Adultery The Making of a Slut from a Wife - Shazia

[HotLove339]

The Table of Humiliation
Shazia's glossy lips curved into a warm, radiant smile. The rich, musky Tom Ford cologne still lingered in the air around her, seeping into her senses. She settled back into her chair, but this time, her body language had shifted entirely. Without even realizing it, she had angled her chair subtly toward Rohan, her bare shoulder now just inches from his arm. The sheer brown chiffon pallu had slipped slightly during her walk back revealing one of her breasts, and she made absolutely no move to fix it.
 

Iqbal sat rigidly across from them, his knuckles white around his water glass. His eyes were locked on his wife—on the way her cheeks were flushed a deep, beautiful pink, on the way her chest rose and fell with a breathless, excited rhythm.
 
Rohan leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his crystal glass. His eyes swept over Shazia's profile with the lazy confidence of a man who knew he had already won.
 
"Tumhe pata hai, Shazia," (You know, Shazia,) he began, his voice smooth as silk, "jab main yahan aaya tha aaj raat, mujhe laga yeh weekend bore hokar guzar jayega. Par ab lag raha hai... shayad kismath kuch aur hi plan kiya tha." (when I came here tonight, I thought this weekend would pass by getting bored. But now it feels like... maybe destiny had planned something else.)
 
Shazia bit her glossy lower lip, her eyes sparkling with a naughty, playful glint. She tilted her head slightly, letting her long, dark hair cascade over one bare shoulder. "Acha? Aisi kya khaas baat hogaya tumhare kismath mein?" (Oh really? What's so special about destiny?)
 
Rohan's lips curled into a slow, predatory smirk. He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he let his gaze deliberately drop to the deep, shadowed valley of her cleavage—still scandalously exposed by the slipped pallu—before lazily rising back to meet her eyes.
 
"Khaas baat?" (Special?) he repeated, his voice dropping an octave. "Khaas baat yeh hai ki aaj rath is pure resort mein ek aisi cheez mili hai mujhe jo aam taur par itni easily nahi milti kahin." (The special thing tonight is that in this entire resort, I found something that normally isn't so easy to find.)
 
"Kya?" (What?) Shazia asked, her voice a breathy, inviting whisper. She was desperately wanting to hear more of her from his mouth. She leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table, which only served to push her heavy breasts further together, deepening the already scandalous plunge of her cleavage.
 
Rohan leaned in as well, closing the distance between them. "Ek aurat jo apni khoobsurti se anjaan ho." (A woman who is unaware of her own beauty.)
 
Shazia let out a bright, musical laugh—a sound so genuinely delighted, so openly flirtatious, that it sliced through the ambient noise of the restaurant like a blade. She threw her head back slightly, her dark hair swaying, and when she looked back at Rohan, her eyes were dancing with wicked amusement.
 
"Anjaan?" (Unaware?) she repeated, giggling. "Main anjaan nahi hoon, Rohan. Mujhe pata hai ki main... kaise dikhti hoon." (I'm not unaware, Rohan. I know how... I look.)
 
"Sach?" (Really?) Rohan challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Agar tum jaanti ho ki tum kitni khoobsurat ho, toh apne aap ko itna chupathi kyun ho? Yeh brown saadi mein tum ithna ... khoobsurat ho. Lekin tumhari aankhon mein jo sharm hai, wo aur bhi khoobsurat hai." (If you know how beautiful you are, then why do you hide yourself so much? You look so beautiful in this brown saree. But the shyness in your eyes, that's even more beautiful.)
 
Shazia blushed deeply, a genuine, feminine flush that spread from her neck to her cheeks. She playfully swatted the air in his direction, giggling. "Bas karo! Tum toh bas... baatein banana jaante ho." (Stop it! You just know how to sweet talk.)
 
"Maine suna hai, aurat jitni khoobsurat hoti hai, uski naabhi utni hi gehri hoti hai," (I've heard, the more beautiful a woman is, the deeper her navel is,) Rohan said casually, taking a slow sip of his drink. His eyes flicked deliberately down to where the low-slung saree exposed the soft, milky-white expanse of her midriff. "Agar yeh sach hai, toh tumhari naabhi toh... samundar se bhi gehri hogi." (If this is true, then your navel must be... deeper than the ocean.)