Drunk Upper class woman - Makes out with anyone - even with a Rickshaw Puller(video+)

[ashuezy2]

Scene 8: Professor Kian

Anya, who had been humming happily on Zara’s shoulder, suddenly sat bolt upright.

Her eyes, which were a little unfocused, zeroed in on the waiter clearing the next table. He was a young guy, probably just a few years older than them, wearing a tight black t-shirt.

Anya: (In a voice that was much too loud) “Bhaiya! Oye... hero!”
The waiter looked over, confused, a dirty plate in his hand.

Anya: (She gave him a big, sloppy smile, pointing a wobbly finger) “You... you have a very nice... ass.”

Zara: (She spat out her coffee, half in shock, half in laughter) “Ass?! Anya!”

Kian: (His face turned to stone. He stood up and threw some money on the table.) “That’s it. We’re leaving. Now.”
He didn't even wait for the bill, just threw a five-hundred-rupee note down.

Anya: (Pouting, her voice a drunken whine) “But I was just... talking to him! He’s cute!”

Zara: (Wiping her mouth, her eyes wide) “Kian, save yourself, she is full talli! (Drunk!)”
Zara was laughing, but even she looked a little freaked out now. This was next-level.

Kian: (He grabbed Anya’s arm, his voice harsh) “Get up. Get up, Anya. We’re going.”
Anya stumbled as he pulled her. Her legs, which had been fine sitting down, suddenly went soft like idli. She fell right against him.

Anya: (She wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling against his shirt. She giggled, her warm, vodka-smelling breath hitting his face.) “Ooooh... Professor Kian... so strong... so... angry... I like it...”

She tilted her head and pressed her lips to his neck. It wasn't a proper kiss, just a wet, warm press.
Kian froze.

All his anger, his 'Professor' stiffness, just... melted. He went soft.
This was Anya. His Anya. The one he secretly wrote bad poems about. And she was clinging to him, her body pressed all along his.
He could feel the soft press of her breasts against his chest. He could smell the coffee and vodka on her skin.
He didn't push her away. He didn't do anything. He just let her.
After a long second, his arm, which had been stiff, went around her waist, holding her up.

Kian: (His voice was no longer angry, just... thick) “Come on. Let's get you out of here.”
He started guiding her out of the cafe, with Zara following behind, still half-giggling, half-worried, grabbing their bags.
Kian was holding Anya tight. He was no longer just the angry professor. He was... something else.