02-06-2025, 03:50 PM
Back in their flat, the ceiling fan creaked, the air thick with jasmine from Priya’s hair oil. Priya, thirty-two, stood by the chipped mirror, brushing her hair, her crimson nightgown accentuating her curves. Arjun approached, his heart pounding, knowing her reluctance could unravel his plan. “Priya, we need to talk,” he said, his voice gentle but firm, sitting on the bed.
She turned, her almond eyes wary. “What now, Arjun? Another gigolo?” Her tone was sharp, her patience worn thin by Rohan, Vikram, Sameer, and Kabir—the bulls who’d left her body sated but her heart hollow.
He took her hand, his touch soft, his eyes pleading. “Not a gigolo. Sanjay. My boss. He’s different—powerful, respected, not like those men. I’ve seen how he looks at you, how you smile with him. One night, at his bungalow, could change everything—for us, for my career.”
Priya yanked her hand back, her face twisting in disgust. “You’re selling me now? To your boss? For a promotion?” Her voice rose, anger flaring. “I did this for you, Arjun—for your fantasy, to save our marriage. But this? It’s too much.”
Arjun knelt before her, his voice breaking, a performance of desperation. “Please, Priya, it’s not selling. It’s for us. My impotence… it’s killing me, knowing I can’t satisfy you. Sanjay can, and he’s worthy—not some cheap bull. And yes, it’ll help me at work—a raise, a better life for us. I love you. I’m begging you, one last time, to keep us alive.”
Priya’s eyes welled, her love for Arjun—a fading flame—clashing with her revulsion. She remembered their Juhu Beach walks, his wit, their vows. His pain, his shame, tugged at her. “Fine,” she whispered, her voice heavy. “One night. But this is the last, Arjun. No more.” She turned away, her reflection in the mirror a stranger’s, her consent a sacrifice.
Arjun’s relief was tinged with guilt, but his fantasy and ambition surged. He handed her a pack of condoms, his voice firm. “Make sure he uses these. It’s important.” Priya nodded, her jaw tight, dreading the night ahead.
She turned, her almond eyes wary. “What now, Arjun? Another gigolo?” Her tone was sharp, her patience worn thin by Rohan, Vikram, Sameer, and Kabir—the bulls who’d left her body sated but her heart hollow.
He took her hand, his touch soft, his eyes pleading. “Not a gigolo. Sanjay. My boss. He’s different—powerful, respected, not like those men. I’ve seen how he looks at you, how you smile with him. One night, at his bungalow, could change everything—for us, for my career.”
Priya yanked her hand back, her face twisting in disgust. “You’re selling me now? To your boss? For a promotion?” Her voice rose, anger flaring. “I did this for you, Arjun—for your fantasy, to save our marriage. But this? It’s too much.”
Arjun knelt before her, his voice breaking, a performance of desperation. “Please, Priya, it’s not selling. It’s for us. My impotence… it’s killing me, knowing I can’t satisfy you. Sanjay can, and he’s worthy—not some cheap bull. And yes, it’ll help me at work—a raise, a better life for us. I love you. I’m begging you, one last time, to keep us alive.”
Priya’s eyes welled, her love for Arjun—a fading flame—clashing with her revulsion. She remembered their Juhu Beach walks, his wit, their vows. His pain, his shame, tugged at her. “Fine,” she whispered, her voice heavy. “One night. But this is the last, Arjun. No more.” She turned away, her reflection in the mirror a stranger’s, her consent a sacrifice.
Arjun’s relief was tinged with guilt, but his fantasy and ambition surged. He handed her a pack of condoms, his voice firm. “Make sure he uses these. It’s important.” Priya nodded, her jaw tight, dreading the night ahead.
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