic chill of American suburbia. She sees him: Selvam, poised against a backdrop of touting drivers and sweating tourists, eyes like a teen at a Taylor Swift concert. Vanitha waves. The former beauty queen waves at him. 

She crosses the chaos with a purposeful grace, each step revealing a touch of her modern flair. As she reaches Selvam, the jostling crowd becomes mere background to her father-in-law. 

"You're finally here, Vanitha," Selvam says, his voice straddling joy and nerves.

"I'm here!" she replies, the warmth of her words matching the warmth of the city. "You didn't have to come all the way to pick me up."

"Of course I did," he insists, holding open the door to his car. "I couldn't miss seeing you the moment you arrived."

Vanitha smiles, sliding into the passenger seat. She watches Selvam, observing his familiar features with an almost clinical affection. He looks back at her, eyes lingering, caught between familial duty and the thrill of an admirer seeing his muse in the flesh.

"Everything okay, Uncle?" she teases. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Not a ghost," he says, starting the car with a shy grin. "More like a movie star." He can’t believe he actually said that. Vanitha was a little surprised too.

The drive through Chennai is a sensory feast, each street a tapestry of color and life. Vanitha leans back, the nostalgia settling comfortably around her. She points to landmarks and changes, her excitement weaving with Selvam’s quiet attentiveness.

"How are you adjusting, back home?" he asks, threading his question with genuine care.

"It's been quite the change," Vanitha admits. "Ashok's work keeps him so busy. It's nice to be here, where everything feels alive."

"And your videos? They've been getting quite popular."

She laughs, a soft musical note. "You keep track of my followers?"

Selvam’s fingers grip the steering wheel a little tighter. "I try to keep up. You make it hard for us older folks to follow everything."

Their laughter mingles with the honking of the traffic. As they reach Selvam’s home, Vanitha surveys the place with an appreciative eye, noticing the subtle changes made for her comfort.

"This is lovely," she remarks, her gaze sweeping over the newly painted walls and fresh flowers. "You did all this for me, uncle?"

"I wanted you to feel at home," Selvam says. "I hope it's to your liking."

"It's perfect," she assures him, touching his arm with the familiarity of old friends and new family. Her fingers lingered a bit longer on his hairy strong forearm.

As they step inside, Vanitha’s exhaustion mingles with relief. Selvam motions toward the bedroom with attached bathroom. "You must be tired from the flight. Why don't you freshen up?"

"Thank you, I think I will," Vanitha replies, her eyes gleaming with affection.

“Sorry ma, the showerhead in your bathroom isn’t working, plumber is coming later today to fix it. Use this bathroom today.” He points to the large bathroom tucked away from the living room.

She enters the bathroom, and the sound of the shower starts soon after. Selvam stands outside, acutely aware of each drop of water, each faint movement. He imagines her delicate and meticulous, the steam a veil around her fit and graceful form. Her voice calls out, bringing him back to himself.

"I didn't realize how much I missed this heat!" she shouts playfully.

He laughs, the tension breaking like bubbles in the steamy air. "Nothing like a Chennai summer to warm you up!"

Vanitha emerges, her skin flushed and glowing, wrapped in a towel with the elegance of a high-fashion sari. Selvam watches her, an almost reverent silence accompanying his stolen glances.

"Where do you want my things?" she asks, tilting her head.

He gestures to a room with a subtle flourish, his composure returning. "You can use this as your studio to create your reels. The light is good, and you’ll have plenty of space."

"And where do I sleep?" she teases, a glint in her eye.

He shows her another room. "Here, with an attached bathroom. I thought it would be private for you."

"It's wonderful, Uncle. But you're too kind."

"I only want you to have what you need."

They settle into the main room, the earlier excitement mellowing into a comfortable closeness. Selvam ventures to ask about her work, his voice measured and careful.

"So, any plans for new videos? Your audience will want to know you're back."

Vanitha sighs, a dramatic flutter of lashes. "Honestly, I'm not in the mood right now. And I didn’t bring the sarees I use specifically for reels."

He nods, absorbing the information, a plan already taking shape in his mind. "Maybe we can do something about that."

Her curiosity piqued, Vanitha raises an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

"Just a thought," Selvam says with a mysterious air. "But you must be tired. Why don't we talk more over dinner?"

She agrees, her expression a mix of intrigue and affection. As they move to eat, Selvam steals a last glance, his thoughts a tangled web of devotion and desire.

The next day Selvam suggests at breakfast table.

“I want to take you shopping Vanitha, so you can keep your mind occupied doing things you love.”

“Oh uncle, you are too kind, but that’s too much”

But Selvam triumphs and they both go to shopping.

Spools of fabric unwind like plans for a secret affair, their colors daring each other to be more outrageous. Vendors make hushed promises of the best price, the finest weave, as Vanitha floats from saree to saree, her discerning fingers trailing over each. Selvam follows, pretending to consider the cloth, but really watching the woman he once knew through a screen.

Inside, the shop is a living tapestry of activity, layers of vibrant textiles and bustling voices. The chatter and laughter form a buzzing backdrop as Vanitha surveys the selection, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"It's more lively than I remember," Vanitha says, brushing her fingers over a brilliant blue silk.

"It's quite the scene," Selvam replies, trying to match her enthusiasm while hiding the real source of his excitement.

"Do you like this one?" she asks, holding up the fabric for his inspection.

He nods, more caught by the way the color complements her than by the fabric itself. "I think it would suit you well."

She tilts her head, playfully suspicious. "You mean, it suits my followers well?"

Selvam chuckles, watching her with eyes that see much more than sarees. "Maybe both."

Vanitha moves deeper into the shop, each graceful motion an invitation for Selvam's gaze to follow. She handles the fabrics with care, her expertise evident in each deliberate choice.

"You haven't lost your touch," Selvam comments as Vanitha narrows down her selections.

"You're just easily impressed," she counters, an affectionate tease in her tone. "What do you think of this green one?"

"Very striking," he says, "but isn't yellow your favorite?"

She laughs, a sound that wraps around him like silk. "You're paying more attention than I thought."

The shopkeeper, sensing the potential for a good sale, pulls additional options for them, dbanging Vanitha in choices that mirror her elegance and allure. They go through each, their conversation punctuated by laughter and shared glances.

Vanitha eventually settles on a small collection and makes her way to a secluded corner where a tiny dressing room waits. She turns to Selvam, her smile hinting at her intent.

"Want to see how these look?" she asks, disappearing behind the curtain before he can respond.

He stands outside, a palpable anticipation radiating from him. The murmur of the shop fades as his focus narrows to the narrow gap in the dressing room curtain. Vanitha’s movements inside are deliberate, each rustle of fabric magnifying his awareness.

Selvam's breath catches as Vanitha slips off her saree and blouse, revealing the curve of her shoulder and a tantalizing glimpse of lace. She removes her saree and petticoat, standing in just her bra and panties, her fit body a study of disciplined beauty. The sight, both accidental and overwhelming, sends a jolt through him.

Vanitha takes her time trying on the first saree, wrapping it low on her hips with the practiced flair of a beauty queen. She emerges, poised and radiant, and twirls for him.

"Well?" she prompts, reading the awe on his face.

"Beautiful," Selvam manages, his voice a touch too thick, the image of her in undress imprinted on his mind.

Vanitha returns to the dressing room, emboldened by his reaction. She removes the first saree slowly, an unspoken awareness of her effect on him. This time, she slips on a lehenga with a crop top, the outfit teasingly modern and unexpectedly bold.

"Not sure how traditional this is," she calls, stepping out to model the daring ensemble.

Selvam looks at her, the crop top revealing her midriff and turning his pulse into a drumbeat. "I think it suits you," he says, a flustered edge in his tone.

"You do?" she replies, enjoying the effect she has on him. "Maybe I'll get this one just for you." She teased.

“But, it’s probably too much for Instagram.” He said hesitantly.

Her words hang between them, laden with the playful tension she knows so well. She tries on the final saree, dbanging it expertly, before changing back to her clothes and stepping out.

"You know you will look good in both sarees," Selvam remarks, trying to reclaim some composure. "But I think you already have that pink color. Why don't you pick the yellow one?"

His suggestion is careful, yet filled with a subtext that only Vanitha seems to notice. She regards him with a puzzled smile, intrigued by his persistence.

"Yellow it is then," she decides, her acceptance wrapping them both in the intimacy of a shared secret.

They finalize their purchase, the shopkeeper delighted, and step back into the vivid life of the market. Vanitha carries the new clothes, and Selvam carries the charged memory of the dressing room, the blurred lines of their relationship turning into something irresistibly tempting.

As they park the car come inside the home Selvam casually said “So, now that you have your saree, do you want to make the reel?”

He walked her to the door that lead to the studio he created for her, just for her to make videos for Instagram.

The space is ready for Vanitha's performance, a stage of perfectly calculated charm. Lights glow with studio-soft warmth, a mirror reflects both the poised woman and the one enraptured man. Selvam stands on the periphery, knowing that she's always aware of her audience, even when they pretend to be invisible. Especially when they pretend to be invisible.

Vanitha's eyes widen as she takes in the room, its transformation both modern and traditional, a careful bridge between worlds. "Selvam," she breathes, the excitement bubbling in her voice. "This is incredible."

"I'm glad you like it," he says, trying to mask the undercurrent of deeper intentions.

"It's like you knew exactly what I needed," she replies, spinning around to take in every detail. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and Selvam drinks it in like a man starved for affection.

"I thought it might inspire you," he says, his eyes following her every movement.

Vanitha smiles, setting up the camera with practiced ease. "It's perfect. I didn't expect this at all."

"You're full of surprises yourself," he murmurs, too low for her to catch.

As she arranges the first saree for filming, Selvam leans against the doorframe, caught in the magnetism of her presence. Vanitha moves with the fluid grace of someone who knows she's always being watched.

"I'm going to start with this yellow one," she calls, adjusting the lighting. "It's nice, don't you think?"

"Very nice," Selvam agrees, the fabric clinging to her in a way that leaves him struggling to maintain composure.

Vanitha begins the video, her introduction both polished and personal. She dbangs the saree low, accentuating the curve of her hip, her form outlined in seductive precision. Each wrap, each fold, is a dance that leaves Selvam breathless.

"And now, let's switch it up," she says to the camera, a twinkle in her eye. She changes to a deep red saree, the shift a deliberate performance that knows exactly its impact.

Selvam watches, captivated and conflicted, as Vanitha showcases herself with the confidence of a pageant queen. His admiration is raw, unguarded, and the intimacy of the moment unravels his carefully held self-control.

The red saree comes off, the lehenga from earlier taking its place. Vanitha moves to catch her most alluring angles, aware of Selvam's gaze even if her lens pretends not to be. His heartbeat races with each piece she adds or removes.

"You don't think this one is too much, do you?" she asks, modeling the crop top with feigned innocence.

"No," he replies, the word coming out strained. "Not at all."

As Vanitha finishes filming, she transitions to her final look, the last saree a cascade of shimmering elegance. Selvam’s desire grows stronger with each second, his presence more charged than the room’s new equipment.

With her video complete, Vanitha approaches Selvam, gratitude shining in her eyes. She embraces him impulsively, a warm gesture that breaks past his defenses. She gave him a geniun hug like a daughter to a father figure.

"Thank you for all this, Uncle" she says, her touch sending shockwaves through him.

Caught off guard, Selvam's body betrays him. His arousal is unmistakable, a visceral reaction that neither can ignore. Selvam’s erection pressed against her without his control. Vanitha pulls back, surprise and confusion flitting across her face.

Selvam looks back, a mirror of her emotions, seeing in her a blend of the woman he married into Ashok’s family and the muse he secretly admired as SilverFox77.

Later that night, Vanitha lay on her bed, staring into the dim glow of her phone. The ceiling fan traced lazy circles, a gentle whir that could not quiet her racing thoughts. She replayed the day's events, each scene sharp and vivid, lingering especially on the moment Selvam's body pressed against hers. It unsettled her—the warmth, the way he held her a second too long, and the undeniable way she had felt him respond. Perhaps letting him stay while she filmed had been a dreadful miscalculation. She had been so comfortable, so trusting, that she completely disregarded how complex things might become. 

He had always seemed warm and caring family, never once hinting at anything more, yet today shattered that illusion spectacularly. The vulnerability in his eyes, the unmistakable desire—it all felt dangerously too real. Lying there, she began to reconsider how freely she moved around him, questioning every small gesture, every playful word. Was she leading him on without realizing it? Was she blind to the signals he'd been sending? Guilt lapped at her conscience, whispering that perhaps she was the one at fault for this new tension that tangled between them like an unspoken thread.

She thought back to his encouragement, his eager suggestion that she continue creating content while in Chennai. Was it just a clever excuse to spend more time in her orbit? And her, dbanging the saree with abandon, wrapping herself in mischief and fabric—had she misunderstood the entire dynamic? She was used to being admired, but this was different. Personal. Intimate in a way she hadn’t anticipated. The recollection of his arousal filled her with an unexpected sadness, a regret for putting him in a position that so clearly tested his self-control. 

She tossed in her sheets, trying to make sense of her own mixed feelings. The image of his face as she pulled away—conflicted and raw—was burned into her mind. Would things even be the same anymore? 

A room away, Selvam lay awake, his own thoughts a storm of confusion. The memory of her body against his, the way she smelled of jasmine and something else entirely intoxicating, played over and over. Had he crossed a line he couldn't uncross? Vanitha's casual "Thank you, Uncle," was meant as an endearment, yet it now felt like a cruel reminder of where he should stand in her life. He had hoped the day's events would draw them closer, but instead it left him with a haunting disquiet and a yearning he feared would remain unfulfilled.

Vanitha bit her lip as she scrolled through the comments, her heart fluttering at the outpouring of support. "They really missed me," she murmured, a small smile playing on her lips. 

She paused when she saw a notification appear—SilverFox77 had commented. Her smile widened instinctively. This particular follower always left the most thoughtful comments, seeing beyond the surface of her videos to appreciate the cultural nuances she worked so hard to showcase.

"Your grace in that saree reminds me of the classical dancers at the Kapaleeshwarar temple," SilverFox77 had written. "The way you've paired the traditional dbanging with modern styling shows such respect for heritage while embracing the present."

Vanitha felt a warm glow spread through her chest. Selvam in the other bedroom posting comments as SilverFox77.

Vanitha's finger hovered over the comment. SilverFox77 had been following her for months now, his observations always striking a perfect balance between appreciation and respect. Unlike the flood of superficial compliments she received, his words seemed to truly see her—the intention behind her choices, the cultural statements woven into each dbang and fold.

She tapped the reply button, something she rarely did with followers.

"Thank you for noticing the temple dance inspiration," she typed. "It means so much when someone understands these little details."

She hesitated before adding: "Your comments always brighten my day."

Pressing send, Vanitha felt an unexpected flutter in her stomach. There was something comforting about this connection—this stranger who somehow made her feel less alone in a moment when everything familiar seemed suddenly complicated.

In the adjacent room, Selvam's phone pinged with a notification. His heart fluttered thinking she is messaging Vanitha who’s right next door in her bedroom.

She carefully uploaded the second video featuring a vibrant, intricately designed saree, allowing herself to sink into the solace of her creative ritual. As the video went live, a flurry of comments began to flood in, with viewers expressing their admiration and excitement. Yet, her mind drifted back to the small, dimly lit dressing room where she'd felt the electric tension in Selvam's gaze, and to the third video she had yet to unveil.

On that shopping trip, she had chosen three distinct pieces: two elegant sarees and a daring lehenga that challenged her comfort zone. She questioned whether she was intentionally holding back or merely biding her time for the perfect opportunity. This indecision gnawed at her, a reminder of the creeping doubt that had unsettled her previously steadfast confidence. Her finger hovered over the "post" button for the provocative lehenga video, which was unlike anything she had shared before. Its audacity reflected the same yearning she had seen in Selvam's eyes. The lehenga's crop top revealed her midriff, her navel, and a hint of cleavage, the dbangd fabric making a bold statement both inviting and assertive. She found herself wrestling with how much to disclose—not just in terms of fashion but in the underlying message of her intentions. She then decided it’s too revealing for the world to see, so she didn’t post it.

In the next room, Selvam wondered why the lehenga remained absent from her posts. Only he knew of its existence, watching with a mix of impatience and hope. 

In a moment of unanticipated impulse, she picked up her phone and instead of posting the reel to the world, er eyes glinting with mischief she sent a private message to SilverFox77. She added a teasing message, the allure of the forbidden too tempting to resist. Her fingers hovered over the screen for an instant before she clicked send, dispatching the private missive to her most ardent observer. As the message sent, she felt a flutter of uncertainty in her chest, unsure herself of the intentions behind her actions.

And now the message was there, a notification that filled him with disbelief and triumph. "I bought this only for your eyes," it read, and with it, the video he thought she had abandoned. The lehenga, more revealing than anything before, was a testament to their unspoken connection. 

The crop top clung tightly to her, revealing the smooth expanse of her midriff and the delicate curve of her navel, while the fabric dipped low, accentuating the swell of her cleavage. His gaze lingered on the boldness of her outfit, mirroring the surge of desire that coursed through him. He noticed the confident sparkle in her eyes and the warmth of her smile, which left him both excited and on edge, captivated by the openness of her gesture.

Selvam was in disbelief; she had sent it directly to him as a private message. Watching her uninhibited performance ignited a fire within him, challenging his resolve. Was this intimate gesture real or imagined? The experience was both intoxicating and terrifying, shattering his boundaries and electrifying him, shaking the foundations of the roles he thought they played.

His body responded immediately, desire pulsing through him with a ferocity that left him both exhilarated and desperate for some semblance of control. His cock raised up, a powerful testament to the arousal he couldn't deny, no matter how hard he tried. He felt himself being pulled into a dangerous territory where the lines of propriety blurred with the rawness of his craving. How was he supposed to navigate this new reality where the woman he couldn't stop thinking about seemed to invite him deeper into a world of shared secrecy? 

Despite the overwhelming urge to give in to the fantasy she offered, a part of him resisted. This was Vanitha—Ashok's wife, the girl who came to his home for shelter and support. A sense of moral duty fought against the tantalizing promise of her message, forcing him to reconsider how far he was willing to let this go. His head spun with the complexity of it all, the fantasy so tantalizingly close yet fraught with risk. Had she sent it knowing the turmoil it would cause him, or did she simply not realize the intensity of her impact?


With effort, Selvam controlled himself, the struggle between his desires and his principles as intense as the jolt of arousal that now coursed through his veins. He took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of restraint to act with the respect he knew she deserved. Her message was not just a tantalizing tease but a test of his self-control and his ability to maintain the delicate balance of their newfound relationship. He forced himself to sleep, though not before carefully composing a reply.

He knew he had to respond to her with the thoughtful appreciation she'd come to expect from SilverFox77. Anything less might betray the turmoil her video had ignited. His fingers moved over the screen, crafting a message that showed his admiration without overstepping the fragile boundary between them.

"Your boldness is unmatched," he wrote, making sure each word conveyed the depth of his feelings while maintaining the respectful tone she had come to recognize. "Thank you for sharing this with me. I am honored." He hesitated before sending it, hoping she would understand the layers of meaning his words attempted to convey.

Exhaling deeply, he tapped the send button, dispatching the message into the night. Would this be enough to maintain the connection without tipping them into chaos? He hoped so, even as his mind raced with the implications. His thoughts lingered on the vivid image of her in the Lehenga, and he drifted into a restless sleep filled with dreams that left him yearning and hopeful.

The message caused Vanitha to feel a sense of triumph. She went to sleep peacefully.