Ananya(Student) - How I gave my measurements to the tailor(11 videos)-Scene-28-GOLD!*

[ashuezy2]

Scene 24

The dynamics at home had completely shifted overnight. We weren't just mother and daughter anymore; we were co-conspirators who had shared fluids and a lover.

Breakfast was electric. We didn't talk about Saloni, but every time Mom passed me the butter, her fingers brushed mine, lingering a second too long. She was digging me, and god help me, I was digging her right back. We had this amazing, dirty chemistry going. We were like college friends who knew exactly what the other looked like when they were coming.
But there was a gap in her confession.

She had told Saloni about the gym instructor—fine, understandable. A hot body. But then she mentioned a "neighbor's driver." That stuck in my craw. A driver? It felt raw, classless, a pure power play.
And the biggest omission: The Tailor Shop. She never mentioned Remo or Raju or others. Why confess to the driver but hide the tailors? Perhaps there was more to her than even I knew. I decided I needed to verify the pieces she did give me.

The next day was a gift. The university student union called a strike. College was closed.
My father left early, kissing Mom on the forehead.

Once he was gone, the house was ours. Mom was in the shower, humming.
I went out to the balcony. I looked down at the street, scanning the neighborhood. I was hunting for the driver she talked about.

There were very few regular drivers in our colony. But on the corner, near the big Gupta residence, stood a shiny Black Mercedes. Leaning against it was a driver in a crisp white uniform.
I watched him. He was young, maybe twenty-five. Tight build, thick hair, a strong lean to his stance. He looked like the kind of guy who knew he was good-looking in a cheap way.

That must be him.
I needed to know for sure. I couldn't just ask, "Are you fucking my mom?" It wasn't that simple. These men talked less about others.

I needed a strategy. A trick.

I went inside, and checked my reflection. No hoodie today. I was wearing a tight t-shirt and a tight jeans. I looked like trouble. I went downstairs and walked straight to the Mercedes.

The driver straightened up as I approached. He checked me out—a quick, upward sweep of the eyes that landed on my chest before meeting my face.

"Yes, Madam?" he asked, polite on the surface.
"What's your name?" I asked, keeping my voice flat, authoritative. Like my mother’s.
He hesitated. "Sonu, Madam."

Okay, Sonu.
I took a step closer, invading his personal space just enough to make him uncomfortable. I needed to leverage the one thing I knew about my mother’s affairs: she was the boss.

"Listen to me carefully, Sonu," I said, lowering my voice so the passing vegetable vendor wouldn't hear. "Sunita Madam sent me down."
His eyes flickered. There it was. Recognition. Fear. Excitement.
"Sunita Madam?" he repeated, playing dumb.

I rolled my eyes, channeling my mother’s impatience.
"Don't play games with me. She told me everything," I lied smoothly. "About the car rides. About what you do for her."

He froze. His adam's apple bobbed. He didn't deny it.
Now for the kill shot.
"The house is empty," I said, checking my nails casually. "Mr. Rajesh has gone to the office. Madam is upstairs, fresh out of the shower."

I looked him dead in the eye, dropping my voice to a husky whisper.
"She said your service is required immediately. In the master bedroom. She said not to keep her waiting."

I stepped back, opening the path to the front door of my house.

"Well? Are you coming, or do I tell her you're too scared today?"
I waited. If he walked away, I was wrong. If he walked toward my house, I had him.

Sonu didn't move toward the gate. He didn't lick his lips in anticipation. Instead, he took a nervous half-step back, checking the windows of the neighboring houses.
"Madam..." he stammered, his arrogance slipping. "Sunita ji... has never called me up inside her house."
I frowned, keeping my face hard. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"No! No, Madam," he said quickly, wiping sweat from his forehead. "But... the rules. She made rules. Never in the house. Never near Mr. Rajesh."
He looked at me, desperate to prove he wasn't disobeying orders, just confused by the change in protocol.
"I drive her to parties and functions," he mumbled, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "That is our time. The car is safe."

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "So? Tell me. If not the house, then what?"
He looked around again, then leaned in closer to me. The floodgates opened. He thought I was part of the game now, so he mumbled out the truth.

"It started few months ago," Sonu confessed, his eyes glazing over slightly. "It was a wedding reception in Chhatarpur. Madam had... a lot of wine. She was stumbling when I helped her into the back seat."
He gulped.

"We were coming back. It was late, maybe 2:00 AM. The roads were empty. I was driving. Suddenly, she called my name. I thought she wanted to sleep."

"But then," Sonu continued, his voice getting thicker, "she tapped on my shoulder. She told me to adjust the rearview mirror."

I stared at him. "To see the traffic?"

Sonu shook his head, a dirty smirk ghosting his lips.
"No. She said, 'Sonu, Look at me.'"
"I did it. I looked in the mirror. Madam was... she was lying back on the leather seat. She had pulled her heavy saree up. It was bunched around her waist. Her legs were spread wide open, right there in the moving car."

"She wasn't wearing panties," Sonu whispered. "She was touching herself. She was looking right at my eyes in the mirror while she rubbed her clit. She told me to watch. She said, 'Don't look at the road, Sonu. Look at your Madam. Look at what you can't have.'"

I felt a flush of heat. My mother, drunk and imperious in the backseat of a luxury car, commanding a servant to watch her pleasure.
"Did you stop the car?" I asked.

"She made me pull over," Sonu admitted. "Under the flyover, where it was dark. She unlocked the back door. She called me back there."
He looked at his hands—rough, driving hands.

"She told me to kneel on the floor of the car. She put her feet on my shoulders. She told me to use my fingers. She said her husband was useless and she needed a 'rough hand' to open her up."
He looked me in the eye, emboldened by the memory.

"I fingered her for twenty minutes, Madam. She screamed so loud the right window fogged up. She grabbed my hair and forced my face into her lap. She tasted like expensive wine and sweat."

He paused, breathing a little faster.
"That is what we do," he said. "In the car. In the dark. But never inside the house. So... are you sure she is calling me upstairs?"

I looked at him. I believed him. It fit perfectly. The control, the degradation, the need to be serviced by men she considered "beneath" her.

"Yes," I lied, maintaining the frame. "Today, the rules have changed, Sonu. She wants the rough hand in her bed."
I turned around and walked back to the gate, hearing his heavy footsteps following me on the pavement. My strategy had worked. I had the driver, and I had the truth. Now, I just had to deliver him to the Queen.