10-01-2026, 12:05 PM
Devika left the staff room with her mind churning, a tempest of guilt and confusion that made her steps unsteady. The memory of her conversation with Saradha followed her like a shadow—each explicit question, each shameful confession hung in the air around her. She clutched her teaching materials closer to her chest as if they might shield her from the consequences of her actions.
She had barely rounded the corner when she heard footsteps quickening behind her.
"Professor Devika."
The voice sent an electric current through her body. She didn't need to turn to know who it belonged to.
Vishnu.
Her shoulders tensed as she continued walking, pretending not to hear him. Perhaps if she ignored him, he would take the hint and leave her alone. But the footsteps grew closer, more insistent.
"Professor, please. Just a moment."
Devika stopped but didn't turn around. Students and faculty passed them in the corridor, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between teacher and student. She couldn't create a scene here.
"I need to go to my next class," she said quietly.
Vishnu moved around to face her, his expression a carefully crafted mask of concern. But his eyes—those eyes held the same hunger she'd seen in the lecture hall earlier. Possession. Knowledge. Desire.
"It will only take a minute," he pleaded, voice pitched low enough that passing colleagues couldn't hear. "Please."
Devika glanced at her watch, a convenient excuse to avoid his gaze. "Make it quick."
He gestured toward an empty classroom nearby. Devika hesitated—entering a private space with him seemed dangerously unwise—but the alternative was having this conversation in the corridor where anyone might overhear.
With reluctance weighing each step, she entered the empty room. Vishnu followed, leaving the door partially open—a small courtesy that did little to ease her anxiety.
"Is something wrong?" he asked immediately, his tone solicitous.
"No. Why would there be?"
Vishnu shifted his weight, feigning uncertainty that didn't match the calculation in his eyes. "You seem... different today."
"I have work to do." Devika edged toward the door. "If that's all—"
"Why are you avoiding me?" The question was direct, his voice dropping to something intimate and familiar—the voice he'd used while inside her.
"I'm not avoiding anyone."
"You wouldn't even look at me during class."
Devika felt heat rise to her cheeks. "I was teaching, Vishnu. I don't stare at individual students."
His hand moved suddenly, reaching behind her. Before she could step away, his palm cupped her ass, fingers pressing with deliberate knowledge.
"Is it paining inside?" he whispered.
Shock froze her for a heartbeat before outrage surged through her veins. Devika slapped his hand away, her voice a harsh whisper as she glanced anxiously at the partially open door.
"How dare you touch me like that! This is a college, not a—" She cut herself off, unwilling to name what had happened between them.
Vishnu raised his hands in surrender, though his eyes remained unapologetic. "Sorry, sorry. I was just concerned." His voice dropped lower, conspiratorial. "Next time I'll be gentler. In a couple of days, the pain will fade away completely."
His words carried an intimate knowledge of her body that made Devika's stomach clench with conflicted emotion.
"Then next time," he continued, "you won't feel any pain at all."
"There won't be a next time," Devika said firmly, finding strength in Saradha's earlier advice. "Don't expect that from me again."
Something flickered across Vishnu's features—disappointment, perhaps, or calculation. It passed quickly, replaced by a careful neutrality.
"Fine," he said with a small shrug. "But did you enjoy that night? With me and my father?"
"I need to go." Devika moved toward the door. "This isn't appropriate to discuss here."
"Please." His hand caught her wrist, not forceful but insistent. "Just tell me—did you enjoy yourself?"
The raw hunger in his question made her pause. There was something almost vulnerable beneath his boldness, a need for validation that pierced through her defenses.
"Yes," she admitted finally, voice barely audible. "I enjoyed it. I hope you both did as well. That's enough—we all enjoyed ourselves mutually." She pulled her wrist free from his grasp. "Now let's stop this."
A smile spread across Vishnu's face, satisfaction and triumph mingled in equal measure. "I'm happy to hear that." He stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "Dattu can't forget the way you kissed him. Like a real lover. The way you fucked—"
"Enough!" Devika hissed, glancing anxiously toward the door. "This is completely inappropriate."
"Sorry," Vishnu said, though his expression held no remorse. "I just wanted you to know how much it meant to him."
Devika didn't reply. Couldn't form words through the storm of emotions cascading through her chest. With a final warning glare, she turned and walked away, feeling Vishnu's eyes follow her every step.
In the empty classroom, Vishnu watched her retreating figure, savoring the sway of her hips beneath the modest dbang of her saree. The fabric couldn't hide what he now knew lay beneath—curves he had explored with both hands and mouth, territory he had claimed with his fingers.
A low moan escaped his throat, too quiet for anyone but himself to hear.
She had enjoyed it. She had admitted it aloud.
That admission was all he needed—the confirmation that despite her protests, despite her resolve to end things, part of her had been awakened. That part wouldn't easily return to slumber.
Devika's path down the corridor was a battlefield of emotions. Each step took effort, each breath seemed insufficient for the panic rising in her chest. Vishnu's words echoed in her mind, bringing unwanted images with them. Dattu remembering her kisses. Both men recounting her pleasure, her surrender.
She ducked into the women's bathroom, grateful to find it empty. Bracing herself against the sink, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The same face looked back at her—the same eyes, nose, lips—yet something fundamental had changed. The woman who had first arrived in Pune would never recognize this version of herself.
What had she become? What was she becoming?
She had barely rounded the corner when she heard footsteps quickening behind her.
"Professor Devika."
The voice sent an electric current through her body. She didn't need to turn to know who it belonged to.
Vishnu.
Her shoulders tensed as she continued walking, pretending not to hear him. Perhaps if she ignored him, he would take the hint and leave her alone. But the footsteps grew closer, more insistent.
"Professor, please. Just a moment."
Devika stopped but didn't turn around. Students and faculty passed them in the corridor, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between teacher and student. She couldn't create a scene here.
"I need to go to my next class," she said quietly.
Vishnu moved around to face her, his expression a carefully crafted mask of concern. But his eyes—those eyes held the same hunger she'd seen in the lecture hall earlier. Possession. Knowledge. Desire.
"It will only take a minute," he pleaded, voice pitched low enough that passing colleagues couldn't hear. "Please."
Devika glanced at her watch, a convenient excuse to avoid his gaze. "Make it quick."
He gestured toward an empty classroom nearby. Devika hesitated—entering a private space with him seemed dangerously unwise—but the alternative was having this conversation in the corridor where anyone might overhear.
With reluctance weighing each step, she entered the empty room. Vishnu followed, leaving the door partially open—a small courtesy that did little to ease her anxiety.
"Is something wrong?" he asked immediately, his tone solicitous.
"No. Why would there be?"
Vishnu shifted his weight, feigning uncertainty that didn't match the calculation in his eyes. "You seem... different today."
"I have work to do." Devika edged toward the door. "If that's all—"
"Why are you avoiding me?" The question was direct, his voice dropping to something intimate and familiar—the voice he'd used while inside her.
"I'm not avoiding anyone."
"You wouldn't even look at me during class."
Devika felt heat rise to her cheeks. "I was teaching, Vishnu. I don't stare at individual students."
His hand moved suddenly, reaching behind her. Before she could step away, his palm cupped her ass, fingers pressing with deliberate knowledge.
"Is it paining inside?" he whispered.
Shock froze her for a heartbeat before outrage surged through her veins. Devika slapped his hand away, her voice a harsh whisper as she glanced anxiously at the partially open door.
"How dare you touch me like that! This is a college, not a—" She cut herself off, unwilling to name what had happened between them.
Vishnu raised his hands in surrender, though his eyes remained unapologetic. "Sorry, sorry. I was just concerned." His voice dropped lower, conspiratorial. "Next time I'll be gentler. In a couple of days, the pain will fade away completely."
His words carried an intimate knowledge of her body that made Devika's stomach clench with conflicted emotion.
"Then next time," he continued, "you won't feel any pain at all."
"There won't be a next time," Devika said firmly, finding strength in Saradha's earlier advice. "Don't expect that from me again."
Something flickered across Vishnu's features—disappointment, perhaps, or calculation. It passed quickly, replaced by a careful neutrality.
"Fine," he said with a small shrug. "But did you enjoy that night? With me and my father?"
"I need to go." Devika moved toward the door. "This isn't appropriate to discuss here."
"Please." His hand caught her wrist, not forceful but insistent. "Just tell me—did you enjoy yourself?"
The raw hunger in his question made her pause. There was something almost vulnerable beneath his boldness, a need for validation that pierced through her defenses.
"Yes," she admitted finally, voice barely audible. "I enjoyed it. I hope you both did as well. That's enough—we all enjoyed ourselves mutually." She pulled her wrist free from his grasp. "Now let's stop this."
A smile spread across Vishnu's face, satisfaction and triumph mingled in equal measure. "I'm happy to hear that." He stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "Dattu can't forget the way you kissed him. Like a real lover. The way you fucked—"
"Enough!" Devika hissed, glancing anxiously toward the door. "This is completely inappropriate."
"Sorry," Vishnu said, though his expression held no remorse. "I just wanted you to know how much it meant to him."
Devika didn't reply. Couldn't form words through the storm of emotions cascading through her chest. With a final warning glare, she turned and walked away, feeling Vishnu's eyes follow her every step.
In the empty classroom, Vishnu watched her retreating figure, savoring the sway of her hips beneath the modest dbang of her saree. The fabric couldn't hide what he now knew lay beneath—curves he had explored with both hands and mouth, territory he had claimed with his fingers.
A low moan escaped his throat, too quiet for anyone but himself to hear.
She had enjoyed it. She had admitted it aloud.
That admission was all he needed—the confirmation that despite her protests, despite her resolve to end things, part of her had been awakened. That part wouldn't easily return to slumber.
Devika's path down the corridor was a battlefield of emotions. Each step took effort, each breath seemed insufficient for the panic rising in her chest. Vishnu's words echoed in her mind, bringing unwanted images with them. Dattu remembering her kisses. Both men recounting her pleasure, her surrender.
She ducked into the women's bathroom, grateful to find it empty. Bracing herself against the sink, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The same face looked back at her—the same eyes, nose, lips—yet something fundamental had changed. The woman who had first arrived in Pune would never recognize this version of herself.
What had she become? What was she becoming?
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