Adultery The Language of Her Heart

[yazhiniram]

Morning came like it always does.
Milk packets thudding at the door.
The smell of gas from the neighbor’s kitchen.
Sunlight slipping through the curtains, warming the side of my face even before my eyes opened.
The boys were already half-awake — rubbing their eyes, dragging their tiny feet to the bathroom like sleepy little grandpas.
“Brush your teeth. Find your uniform, quick.”
Same line. Every day.
Kartik had left early.
As usual.
Coffee flask missing, laptop bag already gone.
Not even a sound. Just… silence.
I flipped dosais, steamed idlis.
The pressure cooker hissed. The boys fought over socks. One couldn't find his tie. The other forgot his water bottle.
Everything normal.
And yet… I didn’t feel normal.

---

After they left — two kisses on two warm cheeks, shouted reminders not to fight in the van — I shut the door.
Leant against it for just a moment.
Breathe, Pavi.
Not because I was tired.
But because something inside me… was still humming from yesterday.

---

I tied my hair into a low ponytail.
Loose kurti. A soft, faded one.
Dupatta thrown over, just enough to feel covered.
I stepped out.
Garbage bag in one hand, maybe pick up some milk too.
The corridor was quiet.
TV sounds from someone’s house. A mixer whirring. Slippers scuffling on the floor above.
As I neared the lift, I noticed someone near the security cabin.
Tall.
Fair.
North Indian. Shirt tucked too neatly. Eyes sharp.
New security?
He looked once. Then again.
Eyes didn’t stay on my face.
They dropped lower.
To my chest.
Paused for a second.
Then looked away like he didn’t.
But I saw.
And so did my nipples.
Cheap idiot. Stop staring like you’ve never seen breasts in your life.
My kurti wasn’t even tight. But the weather made the fabric cling a bit.
My nipples were still sensitive from last night.
No bra.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Or better.

---

I pressed the lift button.
Ding.
The door opened.
And inside—
Raj.

---

He was just standing there.
Back straight. A towel over his shoulder.
Polo T-shirt tucked into joggers.
Probably back from a walk or checking the car.
He smiled. That calm, steady smile of his.
No tension. No shift.
“Morning, Pavitra.”
“Morning, anna. Coming from Parking?”
“Yeah, just checking car battery. I’ll go to office late today.”
I stepped inside.
The lift door closed.
And then it was just… the two of us.
No space.
No sound.
No distractions.
Just his cologne.
The smell of aftershave.
That clean male scent that immediately made me think of… things I shouldn’t be thinking.
I adjusted my dupatta.
Not obviously. Just a small tug.
Why?
Because my chest suddenly felt very… there.

---

“Kids left?”
“Yes, just now. The van came.”
“Good. You okay? You looked really nice yesterday. Different.”
The way he said different.
Casual. Normal.
But my body didn’t take it casually.
My thighs squeezed together involuntarily.
My nipples hardened again, brushing against the inner layer of my kurti.
Fuck. Not again.
“Thanks, anna. I just felt like wearing something new. Was a little nervous… but it went fine.”
“Nervous? Why? You looked perfect. Simple and stylish.”
His voice was kind.
Natural.
Nothing inappropriate.
But my mind?
My mind was already racing.
He saw me.
He noticed my legs. My curves. The dip in my neckline.
And now, in this closed space, I could feel his presence so clearly it made my back tingle.

---

I stood up a little straighter.
Ran my fingers through my hair, casually near my ear.
Why?
Because I suddenly wanted to be seen again.
Wanted to feel… feminine.

---

The lift dinged.
My floor.
Saved.
Or maybe… interrupted.
“Okay anna, I’ll go. Coffee’s waiting.”
“Alright. Take care.”
He smiled.
I stepped out.
Closed the gate.
Stood for a second.
God, this man doesn’t even try.
But he makes me feel things my husband hasn’t in years.
Not with words.
Not with looks.
Just… by standing near me.
His presence does to me what no one else’s touch ever has.

---

I walked into the kitchen.
Pulled my hair tighter.
Felt the slight dampness in my panties.
No. I hadn’t even touched myself.
Just a lift ride.
Just a few sentences.
And now my pussy was awake and warm and aware.
Again.

---

“He’s just polite. Friendly. Normal,” I tell myself.
But deep down?
I know it’s not just him who’s changing.
It’s me.