Adultery The Untold Story of Abhiram's Erotic Journey - Part 1

[shailu4ever]

She entered barefoot, the scent of sandalwood and rain clinging to her. Her saree hugged her waist, blouse damp enough to trace her shape. Abhi tried not to notice. He mostly failed.

“Nice place,” she said, glancing around. “Suspiciously clean for a bachelor.”
Handing her a towel, “I clean under pressure,” he grinned.

She took it with a smile, drying her arms delicately. Her pale blue saree clung to her in the right places—hips, waist, just beneath the curve of her blouse. The fabric shimmered faintly in the light, and a drop of rain traced the side of her neck.

“Halwa?”
“Made too much.” She held out the bowl.

Their fingers touched. She didn’t pull away.

He raised an eyebrow. “You usually feed the neighbors during storms?”
“My husband’s not home yet,” she said, simply. “Rain makes the flat too quiet.”

“You don’t look twenty-two,” she said, settling into the chair.
“And you don’t look like someone who waits for lights to go out before visiting.”
She smiled slowly. “Maybe I don’t.”

They sat, talking—light, teasing. She asked about his job, laughed at his coffee addiction. He watched the curve of her wrist, the way her blouse shifted when she leaned forward. The silence between their words was charged.

Eventually, a faint light flickered on across the hall. Her power was back. Madhavi stood, gathering her pallu.

“Well,” she said softly, “looks like I survived.”
He walked her to the door. “Next time, don’t wait for a blackout.”
She looked at him, eyes unreadable. “Next time, don’t answer the door wearing that shirt.”
Her gaze dipped—for just a moment—then she smiled, turned, and slipped out.
He shut the door slowly, pulse quick.

The bowl of halwa sat untouched on the table.

So was the tension in the air.