12-06-2025, 01:23 AM
Back in the office
Back in the office, things had returned to routine.
Or mostly.
Nikita passed by his cubicle, flicking her long straight hair off her shoulder, her kurta today a soft lavender, tight around her waist and bust. She dropped a file on his table with a grin. “We’re on the same project.”
He didn’t know whether that was good or dangerous.
Later, during lunch, she sat next to him again—close enough that their thighs brushed when she leaned sideways to whisper.
“You always smell like sandalwood. That’s kind of addictive.”
Before he could reply, another voice interrupted.
“Hey, can I sit here?”
It was Pavani, from HR. Petite and busty, with a bubbly tone but smart eyes that didn’t miss much. She wore a simple white blouse and navy-blue jeans. Unlike Nikita, who teased like a slow flame, Pavani was casual, observant, but just as quick with layered jokes.
She grinned at Abhi as she sat. “Nikita’s marked you, huh? Careful. She plays slow but hits hard.”
Nikita rolled her eyes. “Ignore her. She’s jealous.”
“I am,” Pavani admitted without shame. “But also curious. You never flirt, Abhi. Like you’re saving it for something.”
“I just don’t want HR complaints.”
“Smart boy,” Pavani said, winking.
From across the table, another girl watched quietly—Anusha, a new trainee in the data team. Just 20, very quiet, very observant. Tall and lean, with long black curls, dusky bronze skin, and a delicate figure, she mostly listened. But today, her eyes were on him more than usual.
Something was growing. Around him. Inside him.
And it wasn’t just lust—it was the slow, sensual chaos of multiple women, each different, circling in and out of his days.
Back in the office, things had returned to routine.
Or mostly.
Nikita passed by his cubicle, flicking her long straight hair off her shoulder, her kurta today a soft lavender, tight around her waist and bust. She dropped a file on his table with a grin. “We’re on the same project.”
He didn’t know whether that was good or dangerous.
Later, during lunch, she sat next to him again—close enough that their thighs brushed when she leaned sideways to whisper.
“You always smell like sandalwood. That’s kind of addictive.”
Before he could reply, another voice interrupted.
“Hey, can I sit here?”
It was Pavani, from HR. Petite and busty, with a bubbly tone but smart eyes that didn’t miss much. She wore a simple white blouse and navy-blue jeans. Unlike Nikita, who teased like a slow flame, Pavani was casual, observant, but just as quick with layered jokes.
She grinned at Abhi as she sat. “Nikita’s marked you, huh? Careful. She plays slow but hits hard.”
Nikita rolled her eyes. “Ignore her. She’s jealous.”
“I am,” Pavani admitted without shame. “But also curious. You never flirt, Abhi. Like you’re saving it for something.”
“I just don’t want HR complaints.”
“Smart boy,” Pavani said, winking.
From across the table, another girl watched quietly—Anusha, a new trainee in the data team. Just 20, very quiet, very observant. Tall and lean, with long black curls, dusky bronze skin, and a delicate figure, she mostly listened. But today, her eyes were on him more than usual.
Something was growing. Around him. Inside him.
And it wasn’t just lust—it was the slow, sensual chaos of multiple women, each different, circling in and out of his days.
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