Adultery The Language of Her Heart

[yazhiniram]

— — — — — — — — — —

I stood up slowly from the sofa.

My hip made a soft click.


— — — — — — — — — —


My saree had slid down at the waist.

I didn’t tie it again.

Just pulled the pleats a little — loose tuck.


— — — — — — — — — —


My pallu was half off my shoulder.

Hanging sideways.

Dragging low under one arm.

One breast fully covered.

One side slightly open — blouse clinging to the curve, the under-breast line showing slightly.

And I could feel the air moving there.

Kissing it.


— — — — — — — — — —


I took a deep breath.

The fan above was turning.

Not fast.

Not slow.

Just enough to make the saree flutter near my feet.


— — — — — — — — — —


I took a step.

Soft slap of barefoot on tile.

Then another.

A rhythm started in my head.


— — — — — — — — — —


My blouse was damp.

I didn’t care.

Didn’t adjust.

Let them poke.

Let them say hello.


— — — — — — — — — —


I reached the door.

Paused.

I leaned forward slightly — one hand against wall.

The movement pulled my back straight.

Lifted the round of my hips.

Pallu slipped a little more.

I let it.

I liked the thought of being seen like this.

Even before being seen.


— — — — — — — — — —


I peeped through the hole.

Raj.


— — — — — — — — — —


My belly flipped.


— — — — — — — — — —


He stood there.

Same shirt.

Same way of standing.

Firm.

Plastic bag in hand.

Face calm.

But eyes?

Sharp.

Like he had already looked through the door.

And liked what he saw.


— — — — — — — — — —


Bell rang again.

Short.

Not loud.

But direct.

Like his hand knew my timing.


— — — — — — — — — —


I opened the door.

Slow.

Let the air from outside touch my chest.

Cool wind moved inside blouse.

I bit my lip once.

Then smiled.

“Hey… anna.”

Voice soft.

Soft enough to float.


— — — — — — — — — —


His eyes met mine.

Stayed one second.

Then dropped.

Slowly.

Like oil sliding.

Down to my lips.

Then to neck.

Then to chest.

Where the blouse dipped.

Where sweat had made two wet half-circles around my breasts.


— — — — — — — — — —


He didn’t look fast.

He tasted the view.

Like old men sip first tea.

Eyes dipped lower.

To pleats.

To waist.

To hips.


— — — — — — — — — —


I could feel it.

His gaze there.

Not wild.

Not shameless.

Just slow.

And full.

Like he had earned the right to see.


— — — — — — — — — —


I swallowed.

Throat dry.

But not nervous.

Just… thirsty in a different way.


— — — — — — — — — —


“When did you come?”

I asked.

Tried to keep it normal.

But my voice came out like a girl asking something at tuition.


— — — — — — — — — —


“Three o’clock. Came by car.”

He was calm.

But his eyes were still drinking.

Drinking me.

His smile was small.

Too small.

Like something hidden behind it.


— — — — — — — — — —


“How was the travel?”

My hand moved to adjust saree.

But instead of fixing, I pulled it tighter at the pleats.

The movement pushed the fabric into my thighs.

And I felt it.

Right there.

Pressed against the lips.

That soft cotton crease.

Like tongue pressing lightly.


— — — — — — — — — —


“Crowd. Full relatives. hot. One function after another. I was waiting to escape.”

His tone dipped at “escape.”

Like he escaped to something.

Not just from.


— — — — — — — — — —


Then he asked,

“You won’t invite me inside?”


— — — — — — — — — —


Aiyo.

I had just stood there.

Like idiot.

Like open window.

Letting him look.

Not even basic manners.

“Sorry, anna… come inside,” I said.

Smiled.

Felt like pinching my cheek for being silly.

But also… not so silly.

Maybe he liked the view.

Maybe that pause was part of the fun.


— — — — — — — — — —


He stepped in.

Shoulders quiet.

He brought that smell.

Dusty skin and little bit of talcum.

Something real.

Something needed.


— — — — — — — — — —


He handed me the bag.

“And here. For you.”


— — — — — — — — — —


I took it.

Bag was heavier than it looked.

Pulled my arm down.

Breast shifted.

Pallu slid lower.

Now full curve of one breast showing — under the sleeve line.

Even bra strap was peeking.

I didn’t fix.

Just held the bag with both hands.


— — — — — — — — — —


“Aiyo, heavy, anna!”

I said, laughing.

Like proper aunty.

But inside I felt like girl coming home from tuition and being noticed for first time.


— — — — — — — — — —


“Guavas. Mangoes. From our farm. And Radhika said — ‘Take it to that Pavitra, she’ll enjoy.’”


— — — — — — — — — —


“That Pavitra.”

Like I was some joke they shared.

Like I was special to both of them.

And he was the delivery man of that inside joke.

I laughed.

But I also felt it between my legs — a soft pulse.


— — — — — — — — — —


“Tell Radhika thanks,” I said.

He nodded.

“Hmm,” he said.

That one word went and pressed on my nipple like fingertip.

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.


— — — — — — — — — —


I turned.

Started walking to the kitchen.

Saree swung.

Pallu dropped from shoulder fully now.

Hanging at elbow.

Whole back open.

Blouse string loose.

Sweat had made a small V in the lower back crease.

I knew what it looked like.

Knew he was seeing.

Still, I walked slow.

More swing in my hips.

Not acting.

Just… responding.


— — — — — — — — — —


His eyes touched every inch.

I could feel it.

Like fingers sliding behind me.

Tracing down spine.

Stopping at the dip above ass.

That curve.

That seat.

That softness.

Where no cloth could lie flat.


— — — — — — — — — —


Fridge opened.

Cold air hit my skin.

My nipples stabbed the blouse.

I shivered once.

Placed the bag inside.

Closed.


— — — — — — — — — —


Hands were shaking.

But I poured water.

Steel tumbler.

Cold water sound.

House was still.

Fan only.

No words.

His breath quiet.

Waiting.


— — — — — — — — — —


I turned.

He was standing still.

Watching.


— — — — — — — — — —


I walked to him.

Tumbler in hand.

Steps soft.

Each rub of thigh reminded me what I had done earlier.

What was still left behind.

Not cleaned fully.

Still scent inside.

Still memory.


— — — — — — — — — —


I reached him.

Held out tumbler.

“Sit, anna.”


— — — — — — — — — —


His fingers touched mine.

Not long.

But full.

Palm warm.

Fingers firm.

Too warm for just thanks.

Too full for just water.


— — — — — — — — — —


He sat.

Slow.

Sofa adjusted to him.

One hand on thigh.

Other holding tumbler.

Body wide.

Like this was his place.

Not mine.


— — — — — — — — — —


I stood.

Just stood.

Hands empty.

But body full.

Maybe I wanted him to look.

Maybe I wanted to be known.


— — — — — — — — — —


— — — — — — — — — —

I crossed my arms gently.

The usual habit.

But it lifted them.

My breasts.

Even without trying, they rose.

Pressed.

The blouse tightened.

— — — — — — — — — —

His eyes noticed.

One flick.

Just one.

But I saw it.

That tiny drop of his gaze.

From eyes to chest.

Just enough to make my stomach twist once.

— — — — — — — — — —

I shifted my hip.

Little to the side.

The pleats moved.

Between my legs, cotton tugged — a soft pressure.

Not pain.

Just reminder.

Still sticky inside.

Still scent.

Still memory.

— — — — — — — — — —

“So… Radhika akka didn’t come?”

My voice tried to stay casual.

But it wasn’t fully casual.

I could hear it.

Softer than needed.

More careful.

— — — — — — — — — —

He sipped slowly.

Didn’t blink.

“She came. But she’s sleeping now. Tired.”

His voice was normal.

But deeper.

Thicker.

— — — — — — — — — —

I nodded.

Didn’t speak.

My pallu was slipping again.

I adjusted it lightly.

But left the loose part there.

Not across the chest.

Just hanging.

Like offering.

Like… permission.

— — — — — — — — — —

“She said to give this to you,” he said, nodding at the bag.

“So I came.”

— — — — — — — — — —

That sentence.

So I came.

My body reacted without my permission.

Thighs pressed again.

The blouse brushed my nipples.

Even that was enough.

Even words could do it.

— — — — — — — — — —

I smiled. “So she sent you as postman, ah?”

— — — — — — — — — —

He smiled too.

But didn’t reply.

Didn’t need to.

His silence had heat.

Had eyes.

— — — — — — — — — —

I bent down to fix a cushion.

Blouse stretched again.

Breasts pulled forward.

Round and full and pushing.

I knew he was seeing.

I liked that he didn’t speak.

Let me show.

Let him see.

— — — — — — — — — —

“We’re here just for two days,” he said.

“Land work. Nothing big.”

— — — — — — — — — —

I stood straight.

Tilted my head.

Body stayed forward.

“Didn’t you finish that last time?”

— — — — — — — — — —

He clicked tongue.

“No. Still pending. Taluk office error. Patta number mismatch. EC not updated.”

He was looking at my mouth now.

I felt it.

Felt his eyes waiting when I moved lips.

— — — — — — — — — —

“So much running for small paper,” I said.

But my tone had melted.

From irritation to invitation.

— — — — — — — — — —

He shrugged. “Without personal signature, they don’t move file.”

— — — — — — — — — —

I sighed.

And while sighing…

My arms moved under breasts.

Accidentally.

Pushed them up.

They looked heavier in that second.

Even I saw it.

How full they looked.

How hungry.

— — — — — — — — — —

His eyes didn’t lie.

They dropped.

Saw.

Only for half a second.

But enough.

— — — — — — — — — —

“Don’t cook today,” I said quickly. “I’ll cook here.”

— — — — — — — — — —

He shook head. “No need.”

— — — — — — — — — —

I gave him one sharp stare.

Only one.

Not scolding.

Just enough to tell — this is my kitchen.

My choice.

“No, My rule today, so you should come.”

— — — — — — — — — —

He smiled.

Not full teeth.

But real.

“Okay. If you insist.”

— — — — — — — — — —

I nodded.

My stomach had started tingling again.

Like a slow hunger.

Not for food.

But for touch.

Touch that doesn’t show.

Touch that happens in air.

— — — — — — — — — —

“Coffee?” I asked.

Just to keep him.

Just one more minute.

But—

— — — — — — — — — —

He stood.

That slow way he always stood.

Palms brushing jeans.

Sound soft.

But my ears heard it loudly.

I looked up.

His body too close again.

My breath hitched.

I held it.

— — — — — — — — — —

“No no,” he said, low.

“I’ll come for dinner. Let Radhika rest.”

— — — — — — — — — —

I stepped aside.

Narrow path to door.

But I didn’t make extra space.

I stayed there.

Turned only slightly.

Let him pass.

Let him come close.

— — — — — — — — — —

And it happened.

— — — — — — — — — —

His hand.

The outside part.

Brushed against my side.

Right where my saree knot was.

Not by mistake.

Not bold.

Just perfect.

Fingers grazing hip.

Then lower.

To the place where hip becomes ass.

That border.

That line.

That heat.

— — — — — — — — — —

My lips parted.

Air entered.

Didn’t come out.

I froze.

But I didn’t move.

— — — — — — — — — —

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t turn.

No “sorry.”

No “oops.”

Which made it more clear.

He knew what he did.

And I knew what he knew.

— — — — — — — — — —

My thighs pressed.

Automatically.

Not tight.

Just enough to hold the feeling there.

Let the warmth spread.

— — — — — — — — — —

My eyes blinked once.

But my breath hadn’t returned.

Neck hot.

Face pink.

I looked down.

Pretended to fix pallu.

Didn’t fix.

Just touched cloth for no reason.

— — — — — — — — — —

He reached the door.

Turned slightly.

Eyes dropped.

Openly.

No shame.

Chest.

Neckline.

Sweat curve.

One deep look.

Then still.

— — — — — — — — — —

He said nothing.

But he said everything.

— — — — — — — — — —

His voice came after that full pause:

“Bye, Pavi.”

— — — — — — — — — —

He had never said it like that before.

— — — — — — — — — —

I swallowed.

Then whispered:

“Bye…”

No anna.

Just breath.

Just him.

— — — — — — — — — —

He walked away.

Easy steps.

Back straight.

But his silence stayed.

Inside my saree.

Inside my hips.

Inside my blouse.

— — — — — — — — — —

I closed the door slowly.

Held the edge longer than needed.

Then leaned against it.

Eyes closed.

Breath shallow.

— — — — — — — — — —

That touch.

Still alive.

Still burning.

Still mine.

— — — — — — — — — —

I turned.

Looked at the clock.

5:10 PM.

— — — — — — — — — —