25-02-2026, 10:52 AM
Chapter 2: The Beginning
Six months after the wedding.
We were still figuring each other out.
Mistakes were still happening.
The room smelled of polished wood and mountain air.
Weekend silence — expensive and fragile.
Neha moved around the room, towel in hand, hair tied up.
The day’s plan was already playing in her head.
Neha: Quick shower. Don’t start without me.
She smiled.
She disappeared into the bathroom.
The door didn’t close completely.
I stepped out onto the balcony.
Flicked the lighter. Smoke dissolved into the hills.
Checked my phone — nothing important.
A long exhale.
A soft sound from behind.
Maybe the doorbell.
Maybe nothing.
I turned to look.
A coffee tray sat near the entrance.
Steam rising.
No staff in sight.
Then — movement.
A shadow that didn’t feel right, sliding slowly toward the bathroom.
My breath stopped.
A young hotel staff member, around 20,
stopped just outside the bathroom door.
The door was slightly ajar.
He leaned forward.
He didn’t see me.
I froze.
I was watching someone else watch my wife.
The room filled with a strange stillness —
the fan,
the distant road,
and my heartbeat in my ears.
His body language changed.
He went completely still.
As if he’d forgotten where he was.Time stretched.
What do I do now —
Should I shout?
Should I move?
Protect Neha?
Or pretend this never happened?
I did nothing.
That was the mistake.
Suddenly he pulled back,
as if scared of his own courage.
The coffee was left behind.
Eyes down.
He hurried away.
The sound of the door closing.
Silence crashed over the room.
INT. BATHROOM – MOMENTS LATER
Water running.
Neha humming softly — completely unaware.
I opened the door.
Neha stood there in just a red panty, water streaming over her body.
Her breasts glistened.
Her light-brown nipples, the size of a ten-rupee coin.
Her light-brown nipples, the size of a ten-rupee coin.
Her whole body screaming: look at me, love me.
A body like this you’ve never seen before.
I caught my reflection in the mirror.
I looked a little bigger.
And at the same time… a little smaller.
That’s when the truth hit.
I wasn’t angry.
And that was the most disturbing part.
The coffee had gone cold.
The smoke had vanished.
Neha stepped out — fresh, smiling.
Neha:
Ready?
I nodded yes.
But the hills outside now felt too close.
And the room — too small for secrets.
LOBBY
The hotel was alive now.
Rolling suitcases. Laughter. Weekend crowd.
Neha at the checkout counter, scrolling on her phone — relaxed.
And then —
I saw him again.
Same staff member.
Same uniform.
Same posture.
Pretending to arrange papers near reception.
His gaze lifted.
Our eyes met.
A small smirk.
Quick. Sharp.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
But clear.
As if he knew something.
As if he possessed a secret.
He had seen what only I was allowed to see.
Then he flicked a glance at Neha.
I felt a jolt — the kind that happened inside his pants.
My jaw tightened.
I imagined —
the same scene.
I step forward.
He stiffens.
For one second he thinks — now something’s going to happen.
That I’ll smash his teeth with a punch.
People are watching.
I stop.
I smile.
He gets confused.
I pull my wallet from my pocket.
And a folded note.
I place it slowly into his hand.
Me: We’re heading out for a few hours.
Take care of the… room.
He blinks.
Staff: Yes sir. Of course.
Neha is looking at me now.
No suspicion.
No anger.
Just… alert.
She knows we left in a hurry.
She knows her things are still scattered.
Her used bra lies on the bed… after last night’s fun… carrying her full scent and sweat.
Her panties.
Her lingerie… the one she bought to make the weekend spicier.
And she knows I never give tips like that.
We walk toward the car.
The hills are gleaming. Tourists clicking photos. The world is behaving as if nothing happened at all.
Neha opens the door, then pauses.
Neha: Everything okay?
I nod.
I always nod.
Something churns inside.
The harsh, humiliating truth lands:
I didn’t give him that tip out of pity.
Not out of fear either.
I gave him the tip because what he saw could never be undone.
I gave him the tip because he gave me a hard-on.
I gave him the tip because he woke up old, locked-away memories in my head.
I thought I had grown past them… but it seems the teenage days aren’t over yet… maybe they’re just beginning.
I start the engine.
We drive off.
The hotel shrinks behind the trees.
But that moment stays. Sitting silently between us.
I had planned this day for months.
Viewpoints. Strawberries. Mist drifting like unfinished thoughts.
I smile at the right moments.
Point toward the scenery.
Say the right things at the right time.
From the outside, I’m enjoying it.
Neha accepts it. Or wants to accept it.
Inside my head, the hotel room refuses to leave.
I imagine — the room without us.
That boy smelling her bra… inhaling her scent… licking it with his tongue.
His cock out… rubbing against her panties.
How many times would he come in that time frame?
Would he risk his job for it?
And the morning scene.
Every time the door was slightly ajar.
The wind lifts Neha’s hair. She leans on the railing, looking down at the valley.
I stand closer than usual.
In six months of marriage, never this close in public.
My hand goes to her arm. Casual. Public.
The place is crowded.
Couples all around.
But no one this close.
It’s getting dark… everyone gathered for the sunset.
I notice some men and couples watching us.
Neha’s beauty always draws eyes… but this time I can clearly see the lust in those gazes.
For the first time, that attention doesn’t feel like a threat.
It feels like confirmation.
Not ownership.
Not danger.
Presence.
I slide my hand lightly to her waist. Public. Visible. Not hiding.
I play with her deep navel.
She looks up, surprised, then smiles without asking.
My hand slips under her tank top, moving toward her breasts.
She keeps looking at me, still smiling.
Her face is bathed in the setting sun’s light and I’m behind her.
She feels my cock pressing against her ass through her tight jeans.
And I give her slow, light thrusts.
Now my hands are inside her T-shirt, over her bra, on her breasts.
I squeeze gently; a soft gasp escapes her lips.
Her head rests back on my shoulder.
Eyes closed.
That small moan is enough to draw attention from nearby people.
Especially the men.
I don’t stop. She doesn’t stop me.
I’m playing with my wife’s breasts now, with my property.
My property, according to convention.
I look around.
Eyes meet some men’s and women’s who are watching us.
Suddenly she grabs my hand and pulls it away while I’m looking at the others.
The sun disappears below the mountains. Applause from strangers.
I keep staring at her silhouette fading in the dimming light.
She turns, surprised.
Then smiles.
Neha: You’re different today.
I laugh it off.
Sam: Maybe this place is doing it to me.
Neha: Doing what?
Sam: Making me adventurous.
Neha (smiling): Exhibitionist would be the more accurate word.
Sam:
Never thought of it that way.
I don’t give her the full picture… though I know she’s already caught on.
We drive back to the hotel.
Almost complete silence on the way.
We finally reached the hotel.
I stood at the reception desk, fumbling through my pockets, checking my wallet again and again, scanning the entire counter with restless eyes.
The room key was taking far too long to arrive—deliberately delayed—and my impatience showed clearly on my face.
My body felt hot, as if a slow fire was smoldering inside, breaths coming faster, a deep tremor spreading downward and leaving prickles across my skin.
My eyes kept searching for that same boy from earlier in the dim yellow light of the lobby, where the cold air-conditioner breeze mixed with faint traces of perfume and coffee.
He wasn’t anywhere in sight.
His absence disturbed me even more than his presence would have—like an unfinished, nagging thought that kept stabbing deeper, making my desires coil tighter and my
heartbeat echo loudly in my ears.
Neha sat quietly on one of the lobby sofas, a short distance away from me, her body sinking comfortably into the soft leather surface.
Nearby stood three men in their fifties, probably waiting to check in—their breaths carried the faint smell of cigarette smoke, and their clothes held the stale scent of old cologne.
All three stared at her openly, without any trace of shame.
Their eyes crawled slowly over her body—from the bare shoulders peeking out of her sleeveless tank top, down along the smooth curves of her neck and chest—like they were
imagining touching her, kissing her.
I could clearly see the raw hunger in their gazes, the exact same hunger that was quietly burning inside me too.
Normally this would be the moment Neha stiffened, shrank back into herself, and threw a quick glance my way for protection.
Today she did nothing of the sort.
She looked perfectly calm, almost relaxed, with a light, teasing smile playing on her lips as if she was secretly enjoying all the attention.
There was a bright sparkle in her eyes that sent another sharp electric jolt through me, making my body feel even hotter.
Her soft pink lips seemed to glow under the lobby lights.
Then she leaned back against the sofa, placed both hands behind her head, and let her fingers tangle lazily in her soft, silky hair.
Her shoulders and chest opened up more fully in the tank top, her breaths rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm, as though she was intentionally putting her body on
display.
The light sheen of sweat on her skin caught the glow, especially along her neck, and every small movement she made teased me further.
I kept imagining how warm and impossibly soft her skin would feel beneath my fingers.
She wasn’t being defensive.
She wasn’t unaware.
Everything she did felt deliberate.
For a brief second her eyes lifted toward those men, and in that moment there was a clear spark—like a silent invitation—that stirred a violent storm inside me and made my
breathing quicken again.
It felt like a quiet, unspoken challenge, as though she knew exactly what effect she was having.
Maybe she wanted to make them jealous.
Maybe she simply wanted to feel seen, to soak in the warmth that comes from being looked at with such raw desire.
Something twisted sharply inside me—a mix of jealousy and swelling desire.
My heart pounded hard against my ribs, muscles tightened all over, palms turned slick with sweat.
I pictured myself crossing the lobby, snatching her away from those stares, pressing her tightly against me, and burying my face in the warm fragrance of her skin.
Yet I remained stuck at the reception desk, trapped in my own conflicting thoughts.
I desperately wanted the room.
I wanted the door locked behind us—so I could finally touch her, shatter the thick tension hanging in the air, release every bit of my arousal onto her, and make her feel completely
mine while her hot breaths brushed against my face.
But another part of me stayed rooted right there, watching the lust and envy written across those three faces, trying to understand why this entire scene wasn’t stopping me—
instead it was only pushing me further, driving my excitement to a feverish edge and sending fresh waves of heat racing through my body with every passing second.
No one was behind the desk.
I rang the bell three or four times.
The sharp, grating sound echoed through the lobby, feeding my growing impatience even more.
My fingers, now slippery with sweat, pressed harder against the metal.
A few moments later a woman hurried over, her footsteps slapping quickly against the floor, her face lightly flushed and breaths coming fast.
“Sorry sir…” she said, her voice carrying a faint edge of nervousness.
Then, “Oh, your key…”
She glanced at the desk, then scanned the full wall of hanging keys—her eyes darting rapidly, as if she were searching for something hidden.
Finally she picked up one key and handed it to me with a small smile.
“Sir, your room is ready now… all clean…”
The way she emphasized “clean” felt loaded with hidden meaning, and at the end she gave a quick wink—her eyelids fluttering in a way that shared far more than any words
could.
Perhaps this was part of the gossip already spreading about my wife.
Did the entire hotel now know exactly what her breasts looked like?
Those soft, perfect swells, the teasing lines visible through her tank top, the warmth that seemed to radiate just from being watched—the image flooded my mind again,
quickening my breaths and sending another powerful wave through my body.
The thought of everyone staring at her, craving to touch her, only excited me more—my muscles clenched harder, heartbeat thundering in my ears like a drum.
I stood there gripping the key, its cold metal pressing sharply into my palm, but my eyes never left Neha—still surrounded by those three men’s hungry stares.
Now this woman’s knowing wink had made the entire moment feel even heavier, more charged.
I finally took the key and turned toward my wife, the cold metal digging deeper into my hand, but my full attention remained locked on her smile glowing softly in the lobby’s dim
light.
Then I noticed an old man walking straight toward her… Oh my God… what was happening today?
First a low-level hotel boy had seen her completely topless in the shower, staring hungrily at every wet curve, her damp hair, the full swell of her chest.
And now this old man—old enough to be her father—with wrinkled skin and white hair, yet carrying the exact same raw hunger in his eyes that was both tormenting me and fueling my arousal even higher.
He reached her side and said something in a low voice, his body leaning noticeably toward her, as though he wanted to get close enough to breathe in her scent.
I couldn’t hear the words—the distance was too great, and the lobby’s faint echoes blurred everything.
The cold air from the AC prickled my skin, but inside my breaths felt burning hot, heart racing wildly.
I watched the smile spread across her face—soft, playful, and completely deliberate, as though she was thoroughly enjoying this strange game.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
Then I heard her say clearly, “No no… I’m with him,” pointing straight toward me, her voice light and teasing, as if the attention was secretly thrilling her.
“Oh sorry sorry,” the old man replied, regret in his tone but the lust still burning bright in his eyes.
“Not her…”
He glanced toward his friend, pretending it had been a simple mistake, but I knew it was a lie.
His gaze remained fixed on her body—the exposed shoulders, the tempting curves under the tank top—and that sight ignited a fresh fire deep inside me.
My muscles tensed hard.
I imagined exactly what he must be thinking, how badly he wanted to touch her, and that single thought made me crave her even more fiercely—made me want to drag her to the
room right now and satisfy every single desire she could possibly have.
I couldn’t wait another second.
Clenching the key tightly in my fist, I walked straight toward Neha, breaths coming fast and shallow, my entire body coiled so tight it felt ready to explode.
Six months after the wedding.
We were still figuring each other out.
Mistakes were still happening.
The room smelled of polished wood and mountain air.
Weekend silence — expensive and fragile.
Neha moved around the room, towel in hand, hair tied up.
The day’s plan was already playing in her head.
Neha: Quick shower. Don’t start without me.
She smiled.
She disappeared into the bathroom.
The door didn’t close completely.
I stepped out onto the balcony.
Flicked the lighter. Smoke dissolved into the hills.
Checked my phone — nothing important.
A long exhale.
A soft sound from behind.
Maybe the doorbell.
Maybe nothing.
I turned to look.
A coffee tray sat near the entrance.
Steam rising.
No staff in sight.
Then — movement.
A shadow that didn’t feel right, sliding slowly toward the bathroom.
My breath stopped.
A young hotel staff member, around 20,
stopped just outside the bathroom door.
The door was slightly ajar.
He leaned forward.
He didn’t see me.
I froze.
I was watching someone else watch my wife.
The room filled with a strange stillness —
the fan,
the distant road,
and my heartbeat in my ears.
His body language changed.
He went completely still.
As if he’d forgotten where he was.Time stretched.
What do I do now —
Should I shout?
Should I move?
Protect Neha?
Or pretend this never happened?
I did nothing.
That was the mistake.
Suddenly he pulled back,
as if scared of his own courage.
The coffee was left behind.
Eyes down.
He hurried away.
The sound of the door closing.
Silence crashed over the room.
INT. BATHROOM – MOMENTS LATER
Water running.
Neha humming softly — completely unaware.
I opened the door.
Neha stood there in just a red panty, water streaming over her body.
Her breasts glistened.
Her light-brown nipples, the size of a ten-rupee coin.
Her light-brown nipples, the size of a ten-rupee coin.
Her whole body screaming: look at me, love me.
A body like this you’ve never seen before.
I caught my reflection in the mirror.
I looked a little bigger.
And at the same time… a little smaller.
That’s when the truth hit.
I wasn’t angry.
And that was the most disturbing part.
The coffee had gone cold.
The smoke had vanished.
Neha stepped out — fresh, smiling.
Neha:
Ready?
I nodded yes.
But the hills outside now felt too close.
And the room — too small for secrets.
LOBBY
The hotel was alive now.
Rolling suitcases. Laughter. Weekend crowd.
Neha at the checkout counter, scrolling on her phone — relaxed.
And then —
I saw him again.
Same staff member.
Same uniform.
Same posture.
Pretending to arrange papers near reception.
His gaze lifted.
Our eyes met.
A small smirk.
Quick. Sharp.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
But clear.
As if he knew something.
As if he possessed a secret.
He had seen what only I was allowed to see.
Then he flicked a glance at Neha.
I felt a jolt — the kind that happened inside his pants.
My jaw tightened.
I imagined —
the same scene.
I step forward.
He stiffens.
For one second he thinks — now something’s going to happen.
That I’ll smash his teeth with a punch.
People are watching.
I stop.
I smile.
He gets confused.
I pull my wallet from my pocket.
And a folded note.
I place it slowly into his hand.
Me: We’re heading out for a few hours.
Take care of the… room.
He blinks.
Staff: Yes sir. Of course.
Neha is looking at me now.
No suspicion.
No anger.
Just… alert.
She knows we left in a hurry.
She knows her things are still scattered.
Her used bra lies on the bed… after last night’s fun… carrying her full scent and sweat.
Her panties.
Her lingerie… the one she bought to make the weekend spicier.
And she knows I never give tips like that.
We walk toward the car.
The hills are gleaming. Tourists clicking photos. The world is behaving as if nothing happened at all.
Neha opens the door, then pauses.
Neha: Everything okay?
I nod.
I always nod.
Something churns inside.
The harsh, humiliating truth lands:
I didn’t give him that tip out of pity.
Not out of fear either.
I gave him the tip because what he saw could never be undone.
I gave him the tip because he gave me a hard-on.
I gave him the tip because he woke up old, locked-away memories in my head.
I thought I had grown past them… but it seems the teenage days aren’t over yet… maybe they’re just beginning.
I start the engine.
We drive off.
The hotel shrinks behind the trees.
But that moment stays. Sitting silently between us.
I had planned this day for months.
Viewpoints. Strawberries. Mist drifting like unfinished thoughts.
I smile at the right moments.
Point toward the scenery.
Say the right things at the right time.
From the outside, I’m enjoying it.
Neha accepts it. Or wants to accept it.
Inside my head, the hotel room refuses to leave.
I imagine — the room without us.
That boy smelling her bra… inhaling her scent… licking it with his tongue.
His cock out… rubbing against her panties.
How many times would he come in that time frame?
Would he risk his job for it?
And the morning scene.
Every time the door was slightly ajar.
The wind lifts Neha’s hair. She leans on the railing, looking down at the valley.
I stand closer than usual.
In six months of marriage, never this close in public.
My hand goes to her arm. Casual. Public.
The place is crowded.
Couples all around.
But no one this close.
It’s getting dark… everyone gathered for the sunset.
I notice some men and couples watching us.
Neha’s beauty always draws eyes… but this time I can clearly see the lust in those gazes.
For the first time, that attention doesn’t feel like a threat.
It feels like confirmation.
Not ownership.
Not danger.
Presence.
I slide my hand lightly to her waist. Public. Visible. Not hiding.
I play with her deep navel.
She looks up, surprised, then smiles without asking.
My hand slips under her tank top, moving toward her breasts.
She keeps looking at me, still smiling.
Her face is bathed in the setting sun’s light and I’m behind her.
She feels my cock pressing against her ass through her tight jeans.
And I give her slow, light thrusts.
Now my hands are inside her T-shirt, over her bra, on her breasts.
I squeeze gently; a soft gasp escapes her lips.
Her head rests back on my shoulder.
Eyes closed.
That small moan is enough to draw attention from nearby people.
Especially the men.
I don’t stop. She doesn’t stop me.
I’m playing with my wife’s breasts now, with my property.
My property, according to convention.
I look around.
Eyes meet some men’s and women’s who are watching us.
Suddenly she grabs my hand and pulls it away while I’m looking at the others.
The sun disappears below the mountains. Applause from strangers.
I keep staring at her silhouette fading in the dimming light.
She turns, surprised.
Then smiles.
Neha: You’re different today.
I laugh it off.
Sam: Maybe this place is doing it to me.
Neha: Doing what?
Sam: Making me adventurous.
Neha (smiling): Exhibitionist would be the more accurate word.
Sam:
Never thought of it that way.
I don’t give her the full picture… though I know she’s already caught on.
We drive back to the hotel.
Almost complete silence on the way.
We finally reached the hotel.
I stood at the reception desk, fumbling through my pockets, checking my wallet again and again, scanning the entire counter with restless eyes.
The room key was taking far too long to arrive—deliberately delayed—and my impatience showed clearly on my face.
My body felt hot, as if a slow fire was smoldering inside, breaths coming faster, a deep tremor spreading downward and leaving prickles across my skin.
My eyes kept searching for that same boy from earlier in the dim yellow light of the lobby, where the cold air-conditioner breeze mixed with faint traces of perfume and coffee.
He wasn’t anywhere in sight.
His absence disturbed me even more than his presence would have—like an unfinished, nagging thought that kept stabbing deeper, making my desires coil tighter and my
heartbeat echo loudly in my ears.
Neha sat quietly on one of the lobby sofas, a short distance away from me, her body sinking comfortably into the soft leather surface.
Nearby stood three men in their fifties, probably waiting to check in—their breaths carried the faint smell of cigarette smoke, and their clothes held the stale scent of old cologne.
All three stared at her openly, without any trace of shame.
Their eyes crawled slowly over her body—from the bare shoulders peeking out of her sleeveless tank top, down along the smooth curves of her neck and chest—like they were
imagining touching her, kissing her.
I could clearly see the raw hunger in their gazes, the exact same hunger that was quietly burning inside me too.
Normally this would be the moment Neha stiffened, shrank back into herself, and threw a quick glance my way for protection.
Today she did nothing of the sort.
She looked perfectly calm, almost relaxed, with a light, teasing smile playing on her lips as if she was secretly enjoying all the attention.
There was a bright sparkle in her eyes that sent another sharp electric jolt through me, making my body feel even hotter.
Her soft pink lips seemed to glow under the lobby lights.
Then she leaned back against the sofa, placed both hands behind her head, and let her fingers tangle lazily in her soft, silky hair.
Her shoulders and chest opened up more fully in the tank top, her breaths rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm, as though she was intentionally putting her body on
display.
The light sheen of sweat on her skin caught the glow, especially along her neck, and every small movement she made teased me further.
I kept imagining how warm and impossibly soft her skin would feel beneath my fingers.
She wasn’t being defensive.
She wasn’t unaware.
Everything she did felt deliberate.
For a brief second her eyes lifted toward those men, and in that moment there was a clear spark—like a silent invitation—that stirred a violent storm inside me and made my
breathing quicken again.
It felt like a quiet, unspoken challenge, as though she knew exactly what effect she was having.
Maybe she wanted to make them jealous.
Maybe she simply wanted to feel seen, to soak in the warmth that comes from being looked at with such raw desire.
Something twisted sharply inside me—a mix of jealousy and swelling desire.
My heart pounded hard against my ribs, muscles tightened all over, palms turned slick with sweat.
I pictured myself crossing the lobby, snatching her away from those stares, pressing her tightly against me, and burying my face in the warm fragrance of her skin.
Yet I remained stuck at the reception desk, trapped in my own conflicting thoughts.
I desperately wanted the room.
I wanted the door locked behind us—so I could finally touch her, shatter the thick tension hanging in the air, release every bit of my arousal onto her, and make her feel completely
mine while her hot breaths brushed against my face.
But another part of me stayed rooted right there, watching the lust and envy written across those three faces, trying to understand why this entire scene wasn’t stopping me—
instead it was only pushing me further, driving my excitement to a feverish edge and sending fresh waves of heat racing through my body with every passing second.
No one was behind the desk.
I rang the bell three or four times.
The sharp, grating sound echoed through the lobby, feeding my growing impatience even more.
My fingers, now slippery with sweat, pressed harder against the metal.
A few moments later a woman hurried over, her footsteps slapping quickly against the floor, her face lightly flushed and breaths coming fast.
“Sorry sir…” she said, her voice carrying a faint edge of nervousness.
Then, “Oh, your key…”
She glanced at the desk, then scanned the full wall of hanging keys—her eyes darting rapidly, as if she were searching for something hidden.
Finally she picked up one key and handed it to me with a small smile.
“Sir, your room is ready now… all clean…”
The way she emphasized “clean” felt loaded with hidden meaning, and at the end she gave a quick wink—her eyelids fluttering in a way that shared far more than any words
could.
Perhaps this was part of the gossip already spreading about my wife.
Did the entire hotel now know exactly what her breasts looked like?
Those soft, perfect swells, the teasing lines visible through her tank top, the warmth that seemed to radiate just from being watched—the image flooded my mind again,
quickening my breaths and sending another powerful wave through my body.
The thought of everyone staring at her, craving to touch her, only excited me more—my muscles clenched harder, heartbeat thundering in my ears like a drum.
I stood there gripping the key, its cold metal pressing sharply into my palm, but my eyes never left Neha—still surrounded by those three men’s hungry stares.
Now this woman’s knowing wink had made the entire moment feel even heavier, more charged.
I finally took the key and turned toward my wife, the cold metal digging deeper into my hand, but my full attention remained locked on her smile glowing softly in the lobby’s dim
light.
Then I noticed an old man walking straight toward her… Oh my God… what was happening today?
First a low-level hotel boy had seen her completely topless in the shower, staring hungrily at every wet curve, her damp hair, the full swell of her chest.
And now this old man—old enough to be her father—with wrinkled skin and white hair, yet carrying the exact same raw hunger in his eyes that was both tormenting me and fueling my arousal even higher.
He reached her side and said something in a low voice, his body leaning noticeably toward her, as though he wanted to get close enough to breathe in her scent.
I couldn’t hear the words—the distance was too great, and the lobby’s faint echoes blurred everything.
The cold air from the AC prickled my skin, but inside my breaths felt burning hot, heart racing wildly.
I watched the smile spread across her face—soft, playful, and completely deliberate, as though she was thoroughly enjoying this strange game.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
Then I heard her say clearly, “No no… I’m with him,” pointing straight toward me, her voice light and teasing, as if the attention was secretly thrilling her.
“Oh sorry sorry,” the old man replied, regret in his tone but the lust still burning bright in his eyes.
“Not her…”
He glanced toward his friend, pretending it had been a simple mistake, but I knew it was a lie.
His gaze remained fixed on her body—the exposed shoulders, the tempting curves under the tank top—and that sight ignited a fresh fire deep inside me.
My muscles tensed hard.
I imagined exactly what he must be thinking, how badly he wanted to touch her, and that single thought made me crave her even more fiercely—made me want to drag her to the
room right now and satisfy every single desire she could possibly have.
I couldn’t wait another second.
Clenching the key tightly in my fist, I walked straight toward Neha, breaths coming fast and shallow, my entire body coiled so tight it felt ready to explode.
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