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

[prady12191]

The college biology lab was empty except for Devika, who bent over a microscope, adjusting the fine focus knob. Her saree dbangd over the edge of the stool as she leaned forward, completely absorbed in examining the specimen slide. The quiet hum of the air conditioning and occasional clinking of glass slides created a peaceful rhythm as she worked.

She didn't hear the door open behind her.

Strong hands suddenly gripped her hips, fingers pressing into the soft curve where her saree tucked into her petticoat. Devika froze, her body tensing at the unexpected touch.

"Beautiful specimen, madam," Pathan's voice was low in her ear, his breath warm against her neck.

Devika straightened immediately, turning to face him. "What do you think you're doing?" Her voice came out sharper than intended, eyes darting to the lab door.

"Relax," Pathan smirked, not removing his hands. "No one's here. I checked." His fingers tightened slightly on her waist. "Just us."

Devika stepped back, putting distance between them. "This isn't appropriate behavior in the classroom, Pathan. You need to conduct yourself properly."

Confusion flickered across his face. "Properly?" He laughed, the sound echoing in the empty lab. "Since when do you care about proper? After everything we've done?"

"That was different," Devika crossed her arms protectively. "This is my workplace."

Pathan moved forward, closing the gap she'd created. With surprising strength, he pulled her against him, one hand sliding around her waist.

"Let go," Devika whispered, though her resistance felt hollow even to her own ears.

His lips brushed her ear as he spoke. "I have more movies, madam. Special ones." His voice dropped lower. "You liked watching with me last time, remember?"

Despite herself, Devika felt heat rising in her cheeks. "This isn't the time or place. Please leave."

Pathan ignored her words, pressing closer. She felt his hips shift against her, the unmistakable hardness making her breath catch.

"The new one is very interesting," he continued, voice thick with suggestion. "A father and son sharing a high-class woman. Very educational."

Devika's mind instantly conjured images of Dattu and Vishnu. The whiskey on Dattu's breath as he'd kissed her. Vishnu's youthful eagerness in the college toilet. Father and son. The thought was both horrifying and somehow darkly fascinating.

"The way they take turns with her," Pathan continued, moving subtly against her. "Father taking her from behind while son—"

"From behind?" Devika's voice escaped as a shocked whisper before she could stop herself.

Pathan chuckled against her neck, clearly pleased by her reaction. "Yes, madam. In her ass." His grip tightened. "The woman screams, but not from pain. She loves it."

Devika couldn't believe she was engaging in this conversation, yet found herself unable to pull away. "That's... that wouldn't be... pleasant."

"Why, madam? Your husband never tried?" Pathan's question hung in the air between them.

Devika shook her head slightly. "No woman would want that."

"If given the chance," Pathan's voice grew husky, his body pressed firmly against hers now, "I would show you how good it can feel."

A sudden noise from the corridor outside—footsteps and voices—made them both freeze. Pathan released her immediately, stepping away with practiced ease. By the time the footsteps passed the lab without entering, he had moved to a respectful distance, pretending to examine a microscope.

"Think about my movie offer, madam," he said with a knowing smile before slipping out of the lab.

Devika stood motionless, her heart racing, skin still warm where his hands had been. She smoothed her saree, trying to compose herself before anyone else entered.

The door opened again about twenty minutes later. Vishnu appeared, his slight frame silhouetted against the bright hallway light. Seeing him immediately after her conversation with Pathan sent an uncomfortable jolt through her.

"Madam," he greeted with a small smile. "Are you busy?"

Devika cleared her throat. "Just finishing up some lab work. Did you need something?"

Vishnu approached, keeping a respectful distance unlike Pathan. "I wanted to ask you about my father."

The mention of Dattu made her pulse quicken. "What about him?"

"Has he been keeping his promise? About the drinking?"

Devika adjusted her saree pallu nervously. "I wouldn't know. I haven't visited since last weekend."

"He has," Vishnu nodded, seeming pleased. "He's been more focused, more like his old self before my mother died." He paused, studying her face. "He talks about you a lot."

Devika looked away, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "I'm glad he's doing better."

"Actually," Vishnu continued, "that's why I wanted to find you. It's his birthday this weekend."

"Oh." Devika picked up a stack of papers, busying her hands. "That's nice."

"He was hoping you might come." Vishnu's voice softened. "I'm preparing a small celebration at our place. Nothing fancy, just dinner."

Devika hesitated. "Wouldn't he prefer to celebrate with family? Friends?"

"You don't understand." Vishnu moved closer, his eyes earnest. "He doesn't have many friends. It's been just us since my mother died. And you..." he paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "You've become important to us. To him especially."

The sincerity in his voice made her defenses waver. "I don't know if that would be appropriate."

"Please, madam." Vishnu's eyes held hers. "Seeing you brings him happiness. It would mean everything if you came."

Devika thought of Dattu—his weathered face, the loneliness in his eyes that alcohol couldn't quite mask. She thought of their kiss, impulsive and forbidden. She thought of Pathan's crude description of the video, and felt heat rise to her face.

"I shouldn't," she said weakly.

"Just for a little while," Vishnu pressed. "For his birthday. It would make him so happy."

The weight of expectation pressed on her. She thought of refusing, of drawing a firm boundary. But the image of Dattu waiting alone with his son on his birthday, hoping for her visit, made her resolve crumble.

"Alright," she conceded finally. "What time should I come?"

Relief and something else—triumph?—flashed across Vishnu's face. "Seven. I'll make his favorite dinner."

"I won't stay long," Devika cautioned. "And I expect it to remain... appropriate."

"Of course, madam." Vishnu nodded, backing toward the door. "Thank you. He'll be so pleased."

After he left, Devika sank onto a stool, wondering what she'd just agreed to. Father and son. The words from Pathan's description echoed in her mind, sending an involuntary shiver through her body. What was she doing? What dangerous game was she playing?

Yet despite her misgivings, she knew she would go. The pull was too strong, the curiosity too powerful. She would visit Dattu on his birthday, maintaining the pretense that it was nothing more than a teacher's kindness toward a student's family.

Deep down, though, she recognized the lie in her justification. Something was drawing her back to that small apartment, to the gruff mechanic with hungry eyes who had kissed her with desperate need. Something that had little to do with kindness and everything to do with the awakening of desires she'd long suppressed.