Adultery A SOUTH INDIAN WIFE'S -Unspoken Flames

[thirddemodreamer]

A Fleeting Tension

The next morning, Vanitha reached the quarters in a deep red cotton saree, neatly tucked above her navel, paired regally with a black blouse. Stepping out of the car, she approached the entrance, seeing only Mani standing there—in a grey shirt, holding a small bag, silent. Vanitha greeted him with a soft smile.
Vanitha: "Mani, where’s Sumithra?"
Mani hesitated.
Mani: "Madam, she’s gone to the hospital again."
Vanitha murmured, Alright, to herself, following Mani inside—both kept it professional, Vanitha buoyed by excitement for her potential Delhi transfer. Mani brought a cup of tea, placing it on her desk.
Mani: "Madam, tea," he said softly.
Vanitha smiled faintly.
Vanitha: "Thanks, Mani."
She sipped the tea, diving eagerly into work—preparing reports on the computer, organizing files, driven to complete tasks before her promotion. In her focus, she didn’t notice her saree slipping slightly, exposing the side of her waist—soft folds of her stomach subtly visible, her attention fixed on the screen.
At one point, Vanitha called Mani, asking for documents to send to the office.
Vanitha: "Mani, get this file."
Mani entered, standing by her desk. Watching her type, he noticed her exposed waist. His body warmed, a flicker of tension rising—her waist’s curves, the slight glimpse of her side breast, captivated him. Vanitha, engrossed in work, didn’t see him—her prolonged typing gave Mani more time to look. His mind wrestled with instinctive desire, but he fought to control it. Finishing, Vanitha handed him the documents.
Vanitha: "Give these to the office, Mani."
Mani took the file with a hint of unease and left—Vanitha, absorbed in work pressure, missed his tension.
About half an hour later, Mani returned with lunch—they sat side by side at the dining table, sharing sambar rice. Small talk flowed—Vanitha asked.
Vanitha: "Mani, when will Sumithra be back?"
Mani replied.
Mani: "Madam, she said by afternoon."
As their chat continued, Vanitha’s phone rang—it was her GM, informing her of a week-long business trip and explaining work protocols. Holding the phone in her left hand, Vanitha gestured to Mani with her eyes to eat.
Vanitha: "Alright, sir. I’ll handle it," she told the GM, eating with her right hand.
Mani, seated to her left, again noticed her exposed waist—his eyes traced her stomach’s folds, her half-hidden navel. His gaze shifted to her chest, then to her lips moving with a smile as she spoke. His body heated, desire stirring, making eating difficult. Vanitha, focused on the GM’s instructions, missed Mani’s unease. Unable to resist, Mani considered touching her waist, lifting his hand—but in that moment, Vanitha ended the call and turned to him.
Vanitha: "Sorry, Mani, the GM was talking."
Mani quickly composed himself, eating casually as if nothing had happened. They finished lunch and returned to their tasks—Vanitha dove back into files; Mani tended to small chores in the kitchen.
By 4:30 PM, Mani brought another cup of tea, setting it on her desk.
Mani: "Madam, tea."
Vanitha, deep in work, startled, smiled faintly.
Vanitha: "Thanks, Mani."
Feeling tired, she turned to her right to grab a file—her waist exposed again, giving Mani a clear view. His body tensed once more, but he stood silently. Vanitha handed him the file—but it slipped, papers scattering on the floor. She apologized, bending to pick them up.
Vanitha: "Sorry, Mani."
Mani stopped her.
Mani: "No, madam, I’ll get them. Go refresh and come back."
Vanitha took his suggestion, heading to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, adjust her saree, and return refreshed. When she came back, Mani was still on the floor, organizing the papers, nearly done. Vanitha sat at the desk with a small smile, resuming work—unaware of Mani’s tension, her mind immersed in work and hope for the future.