[Umavictor32]

 Saroja can use her to take revenge on a reporter who tried to expose her corruption. She will make her pose as a escort and record the sex with him so that Saroja can later use the video to keep him in check.

See if u can use this

Periyamalai university scam is altogether big chapter.... Whole story will have new dimension once the chapter is revealed... So i cant do tat sorry...

[Umavictor32]

Chapter 36: The First Call

[Location: Saroja's house (Living Room), Porur | Day: Saturday | Date: 9th January 2027 | Time: 9:45 AM]

The television droned on—a blur of Tamil news anchors and flashing graphics.

Saroja sat cross-legged on the floor, a notebook open on her knee, pen tapping against her teeth. Every channel carried the same story: the KVK party's emergency meeting in Koovathur. Analysts speculated. Party spokesmen deflected. The ticker at the bottom scrolled names—Sethuraman, Ajay Joseph, Kumaraswamy.

She wrote: Wednesday 9 AM. CM meeting. Thursday oath. Be ready.

Chithra sat on the sofa behind her, legs tucked beneath the loose t-shirt, still wearing yesterday's short skirt. She'd barely touched her idli at breakfast. Her phone was in her hand, thumb scrolling lazily through nothing.

Then the screen went black.

"Ah." Chithra pressed the power button. Nothing. "Battery died."

"There's a charger on the table."

Chithra plugged it in, waited. The screen stayed dark. She sighed, set it down, and looked at Saroja. "Can I use yours for a bit? Just to check messages."

Saroja didn't look up from her notebook. "It's on the bed. Go ahead."

Mistake number one, her mindvoice noted. But a useful one.

Chithra retrieved the phone, settled back on the sofa. The screen glowed. She swiped through—WhatsApp, mostly. Messages from Muthu marked unread. A few from unknown numbers.

Then a status update caught her eye.



Chithra's thumb froze.

The image was blurred but suggestive—a woman's silhouette in red light, curves barely covered. The name beneath: Malar.

Another status followed.




Chithra's breath caught. Her finger hovered over the screen, trembling. She shouldn't look. She shouldn't—

Her thumb twitched.

The call button flashed. Calling Malar…

"No—" Chithra gasped, jabbing at the screen. The call disconnected after half a ring. She fumbled, heart hammering, deleted the call from the log.

Saroja watched from the corner of her eye. She's panicking. Good. Panic makes people honest.

Then the phone buzzed.

Malar calling.

Chithra's face drained. She stared at the screen like it was a snake. The phone buzzed again.

Saroja stood, crossed to the sofa, and held out her hand. "Give it."

Chithra handed it over, fingers cold.

Saroja answered. "Hello?"

"Saroja?" Malar's voice was curious, edged with amusement. "You called? I missed it."

"Must have been a mistake. My friend was using my phone."

"Ah." A pause. "The one in the photo?"

Saroja glanced at Chithra, who was pulling her knees to her chest, face buried. "Maybe."

Malar laughed—low, knowing. "She's shy. I saw her looking at my status. Both of them."

"I know."

"Ask her if she's interested. She has the body for it."

Saroja kept her voice neutral. "I'll ask."

The line clicked dead.

Saroja sat beside Chithra. The younger woman didn't move.

"She knows," Chithra whispered. "She saw."

"She saw you looking. That's all."

"That's enough." Chithra's voice cracked. "If anyone finds out—if Muthu finds out—"

"Muthu won't find out."

"You don't know that!" Chithra's head snapped up, eyes wet. "My face, Saroja. If my face is on the internet—if someone recognizes me—"

"No one will recognize you." Saroja's voice was calm, measured. "You wear a mask. A blindfold. Something to cover your eyes. Your voice can be changed. Your name is fake. You could be anyone."

Chithra shook her head. "I can't. I'm married. I'm—"

"You're what?" Saroja leaned closer. "A decent woman? A loyal wife? Tell me, Chithra—what did you almost do last night?"

Chithra flinched.

"You almost sucked a stranger's cock in a parking lot. A man you'd never met. A man who was watching you get fucked." Saroja's voice dropped. "And you would have done it. You wanted to."

"That was different—"

"How?"

"I was—I was caught up. The moment. The danger."

Saroja smiled. "And this isn't dangerous?"

Chithra's mouth opened. Closed.

"I've seen women do this," Saroja said. "Friends of mine. Decent women. Mothers. Wives. They put on a mask, turn on the camera, and talk to strangers. They make money. Good money. And no one—no one—ever knows."

"What if someone records it?"

"You block their face. You never show identifying marks. You keep the camera low or high. You learn."

Chithra's hands were shaking. "I can't."

"You can." Saroja reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind Chithra's ear. "You did something last night you thought you could never do. And you liked it."

Tears spilled down Chithra's cheeks. "I'm cheating on Muthu."

"You're surviving." Saroja's thumb brushed the tear away. "Muthu isn't here. He's gone until Tuesday. And when he comes back, you'll still be his. Nothing changes."

"But I'll know."

"Yes." Saroja's eyes held hers. "You'll know. And that knowledge will make you stronger."

Chithra was quiet for a long moment. The TV droned on—another analyst, another theory.

"Just once," she whispered. "Maybe twice. If I feel wrong, I stop."

Saroja nodded. "Of course."

She leaned in and pressed her lips to Chithra's forehead. The kiss was soft, almost maternal.

Delicious, Saroja's mindvoice purred. She fell into it herself. I didn't have to push. I didn't have to scheme. She walked into the trap and closed the door behind her.

This is better than I planned. This is her choice—or what she'll tell herself is her choice. And that makes it permanent. A woman who is forced resents. A woman who chooses becomes complicit. And complicity is the strongest chain of all.

She thinks she's doing this once. Twice. She thinks she'll stop when it feels wrong. But I've seen this before. The first call is curiosity. The second is hunger. The third is need. By the fifth, she'll be spreading her legs for the camera without being asked.

And Malar—

Malar will take her apart. Malar doesn't just run a chat service. Malar pimps. Malar arranges door-step meetings. Malar has a network of men—rich men, powerful men—who pay for women like Chithra. Decent women. Married women. Women who think they're just doing a video call and don't realize they've already sold themselves.

By Wednesday morning, Chithra will have done more than video calls. She'll have met one of Malar's clients. Then another. Then another. And each time, she'll tell herself it's the last time.

And Muthu will never know.

Saroja pulled back and smiled. "I'll call Malar."

She dialed. Malar answered on the second ring.

"She's in," Saroja said. "One or two calls today. Nothing more."

"Good. Send me a photo. Sexy but not nude. Something that shows her body."

Saroja looked at Chithra. "Take off the shirt."

Chithra hesitated. Then she pulled the t-shirt over her head. She was bare beneath—no bra, no panties, the skirt still bunched at her waist.

Saroja raised the phone and snapped. The image captured Chithra..

She sent it.

"Nice," Malar said. "Give me thirty minutes. I'll create her profile."

---

[Location: Saroja's house (Living Room), Porur | Day: Saturday | Date: 9th January 2027 | Time: 10:15 AM]

Thirty minutes later, Chithra was staring at Saroja's phone again.

A new status from Malar had appeared:

Contact Name: Sexy Sonu

Chat Message:

Video call with bra for 1min. RS. 100

Boobs 1 min. Rs. 200

Full nude. RS. 300

Full nude video call without face. Rs. 1000

without face fingering call. Rs. 1500

Bathing show without face . Rs. 1800

Full show with face . Rs. 2000

With face reaction fucking. Rs. 2500

Audio call sex Role play. Rs. 800

Sex chat with nude photo. Rs. 500

ALL show 30 minutes

GPAY UPI. *5312

Duration: 30mins





Chithra's stomach dropped.

Look at her, Saroja's mindvoice whispered. She's reading every line. She's imagining it. She's already picturing herself behind a mask, spreading her legs for a stranger's screen.

And she's wet.

I can smell it.

"You can start with something small," Saroja said. "The one-minute video call. Just your bra. A hundred rupees."

Chithra didn't respond. Her thumb traced the screen.

Say yes, Saroja thought. Say yes and seal your fate.

"Okay," Chithra whispered.

There it is.

My perfect little whore.

[RedDranzar]

Excellent. I hope after 1 /2 calls she herself chooses the full face show and then starts visiting clients in hotel. Muthu not knowing anything.

Another idea is in addition to this Saroja runs a adult film business where she will make Chitra do 1 film recording.