05-08-2025, 11:25 PM
Chapter 9: Whispers in the Dark & Moonlit Dreams
The emerald silk lay discarded on the floor. Later that night, Meera stood before the full-length mirror in the bathroom's soft light. Wearing only delicate peach lace underwear, the exposure felt intentional. This was a close look. Her fingertips traced the scalloped edge of the bra where it held the full, soft weight of her breast. He wanted the blue saree... but it was this shape underneath he admired. She pressed gently, feeling the warmth, the nipple hardening under her touch into a firm point against the lace. Her eyes moved down over the patterns barely covering her curves to the matching briefs hugging her hips. The silk-blend fabric stretched tight over the firm, rounded shape of her buttocks. She turned slightly, looking over her shoulder. The mirror showed the full curve of her rear, the lace clinging, emphasizing the fullness. A shiver ran through her – part nervousness, part strong awareness. Covered assets... but the shape... the shape is everything. She felt like a woman finding new power in these curves, power made real by the heat of his gaze.
Lying beside Rajiv's steady breathing and Aaryan's soft sighs, Meera's skin buzzed with restless energy. Her phone, hidden under her pillow, buzzed softly. A message glowed:
Arjun: thanks Meera.
Simple but heavy with meaning. Her heart pounded. Fingers trembling, she typed:
Meera: Welcome. But for what?
Arjun: For considering... things. My... taste….
The words hit like a touch. Considering his taste. He knew. Knew the cold disappointment when she hid behind the shawl, the intense pleasure when she showed her curves for him. Knew she chose that dress, understood its effect, and gave him the view he wanted. She made him happy. The knowledge was scary and exciting. Stunned, she reached for something ordinary.
Meera: Oh. The tea? It was just a different brand. Tata Gold.
Arjun: Tea was good. But the dress...
Meera: Yaaa the one you wore show the good taste you have.
Arjun: Hmm. Not as good as emerald green looked today. That colour... and the way you walked in with the tea.
He didn't say "without the shawl." He didn't need to. The praise for the green, her walk... it was clear. Heat flooded Meera's cheeks, spreading down her neck and chest, pooling lower. Her breath caught. He saw. He saw the walk, the sway he likes. He saw the silk clinging. Sensation sparked – a warm clench deep in her belly, strong awareness of her body against the cool sheets. She let the silence hang, thick with what wasn't said.
The day passed with simple messages, a thin cover over constant tension.
Arjun: Good morning Meera. Hope you slept well. (8:15 AM)
Meera: Good morning. Yes, thanks. (8:16 AM)
Arjun: Office mein boring meeting chalu hai. Coffee time soon hopefully. (10:30 AM)
Meera: Haha. Good luck. Just had chai. (10:32 AM)
Arjun: Lunch break. Tried the canteen biryani. Not a patch on your cooking. (1:15 PM)
Meera: :) Homemade is always better. (1:18 PM)
Her eyes kept going back to the phone. Evening came.
Arjun: You know about the Mahabaleshwar trip next week right, but Rajiv told you are not coming. You should come, Meera. It'll be fun. (6:45 PM)
Meera: Can't, Arjun. Aaryan's college, things here... not possible this time. (6:48 PM)
Her mind raced – Him. Misty hills. Cool air.
Arjun: That's a shame. Rajiv was really hoping you'd come. (6:50 PM)
Meera: Maybe next time. (6:52 PM)
Arjun: Would have been nice. you there... the hills, the greenery. It would look beautiful in that setting. (7:00 PM)
Meera: Mahabaleshwar is beautiful. But I won't be there. (7:05 PM)
She stopped it, but the idea took root – her in the hills, admired by him. The forbidden thought made the air feel thick.
Moonlit Valley Dream
Later that night sleep dragged Meera down into a vivid dream of Mahabaleshwar. No crowded viewpoints—just a private valley washed in cool moonlight that slid over her skin like chilled silk. She stood wearing a gown of sheer, slippery fabric the color of moonbeams. It clung wetly to every curve—the heavy swell of her breasts, the inward dip of her waist, the outward flare of her hips—while revealing the dark blue lace bra and panties beneath. The neckline plunged deep between her breasts. The flimsy fabric stretched over her shoulders and back. Moonlight painted her spine, the full curve of her hips, the shadowed cleft where her buttocks met, leaving her exposed. A hard, insistent pulse started low in her belly.
She felt Arjun’s gaze across the valley, half-hidden by trees. But his gaze was steady, consuming, hot. She felt it sear the outline of her breasts, the dark blue lace clearly visible through the sheer gown, her nipples hard and pressing against the lace, craving touch. She felt his stare trace the inward curve of her waist, the soft mound of her stomach, the long, smooth line of her inner thigh exposed by the gown’s high slit. The thin fabric over her rear did nothing to hide the full, round shape of her buttocks. He sees me, she thought, a shiver racing down her spine. He sees the lace against my skin. He sees my nipples hard under it. He sees my thighs, my hips, my ass outlined in this nothing fabric. Deep inside, a slick, heavy warmth began pooling between her legs, a stark contrast to the cool light on her skin.
Her body moved without conscious thought. She arched her back, turning her hip slightly. Moonlight caught the sheer fabric there, making the dark lace of her panty beneath gleam like a secret. She wanted him to see. Needed that hungry stare to linger on what she offered—the lace struggling to contain the full weight of her breast, the hard point of her nipple straining against it, aching for the scbang of a thumb, the heat of a mouth. She imagined his eyes tracing the exposed line of her inner thigh, smooth skin leading up to where wet heat was gathering, hidden by the lace panties. She wanted his focus locked on the curve of her rear, how the moonlight lit the shadowed cleft, hinting at soft flesh beneath the flimsy barrier. A raw thrill tore through her dream-self, centered deep in her core—a hot, liquid pulse mirroring the moon’s cool touch.
Her breath hitched. A phantom touch seemed to brush her hard nipple through the lace and sheer gown, sending sharp bolts of pleasure straight to her throbbing center. Her inner thighs felt slick. The ache intensified, a heavy, demanding pressure low in her belly. Look, her thoughts screamed, raw and desperate. Look at my breasts. Look how hard my nipples are under this lace for you. Look at my thigh, how it leads up… look at my ass. See how full it is? See the shape? She wanted him to see every hidden swell, every vulnerable curve laid bare by moonlight and sheer fabric. See how wet I am for your eyes on me. See it. Want it. Come take what you’re burning for. The need was a sharp, sweet pain beneath the moon’s detached gaze, the cool air doing nothing to quench the fire his imagined stare had ignited deep inside her body. She stood, offered, desperate, the pulse between her legs a relentless echo of look, want, take.
Meera woke with a gasp. Sheets tangled. More telling: warm wetness lingered there. Her body had answered the dream. She grabbed her phone. The screen glowed:
Arjun: Couldn't sleep. Had a dream.
Her breath caught. How? Was he tuned to her restless energy? She stared at the pulsing dots, feeling completely exposed – lying beside her family, body humming from the dream, physically wet with desire. Fingers clumsy, she typed, deleted, typed:
Meera: why so?
Sent.
The words sent fresh shivers through her. A dream. She pressed her thighs together hard, a choked gasp escaping as the friction sent a jolt through her sensitive core. She didn't reply, letting her body's tremor speak in the dark.
Arjun: An angel. In Mahabaleshwar. Moonlight all around.
Meera's heart hammered. She typed, deleted, heat coiling low. Finally:
Meera: zipped mouth emoji
Playful, but her core clenched with anticipation. A breath. Then:
Meera: How was the angel?
The question was a dare, surrender to the heat inside.
Arjun: Walking... like a dream. Hips swaying gently... chiffon catching the light. Curves... outlined against the night.
The description was hers. Hips swaying. Chiffon. Curves. The heat between her legs strengthened into a throbbing pulse. She knew that walk. He'd seen it in the store, admired it at home. He described her dream walk, or his vision of her.
Meera: That good?
Arjun: Already seen an angel walk in blue. This was... confirmation.
Confirmation. The word echoed. Confirmation the angel in his dream was her. That the sway, the curves were hers. The last barrier broke. He knew she knew. The erotic connection peaked, a wave of pure forbidden understanding flooding her as she lay in the dark. The dream was shared. The want, mutual. The walk in the blue saree was their silent talk, spoken now under night's cover.