Adultery Radiance of Vanitha, Daughter-in-Law and Instagram Influencer

[Sarran Raj]

Now vanitha is set to turn the women followers of her like a bitch like her.

[adams_masala]

Her photoshoot

[Sarran Raj]

These days vanitha calling Ashok as kanna instead of da. It is like mother calling the child. whatta coincidence. indha ooru innuma nammala nambi kittu irukku.

[adams_masala]

These days vanitha calling Ashok as kanna instead of da.  It is like mother calling the child. whatta coincidence. indha ooru innuma nammala nambi kittu irukku.

Puriyala bro? You don’t like the story?

[Sarran Raj]

Puriyala bro? You don’t like the story?

generally a mother calls her child as kanna. After taking the thali from selvam, she started calling Ashok as kanna. She has turned mother for her ex husband is what i meant. i love this story very much. 

[Ananthukutty]

Has latha fall in love with Ashok and now wants the mangalsutra to be tied around her neck.
She is just a woman hired for surrogacy. There will be NDA of not getting emotional.
How much she is paid for this job. Will selvam fuck her when vanitha is away.

[adams_masala]

generally a mother calls her child as kanna. After taking the thali from selvam, she started calling Ashok as kanna. She has turned mother for her ex husband is what i meant. i love this story very much. 

Ok ok I understand the kanna, part it was part intentional like selvam and Vanitha calling him kanna. I love how you understood that. Thank you! I didn’t understand your last sentence… you mean Ashok is trusting?

[adams_masala]

Has latha fall in love with Ashok and now wants the mangalsutra to be tied around her neck.
She is just a woman hired for surrogacy. There will be NDA of not getting emotional.
How much she is paid for this job. Will selvam fuck her when vanitha is away.

Please read the full story first 5 to 6 chapters. Will answer your questions.

[mulaikallan]

Vanitha is not taking pills. Not fearing any pregnancy. Very strange

[Ananthukutty]

Vanitha is not taking pills. Not fearing any pregnancy. Very strange

Yes. Vanitha will get pregnant much before Latha. It will be end of road for vanitha relationship with Ashok whose thali is now with Latha. Will she reveal about finding it in garbage to Ashok? Vanitha did not attempt to search it thereafter. Though she call him as kanna etc etc. There is no love in it. Now Selvam started his startup with AI and all woman ready to be part of it, vanitha does not need any support of Ashok. Selvam can move to a new house with company and vanitha can also move along with him leaving Ashok and latha in the old house.

[adams_masala]

Vanitha is not taking pills. Not fearing any pregnancy. Very strange

Please explain, why it’s strange?

[Ananthukutty]

Please explain, why it’s strange?

He is right bro. Even with one night stand any woman will be cautious in taking pills or making out only in the safe days. But vanitha never thought about those anytime in chennai or here. Even selvam did not bother to ask her if she is safe. 

[adams_masala]

He is right bro. Even with one night stand any woman will be cautious in taking pills or making out only in the safe days. But vanitha never thought about those anytime in chennai or here. Even selvam did not bother to ask her if she is safe. 

Read the story carefully bro, you’ll know if she is taking pills or not.

[adams_masala]

Chapter 66: The Launch

Scene 1

Selvam opened his eyes at 5:12 am.

The clock on the nightstand was a small black cube with red numbers and it sat next to the bottle of water Latha filled for him every night before she went to bed. He did not remember falling asleep. He remembered lying on his back and thinking about the café, and the short white dress, and the small red lace bra that had shown at her collarbone for a half second, and then the clock said five twelve.

He lay there for a minute.

The room was dark. The guest bedroom in Los Gatos had the good blackout curtains Ashok had put in the week they moved in, and the only light in the room was the small green dot on the laptop charger on the desk across from the bed. He looked at the green dot. He looked at the ceiling. He thought about Vanitha for one clean second and he pushed that thought off the way a man pushed a plate back at the end of a meal, and then he thought about Summer again, and he did not push that one.

He got up.

He did his usual. Water from the bottle. The bathroom. A splash of cold on his face at the sink. He did not look in the mirror for long. He came back out and he put on the grey t-shirt that sat on the chair and the track pants under it and he went to the desk and he opened the laptop.

The screen came up bright. He turned the brightness down two notches.

He clicked on the mail.

Her email sat at the top of the inbox. Sent 11:52 PM the night before. The subject line was three words. Staging link inside.

He opened it.

He read it slow. He read it a second time. The message was short the way she had told him she kept her messages short, and the shortness had the same quality her face had across the table at the café, which was a quality of a person who did not waste time and did not need to.

Staging link below.

Admin credentials also below.

Log in and click around.

This is the invite-only portal.

The user flow takes four minutes end to end. I tested it myself.

He read the last line twice. I tested it myself. He sat there with his hand on the trackpad and he did not click for a moment.

He clicked.

The staging link opened in a new tab. The page came up clean, cream background, a line of hand-lettered type at the top. Help us build a better fit. Under it the two short sentences she had written. He read them. The page did not try to be anything it was not. He liked that.

He clicked through the sign-up as if he were a user. He put in a fake email. The system sent a code to a spot he could see in the admin view later. He pretended he had gotten the code on a phone. He entered it. He went through the age gate. He clicked the box that said he was between 20 and 25, he used an encrypted key for the age test, and the system accepted it. He went to the instructions page.

The instructions were numbered. Each step had a small cartoon figure next to it. The figures did not have faces. He liked that too. This was way better than the stick figure he had vibe coded.

Step one. Wear fitted undergarments only. A bra and briefs are fine. Nude preferred for the right fit.

He read that line and he did not read the next one for a breath.

He kept going. He walked through the upload. He did not have a real photo to upload on the staging test so he used a small grey placeholder the tool offered. He entered seven numbers on the measurement page, fake numbers, the first seven that came into his head. He hit submit. The confirmation screen came up. Thank you. Your data has helped.

He sat back in the chair.

It worked. The thing he had drawn on a napkin across a table from her worked. It worked in a clean small flow that a woman could do in four minutes from her bedroom.

He opened a second tab. He went to the admin URL she had put at the bottom of the email. He pasted the username. He pasted the one-time password. The admin dashboard came up.

The dashboard was plain. A left sidebar. A main panel. The main panel had a small box at the top that said Users and a number next to it.

The number was two.

His heart moved once in his chest. He did not know why. He knew why.

He clicked the box.

Two records came up in a list. The first record was labeled Summer Test 1. The second was labeled Summer Test 2. Both had time stamps from the night before, the first at 10:47 PM and the second at 11:31 PM.

He looked at them.

He put his hand on the trackpad and he did not click yet. He sat for one breath and he was aware of himself in a way he did not like. He was aware of his own mouth, which had gone a half open. He was aware of his own thumb on the pad of the trackpad, and the small sweat at the tip of it. He was aware of the thing in his chest, which was not the thing of a man testing a piece of software.

He told himself it was a test record. He told himself she had tested the flow herself, the way she had said in the email. He told himself she had used a placeholder or a stock image or a fit mannequin from her work.

He clicked Summer Test 1.

The record came up. The measurement fields were filled with round numbers, thirty-four, twenty-six, thirty-six, the kind of numbers a person typed in to test that a form accepted them. The image thumbnail sat in the top right.

He clicked the thumbnail.

The image opened full screen. A mannequin. White plastic. No arms. The kind of mannequin a fit studio kept in the corner. A grey cloth had been dbangd over the hips for scale.

He let his breath out. He did not know when he had stopped breathing.

He clicked back. He clicked Summer Test 2. The thumbnail opened. A second mannequin, the same one, a different angle. Same grey cloth.

He sat for a long breath.

Then he smiled, small, at himself. A man alone in a room could smile at himself and not have to answer to it.

The professional part of him was pleased. The flow had captured both records. The measurements were in the database. The images were where they were supposed to be. She had done in twelve hours what he had thought would take a month.

The other part of him had wanted the thing he had not let himself want at the table. He knew this. He did not try to lie to himself about it. He was forty-eight. He had been forty-eight for eight months. He had been with his daughter-in-law for ten of them before that. And still, in a dark bedroom at 5:30 in the morning in his son’s house in California, he had clicked on a thumbnail with a part of his chest that had nothing to do with a choli app.

He closed the tab.

He sat in front of the dark browser for another minute.

Then he opened his mail and he wrote back.

Summer,

Excellent work. I walked the flow. Everything functions. Admin is clean. The age gate is the right bound.

We should schedule a call with Vanitha today. She will want to see it before she announces.

Thank you.

Selvam

He read it. He did not change anything. He sent it.

He closed the laptop.

In the hallway the kettle downstairs clicked on, small and far away. Vanitha was up.

Scene 2

Vanitha was at the stove when he came down.

She had a saree on already at six thirty in the morning, which was not her habit. A soft cotton one, pale yellow, the border a thin green line. The pallu was pinned at her shoulder but the dbang at the waist sat low, the way it sat in her reels, the full line of her midriff bare and the small round of her navel visible above the knot.

“Good morning, mama.”

“Morning, ma.”

“Dosa?”

“Please.”

He sat at the island. She poured the batter on the hot pan and the edges hissed and lifted and she did not turn around. She knew he was watching her back. She let him watch.

Ashok was already gone. He had a seven o’clock at the office which was unusual, he normally works from home. Latha had gone with Vanitha’s car to the Indian grocery on Saratoga, a list she had made the night before. The house was empty except for the two of them, and the small click of the fan on the stove hood, and the smell of coconut chutney on the counter.

She turned with the plate. She set it in front of him. The dosa was folded and golden and the small bowl of chutney sat on the side. She leaned across his arm to put a glass of water down on his other side and her breast brushed the side of his shoulder through the blouse and she did not apologize for it.

“So,” she said. She came around and sat on the stool next to his. Not across. Next. Her knee touched his knee under the counter. “Tell me about the pretty engineer you are meeting in town.”

He looked at her.

“Who told you she was pretty, ma.”

“Ashok.”

“Ashok said she was pretty.”

“Ashok said she was, quote, very bright and quite beautiful, end quote.” She picked a small piece off the edge of his dosa with her fingers and she ate it. “He has never said that about a junior at his office. He said it twice last night. I kept count.”

“She is twenty-four, ma.”

“A baby.”

“A professional.”

“Mm.” Vanitha dipped her own finger in the chutney and sucked it off, slow, her eyes on him. “Professionals come in all shapes, mama.”

“Vanitha.”

“Tell me about her, mama. I want to know. Is she tall?”

“Tall.”

“Blonde?”

“Dark blonde.”

“Oh, mama.” She leaned her chin on her palm. “My competition is a dark blonde.”

“There is no competition.”

“That is not what my hip said to your knee a minute ago.”

He set his fork down. He turned his face to her. She was smiling small at the corner of her mouth and her eyes were bright and she was not really teasing, and also she was really teasing, and he had learned to tell the two apart and he had learned he liked when they came together like this.

“She built the site last night, ma.”

“In one night.”

“In one night. She sent me the link at midnight. I tested it this morning. It works.”

He opened the tablet on the counter. He turned it so she could see. He walked her through the flow the way he had walked himself through it an hour ago. The cream page. The hand-lettered headline. The age gate. The instructions.

She read the instructions over his shoulder. Her cheek was near his cheek. Her hair smelled of the jasmine oil she combed through the night before.

“Nude preferred,” she read, quiet.

“For accuracy.”

“I see.” Her eyes did not leave the screen. “Mama, for science.”

“For the LLM training.”

“The model training.” She smiled. “Mama, we should test it.”

“I tested it.”

“With a mannequin?”

He did not answer.

“Mama, she tested it with a mannequin. That is not a real body. The model will not learn from a mannequin. The model will learn from real women with real bodies and real curves and real little problems in the middle.” She poked her own navel through the saree, small, a gesture. “Let us test it with a real woman.”

“Vanitha.”

“Come upstairs, mama.”

She stood. She picked up the tablet off the counter. She did not wait for him to agree. She walked out of the kitchen the slow walk she had, the one that moved the pallu at her shoulder in a way a man could not not follow, and he sat on the stool a half second longer and then he pushed the plate back and he followed.

Upstairs she went into his guest room and she closed the door behind them.

The morning sun was full in the room by now. It came through the gauze curtain at the window and it lay across the floor in two bright stripes. She set the tablet on the dresser.

“Where do you want me to stand, mama.”

“Against that wall.”

“The cream one.”

“The cream one. Plain background. Even light.”

She went to the wall. She turned to face him. She reached behind her and she unpinned the pallu at her shoulder, slow, and the fabric fell away from her chest and she let it drop. She was not wearing the saree for Ashok. The blouse under it was one of her filming blouses, the dark red one with the deep scoop at the throat and the high cut at the midriff, the one he had measured her for himself in Chennai in March with a tape between his fingers and her breath held.

“Choli only, mama?”

“The instructions say fitted undergarments.”

“A blouse is fitted, mama.”

“Yes.”

She unwrapped the saree. She did it fast, the way she did it when she was changing between takes, the chiffon coming off her in a long continuous pull until it pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of the pool in the red choli and the petticoat. The morning light caught her jewelry, the small gold at her earlobes, the thin bangles at her wrist, the heavy chain at her throat that was not Ashok’s chain, which caught the light differently.

He did not let his eyes go to the chain.

“Phone at chest height,” he said. His voice came out flat, which took work.

“Take it, mama.”

He picked up the tablet. He opened the camera the app had built into the flow. He lifted it. He lined her up against the cream wall in the frame.

She stood the way she stood for her reels. Feet hip-width. One small weight shift to her right hip. Her chin a quarter down. Her eyes on his eyes through the screen.

“Arms slightly away from the body,” he read off the side of the screen.

She lifted her arms a small inch from her waist. The choli rode up a quarter inch at the midriff.

He took the photo.

“Side, ma.”

She turned a quarter. The line of her body in profile was the line he had drawn in his head the first time he had put a tape measure on her, the small drop from rib to waist, the round pull of the hip, the soft small shelf of her breast against the dark red.

He took it.

“Back.”

She turned the rest of the way. The scoop of the choli at the back went lower than the front. The cream wall and the red of the blouse and the black of her braid.

He took it.

“Come see, mama.”

He came over to the dresser. She was already there, leaning on it, the tablet between her hands. He stood next to her. The photos came up in the upload screen in three small thumbnails. She reached to tap the submit button at the same moment he reached to tap it, and his finger landed on hers on the glass.

Neither of them moved the finger.

“Mama,” she said, soft.

“Vanitha.”

“Submit it.”

He pressed down. Under his finger her finger pressed down. The screen changed. The small progress bar crawled. Her eyes came up off the screen and they were on his face. He kept his eyes on the screen.

The confirmation came up. Thank you. Your data has helped.

She laughed, one small breath of it, and her finger slid out from under his, slow, and she did not step away from the dresser.

“For science, mama.”

“For science.”

Scene 3

Summer was at her desk by nine.

She had on the same grey t-shirt she had slept in and a pair of cotton shorts and her hair was in a knot on top of her head. Her coffee was next to the keyboard. The two monitors threw their blue across her face. She was pushing a small fix to the upload throttle and she was not really thinking about the fix.

She was thinking about the café.

She was thinking about the way he had pulled her chair out, which no man at her office did, and the way he had said her name once, clean, and then used it only when he needed to. She was thinking about the small crease at the corner of his eye when he had looked down at the napkin. She was thinking that he had not looked at her chest when her cardigan had parted. He had looked at the napkin. He had kept looking at the napkin until she had straightened herself, and then he had met her eyes, clean.

Men did not do that.

Men at her shoots did not do that. Men at her office did not do that. Men on the street did not do that. She had been looked at, in the way she was looked at, since she was fifteen, and she had taught herself to ignore it and then she had taught herself to use it and then she had gone to Honey Birdette and pulled on a pink set and gotten paid for it. She knew what the look was. She knew the flavor of every variety of it.

Selvam had not done it. And Selvam had the kind of physique most men at her office did not have. Forty-eight. She still could not make the number sit in her head next to his face.

She clicked into the admin console.

Her two test records sat there at the top. Summer Test 1. Summer Test 2. Both mannequin photos. She looked at her pictures.

She thought, for a small breath of a thought, about standing up and going to her bedroom and taking one of herself. A front. Against the white wall at the back of the closet. For calibration. A second data point that was not a mannequin. She would label it Summer Test 3. She would upload it. He would see it in the admin console the next time he logged in and he would know what it was.

She did not do it.

She closed the admin tab. She went back to the throttle fix. She told herself that she was a professional, which was what she had told him she was, and that the first week of a new contract was not the week for games.

At eleven the video call came in.

She clicked in. Selvam’s face came up on the left side of the screen. Vanitha’s face on the right. They were in the same room, the Los Gatos house, she guessed, a cream wall behind them, good morning light. Vanitha was in a saree. Selvam was in a white button-down.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Morning, ma.”

“Summer. Vanitha here. Mama has been telling me about you.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“Only good things.” Vanitha’s smile was wide and warm and did not move on her face the way other women’s smiles moved. Summer knew that smile. It was a pageant smile. She had seen it on other girls at casting calls. This one was the best version of it she had seen.

She walked them through the site.

She shared her screen. She clicked through the flow. She showed the admin console. Selvam’s two test records were still there. 

She had added her mannequin test results from the night before. Vanitha’s eyes went across the screen fast. She was not a person who missed a thing on a screen.

Halfway through the walkthrough Summer’s cardigan slipped off her right shoulder.

She felt it go. The soft grey fabric had been loose at the neck and she had leaned too far forward for the screen share and it slid down her arm and settled at her elbow, and the strap of the camisole she had on under it sat bare on her shoulder, and a half inch of the top of her breast showed at the neckline.

She saw Selvam’s eyes go to it. She saw them go away. She saw him look at Vanitha. She saw Vanitha see him look. All of it in a half second. The technical discussion did not stop. Her mouth kept forming the words about the throttle fix and the age gate and the SMS provider.

She pulled the cardigan up.

“Sorry,” she said, not quite to either of them.

“It is fine, ma,” Vanitha said. Warm. Easy. Nothing in it. “We will record the reel after this. Mama has said he does not want to be on camera.”

“Why not,” Summer said, because she wanted to hear him talk.

“I am a boring man,” Selvam said. “My face is not good for a reel.”

“It is perfect for a reel,” Summer said, and she heard it come out of her mouth before she heard it, and she laughed, small, and then Vanitha laughed, and Selvam’s mouth went up at one corner and did not go further.

They hung up at eleven thirty.

In the guest room in Los Gatos, Vanitha set the tablet up on the dresser against the wall. She had changed the saree. This one was green chiffon with a gold border. She had redone her kohl. She had put on the red lipstick she used for her reels.

Selvam sat on the edge of the bed behind the tablet, out of frame.

“Ready?”

“Ready, ma.”

She tapped record.

“Hi lovelies.” Her voice went into the warm register she used on camera. “Today I have something special. My father-in-law, mama, has built a tool. An app. It measures you for your choli from one photo. One. For all my girls who order blouses online and get them stitched wrong. This is for you.”

She talked through it. The link in bio. The four-minute flow. The encryption. She said mama’s name without saying his name. She called him the most disciplined man she knew.

Then she tilted her chin.

“For best results,” she said, and the smile went a little sharper at the corner, “wear a tight choli. Or…” She paused. She let the pause sit. “Or do not wear one at all. For accuracy, lovelies. For the model.” She winked at the lens. “Top one hundred nudes, no choli, get a custom-fitted blouse from my line as a gift. On the house.”

She tapped stop.

Selvam looked at her from the edge of the bed.

“Vanitha.”

“Mama.”

“Top one hundred.”

“Mama, you said the model needs data.”

He did not answer. She uploaded the reel. She tapped post.

They watched the admin dashboard together after lunch.

The first sign-up came in at 1:02. The second at 1:04. By one thirty the counter sat at a 143. By two it was at 600. By two thirty the server was throwing a warning Summer had to clear from her phone, and the counter kept going.

By three o’clock the number was 4690.

Selvam scrolled the thumbnails in the admin view. Ninety-eight percent of them were nudes. Young women against their bedroom walls and their bathroom mirrors and their closet doors. Front. Side. Back. The light different in each one. The bodies different in each one.

He closed the laptop.

He did not trust himself to keep it open alone in a room. He would open it later. He would have to. It was his app.

In her apartment Summer sat on her bed with her phone in her hand.

She had the phone landscape. She had the Honey Birdette shoot open in her camera roll. The last picture the photographer had taken at the end of the hour, the one after she had unhooked the bra, the full-frontal nude against the white backdrop, her breasts free and her hair over her shoulder and her eyes on the lens.

Her thumb hovered over the image.

She thought about the way he had looked at her collarbone in the café and then not looked. She thought about the way he had looked at her shoulder on the call and then not looked. Two for two. She thought that she had never met a man who was two for two.

She thought, for the model. She thought, for the training set. She thought, for science, and she laughed at herself, one breath, alone in her apartment.

She opened the app.

She logged out of the admin. She logged in as a new user with her personal email. She went through the age gate. She clicked the box.

She uploaded the three photos. Front. Side. Back. The full ones. No mannequin. No grey cloth. Her. Her body. The one the Nordic side of her face never fully prepared anyone for.

She entered her seven measurements.

She hit submit.

The confirmation screen came up. Thank you. Your data has helped.

She set the phone face down on the bed and she lay back on the pillow and she looked at the ceiling and she did not know yet whether she had just made a very good decision or a very bad one.

[mulaikallan]

Great to see the old man turn AI specialist overnight. The app is bumper hit.

[adams_masala]

Great to see the old man turn AI specialist overnight. The app is bumper hit.

He is not AI specialist, Summer is. He only has the vision and a thing for women’s body other men don’t.

[Bowlg78]

I had never seen such a beauty ( Vanitha) ...romanticism..,teasing with selvam....many more to come ... between them especially hot talks.... between them..which is the highlight part ...I liked 


I had never seen such a master....who is the greatest depictor...kudos...adams..

[adams_masala]

I had never seen such a beauty ( Vanitha) ...romanticism..,teasing with selvam....many more to come ... between them especially hot talks.... between them..which is the highlight part ...I liked 


I had never seen such a master....who is the greatest depictor...kudos...adams..

Thank you that means a lot!!

[adams_masala]

I had never seen such a beauty ( Vanitha) ...romanticism..,teasing with selvam....many more to come ... between them especially hot talks.... between them..which is the highlight part ...I liked 


I had never seen such a master....who is the greatest depictor...kudos...adams..

Did you enjoy the part where he held her face with his palm and caressed her face and cheeks while violently fucking hard at the same time at this?

[chellaporukki]

How many english women gonna fall for this man?
Now vanitha is wife of selvam. She told you are mine. She will not allow him with any other women anymore.
Where is this all heading to?
Interesting narration.