Adultery Nalini and The Unseen Virus

[tweeny_fory]

Part 8 - Nalini's Temperature Test

Anbu reached for the thermometer, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. "We should redo the temperature test," he suggested, his voice casual, almost dismissive, as if discussing the weather and not a violation of personal space. "Under the arm, remember? For accuracy." His tone was deceptively light, a veneer of professional detachment failing to mask the blatant hunger in his gaze. He watched Nalini with an unnerving intensity, a silent challenge daring her to resist.

Nalini's heart raced, a frantic drum against her ribs. The thought of Anbu's hand delving into her armpit again, of his fingers, rough and knowing, pressing against her freshly shaved skin, was almost too much to bear. A wave of heat flushed her face, a stark contrast to the chilling dread creeping through her veins. But she knew, or at least felt, that she had no choice in this twisted game. She nodded, her voice a mere whisper lost in the suffocating silence.

"Ma'am," Teja said with a smirk, holding the thermometer between his thumb and forefinger as if it were a precious jewel, a weapon in their little charade. "The shaving and aftershave lotion might have made your skin a bit cold. It could give us an incorrect reading." His voice was a purr, a low, suggestive rumble that sent shivers down her spine. A sly smile, knowing and cruel, played at the corners of his lips. "Perhaps we should warm it up a bit? Ensure a proper reading, of course." He let the implication hang in the air, thick and suffocating.

Nalini's stomach plummeted, the bottom dropping out of her already fragile world. She knew exactly what he was implying, the blatant sexualization of a simple medical procedure. She felt a strange, unsettling mix of fear and a horrifying, almost forbidden, excitement. Her mind raced with possibilities, all of them laced with danger and a sense of profound vulnerability. But she was trapped, caught in a web of unspoken power dynamics, her body responding in ways she didn't quite understand, a traitor to her desire for escape.

"Please," she whispered, her voice shaking, barely audible, a plea for it to be over, a surrender to the inevitable. "Just get it over with." The words tasted like ash in her mouth.


Teja's smirk grew wider, stretching his lips into a predatory grin. His eyes gleamed with something that made Nalini's stomach twist, a possessive triumph that chilled her to the bone. He took a step closer, invading her personal space, his hand reaching for the thermometer with agonizing slowness. The plastic felt cold against her skin, a stark contrast to the burning shame that coursed through her veins as he inserted it into her armpit, his fingers brushing against the freshly shaved area with deliberate, lingering pressure. She gritted her teeth, trying not to flinch, to scream, to break free from this horrifying charade. The intrusion felt like a violation, a claim being staked on her body, a silent promise of more to come.


Nalini felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks, her eyes darting between the two men. The sterile white walls of the examination room seemed to close in on her, amplifying the suffocating tension. "What do you mean?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling, barely a whisper above the hum of the machinery in the corner. She clutched at the thin paper gown, the flimsy barrier offering little comfort against the palpable threat that hung in the air.


Anbu leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with cold. "It's just protocol, ma'am. We can't have inaccurate readings, can we?" His voice was a low, silken purr, a dangerous melody that promised anything but medical precision. His hand hovered over her bare armpit, a dark shape against the unforgiving light, his fingertips brushing lightly against her skin. Each feather-light touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, a forbidden current that both terrified and intrigued her.

Nalini felt a knot form in her stomach, tightening with each passing second. The air in the room seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe. The thought of their hands on her, of their touch being anything but clinical, was too much to bear. It felt like a violation, a trespass on her personal space that left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Yet, she couldn't deny the strange thrill that raced through her, the way her pulse quickened at their words, the way her breath hitched in her throat. It was a shameful reaction, a betrayal of herself that she couldn't quite control. She was trapped in a nightmare, a bizarre and perverse scenario she never could have imagined, but part of her felt alive, more alive than she had in months, awakened from a long and weary slumber by the shock of the situation.

Anbu's hand settled on her armpit, his fingers pressing firmly into her flesh. The pressure was assertive, possessive, sending a wave of heat through her body. He began to rub in slow, deliberate circles, his eyes never leaving hers, their gaze a predatory stare that held her captive. The friction was rough, almost painful, as he worked to generate heat, the coarse stubble against her sensitive skin amplifying the discomfort. Nalini winced, the sensation overwhelming her, blurring the lines between pain and pleasure, fear and fascination. She could feel her skin reddening beneath his touch, the sting of the shave mixing with the burning heat of his hand, a physical manifestation of the internal conflict raging within her. The air crackled with unspoken desires, with the dangerous potential for something more, a precipice she was teetering on, unsure if she wanted to fall.