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

[prady12191]

The last student gathered his notebooks and headed toward the door, leaving only Devika and Pathan in the laboratory. The afternoon light filtered through the high windows, casting long shadows across the empty workbenches.

Devika bent over her desk, organizing the day's materials into neat piles. The familiar routine of cleaning slides and storing equipment usually calmed her, but today an inexplicable tension knotted her shoulders. Something felt different about the silence—too complete, too final.

The soft click of the door closing echoed through the room.

Pathan looked up from his microscope, feigning surprise. "Did someone just lock us in?"

Devika's head snapped toward the door. The corridor beyond the frosted glass panels appeared empty, no shadows moving past. She walked to the heavy wooden door and pressed her ear against it.

Nothing.

"Hello?" she called out, turning the handle. It wouldn't budge. "Is anyone there?"

Pathan joined her, placing his hand on the door frame just inches from her shoulder. "Let me try."

He rattled the handle more forcefully, then banged on the door with his fist. "Hey! Someone's still inside!"

The sound echoed hollowly through the corridor beyond. No footsteps. No voices. Only the hum of the ventilation system and the distant rumble of traffic from the street.

"This is strange," Devika murmured, stepping back from the door. "Saradha ma'am always checks before locking up."

"Maybe she got distracted," Pathan suggested, pulling out his phone. "I'll call Vishnu. He might still be in the building."

Devika watched as he dialed, pressing the phone to his ear. After a moment, he frowned and tried again.

"Phone's switched off," he said, slipping the device back into his pocket. "Probably dead battery. You know how careless he is."

Devika patted her pockets, then checked her bag. Empty. "I left my phone in the staff room this morning. I completely forgot."

"Don't worry, ma'am. Someone will come by soon. The cleaning staff usually starts their rounds around five."

The clock on the wall read 4:15 PM. Forty-five minutes felt like an eternity trapped in this windowless room with Pathan's intense gaze following her every movement.

"We might as well sit down," Pathan said, settling onto one of the lab stools. "No point standing by the door like prisoners."

Devika remained near the exit, her arms crossed. "I'm sure Saradha ma'am will realize her mistake soon."

"She's probably already gone home. Thursday evenings she always leaves early for her daughter's music class."

The casual familiarity in his voice surprised her. How did he know so much about Saradha's schedule?

"Let's not waste time worrying," Pathan continued, his tone shifting to something more conversational. "I saw this amazing movie yesterday. You'd probably like it—very romantic, beautifully shot."

Devika glanced at him uncertainly. The change in topic felt forced, but talking was better than standing in anxious silence.

"What was it about?"

"Love story between a college professor and a student. But not inappropriate," he added quickly. "She was his age, just starting her teaching career. Very tasteful, very emotional."

Despite herself, Devika found her curiosity piqued. "Which language?"

"Hindi, but with English subtitles. The lead actress reminded me of you, actually. Same graceful way of moving, same expressive eyes."

Heat crept up Devika's neck. "I'm sure she was much more beautiful."

"No, truly. There was this one scene..." Pathan pulled out his phone again. "Actually, I downloaded a clip. The chemistry between them was incredible. Want to see?"

Devika hesitated. Watching movie clips with a student felt inappropriate, but the alternative was forty minutes of awkward silence.

"Just a short scene," Pathan said, already pulling up the video. "The cinematography is stunning."

He held the phone between them, and Devika found herself stepping closer to see the small screen. The clip began with soft music, showing a couple in an intimate embrace. The camera work was indeed beautiful—golden lighting, soft focus, everything bathed in warm tones.

Then the couple's lips met.

The kiss unfolded slowly, tenderly, with none of the rushed passion of typical commercial films. It felt real, authentic. The way the man's hand cradled the woman's face, the way she leaned into him with complete trust—it spoke of deep emotional connection rather than mere physical attraction.

Devika's breath caught. The tenderness on screen reminded her of everything missing from her own marriage. When was the last time Rajeevan had looked at her with such reverence? When had he last touched her as though she were precious rather than merely convenient?

The scene continued, the camera capturing every subtle expression, every gentle caress. The couple moved together like dancers, their connection electric yet tender.

Warmth pooled in Devika's chest, spreading downward. Her pulse quickened despite her efforts to remain detached. The intimacy on screen felt more real than anything she'd experienced in years.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Pathan's voice came from very close beside her.

Devika nodded, unable to look away from the screen. The couple's passion built gradually, naturally, without the crude explicitness of typical films. This felt like witnessing genuine love rather than performance.

Her lips parted slightly as she watched, unconsciously mirroring the actress's expression. The laboratory around them seemed to fade, leaving only the golden world of the film and the heat building within her own chest.