30-04-2026, 11:24 AM
(This post was last modified: 30-04-2026, 11:25 AM by adams_masala. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Summer scrolled through the monitor, moving slowly from the first shot to the last. The nude stockings in pose one had caught the light exactly right. The black lace in pose two had that deep contrast she’d been chasing. She lingered on pose three… the arch of her spine, the way the pink straps disappeared… and felt a quiet satisfaction settle in her chest. Pose four, pose five. All five. She stepped back from the screen, bare feet silent on the polished hardwood, and allowed herself a small smile.
Her phone buzzed on the table. Summer glanced at the screen, her heart jumping into her throat at the name displayed. Selvam. She’d been expecting his text at 11, not a call at 10:43. She still had seventeen minutes to set up the coffee, to get dressed, to prepare herself for what might happen.
“Shit,” she whispered, scrambling for the phone. The call went to voicemail before she could answer. One new message. Summer played it, her breath catching as Selvam‘s voice filled the studio.
”Summer, this is Selvam. I am glad your house is so close, I walked from our house. I will be at your door in perhaps a minute or so. I hope that is not too soon.”
One minute. Summer’s eyes darted to the clock on the wall. One minutes to transform from a half-naked model to a professional businesswoman. Five minutes to hide the evidence of what she’d been thinking about for the past twenty-four hours.
She moved fast, putting on the ivory silk robe over everything… the baby pink bra, the thong, the garter belt, the stockings, all of it still on underneath… she belted it loosely, leaving enough of a gap to suggest what lay beneath without being obvious. Professional but approachable. That was the look she was going for. But her robe pressed against her curves and pulling against the lingerie told a different story. The thin silk clung to every ridge of the lace underneath, outlining the cups of her bra, the straps of the garter belt, the delicate edge of the thong. When she moved, the fabric shifted, revealing flashes of pink through the ivory, the contrast making her skin look even fairer, her lingerie even more delicate.
Summer glanced down at herself and groaned. There was no hiding what she was wearing. The robe was practically transparent in the morning light, the outline of her nipples visible as hard peaks against the silk. She had less than a minute to transform from a woman who had just been taking erotic photos of herself to someone ready for a business meeting.
The doorbell rang.
“Shit, shit, shit,” she whispered, running her fingers through her hair. It was still wild from the photo shoot, falling in loose waves around her shoulders.
No time to change. No time to think about whether leaving it all on was a choice or just the fastest option available.
The doorbell rang just as she was smoothing her hair. Summer took one last look in the mirror, tugged the robe a half-inch lower on her chest, and headed for the door.
Selvam stood on her porch, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed. He wore a simple blue button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, the fabric stretched slightly across his chest. Summer’s eyes dropped to his hands… strong, with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails… before she forced herself to meet his gaze.
“Hi Selvam,” she said, stepping back to let him in.
“Sorry if I am early, I started walking and your home is minutes away, I hope that’s not a problem.” His voice was exactly as she remembered… warm, with the slightest hint of an accent.
“No problem at all.” Summer closed the door behind him, suddenly aware of how the thin silk robe clung to her curves. “I was just... finishing up some work.”
She led him through the entryway to the living room, conscious of his eyes on her back, on the way the robe swayed with each step. The space was bright and airy, morning sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Summer gestured to the white sectional.
“Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee? Tea?”
“Coffee would be wonderful,” Selvam said, setting his portfolio on the glass coffee table. “Black, please.”
Summer nodded, moving to the kitchen with as much dignity as she could muster. Her hands shook slightly as she measured the coffee grounds, poured the water, pressed the button to start the brew. Through the half-wall that separated the kitchen from the living room, she could see Selvam examining the framed photos on her bookshelf… a shot of her with Vanitha at the café, a landscape from her trip to Iceland, a black-and-white print of the Golden Gate shrouded in fog.
Summer carried the mugs to the living room, setting one in front of Selvam before taking a seat on the opposite end of the sectional. The coffee table between them created just enough distance to maintain the pretense that this was a business meeting and not the culmination of weeks of fantasy.
“I’ve been thinking about the TechVision offer,” she began, wrapping her hands around her mug for warmth. “And I agree with Ashok… the royalty-licensing model is the way to go. We sell access to the API rather than the algorithm itself. The client sends an image, our server returns the measurements. They never see how it works.”
Selvam nodded, reaching for his portfolio. “That makes sense.” She pulled out a sheaf of papers, sliding them across the coffee table. “The royalty structure is tiered… five percent for the first million in revenue, seven percent for the next five, and ten percent beyond that.”
Summer leaned forward to examine the document, her robe shifting with the movement. The left side slipped off her shoulder, revealing the delicate strap of a pale pink lace bra. She saw Selvam’s eyes flick to the exposed skin, then quickly away, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
“These terms are very generous,” he said.”
“I believe in fair compensation”
He replied, his voice slightly rougher than before, “Especially for work as innovative as yours.”
The compliment warmed Summer more than the coffee. She took another sip, using the moment to collect herself.
Summer leaned forward as she pointed out something on her laptop screen. “This projection here shows how the royalty structure could scale if we expand into the European market.”
The movement caused the loose silk lapel of her robe to fall open, revealing the delicate pink lace bra in its entirety. The morning light caught the pale swell of her breasts, illuminating the gentle curves and the subtle shadow of cleavage.
Summer didn’t notice immediately. Her focus remained on the screen, her finger tracing the ascending line of projected revenue.
Selvam’s eyes dropped from the screen to her exposed chest. His breathing changed, his thought slightly becoming impure, his breath more audible in the quiet room. The fabric of his grey trousers shifted, a pronounced bulge forming that strained against the material.
Summer glanced up from the screen, catching his gaze. She followed his line of sight down to her own chest, then let her eyes travel to the unmistakable outline in his trousers.
She didn’t gasp. She didn’t look away.
She doesn’t gasp. She doesn’t look away. Her fingers find the lapel of the robe… slowly, the way you’d turn a page you weren’t sure you wanted to turn and draws the robe closed… the gesture unhurried, almost ceremonial.
“The night you sent me the first version of the app, I uploaded three test images to check the calibration,” Summer said, watching his face. “A plain white tee, a structured dress, and...” She paused, letting the implication hang in the air. “Something more personal.”
The room went very quiet. Selvam’s coffee mug remained suspended halfway to his lips, his eyes fixed on a point just past Summer’s shoulder.
“You opened them,” she said softly. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” The word came out rough. “All three. I... I apologize. And I asked you to remove my access Summer.”
“I know,” Summer said. “I didn’t want to remove your access.”
Selvam’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers directly for the first time since he’d arrived. “Why didn’t you?”
Summer shook her head. “Because... you are allowed to see.”
Summer leaned forward again, intentionally this time, allowing the robe to gape slightly at the neck.
“I wanted you to see me, Selvam. The real me. Not the programmer, not the businesswoman. Just me. And I wanted you to know, you are allowed to look.”
Summer watched Selvam’s chest rise and fall with each breath, the blue fabric of his shirt shifting with the movement. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks as Selvam’s gaze lingered on her exposed skin. Her nipples hardened visibly against the thin pink lace, the peaks straining against the delicate fabric. She should have felt embarrassed, but instead, a thrill ran through her body at being so thoroughly seen.
Summer was overwhelmed with lot of things going on her heart, brain and down under her thong. So she needed some time to get it together and she decided to give him a home tour so she can breath.
“I should show you the rest of my home,” she said, her voice dropping to a lower register. “The studio where I work on the app.”
Selvam nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
“I would like that.”
Her phone buzzed on the table. Summer glanced at the screen, her heart jumping into her throat at the name displayed. Selvam. She’d been expecting his text at 11, not a call at 10:43. She still had seventeen minutes to set up the coffee, to get dressed, to prepare herself for what might happen.
“Shit,” she whispered, scrambling for the phone. The call went to voicemail before she could answer. One new message. Summer played it, her breath catching as Selvam‘s voice filled the studio.
”Summer, this is Selvam. I am glad your house is so close, I walked from our house. I will be at your door in perhaps a minute or so. I hope that is not too soon.”
One minute. Summer’s eyes darted to the clock on the wall. One minutes to transform from a half-naked model to a professional businesswoman. Five minutes to hide the evidence of what she’d been thinking about for the past twenty-four hours.
She moved fast, putting on the ivory silk robe over everything… the baby pink bra, the thong, the garter belt, the stockings, all of it still on underneath… she belted it loosely, leaving enough of a gap to suggest what lay beneath without being obvious. Professional but approachable. That was the look she was going for. But her robe pressed against her curves and pulling against the lingerie told a different story. The thin silk clung to every ridge of the lace underneath, outlining the cups of her bra, the straps of the garter belt, the delicate edge of the thong. When she moved, the fabric shifted, revealing flashes of pink through the ivory, the contrast making her skin look even fairer, her lingerie even more delicate.
Summer glanced down at herself and groaned. There was no hiding what she was wearing. The robe was practically transparent in the morning light, the outline of her nipples visible as hard peaks against the silk. She had less than a minute to transform from a woman who had just been taking erotic photos of herself to someone ready for a business meeting.
The doorbell rang.
“Shit, shit, shit,” she whispered, running her fingers through her hair. It was still wild from the photo shoot, falling in loose waves around her shoulders.
No time to change. No time to think about whether leaving it all on was a choice or just the fastest option available.
The doorbell rang just as she was smoothing her hair. Summer took one last look in the mirror, tugged the robe a half-inch lower on her chest, and headed for the door.
Selvam stood on her porch, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed. He wore a simple blue button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, the fabric stretched slightly across his chest. Summer’s eyes dropped to his hands… strong, with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails… before she forced herself to meet his gaze.
“Hi Selvam,” she said, stepping back to let him in.
“Sorry if I am early, I started walking and your home is minutes away, I hope that’s not a problem.” His voice was exactly as she remembered… warm, with the slightest hint of an accent.
“No problem at all.” Summer closed the door behind him, suddenly aware of how the thin silk robe clung to her curves. “I was just... finishing up some work.”
She led him through the entryway to the living room, conscious of his eyes on her back, on the way the robe swayed with each step. The space was bright and airy, morning sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Summer gestured to the white sectional.
“Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee? Tea?”
“Coffee would be wonderful,” Selvam said, setting his portfolio on the glass coffee table. “Black, please.”
Summer nodded, moving to the kitchen with as much dignity as she could muster. Her hands shook slightly as she measured the coffee grounds, poured the water, pressed the button to start the brew. Through the half-wall that separated the kitchen from the living room, she could see Selvam examining the framed photos on her bookshelf… a shot of her with Vanitha at the café, a landscape from her trip to Iceland, a black-and-white print of the Golden Gate shrouded in fog.
Summer carried the mugs to the living room, setting one in front of Selvam before taking a seat on the opposite end of the sectional. The coffee table between them created just enough distance to maintain the pretense that this was a business meeting and not the culmination of weeks of fantasy.
“I’ve been thinking about the TechVision offer,” she began, wrapping her hands around her mug for warmth. “And I agree with Ashok… the royalty-licensing model is the way to go. We sell access to the API rather than the algorithm itself. The client sends an image, our server returns the measurements. They never see how it works.”
Selvam nodded, reaching for his portfolio. “That makes sense.” She pulled out a sheaf of papers, sliding them across the coffee table. “The royalty structure is tiered… five percent for the first million in revenue, seven percent for the next five, and ten percent beyond that.”
Summer leaned forward to examine the document, her robe shifting with the movement. The left side slipped off her shoulder, revealing the delicate strap of a pale pink lace bra. She saw Selvam’s eyes flick to the exposed skin, then quickly away, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
“These terms are very generous,” he said.”
“I believe in fair compensation”
He replied, his voice slightly rougher than before, “Especially for work as innovative as yours.”
The compliment warmed Summer more than the coffee. She took another sip, using the moment to collect herself.
Summer leaned forward as she pointed out something on her laptop screen. “This projection here shows how the royalty structure could scale if we expand into the European market.”
The movement caused the loose silk lapel of her robe to fall open, revealing the delicate pink lace bra in its entirety. The morning light caught the pale swell of her breasts, illuminating the gentle curves and the subtle shadow of cleavage.
Summer didn’t notice immediately. Her focus remained on the screen, her finger tracing the ascending line of projected revenue.
Selvam’s eyes dropped from the screen to her exposed chest. His breathing changed, his thought slightly becoming impure, his breath more audible in the quiet room. The fabric of his grey trousers shifted, a pronounced bulge forming that strained against the material.
Summer glanced up from the screen, catching his gaze. She followed his line of sight down to her own chest, then let her eyes travel to the unmistakable outline in his trousers.
She didn’t gasp. She didn’t look away.
She doesn’t gasp. She doesn’t look away. Her fingers find the lapel of the robe… slowly, the way you’d turn a page you weren’t sure you wanted to turn and draws the robe closed… the gesture unhurried, almost ceremonial.
“The night you sent me the first version of the app, I uploaded three test images to check the calibration,” Summer said, watching his face. “A plain white tee, a structured dress, and...” She paused, letting the implication hang in the air. “Something more personal.”
The room went very quiet. Selvam’s coffee mug remained suspended halfway to his lips, his eyes fixed on a point just past Summer’s shoulder.
“You opened them,” she said softly. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” The word came out rough. “All three. I... I apologize. And I asked you to remove my access Summer.”
“I know,” Summer said. “I didn’t want to remove your access.”
Selvam’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers directly for the first time since he’d arrived. “Why didn’t you?”
Summer shook her head. “Because... you are allowed to see.”
Summer leaned forward again, intentionally this time, allowing the robe to gape slightly at the neck.
“I wanted you to see me, Selvam. The real me. Not the programmer, not the businesswoman. Just me. And I wanted you to know, you are allowed to look.”
Summer watched Selvam’s chest rise and fall with each breath, the blue fabric of his shirt shifting with the movement. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks as Selvam’s gaze lingered on her exposed skin. Her nipples hardened visibly against the thin pink lace, the peaks straining against the delicate fabric. She should have felt embarrassed, but instead, a thrill ran through her body at being so thoroughly seen.
Summer was overwhelmed with lot of things going on her heart, brain and down under her thong. So she needed some time to get it together and she decided to give him a home tour so she can breath.
“I should show you the rest of my home,” she said, her voice dropping to a lower register. “The studio where I work on the app.”
Selvam nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
“I would like that.”
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