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

[prady12191]

"It's done," Vishnu announced, setting his phone on the cluttered table. "She's coming tomorrow."

Dattu's weathered face split into a broad grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He clapped his calloused hands together once, the sound sharp in their small kitchen.

Dattu: "She agreed just like that? To come to a stranger's house?"

"Just like I told you she would," Vishnu said, unable to hide his satisfaction. "She's concerned about my education, my future." He emphasized the last word with a knowing smirk.

Dattu reached for the half-empty bottle of whiskey, pouring a celebratory measure into his glass. The amber liquid caught the dim light as he raised it in a mock toast.

Dattu: "To concerned teachers who go beyond the call of duty."

Vishnu watched his father drink, calculating their next steps. "Remember everything I told you. You need to look... broken. Not drunk, but like a man fighting his demons. She responds to vulnerability."

Dattu wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded solemnly.

Dattu: "I know how to play my part. Been broken enough times for real." He squinted at his son. "What about you? Where will you be?"

"I'll make myself scarce," Vishnu replied. "She needs to focus on you, not me. I'll say I'm going to the garage to finish a job, so she thinks I'm still working instead of studying."

Dattu leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant as he imagined the coming encounter.

Dattu: "What time will she come?"

"Early evening, probably. After her classes end." Vishnu paused, studying his father's eager expression. "She'll be wearing a saree. Probably a dark blue one—she wears that for Friday classes. The blouse is cut low in the back."

Dattu's eyes darkened with desire. He ran his tongue across his lower lip, a gesture Vishnu had seen countless times when his father spotted an attractive woman on the street.

Dattu: "You've watched her closely."

"I've seen everything there is to see," Vishnu replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "And touched what you're hoping to touch."

Something shifted in Dattu's expression—a flash of jealousy, quickly masked. He straightened in his chair.

Dattu: "From tomorrow, this is my game to play. I know how to handle women. Even educated ones."

Vishnu nodded, though a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. His father's heavy-handed approach with women had caused problems before. But Devika was different—she was already compromised, already participating in a dangerous game with her students.

"Just remember," Vishnu cautioned, "she needs to trust you first. She's not some woman at a toddy shop. She's a professor. Respect first, then desire."

Dattu waved his hand dismissively.

Dattu: "I know, I know. Play the sad widower. Let her feel sorry for me. Make her think helping me was her own idea." He took another swig from his glass. "I've lived longer than you, boy. I know a thing or two about what makes a woman tick."

"Then you know patience is key," Vishnu pressed. "Don't rush her."

Dattu's eyes narrowed slightly.

Dattu: "You seem very concerned about how I treat her. Getting possessive of your teacher?"

Vishnu felt a flush creep up his neck. The question hit closer to home than he cared to admit. Despite engineering this situation, the thought of his father with Devika stirred complicated emotions.

"I just don't want anything to interfere with my grades," he said carefully. "If she gets upset with you, she might take it out on me in class."

Dattu studied his son's face, then nodded slowly.

Dattu: "Don't worry. I'll be gentle with your precious professor." His lips curled into a knowing smile. "At first."

Vishnu stood up, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "I should go. Need to pick up some extra shifts at the garage if people are going to believe I'm working instead of studying."

Dattu: "Go ahead. Leave everything here to me." He gestured around their modest apartment. "I'll clean up a bit. Not too much—she needs to see some struggle, some hardship. But enough that she doesn't turn around and walk straight out."

Vishnu gathered his jacket, pausing at the door. "One more thing. When you talk about Amma, make it real. Talk about how Devika's eyes remind you of her. How seeing a beautiful, educated woman in our home brings back memories."

Dattu nodded, his expression softening at the mention of his late wife.

Dattu: "That part won't be difficult. Your mother was the only woman who ever saw something in me worth saving." He looked down at his glass, swirling the remaining liquor. "Maybe this Kerala teacher will too."

The vulnerability in his father's voice caught Vishnu off guard. For a moment, he glimpsed the wounded man beneath the rough exterior—the man Devika would need to see.

"Just follow the plan," Vishnu said, his hand on the doorknob. "I'll stay away until the weekend. By then, you should have established some connection with her."

Dattu: "And if I succeed? If she responds to me the way she responded to you?"

Vishnu hesitated, the question hanging heavy between them.

"Then you'll have your moment with her," he said finally. "But remember—she's still my teacher."

Dattu raised his glass in acknowledgment.

Dattu: "To shared secrets, then. Father and son."

Vishnu nodded curtly and stepped out into the evening air, closing the door behind him. He stood still for a moment, listening to his father's movements inside—the clink of the glass being set down, the scbang of the chair as he rose.

Tomorrow, Devika would walk into their carefully laid trap, her concern for his education the perfect bait. Vishnu imagined her face when she realized she'd been manipulated, when she found herself alone with his father's hungry eyes and practiced vulnerability.

A mix of anticipation and unease settled in his stomach as he walked away from the apartment. He had set events in motion that he could no longer control, unleashing his father's desires on the woman who had awakened his own.