07-08-2025, 11:32 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-08-2025, 11:59 PM by subtle. Edited 2 times in total. Edited 2 times in total.)
Chapter 14: Lavender Echoes
Meera woke tangled in sheets, heart pounding. Guilt squeezed her chest—Rajiv slept beside me while I was about to sin in the thoughts of Arjun, but beneath it, a dark thrill pulsed low in her belly. She slipped out of bed quietly, the phantom feel of lace still on her skin. Morning chores felt mechanical. She swept without seeing the floor, washed dishes while staring past the sink. Her mind replayed the bus ride: His face inches from my hip. His nostrils flaring as he breathed me in. A flush crept up her neck. She nearly dropped a plate, her hands unsteady.
Later, laundry waited in a wicker basket. She folded Rajiv’s shirts, then Aaryan’s tiny shorts. At the bottom lay the white leggings, neatly rolled. Beneath them, the bundled lavender lace panties. Her fingers brushed the lace. A sharp shiver shot up her spine. Proof. Proof of Mahabaleshwar. Proof of how close he’d been. Proof of the hungry stare that had burned through the thin white fabric.
She carried both garments to the bathroom after her bath. Damp skin met cool air as she stood before the foggy mirror, wrapped only in a towel. The dangerous urge was immediate, physical: See it. See what he saw.
Slowly, deliberately, she hooked her thumbs under the towel’s edge and let it drop. Naked, she picked up the lavender lace panties. The cool fabric slithered up her calves, over her knees. She eased them higher, the delicate lace stretching as she tugged them over her hips. The waistband settled low, hugging the curve of her pelvic bones. The front panel pressed snugly against her mound, the lace a sheer veil over soft, dark curls beneath. The back was a deep V, the lace cupping the full, rounded swell of each buttock, the thin fabric sinking slightly into the deep cleft between them. It felt intimate, possessive. Next, the white leggings. She stepped into each leg, pulling the thin, stretchy fabric up. It slid over her calves, her thighs, clinging tighter with every inch. She worked them over her hips, the material straining. The waistband settled just above the lace panties. She smoothed the leggings down over her rear.
The mirror was still fogged. Holding her breath, she wiped a clear patch with her palm. She turned her back to the glass, then looked over her shoulder. The sight shocked her. The glow of her lavender panty beneath her white leggings, The bright purple lace shone clearly through the thin white leggings. It wasn't a shadow; it was a distinct, vibrant outline. The deep V-cut of the panties' back was perfectly visible. The lace pattern itself – the scalloped edges, the delicate floral weave – showed through the white fabric with startling clarity against her skin. She saw the leggings pulled skin-tight over her buttocks. Every curve was accentuated – the outward flare of her hips, the full, rounded firmness of each buttock, the deep indentation of the cleft where the lace pressed in. The leggings didn't hide the lace; they framed it, showcasing exactly where the delicate fabric hugged her most intimate curves. The distinct band of lavender lace encircling her hips was starkly visible just above the waistband of the leggings, a blatant line marking what lay beneath. She stared, transfixed. This is what he saw. This close. This detailed. Her cheeks burned. Her breathing grew shallow. A familiar warmth pooled low in her belly, heavy and insistent, mirroring the heat flooding her face. The guilt whispered wrong, but the image in the mirror – the undeniable visibility, the raw femininity on display – sent a pulse of pure, illicit thrill through her. She ran her hands slowly over her leggings-clad hips, feeling the shape beneath, remembering the heat of his gaze mere inches away. He saw this. He wanted this. The thought alone made her thighs press together tightly.
This is what he described.
Her phone buzzed on the counter.
Arjun: Office mein abhi chai break he. Ap ka hoo gaya? (Office tea break. Which tea leaves today?)
The message felt intrusive yet thrilling - arriving while she stood half-naked remembering his view. She quickly covered herself with the towel, heart pounding.
Meera: Not yet. Busy
She tried to focus, but her reflection stayed burned in her mind. Think about tea.
The evening message felt heavier:
Arjun: Saree time or Salwar time?
Meera: Ohhh.. khar aa raha he kya?
Arjun: Aana hee... mostly at 7, kuch reports ke baare mein discuss karna he Rajiv se.... tho Saree time or Salwar time? or.....
Meera held her breath. Please no. The typing dots appeared...
Arjun: Or..... Lavender time?
Lavender time. He was talking directly about her underwear. Bold. Unmistakable. Her stomach clenched with nervous excitement. No! Her heart raced. Arjun, her husband's friend, was openly mentioning her private clothes. But these were the same clothes he'd stared at with such hunger. She didn't reply.
By 7 PM, she wore a simple mint green cotton salwar kameez, sitting in her bedroom trying to calm her nerves. The sound of his voice in the living room - deep, familiar, definitely Arjun - sent electricity through her. Excitement fought with worry.
Rajiv called out, "Meera! Arjun's here! See what he's brought!"
She walked into the living room. Arjun was crouched showing Aaryan a toy car, but his head snapped up when she entered. Their eyes locked. A silent, intense understanding passed between them, lighting up their gazes. "Look, Meera! Arjun found these rare lavender flowers!"
Arjun stood up, holding out small fragrant lavender sprigs. "Its so rare but I found it at a flower shop - last bunch."
His eyes stayed on hers as he handed them over. When she took them, her fingers brushed his. That simple touch, combined with the flowers, the color, the memory - sent an electric jolt straight to her core. She visibly shivered, clutching the stems tight.
"Those lavender flowers that too here? It's rare, Arjun!" Rajiv said.
"Got lucky," Arjun murmured, his eyes lingering on Meera a moment too long before turning back. She thought, was he so lucky?
They settled - Rajiv and Arjun on the sofa discussing work, Meera in an armchair opposite. She pretended to watch Aaryan play but watched Arjun secretly - his gestures, his intense eyes. She breathed in his sandalwood-citrus scent cutting through the lavender. Her phone on the chair arm vibrated quietly. A glance down:
Arjun: lavender?
Her cheeks burned. He was teasing about what she wore under the mint green, not the flowers. She typed fast, hiding the screen:
Meera: Shut up! Grrrrrr
She saw his lips twitch with a hidden smile before he focused on Rajiv. The gap she had shown with Arjun have almost blurred.
Arjun: Kyoon nahee?
Meera: Shut up! focus on the work, or let me go inside.
Arjun: Nooo bus, be there.
The work talk continued, but the secret message hung between them, adding thick tension to the boring office talk. Arjun left soon after, leaving Meera breathless with the unspoken intensity and the lavender scent lingering.
Messages continued through her days:
Arjun (10:30 AM): Morning Meera, meeting tho aaj kal jyaada he torture kar raha hee. Need chai badly.
Meera (10:32 AM): Make some then. kuch stock rakho.
Arjun (1:15 PM): Kahaan hooo? abhi Lunch break thaa. Canteen ka food yaad dila raha hai tumhare khane ki.
Meera (1:18 PM): Haha. Ghar ka khana best hootha he.
Arjun (3:00 PM): Aree Meera, Rajiv tho aaj kal zyada hee kaam karvaatha he mujh se
Meera (3:02 PM): Achha hai. Kam karo. Main Rajiv se kehti hoon aur zyada kaam de do tumhe. Tab mujhe chain milega! (Good. Work. I’ll tell Rajiv to give you more work. Then I’ll get peace!)
Arjun (3:05 PM): Very funny. Salary nahi milta itni chatting ke liye. (Don’t get paid for so much chatting)
Meera (3:07 PM): Chatting? Kaunsi ladies se kar rahe ho itni? Salary cut karvayegi main! (Chatting? Which ladies? I’ll get your salary cut!)
Arjun (3:10 PM): Ladies? Nahin. Bas Lady hee he.
Meera smiled, warmth spreading through her chest. The playful teasing felt natural, comfortable. She was getting used to this dangerous closeness growing through messages.
Then a message from Aarti:
Aarti: Hey! Long time no see. Arjun bhi nahi dikh raha. Miss him yaar. Calls bhi nahi uthata. (Hey! Long time. Arjun isn’t around. Miss him. Doesn’t pick calls.)
Meera’s smile vanished. A sharp pang hit her. Miss him? She typed, forcing calm:
Meera: Hmm. Office busy hoga. (Must be busy.)
Aarti: Haan shayad. Par woh ...... bohot miss kar rahi hoon!
Meera stared, irritation flaring hot. His tongue? The thought of Aarti experiencing that, missing it, claiming it, felt like an invasion. A possessive anger surged. She didn’t reply. It’s not Aarti’s place to miss him now, she thought fiercely, a secret smile touching her lips. He should be missed by someone else. Her gaze drifted down to her lap, a dangerous thought whispering - missed not just by her, but... She shook her head hard. No! Never! But the denial felt weak. Her thighs pressed together, warmth blooming, dampness confirming her body’s response to the idea of his head between her legs. She felt the heat and wetness, a rebellion against her own mind.
Late that night, Rajiv and Aaryan asleep, the phone glowed:
Arjun: Meera, hamesha deer se soothe ho kya?
Meera: No am about to sleep
Arjun: Ohh thoo aaj ka kaam poora khatham?
Meera: Yaa by the way, Aarti messaged today.
Arjun: Oh? Kya kehti thi? (What did she say?)
Meera: Keh rahi thi... tumhe miss kar rahi hai. (Saying... she misses you.) She added clear jealousy.
Dots danced. Then:
Arjun: Meera... us din kitchen mein tumhe dekha... uske baad kisi aur ke baare mein socha hi nahi. Bas.. tumhare baare mein sochta hoon. (Meera... that day I saw you... after that, no one else. Just you.)
His raw honesty hit hard. Tears pricked her eyes mixed with warmth. She deflected playfully:
Meera: Chal jhootha! (Liar!)
Arjun: Sach keh raha hoon. way you walked in the grocery shop.... woh blue saree mein... fir woh din... white leggings, lavender panty... har curve, har line.... phir Chandrika...
Chandrika?
Meera: Chandrika? Kaun? (Who?)
Arjun: Tumhara navel. Chand jaisa pyara, round. Full moon. Chandrika. (Your navel. Lovely like moon. Full moon. Chandrika.)
Heat scorched her cheeks.
Meera: Cheeee! Bad boy! Band karo warna baat nahi karungi! (Stop or I won’t talk!)
But he continued.
Arjun: Kyun bad? Sach toh bola. Us din hawa ne jo dikhaya... lavender panty... kitni pyar se tumhare curves ko hug kar rahi thi... har dip ko cover kiya... (Truth! That day... lavender panty hugging your curves... covered every dip...)
She didn’t reply. His words painted pictures. Heat pulsed between her legs. Her body betrayed her: breath quickened, skin flushed, nipples hardened against her silk nightdress.
Her mind raced. He saw Chandrika. Not just saw it, but remembered it. Wanted it. What else did he imagine seeing? The thought slammed into her: Him seeing me without the leggings. Without any covering over the lace. She pictured herself standing before him, clad only in the lavender panties. The delicate V-cut at the back framing the full curve of her buttocks. The front panel, sheer lace, pressed snugly against her mound, barely hiding the soft curls beneath. The waistband hugging her hips, low on her stomach, drawing the eye inexorably down… to Chandrika.
A fresh wave of heat, hotter than before, surged through her. It started deep in her pelvis, a liquid pulse that made her inner muscles clench involuntarily. Her circling fingers on her stomach stilled. Then, driven by the image in her head and the ache in her body, her fingertips dipped lower. Slowly, deliberately, she hooked her thumb under the loose hem of her silky blue night top where it rested near her hipbone. She began to lift it.
The cool air of the room hit the newly exposed skin of her lower belly inch by inch. She watched in the dim room as the fabric slid upwards, revealing the smooth skin just below her navel first. Her fingers trembled slightly. She lifted the top higher, past the slight inward curve beneath her ribs, revealing more of her flat stomach. The silky material whispered against her skin as she raised it, bunching just below her breasts. Her stomach was fully exposed now, pale in the low light, rising and falling with her quick breaths. Her thumb still held the fabric up.
She looked down at Chandrika. The small, deep indent in her skin. His "full moon." Her index finger, independent of her trembling hand, extended. The tip of her finger touched the very edge of the indentation. She traced the outer rim slowly, feeling the dip of skin. Then, she pressed the pad of her finger gently into the center of Chandrika itself. The skin there felt delicate, vulnerable. She imagined it was his finger tracing that path. She imagined his fingertip pressing into that small hollow, exploring its depth. She imagined his gaze fixed there, dark and hungry, just like on the bus, but closer. Much closer. Without the leggings. Without the top.
The image was so potent, so explicit, that a soft, involuntary gasp escaped her lips. The wetness between her thighs intensified, a slick, undeniable presence. Her nipples, still hard peaks beneath the bunched blue silk now resting just below them, felt achingly sensitive. She kept her finger pressed into Chandrika, her top held high, her body thrumming with the echo of his words and the vivid, dangerous fantasy they inspired. Her nights are now with revelation her woke up awareness of self exploration filled with guilt and thrills.
Next morning
Arjun (8:30 AM): Morning Chandrika. Office mein hoon.
Meera stirred breakfast, smiling despite herself.
Meera: Chandrika kaun? Meera hoon main! (I'm Meera!)
Arjun: Kal raat bola na? Tumhara pyara sa navel. Chand jaisa. Chandrika. (Told you? Your lovely moon-like navel.)
Meera: Cheee! Gandi soch! Bas karo warna baat band. (Dirty thoughts! Stop or I quit!)
She changed subject.
Meera: Rajiv kya kar raha hai? (What's Rajiv doing?)
Arjun: Meeting mein ghused diya hai. Project ka pressure. (Stuck in meeting. Project pressure.)
Over the next days, comfortable messages mixed with Arjun's teasing:
Late night messages
Arjun: Aaj office se wapas aate waqt ek lady ko dekha... blue saree mein, almost the same jo us din aap jo pahane thi. Par uske chalne mein woh baat nahi thi... tumhari aas paasss nahee aayegi who (Saw a lady in blue saree today... but her walk wasn't like yours...)
Meera teased with faint jealousy.
Meera: Bad boy! Ladies ko ogle karte ho! Aarti se boolna padeega. (Ogling ladies! I'll tell Aarti!)
Arjun: Ladies? Nahin. Bas ek hi. Aarti se mila hi nahi lambey time se. Ab toh uske baare mein sochta bhi nahi... Mahabaleshwar ki yaadein... woh hawa... tumhara top... (Just one lady. Haven't seen Aarti. Don't think of her... remember Mahabaleshwar wind... your top...)
Meera felt the familiar electric jolt low in her belly.
Meera: Accident tha woh. Bhool jao. (Was accident. Forget it.)
Arjun: Bhoolta kaise? Yaad aati rehti hai... kaash phir se ho... shayad... leggings ke bina hi... sirf lavender panty pehne ho... uss rang mein... tumhare curves ko... (Can't forget... wish it happened again... maybe without leggings... just lavender panty... your curves...)
His words were clear, sensual. Imagining her only in the lavender panty, curves fully visible. She didn’t reply. Her body reacted instantly - heat flooded her core, pulsing hard. Her mind wandered: How would it feel? Standing like that while he watches? The thought intensified the heat, a throbbing ache spreading through her lower body.
Arjun: Meera?
Meera: Cheeee bad boy!! Chup! Abhi se mein baat nahi karoongi! (Bad boy! Shut up! Won't talk now!)
(She added the fire emoji, betraying her inner heat)
He didn't push.
Arjun: Sorry, Chandrika. Good night. Heeiii eek baath boolna bhool gaya, This Saturday is my Birthday.
Meera: Ohhh achaa… chaliyee advance birthday wishes, to the good boy.
Arjun: Abhi nahee us din boolna I will wait for it. Good night Chandrika
Meera: I am Meera , Good night bad boy.
Meera lay still, the angry emoji sent but her body burning with the image he planted. She imagined standing as he described. She closed her eyes, and the fantasy began, she imagined the way she would present herself to the gaze of Arjun in that lace bra and panties
She imagined standing before him in the dim bedroom light, wearing only the lavender lace set. The bra cups her full breasts, the sheer fabric straining against their weight, her dark nipples visibly hard beneath the lace. The panties hug the curve of her hips, the deep V-back framing the full, rounded swell of her buttocks. She feels the cool air on her bare stomach, the waistband of the panties resting just below her navel –Chandrika, exposed and vulnerable.
She imagines turning slowly for him, her bare feet silent on the floor. As she pivots, her hip juts outward, emphasizing the inward curve of her waist before flaring to her rear. She glances over her shoulder, catching his gaze locked on the deep cleft between her buttocks where the lace bites into soft skin. She bends forward slightly, just enough to pick up an imaginary hairpin from the floor. The movement pulls the lace taut against her mound, revealing the distinct outline of soft curls beneath.
He hasn’t moved. She imagines him seated on the edge of the bed, his knuckles white where he grips the mattress. His eyes track every shift of her body: The way her ribs expand with each shaky breath, the bead of sweat trailing from her collarbone into her cleavage, the subtle tremor in her thighs as she shifts her weight, the damp patch darkening the lace between her legs
She turns fully to face him again. Her hands drift down her own sides – slowly, deliberately – fingers tracing her hip bones, then skimming the lace waistband. She hooks her thumbs into it, tugging it just a centimeter lower. The top edge of her pubic mound becomes visible, a soft swell above the lace. His gaze drops there, and she sees his jaw clench.
She imagined what he wanted, He wants to, Kneel before her, press his face against her stomach, and trace Chandrika with his tongue. Run his thumbs along the lace bra’s edge where it cuts into the soft flesh beneath her breasts. Bite the curve of her hip where the bone juts out just above the panty line. Peel the lace aside with his teeth to taste the wet heat beneath.
She imagine herself taking a step closer. The scent of her arousal – warm musk mixed with lavender – fills the space between them. Her breast brushes his shoulder as she leans down, pretending to whisper in his ear. Her nipple grazes his shirt, and she feels it tighten painfully. His breath hitches. She stays bent like that, her cleavage inches from his face, the valley between her breasts glistening with sweat. She hears the raw hunger in his voice when he finally speaks:
"Meera..."
The fantasy shatters. Meera’s eyes flew open in the dark bedroom, her hand pressed hard between her thighs. The panties were soaked. Rajiv snored beside her. She pressed her thighs tighter, creating friction that sent sharp sparks through her body. His words had lit a fire that wouldn't go out - a deep, constant heat centered between her legs, spreading through her belly, making her skin feel too tight, too hot. She fell into restless sleep filled with visions of lavender lace against bare skin and eyes that promised both sin and comfort. The ease with Arjun was now tangled with a fire that never stopped burning.