Fantasy Devika, a rich high class housewife, with angel heart

[prady12191]

# Scene 1



Morning sunlight illuminated Devika's classroom as she wrote chemical formulas across the blackboard, her chalk making precise strokes against the dark surface. She had arrived earlier than usual, seeking refuge in routine after a night of fitful sleep, her dreams plagued by numbers—fifteen lakhs repeating like a mantra—and vague images of herself dbangd in silk, camera flashes illuminating curves she normally kept hidden beneath modest layers. Every sound in the hallway made her stiffen, anticipating Vishnu or Pathan's appearance, though she knew they wouldn't approach her until the practical class later that afternoon.



She hadn't mentioned the proposition to anyone—not Saradha, who might have offered sensible advice; not Ramlal, whose hungry eyes would surely darken at the thought of her posing for photographs; certainly not Ganapathi, who had already kept her underwear like a sacred relic. The decision festered within her alone, alternately thrilling and terrifying her with each passing hour.



Her first two classes passed in a blur of lectures and student questions that she answered on autopilot, her mind elsewhere. She caught herself absently tracing the curve of her waist while explaining cellular division, dropped her hand quickly when she noticed a male student's eyes following the movement. Was she already thinking like a model, more aware of her body as something to be displayed rather than simply inhabited?



When the bell rang signaling the beginning of the practical class, Devika's stomach clenched. She gathered her materials with deliberate slowness, postponing the inevitable encounter. The corridor to the laboratory seemed longer than usual, each step bringing her closer to a decision she had already made but still couldn't fully accept.



Vishnu and Pathan were already there when she entered, heads bent together over a manila folder, their conversation cutting off abruptly at her appearance. Other students filtered in behind her, oblivious to the undercurrents flowing between professor and the two young men who now straightened, their faces arranged in careful neutrality that didn't quite mask the anticipation in their eyes.



"Good afternoon, Professor," Vishnu called, his voice carrying just enough deference to maintain appearances before their classmates.



Devika nodded in acknowledgment, busying herself with arranging microscope slides at the front table, grateful for the mundane task that gave her trembling hands purpose. She led the class through the day's experiment with practiced efficiency, explaining procedures, answering questions, maintaining the facade of normality while acutely aware of Vishnu and Pathan's eyes tracking her movements across the laboratory.



As students began their work, Vishnu approached her desk, the manila folder tucked beneath his arm. Pathan followed a few steps behind, glancing around to ensure other students were sufficiently distracted by their assignments.



"We have good news, Professor," Vishnu said, his voice lowered to prevent others from overhearing. "I showed the committee some preliminary test shots with another model yesterday—similar to what we'd do with you—and they were impressed."



"Test shots?" Devika whispered, confusion momentarily overriding her nervousness. "With another model?"



"Just to give them a taste of the concept," Vishnu explained, his fingers drumming lightly against the folder. "The model wasn't right, but they loved the aesthetic, especially..." he paused, his eyes briefly dropping to her waist before returning to her face, "the emphasis on curves in all the right places."



Despite herself, Devika felt a flush of pride warming her cheeks. To be considered superior to a professional model—to have her natural, untrained body preferred over someone who made their living from their appearance—was unexpectedly flattering.



"Don't look so pleased yet," Pathan interjected, stepping closer. "Vishnu's being modest. The committee liked the solo shots, but they're reserving judgment on the whole package until they see the couple photographs."



"My entire career depends on these photos," Vishnu added, his voice taking on an edge of genuine concern that made Devika wonder if perhaps this opportunity was less fabricated than she had initially suspected. "Twenty-five lakhs, Professor. My life is in your hands—both of your hands, really," he added, nodding toward Pathan.



"I'll give my best," Devika heard herself say, the words emerging before she'd fully considered them. "For the project."



Relief broke across Vishnu's face like sunrise. "Thank you, Professor. I knew we could count on you." He glanced around the laboratory again, then slid the manila folder across her desk. "These are some sample poses—the type of shots they're expecting for the couple portion. Perhaps you could review them before this afternoon?"



Devika's fingers hovered over the folder, suddenly reluctant to open it in the classroom where any student might glance over and see whatever images it contained.



"Go ahead," Pathan encouraged, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You should know what you're agreeing to."



With a steadying breath, Devika opened the folder and began to examine the photographs inside. Her eyes widened immediately, her breath catching in her throat. The images were far more explicit than she had imagined—professional models in poses that went well beyond suggestive into territory that bordered on erotic.



In one photograph, a woman in a half-unwrapped saree pressed against her male counterpart, their lips locked in what was clearly not a simulated kiss—tongues visible, eyes closed in apparent passion. Another showed the male model biting the woman's exposed shoulder, her head thrown back in simulated ecstasy, the pallu of her saree clutched in his fist.



Devika flipped quickly through the remaining photos, her heart hammering against her ribs. Each image seemed more intimate than the last—hands placed on private areas, bodies pressed together in unmistakable suggestion of desire, expressions of manufactured passion that nonetheless appeared startlingly genuine.



"These are..." she began, unable to find appropriate words.



"Artistic," Vishnu supplied helpfully. "Provocative but tasteful. That's what the committee is looking for—traditional beauty with modern sensuality."



"Hot," Pathan added bluntly, then quickly amended, "I mean, that's how they described the aesthetic they want."



Devika closed the folder, her fingers trembling slightly. What had she agreed to? These weren't merely suggestive poses—they were practically simulations of foreplay, captured on film for strangers to evaluate. And she would be performing these acts with Pathan, her student, while Vishnu directed and photographed them.



The thought should have horrified her, should have sent her backing away from the proposition with firm refusal. Instead, she felt a treacherous heat unfurling in her belly, a quickening of her pulse that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with a darker, more primal anticipation.



"Yes," she heard herself say, the word emerging slightly breathless. "The poses are quite...intense."



"That's what the committee expects," Vishnu confirmed, mistaking her shortness of breath for apprehension. "If you're uncomfortable—"



"I'm not uncomfortable," Devika interrupted, surprising herself with the firmness of her tone. "I said I would help, and I will. These poses are...challenging, but I understand what's required."



Relief flooded Vishnu's face again. "Perfect. Then we'll see you at the farmhouse at four? Same location as before."



"I'll be there," Devika confirmed, sliding the folder back across the desk, eager to have the explicit images out of her possession before another faculty member entered the laboratory.



As Vishnu and Pathan returned to their workstations, satisfaction evident in their exchanged glances, Devika wondered what she had just committed herself to. These photographs went far beyond professional boundaries, beyond even the already crossed lines of propriety she had been exploring since arriving in Pune.



Yet even as alarm bells sounded in the rational part of her mind, another part—the part that had awakened in Ganapathi's small home during the storm, that had blossomed under Ramlal's reverent touch—whispered that perhaps this was exactly what she needed: an opportunity to explore this new dimension of herself under the safe pretense of art, of commerce, of helping a student's career.



Fifteen lakhs, she reminded herself, focusing on the practical benefit to silence her scruples. But even as the figure repeated in her mind, she knew it wasn't about the money anymore—it was about the woman she was becoming, the boundaries she was dissolving, and the unexpected freedom she was discovering in their absence.





# Scene 2



The farmhouse appeared exactly as Devika remembered it from her previous visit—sprawling, isolated, surrounded by enough vegetation to ensure privacy from prying eyes. She parked her scooter beside Vishnu's motorcycle, checking her watch—exactly four o'clock. Punctuality had always been her armor, a way of maintaining control when circumstances threatened to spin away from her. Today, as she approached the weathered wooden door with a canvas bag containing three different sarees dbangd over her arm, punctuality felt like her last tenuous connection to the professional woman she had been that morning, standing before students with chalk-dusted fingers explaining biological processes with clinical detachment.



The door swung open before she could knock, revealing Pathan's eager face. "Professor! Right on time."



He ushered her inside, where Vishnu was adjusting lighting equipment in what appeared to be the farmhouse's main living area, now transformed into an impromptu studio. White backdrop paper curved from the wall down across the floor, surrounded by softboxes and reflectors that cast an unnaturally even glow throughout the space.



"Perfect timing, Professor," Vishnu called without looking up from his camera settings. "We've just finished the setup."



Devika stood awkwardly near the entrance, suddenly unsure of her role in this unfamiliar scenario. In the classroom, her authority was unquestioned; here, in this strange hybrid space where her students were ostensibly the professionals, the power dynamics shifted beneath her feet like sand.



"Before we begin the couple shots," Vishnu said, finally looking up from his equipment, "we should capture some solo images first. Get you comfortable with the process."



Relief coursed through Devika—a reprieve, however brief, from the intimate poses she had seen in those sample photographs. "That seems sensible," she agreed, her voice steadier than she felt.



"For these first shots," Vishnu continued, approaching her with the confident stride of someone who knew exactly what he wanted, "we'll need you to wrap your saree more tightly. The camera loves structure, definition."



Devika blinked, taken aback by his directness. "You want me to adjust my saree?"



"Yes," Vishnu confirmed, gesturing toward her current dbang—professional, modest, entirely suitable for a college professor but apparently inadequate for their purposes. "Tighter across the hips, pleats more defined. Show your..." he hesitated, then continued with feigned professionalism, "your natural form."



A flush crept up Devika's neck at the strange intimacy of receiving instructions about her clothing from her student. The inversion felt almost dizzying—this young man telling her, his professor, how to arrange the garment she had been wearing since adolescence.



"I brought several options," she offered, lifting her canvas bag.



"The red one," Pathan suggested immediately, having apparently glimpsed inside. "With the gold border."



Vishnu nodded in agreement. "Perfect. And we have a changing area prepared for you in the back room."



The "changing area" proved to be nothing more than a corner of a bedroom screened off with a standing partition. Devika slipped behind it, listening to the murmur of male voices from the main room as she carefully unwrapped her work saree—navy blue with a subtle pattern—and unfolded the red silk she had packed. The fabric was richer than what she typically wore to teach, its deep crimson shot through with gold thread that caught the light with each movement.



She wrapped it with practiced movements, but this time, conscious of Vishnu's instructions, she pulled the pleats tighter than usual, tucking them firmly at her waist. The blouse she paired with it was sleeveless and more fitted than her usual style, leaving her arms bare and emphasizing her curves. Before she could second-guess herself, she tucked the saree lower on her hips, revealing her navel completely—a style she would never wear publicly but had seen in fashion magazines and films.



When she emerged from behind the partition, both young men fell silent, their eyes widening appreciatively. Devika felt exposed under their gaze, yet something in their obvious admiration bolstered her confidence. This was why they had chosen her, after all—her natural femininity, the curves that had been merely hinted at beneath her professional attire now deliberately emphasized.



"Perfect," Vishnu breathed, then cleared his throat. "Almost perfect. We need one more element." He crossed to a bag near his equipment and withdrew a pair of high-heeled sandals—golden, strappy, with heels at least three inches tall. "These should be your size."



Devika stared at the shoes, momentarily speechless. "You had these already? How did you know my size?"



Pathan and Vishnu exchanged a quick glance that spoke volumes. "We...estimated," Pathan offered lamely. "Based on your height."



The implication that they had discussed her feet, had purchased shoes specifically for her, added another layer of strangeness to the already surreal situation. Nevertheless, Devika accepted the sandals, slipping them onto her feet with hands that trembled slightly. The additional height changed her posture immediately, forcing her spine straighter, her hips tilted slightly forward.



"Now you look like a modern woman," Vishnu declared, circling her with an appraising eye that seemed far too experienced for his age. "Stunning."



"Let's not waste time with flattery," Devika said, discomfort making her tone sharper than intended. "We should focus on the photoshoot."



Vishnu nodded, returning to his camera while Pathan positioned himself near the lights, ready to adjust them as needed. "First pose," Pathan directed, slipping easily into the role of assistant director. "Turn your back to the camera and twist your head to look over your shoulder."



Devika complied, presenting her back to the lens while turning her face to look back at Vishnu. The click of the shutter felt strangely intimate, as if capturing something more significant than merely her physical form.



"Beautiful," Vishnu murmured, the camera continuing its rhythmic clicking. "Now, can you walk away from the camera? Slowly. Let your hips move naturally."



Devika began walking across the white backdrop, acutely conscious of the way the high heels affected her gait, exaggerating the sway of her hips. The rustle of silk against her legs, the unfamiliar pressure of the tightly wrapped saree, the knowledge that Vishnu's lens was capturing every movement of her body from behind—all combined to create a heady awareness unlike anything she had experienced before.



"Breathtaking," she heard Pathan whisper, not quite softly enough. The admiration in his voice sent an unexpected thrill through her body.



"Now lean against the wall," Pathan directed, his voice slightly rougher than before. "Hands raised above your head, back arched slightly, face turned toward the camera."



The pose felt provocative, vulnerable—offering her body to the camera in a way that would have been unthinkable just weeks ago. Yet as she arranged herself against the wall, arms stretched upward, back arched to emphasize the curve of her waist, Devika felt a strange power in this voluntary display.



"Arch more," Vishnu instructed, his finger hovering over the shutter. "Really emphasize your curve."



She arched further, feeling the stretch along her spine, the way it pushed her chest forward and accentuated her hips. The clicking of the camera accelerated, capturing her from multiple angles as Vishnu moved around her, his breathing audibly quicker.



"Perfect," he murmured. "Now, can you squat? Like this." He demonstrated briefly, a low position with knees spread slightly.



Devika hesitated, the position seeming unnecessarily exposing. "Like this? In front of the camera?"



"It's for artistry," Pathan assured her quickly, arranging several flowers on the floor. "You'll be picking these up, looking natural and earthy."



With the high heels still on, the squat was awkward, requiring her to balance carefully as she lowered herself. The saree pulled tight across her thighs, and she knew the position would reveal more of her legs than she had intended. Still, she complied, reaching for the scattered flowers with what she hoped appeared as natural grace rather than the strained discomfort she felt.



"Perfect," Vishnu breathed, the camera clicking rapidly. "Now, could you... maybe go on all fours? To reach that flower over there?"



Devika's eyes snapped to his face, searching for signs of mockery or lasciviousness, but found only earnest concentration. "On all fours?" she repeated, the words feeling foreign in her mouth.



"Back to the camera," Pathan clarified. "It's a common pose in high-fashion photography. Earthy, primal."



With a deep breath, Devika lowered herself to her hands and knees, reaching forward for a distant flower. The position felt absurdly vulnerable, her back arched, her body displayed in a way that seemed more suited to the bedroom than a photography studio. Behind her, she heard a sharp intake of breath—from Pathan or Vishnu, she couldn't tell—followed by the rapid clicking of the camera.



"Turn to the side," Pathan directed after a moment. "Reach up to adjust your hair, look back at the camera."



The pose felt slightly more dignified, though no less revealing. As she raised her arms to gather her hair into a loose bun, Devika was acutely aware of how the movement pulled her blouse tight across her chest, how it exposed the curve where her waist met her hip.



"I think we need a break," Pathan announced suddenly, his voice strained. "Before we start the couple shots."



Vishnu lowered his camera, nodding in agreement. "Good idea. Professor, would you like to see the photos so far?"



Devika rose to her feet, adjusting her saree which had shifted during the more active poses. She approached the camera with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, unprepared for the images that appeared on its small screen.



The woman displayed there seemed like a stranger—sensual, confident, her body curved and twisted into poses that emphasized every feminine line. The red saree glowed against her skin, the tight wrapping revealing contours she normally kept hidden beneath more modest dbanging. In the photos where her back was to the camera, the curve of her hips and buttocks was unmistakably provocative, her posture transformed by the high heels into something almost aggressively feminine.



"Is that really me?" she whispered, more to herself than to the young men standing beside her.



"That's you, Professor," Vishnu confirmed, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of appreciation. "What do you think?"



Devika couldn't tear her eyes from the screen, from this transformed version of herself. "They're very..." she hesitated, searching for the right word, "revealing."



"They're beautiful," Pathan interjected firmly. "You're beautiful."



The compliment, delivered with such certainty, sent warmth spreading through her chest. Beautiful. Not merely attractive, not merely acceptable—beautiful. The word echoed in her mind as she continued scrolling through the images, her breath catching at the sight of herself on all fours, back arched like a cat, the lines of her body flowing with unexpected grace.



"Ready for the couple shots after our break?" Vishnu asked, his voice carefully neutral despite the heat she had glimpsed in his eyes while photographing her.



"Yes," Devika heard herself say, still mesmerized by the stranger on the screen, the woman who wore her face but moved with a confidence, a sensuality, she had never recognized in herself before. "I'm ready."





# Scene 3



The break stretched longer than necessary, a tacit acknowledgment of the tension permeating the farmhouse. Devika sipped water from a bottle Pathan had offered, her throat unexpectedly dry after the exertion of posing. In the corner, Vishnu adjusted his camera settings with meticulous attention, while Pathan rearranged the lighting, both young men stealing glances at her when they thought she wouldn't notice. The anticipation of what would come next—the couple poses she had seen in those sample photographs—sent electric currents of nervous energy dancing along her skin, raising goosebumps despite the warmth of the room.



"Are you comfortable continuing, Professor?" Vishnu asked finally, breaking the pregnant silence. His tone carried professional concern, though the intensity of his gaze suggested other emotions beneath the surface.



Devika straightened her spine, determined not to show hesitation now that she had come this far. "Yes, I'm fine. We should proceed."



"Good," Vishnu nodded, glancing toward Pathan. "The couple shots will be more... intimate than what we've done so far. More like those sample photos you saw earlier."



Though she had anticipated this, hearing it stated so directly sent a flutter of apprehension through Devika's chest. The sample photos had been explicitly sensual—bodies pressed together, lips meeting, hands exploring. And now she would recreate those poses not with a professional model but with Pathan, her student, whose eyes had tracked her movements through classroom and laboratory for months.



"I understand," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'll do my best."



"Pathan," Vishnu called, gesturing to his friend. "Your costume for these shots is just jeans. No shirt."



Pathan froze momentarily, his eyes darting to Devika as if gauging her reaction to this announcement. Then, with deliberate movements that suggested he was trying to appear casual, he pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing a lean torso more muscled than Devika had expected. His skin gleamed golden in the studio lights, the definition of his chest and abdomen evidence of regular exercise that his usual loose clothing had concealed.



Devika averted her eyes, suddenly shy despite having just spent an hour posing provocatively for the camera. There was something more intimate about this moment—about watching her student undress, about knowing she would soon be pressed against that bare skin—that felt more transgressive than all the crawling and arching she had done earlier.



"Let's begin with something simple," Vishnu directed, raising his camera. "Walk together toward me, talking to each other, looking natural."



Pathan moved to Devika's side, close but not touching, a space of careful propriety between them. They began walking across the white backdrop as instructed, their steps awkwardly synchronized.



"This isn't working," Vishnu sighed after a few shots. "There's no connection. Pathan, put your arm around her waist—no gap between you. Walk together like you're..." he hesitated, then finished, "like you're a real couple."



Pathan's hand hovered near Devika's waist, hesitation evident in the slight tremor of his fingers. The confidence he normally exuded in class seemed to have deserted him now that he was faced with actually touching his professor in such an intimate way.



"What's wrong?" Vishnu demanded, lowering his camera in frustration. "We don't have all day."



"I'm sorry," Pathan mumbled, his hand still suspended in the air between them. "It's just..."



Devika turned toward him, suddenly aware that for all his bravado, for all the looks he had given her across the laboratory, Pathan was genuinely nervous. The realization shifted something inside her—a balance of power tilting back in her favor. He wanted this, clearly, had probably fantasized about touching her, but now that the moment had arrived, he was frozen by the reality of crossing this line.



"Don't be nervous," she said softly, her eyes holding his. "We need to make these photos convincing, remember?"



Pathan nodded, still hesitant.



Devika stepped closer, deliberately eliminating the space between them, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "I know you've been waiting for this, haven't you? To feel how soft my hips are?"



His eyes widened at her directness, a flush spreading across his cheeks and down his bare chest. "Professor, I—"



"Place your hands on my waist," she instructed, her tone gentle but firm. "It's alright. It's for the photos."



The permission—or perhaps the command—broke through his hesitation. Pathan's hands settled on her waist, fingers spreading against the silk of her saree, thumbs pressing slightly into the exposed skin above her navel. The contact sent a jolt through Devika's body, a current of sensation that made her breath catch momentarily.



"Yes," she encouraged, "just like that."



They began walking again, Pathan's arm now wrapped around her waist, his fingers warm against her skin. The proximity made conversation easier, more natural, as they moved toward Vishnu's camera.



"Perfect," Vishnu nodded, the shutter clicking rapidly. "That's exactly the intimacy we need. Now, let's try something more dynamic. Pathan, stand behind her, embrace her from behind, hands on her waist."



Pathan released her and moved behind her as directed. After a moment's hesitation, his arms encircled her waist, hands settling just above her navel where the saree left her skin exposed. Devika felt his chest against her back, the warmth of his bare skin seeping through the thin fabric of her blouse. His breath tickled the nape of her neck, sending shivers cascading down her spine.



"Look back at him," Vishnu directed. "Turn your head like you're about to whisper something."



Devika twisted slightly in Pathan's embrace, looking up and back to meet his eyes. Their faces were inches apart, his expression a mixture of desire and disbelief, as if he couldn't quite comprehend that he was holding his professor this way, that she was allowing—even encouraging—his touch.



"Relax," she whispered, her words for him alone. "Enjoy this moment."



His grip tightened fractionally in response, fingers pressing more firmly against her skin. Behind them, Vishnu's camera continued its rhythmic clicking, capturing their intimate tableau from various angles.



"Now, hug from the side," Vishnu instructed after a few minutes. "Heads close together, like you're sharing a secret."



They repositioned themselves, standing side by side, arms wrapped around each other's waists. Pathan's hand settled confidently on her hip now, his initial nervousness apparently overcome. Devika allowed her own arm to encircle him, her hand resting against the warm skin of his waist, feeling the subtle contraction of muscles beneath her fingers.



"Closer," Vishnu urged. "Foreheads touching."



Devika tilted her head toward Pathan's, their foreheads meeting gently. The position brought their lips tantalizingly close, breaths mingling in the small space between them. His eyes were dark pools of undisguised want, no longer hiding the desire he had kept veiled in the classroom.



"What are you thinking?" she whispered, her words soft enough that Vishnu couldn't hear.



"That I can't believe this is happening," Pathan replied, his voice equally low. "That you're more beautiful up close than I ever imagined."



The simple honesty of his answer touched something in Devika, a vulnerability beneath the sensuality of the moment. Before she could respond, Vishnu's voice broke the spell.



"Perfect. Now for something more dramatic." He lowered his camera, considering them for a moment. "Pathan, go behind her again, but this time, place your hands on her saree where it's tucked at her waist."



Devika stiffened slightly, understanding immediately what this pose would entail. Pathan would be lowering her saree, exposing more of her skin than was already visible. It was a level of intimacy beyond what they had shared thus far, approaching the most provocative poses she had seen in the sample photos.



As Pathan moved behind her, she felt a moment of panic, a voice in her head asking what she was doing, how she had arrived at this point where her student was about to partially undress her while another photographed the process. Yet beneath the panic ran a darker current of excitement, of anticipation for the feeling of his hands on her body, for the thrill of surrendering to this moment.



"Hands on the tucked area," Vishnu directed, his voice sounding slightly strained. "Professor, lean back against him, rest your head on his shoulder."



Pathan's hands settled tentatively on her waist where the pleats of her saree were tucked securely. Devika closed her eyes, unable to watch Vishnu watching them, and leaned back against Pathan's chest. The solid warmth of him supported her as she rested her head against his shoulder, their bodies fitting together with unexpected naturalness.



"Now," Vishnu continued, "slowly lower the tuck of her saree with your thumbs, just enough to reveal the curve of her hip bones."



Devika's breath quickened as she felt Pathan's thumbs hook into the fabric at her waist, gently tugging downward. The saree loosened, slipping lower on her hips, exposing the gentle curve where her waist flared outward. The sensation of fabric sliding against her skin, of Pathan's fingers brushing against newly revealed flesh, sent liquid heat pooling low in her belly.



She felt him bend his head slightly, his face close to her neck, and then—unexpectedly—the warm press of his nose against her skin, inhaling deeply as if to capture her scent. The intimate gesture wasn't part of Vishnu's directions, but she made no move to stop him, her body responding with a slight arch that pressed her more firmly against him.



"Perfect," Vishnu breathed, the camera clicking rapidly. "Hold that pose."



They remained frozen in this tableau of restrained desire—Devika leaning back against Pathan's bare chest, her saree lowered provocatively on her hips, his face bent to her neck, hands splayed possessively across her newly exposed skin. The moment stretched, charged with possibilities, with unspoken offers and requests hovering in the heated air between them.



"I think that's enough for today," Vishnu announced finally, lowering his camera. "We've got plenty of material to start with."



The words broke the spell that had enveloped them. Pathan's hands reluctantly withdrew from her waist, allowing Devika to straighten and adjust her saree back to a more modest position. The loss of contact left her feeling strangely bereft, her skin still tingling where his fingers had pressed.



"Would you like to see the photos?" Vishnu offered, gesturing toward his camera.



Devika nodded, smoothing her hair with hands that weren't quite steady. She approached as Vishnu began scrolling through the images, displaying the progression of their poses from the initial awkward walking to the final intimate embrace.



The photos were startlingly beautiful—artistic compositions of light and shadow that transformed their poses into something more than merely provocative. In the images where Pathan stood behind her, his hands at her waist, her head tilted back against his shoulder, there was an undeniable sensuality but also a vulnerability, a surrender captured in the slight parting of her lips, in the way her body yielded to his support.



"These are..." she began, searching for a word that could encompass her conflicted feelings.



"Perfect," Vishnu finished for her, clearly pleased with the results. "The committee will be impressed, I'm sure of it."



Devika stepped back, suddenly aware of how thoroughly she had abandoned her professional persona during the shoot. She had not merely posed as directed but had actively encouraged Pathan's touch, had invited his hands on her body with words meant for lovers, not for student and teacher.



"I should go," she said abruptly, gathering her bag with the other sarees she hadn't even used. "It's getting late."



Neither young man tried to stop her as she retreated to the partitioned corner to change back into her more modest navy saree. When she emerged, Vishnu was already packing his equipment while Pathan, now wearing his shirt again, stood awkwardly by the door.



"Thank you, Professor," he said quietly as she approached. "For everything."



The simple gratitude carried layers of meaning—thanks not just for her participation but for her encouragement, for allowing him to touch her in ways he had likely only imagined before today. Devika merely nodded, unable to find appropriate words for this inappropriate situation.



As she drove her scooter back toward her apartment, the sensations of the photoshoot remained vivid—Pathan's hands on her waist, his breath against her neck, the gentle tug as he lowered her saree. The memory sent renewed heat coursing through her body, along with a disturbing awareness that this was only the beginning. The sample photos had shown far more intimate poses than what they had attempted today—kisses, bites, embraces that simulated passion rather than merely suggesting it.



What would tomorrow bring? How much further would she allow this to go? And perhaps most troublingly, why did the thought of those future sessions fill her with anticipation rather than dread?