Adultery The Language of Her Heart

[yazhiniram]

Days passed,  and Today Friday.
Same rhythm.
college van horn blaring sharp at 7:30.
Kids half-dressed, socks never matching, one of them brushing while shouting for his shoes.
Kartik had one hand on his laptop bag, already halfway into office mode.
“I'll be late today. Evening I've a call with client.”
I just nodded, sweeping biscuit crumbs off the dining table with one hand and adjusting my slipping nightie strap with the other.
The door clicked shut.
Silence settled in.
I leaned back into the chair. Coffee still warm in my hand.
The nightie I was wearing?
Soft. Old. A little loose near the shoulder. The zip on the side never stayed perfectly locked.
Usually I dbang a towel over it like a makeshift dupatta. Just to keep the chest area from being too… obvious.
Today, I forgot.
Or maybe… I just didn’t care enough to remember.

---

Hair tied in a bun.
Coffee cup in one hand.
I got up, slowly walking to the sink.
That’s when the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong.
I didn’t think twice.
Didn’t check the peephole.
Just opened it.
And there he was.
Raj.
Two big stainless steel bottles in his hands.
Tired, maybe. But calm. That usual quiet, steady look on his face.
“Good morning, Pavitra… sorry to disturb. Filter problem in our kitchen. Can I get some water?”
“Aiyyo, no problem at all, anna. Please come in,” I said, stepping slightly aside.
But he didn’t enter.
He just stood politely at the doorway.
“It’s okay, I'm staying here only. Just fill and give. Radhika already left for office.”
I nodded, trying not to fidget.
“Wait a minute, anna. I’ll fill it for you.”

---

He waited outside.
Didn’t try to peek.
Didn’t move around.
Just stood there.
But I was hyper-aware now.
My nightie clung to my hips slightly. The fan had dried sweat into the fabric around my chest.
No towel.
No bra.
And this man — this dangerously composed man — was standing just outside my door.

---

I took the bottles to the kitchen.
Set them down. Started filling the first one.
The water hummed into the steel.
His soft footsteps outside shuffled once or twice.
Why was I breathing like this?
Why was my pussy suddenly pressing tight against the fabric of my nightie like it was trying to say hello?

---

Second bottle. Filling now.
Mind wandering.
Thinking about dosa batter.
Boys’ uniforms for Monday.
Nothing serious.
And then—
CLANG.
The bottle slipped.
Loud metal on tile.
Water splashing everywhere.
Some on my feet. Some under the counter.
“Aiyo!”
“It’s okay?” — His voice, closer now.
I turned.
He had stepped in a little. Not all the way. Just inside the doorway.
I laughed, half-embarrassed.
“Yeah, sorry. It slipped. I’ll wipe it.”
I bent down without thinking.
And that’s when it hit me.
No towel. No bra. Loose neckline. Half-open zip.
My tits probably swayed freely when I bent.
Fuck.
Did he see?
Did he glance?
I felt heat crawl up my back.
But I didn’t stop.
Wiped the water with the edge of the cloth. Got up quickly. Straightened the nightie, even though there was nothing much to fix.
“Sorry anna. I was careless.”
“No no, this happens. Don’t worry.”
He said it like nothing was wrong.
Took the bottles gently from my hand.
“Thanks, Pavitra. I’ll get it fixed soon. Sorry for disturbing.”
“No problem, anna. Anytime.”
He turned and walked away, down the corridor.

---

I closed the door.
And only when I turned toward the kitchen again, I noticed it.
The mirror.
Small one near the fridge. Meant for checking bindis or earrings.
I saw myself.
Zip half open on the side.
No towel.
Neckline a little low, right where the fabric had dropped during the bending.
My breasts… weren’t fully out.
But fuck… it was enough.
Enough to tease.
Enough to show shape.
Enough for a man to imagine how soft they'd feel in his palms.
Did he notice?
He didn’t say anything.
Didn’t stare.
But what if he did?
What if his cock twitched under those pants while I bent, cleaning like an idiot, my tits half-jiggling like soft fruit?
God.
I sat down on the bed, heart thudding.
Pressed my thighs together.
The zip.
The neckline.
His calm face.
Everything crashing over me now in waves.

---

My pussy pulsed once.
Hot. Tight. Wet.
Not from shame.
But because I’d unknowingly given him a peek.
And somewhere deep inside me…
I liked it.
Even if I won’t admit it out loud.
Not now.
Not yet.