Lusty Feminist Wife: Mishti ki masti (Scene 6)

[ashuezy2]

Scene 5: The Trap and The Temptation

I eventually checked into a cheap hotel nearby just to get away from the house, but after tossing and turning for two hours, I realized I couldn't stay alone. The silence was eating me alive. I went back to Amit’s house late at night. They let me sleep in the guest room.

Sleep didn’t come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. 
Then Next Day, Around 5 a.m., my phone vibrated on the side table. I looked at the screen. Mishti. One message.

“Please don’t misunderstand everything. I have spoken to someone for advice. Let’s handle this maturely.”

That was it. No apology. No explanation. Just… advice.

My stomach twisted. I sat up on the bed, rubbing my face with both hands. The house was quiet. Amit and Shweta were still asleep in the master bedroom. Outside, the city was slowly waking up. Milkmen, newspaper boys, normal life continuing, while mine was hanging by a thread.
I typed back. Then deleted it. Typed again. Deleted again. Anything I wrote felt dangerous. If I wrote "I hate you," she could use it as proof of aggression. If I wrote "Come back," she would think I am weak.

Another message came. “I don’t want things to get ugly, Shubhankar. You know how society is. Let’s talk calmly.”

Calmly. I laughed softly to myself. A dry laugh. She was careful now. Every word measured. Every sentence sounding reasonable. Like she was already practicing how to explain things to someone else. She was creating a paper trail.

I didn’t reply.

At 8:30 a.m., my phone rang. Unknown number. I stared at it for a few seconds before answering. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Mr. Shubhankar,” a woman’s voice said, polite, professional. “I’m calling from a legal consultancy. I’m speaking on behalf of Mrs. Mishti.”

My chest tightened. It felt like a physical blow. “Yes?” I said.
“There seems to be some misunderstanding between you and your wife,” she continued smoothly. “She is feeling mentally harassed and unsafe at the moment. She just wanted you to know that she is seeking guidance to protect herself.”

Protect herself ? I held the phone tighter, my knuckles turning white. I was the one who was cheated on.

“I haven’t touched her,” I said quickly, panic rising in my throat. “I haven’t even spoken to her since yesterday.”
“I understand,” the woman replied calmly. “This is not an accusation. This is just an intimation. We hope things can be resolved amicably.”

Resolved amicably. The call ended. I sat there frozen. This wasn’t anger. This was planning.

I suddenly understood something very clearly. She wasn’t scared of me. She was prepared. 

Then I heard movement outside. I walked out to the living room. Amit was up, making coffee. He looked tired too.
I called Amit and went to him to talk about the message. Amit was standing near the door, watching me silently.

“You got the call?” he asked. He knew. Of course, he knew. He had been listening.

I nodded.

Amit exhaled slowly. “Then listen to me very carefully now. From this moment, don’t say a single word to her directly. No messages. No calls. Nothing. Whatever you say will be recorded.”

I swallowed. “She has already started, Amit.”

---

An hour later, Amit got dressed. He had to go to the office; he had some urgent meeting he couldn't skip. I told him I would stay back for a bit and then leave. I was still at Amit and Shweta Bhabhi's place. The house was quiet again after Amit left.

Shweta Bhabhi came out of the kitchen. She was wearing a simple cotton housecoat, but her hair was open, cascading down her back. She sat close to me on the sofa with Munna in her lap.

She kept looking at me with those big eyes and said, “Shubhankar, you are a decent guy, don't stretch it too much. She has made a mistake. Just move on. If there is something else you want to share with me, we can talk about it. I am here for you.”

I knew what she was doing. She would relay this same message to Mishti. These feminists, these women, they are in total control. They stick together like a pack of wolves. She wanted me to "move on" so her friend could get away with cheating.
I changed the topic. I couldn't talk about Mishti anymore.

I looked at her and said, “Bhabhi, yesterday when I was leaving the house... I saw you in the bedroom. I am sorry, I should not have looked. It was inappropriate of me.”

Shweta Bhabhi laughed softly. She adjusted Munna in her lap, rocking him gently. She looked at me, her eyes twinkling with something that wasn't regret.

“Why be sorry, Shubhankar?” she asked, her voice dropping a little low. “You are a man. Eyes go where they want to go. And honestly... I didn't mind. Maybe I wanted you to see. Maybe I wanted to see if you still have that fire in you, or if Mishti was right about you being ‘boring’.”

I was stunned. I opened my mouth to speak, but she didn't let me.

Just then, she opened her blouse. She undid all the buttons, one by one, maintaining eye contact with me. She pulled the fabric aside and started feeding Munna in front of me.

I saw everything. This time, it was close. Not from the doorway. Right in front of me. Her breasts were heavy, full of milk, pale and soft with prominent blue veins running across them. The dark areola was disappearing into Munna’s mouth.
I got up as any decent man would do and tried to walk away. 

But Shweta Bhabhi reached out with her free hand and held my wrist. 
“No need to walk away, Shubhankar,” she said softly. “You are family. Sit.”

I sat back down, helpless. I watched as Munna sucked everything, making small gulping noises. Then, he let go. Shweta Bhabhi didn't cover herself. She shifted him to the other side.

For a moment, between the shift, her wet, sucked nipple was exposed, glistening with saliva and milk. Then she brought out the other breast. It was heavy, swinging slightly before she guided it into the baby's mouth.
I was sitting right there, my arm brushing against her leg. I was looking on the other side, at the TV which was switched off, trying to maintain my composure. My heart was hammering against my ribs.

Bhabhi noticed my struggle. “Am I not good looking?” she asked playfully. “Why are you looking the other way? Are my breasts not nice?”
I choked on my own spit. I said, “No, no. Bhabhi, you are very beautiful. But I am feeling uncomfortable. Amit is my friend.”

“Amit is at office,” she whispered.

Munna fell asleep in Bhabhi's lap after a few minutes. Bhabhi carefully put Munna on the sofa cushion next to her.
Then, she stood up. She stood right in front of me. I was sitting, so my face was level with her chest. Her blouse was still wide open.

She didn't button it up immediately. She stood there for five seconds, letting me get a full, high-definition view of her assets. They were rising and falling with her breath. She smiled that same mysterious, knowing smile.
Then, slowly, she pulled them back into her blouse and started buttoning up.

“Think about what I said, Shubhankar,” she said. “Don't fight a war you can't win. Sometimes, it's better to just... enjoy what life shows you.”
She turned around and went inside the bedroom, swaying her hips.

I sat there alone in the living room, sweating. I kept thinking what is going on? The women are so hard to deal with. One is trapping me with laws, and the other is trapping me with her body. It felt like a coordinated attack on my sanity.

I stood up, grabbed my bag, and walked out of the house. I just couldn't take it anymore.
I walked down the stairs. My mind was a mess. I felt cornered. I felt weak. But more than anything, I felt a strange, dark excitement mixing with my anger. My wife had called me boring. Shweta Bhabhi had teased me about being boring.

Is this what they want? I thought. Do they want me to stop being a gentleman?

I stepped out into the harsh sunlight, feeling like the Shubhankar who entered that house yesterday was gone, and someone else was slowly taking his place. Someone who was done with being "decent."