02-06-2026, 01:21 AM
The next few days passed in a strange, heavy silence. Devika avoided Kulkarni's flat, keeping to herself, cooking mechanically, cleaning obsessively. The ghost of his touch still lingered on her stomach, in her navel, on her ass where he'd cupped and claimed her.
At night, when Arjun pulled her close in bed, she froze. His hands felt wrong. Too young. Too gentle. Not the rough, knowing grip that had made her knees buckle in the kitchen.
She hated herself for thinking it.
Kulkarni, for his part, played the perfect patient hunter. He didn't knock on her door. Didn't send desperate messages. Just waited. Smiled politely when they passed in the corridor. Let the tension build until it became unbearable.
He knew she'd come to him eventually.
They always did.
But on the fourth evening, something unexpected happened.
Kulkarni stood at his window, newspaper folded in his hands, watching the building's entrance as the sun dipped low over Swargate. His routine. His favorite time. When the working husbands left and the lonely wives emerged for evening walks or temple visits.
Movement caught his eye.
Ground floor. Behind the row of parked scooters.
Someone crouched low, partially hidden, watching Devika's window.
Kulkarni's eyes narrowed behind his spectacles.
The figure shifted. Young. Lean build. Dark clothes.
That fucking Pathan boy from the top floor.
Kulkarni had noticed him before — always skulking around, spitting red gutka stains on the stairs, leering at women with that hungry '. intensity that made decent families uncomfortable.
And now here he was. Hiding. Watching Devika's flat like some common stalker.
Kulkarni's jaw tightened.
No. She's mine.
He folded his newspaper carefully, set it on the table, and walked downstairs.
Pathan didn't hear him approach.
The boy was too focused on Devika's window — pressed against the compound wall, eyes locked on the lit curtains where her silhouette moved inside.
"Enjoying the view?"
Pathan jumped. Spun around.
Kulkarni stood three feet away, hands clasped behind his back, expression calm and grandfatherly.
"Uncle—" Pathan's face went pale. "I was just—"
"Just what? Hiding behind scooters? Watching our neighbor's window?" Kulkarni's voice stayed soft, reasonable. "That's called stalking, beta. security officer take it very seriously these days."
"No, uncle, I wasn't—"
"Don't lie." Kulkarni stepped closer. "I've seen you. Many times. Following her. Staring. Even helped her with groceries once, didn't you?"
Pathan's throat worked. His hand moved unconsciously to his pocket where the gutka packet bulged.
"I should tell the society secretary," Kulkarni continued conversationally. "Or better — tell her husband. He works in IT, you know. Very protective type. Probably wouldn't appreciate knowing a '. boy is stalking his wife."
"Please—" Pathan's voice cracked. "Please don't tell anyone, uncle. I swear I wasn't doing anything wrong—"
"No?" Kulkarni tilted his head. "Then why hide? Why watch?"
Pathan's mouth opened. Closed. No words came.
Kulkarni studied him in silence. Let the fear build.
Finally: "Do you like her?"
"What? No—"
"Don't lie to me, Pathan." Kulkarni's voice hardened slightly. "I saw the way you looked at her that day. When she kissed your cheek. You've been hard for her ever since, haven't you?"
Pathan's face burned red. He looked away, unable to meet those knowing eyes behind the spectacles.
"It's alright," Kulkarni said gently. "She's a beautiful woman. Any man would want her."
Pathan swallowed. Nodded reluctantly.
"Do you need her?"
The question hung in the air.
Pathan's eyes snapped back to Kulkarni's face. "What?"
"Do. You. Need. Her." Each word deliberate. "Her body. Her touch. Want to fuck that sweet Kerala pussy?"
"No!" Pathan stepped back. "Uncle, what are you saying? I just... I just watch sometimes. That's all. I would never—"
"But you want to."
Silence.
Then, very quietly: "Yes."
Kulkarni smiled.
He moved closer. Put a hand on Pathan's shoulder like a friendly uncle having a private chat.
"Tell me about her," he said warmly. "What do you see when you watch?"
"Uncle, I don't think—"
"Tell me." Firmer now. "If you don't want me complaining to the society, you'll tell me everything you've seen."
Pathan's resistance crumbled. The words came tumbling out — nervous, guilty, excited.
"Her... her saree. The way it clings when she comes back from the market. Sweating. You can see the outline of her waist, her hips—"
"Yes?"
"And her pallu. Sometimes it slips. Just a little. You can see the shape of her breasts pressing against the blouse—"
"Go on."
"She ties her hair in a bun but sometimes strands fall loose and she tucks them behind her ear and I just... I imagine pulling that bun open. Fisting her hair—"
"Good." Kulkarni's grip tightened on his shoulder. "What else?"
"Her lips. God, uncle, her lips. So pink and soft. She wears that gloss and they shine and I think about—" He stopped. Embarrassed.
"Thinking about your cock between those innocent lips? Watching her suck?"
Pathan's breath came faster. "Yes."
"And her ass?"
"Round. Perfect. The way she walks, it sways just a little, and I imagine grabbing it, squeezing—"
"That's enough." Kulkarni released his shoulder. Stepped back.
Pathan stood there panting, ashamed and aroused and confused all at once.
Kulkarni adjusted his spectacles. "I won't tell anyone."
"Thank you, uncle—"
"On one condition."
Pathan's relief froze. "What condition?"
"I need a favour."
"What kind of favour?"
Kulkarni smiled that soft, grandfatherly smile. "I need your help to get her."
The words landed like a bomb.
Pathan stared. "What?"
"You heard me. I want Devika. Want to touch her, taste her, fuck her. But I need help."
"Uncle, that's—" Pathan shook his head. "That's too risky. Her husband—"
"Works night shifts twice a week." Kulkarni spoke calmly, like discussing cricket scores. "Leaves at seven PM. Doesn't return until morning."
"Still—"
"I'm friendly with her," Kulkarni continued. "Very friendly. She trusts me. Calls me 'kaka'. But I can't take the next step alone. I need someone else. Someone young. Someone she'll want to help."
"I don't understand—"
"You will." Kulkarni's eyes gleamed behind his spectacles. "I have a plan."
Pathan's mouth went dry. "What plan?"
"Tomorrow evening. Her husband works night shift tomorrow. You'll go to her flat around eight PM."
"What? No, I can't—"
"Yes, you can. You'll knock on her door. Tell her you're from upstairs. Need help with studies."
"Studies? Uncle, I'm twenty-two—"
"She doesn't know that. You look young enough. Tell her you're preparing for medical entrance. Weak in biology. Need guidance."
Understanding dawned slowly on Pathan's face.
"She's a biology graduate," Kulkarni continued. "Very serious about education. If you ask properly, respectfully, she'll help. That's the kind of woman she is."
"And then?"
"Then you study with her. Normal topics first. Cell structure, respiration, whatever. Build trust. After a few sessions, slowly shift to human anatomy. Reproductive system. Sexual organs."
Pathan's cock stirred in his pants.
"Make it academic," Kulkarni said. "Clinical. Say you're confused about female anatomy. How pregnancy happens. Where exactly is the clitoris. What do breasts feel like."
"She'll never—"
"She will. If you act innocent enough. Confused enough. Just a boy struggling to understand biology." Kulkarni leaned closer. "And once she's explaining, once she's comfortable discussing sex and women's bodies... that's when I show up."
"You?"
"I'll knock. Say I came to check on her. See you studying. Join the conversation." Kulkarni's voice dropped to a whisper. "And I'll encourage her. Tell her to explain in more detail. More clearly. Use examples."
"Examples?"
"Her body, Pathan. I'll convince her to use her own body as a specimen. To show you. Demonstrate. Help you understand." Kulkarni's hand moved to his lungi, adjusting himself. "Imagine it. Sweet Devika lifting her saree. Showing you her thighs. Explaining where the vagina is located. Letting you see. Maybe even letting you touch. All for education, of course."
Pathan couldn't breathe.
The image filled his mind — Devika in her modest saree, slowly unwrapping herself under the guise of teaching. Her pale thighs. Her hidden pussy. Her heavy breasts freed from the tight blouse.
"It's too risky," he said weakly.
"Everything worth having is risky." Kulkarni patted his shoulder again. "But if we do this carefully, properly, she won't even realize what's happening until it's too late."
"What if she refuses?"
"She won't. Not if you play your part well. Act shy. Respectful. Desperate to learn." Kulkarni's smile widened. "Trust me, beta. I know how her mind works. I've been studying her for months."
Pathan looked toward Devika's window. The curtains glowed warm in the evening dark.
Inside, she moved. Cooking. Cleaning. Completely unaware that two men stood below, plotting her corruption.
"Okay," Pathan heard himself say. "I'll do it."
"Good boy." Kulkarni squeezed his shoulder one last time. "Tomorrow evening. Eight PM. Wear clean clothes. Don't chew gutka. Be polite."
"Yes, uncle."
"And Pathan?"
"Yes?"
Kulkarni's eyes gleamed behind his spectacles. "If this works, we share her. Understood? Both of us get to enjoy that sweet body."
Pathan nodded slowly.
"Now go. Don't let anyone see us talking."
Pathan slipped away into the darkness.
Kulkarni stood alone in the compound, looking up at Devika's window.
Tomorrow, my sweet beta. Tomorrow we begin your real education.
He smiled.
And walked back to his flat, already imagining how she'd look with her saree lifted, her thighs spread, her innocent face flushed with shame as two men stared at her most private places.
All in the name of biology, of course.
The evening air hung thick and still over Swargate as Pathan stood outside Flat 2B, his hand raised to knock. He'd changed into a clean black shirt—no gutka stains visible on his collar for once—and combed coconut oil through his hair until it gleamed under the corridor's fluorescent tube. His jaw worked nervously, teeth grinding against themselves instead of paan.
Just a student asking for help. Confused boy. Biology weak. That's all.
He knocked. Three times. Waited.
The door opened a crack. Devika's face appeared in the gap—curious, cautious, her dupatta pulled modestly across her chest.
"Yes?"
"Namaste, aunty." He kept his eyes down, hands folded. Perfect respectful posture. "I'm Imran. From 3A. Is—is your husband home?"
"Arjun?" Her brow furrowed. "No, he's at office. Night shift today. Won't be back until morning." She studied him through the crack. "Why? You need something?"
"Oh." Pathan's face fell with practiced disappointment. "I wanted to ask him about... actually, nothing important, aunty. I'll come another time."
He turned to leave. Took two steps toward the stairs.
"Wait—Imran?"
He stopped. Looked back. "Yes, aunty?"
She'd opened the door wider now, one hand on the frame. "What did you need? Maybe I can help?"
"No, no—it's nothing serious. Just some computer doubt. My friend said Arjun sir works in IT, so I thought—" He waved it away. "Don't worry, aunty. I'll manage."
"Computer?" Her expression softened. "What kind of doubt?"
"Just Excel formulas. For my project." He shrugged, playing it casual. "But really, aunty, I don't want to disturb you. Especially this late."
"It's only eight." She glanced back into the flat, then at him. The same maternal concern that had made her kiss his cheek last week flickered across her face. "You came all the way down. At least come inside, I'll make tea. When Arjun calls, you can ask him on phone."
"Are you sure? I don't want to—"
"Come." She stepped aside, holding the door open.
Pathan walked in, keeping his movements slow, non-threatening. The flat smelled of incense and coconut oil. A small TV played some Tamil serial on mute in the corner. Everything neat, modest, utterly respectable.
Devika gestured toward the sofa. "Sit, sit. I'll make tea."
"Thank you, aunty."
He settled onto the edge of the cushion, knees together, hands folded in his lap. Model good boy. She disappeared into the kitchen. He heard water running, the click of the gas stove.
"So you're in college?" Her voice floated out.
"Yes, aunty. Second year."
"Which college?"
"Fergusson. Commerce stream."
"Commerce? Then why computer doubts?"
"Side project, aunty. Trying to learn Excel for... for job preparation only."
She emerged with two cups, handed him one. Settled into the opposite chair with her own, legs tucked sideways, dupatta adjusted perfectly across her chest. Even at home, even relaxed, she maintained that careful modesty.
"You're very studious," she said warmly. "Coming to ask doubts at eight PM. Most boys your age are outside smoking, making timepass."
"No, aunty—" He shook his head with exaggerated innocence. "I don't do all that. My mother would kill me."
She laughed. Soft, genuine. "Good boy. Your mother raised you well."
They sipped tea in comfortable silence. Pathan watched her over the rim of his cup—the way she blew gently on the hot liquid, the small sip, the tongue that darted out to catch a drop on her lower lip. His cock stirred. He shifted slightly, crossed his legs.
"Aunty, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"You seem... I don't know, different from other aunties in the building. More—" He pretended to search for words. "More friendly? More modern?"
Pink crept up her neck. "Modern? Me? No, no—I'm very traditional only."
"But you opened your door for me. You made tea. Other aunties would just say 'come tomorrow when husband is here' and close the door."
She smiled into her cup. "That's just being helpful. Nothing modern about it."
"Still." He leaned forward slightly, warming to the role. "You're also very young, aunty. Sometimes I forget you're married even. You look like you could be in college yourself."
"Chee!" She swatted the air between them with mock outrage. "What are you saying? I'm twenty-four, not seventeen."
"Sorry, sorry—" He raised both hands in surrender, grinning. "I just meant you don't seem like the typical serious married aunty types. You know how to laugh. How to talk normally."
She studied him over her cup. "You're very smooth-talking for a second-year boy."
"Smooth-talking?" He tried to look wounded. "Aunty, I'm just saying what I observe. My friends always say I notice too much detail—gets me in trouble sometimes."
"What kind of trouble?"
He set his cup down. "Like... I'll notice if someone got a haircut. Or if they're wearing new earrings. Or if they seem sad even when they're smiling." He met her eyes. "Girls especially hate it. They think I'm flirting. But I'm just... observant."
"Hmm." Something shifted in her expression—amusement mixed with curiosity. "And what do you observe about me?"
The question hung between them.
Pathan paused, as if weighing whether to answer honestly. "You want the truth, aunty?"
"Sure."
"You seem lonely."
Silence dropped like a stone.
Devika's smile froze. She looked away, toward the muted TV where some actress was crying in slow motion.
"I'm not lonely," she said quietly. "I have Arjun."
"I didn't mean it like that." Quick backpedaling, but gentle. "Just that... Pune is new for you, no? Kerala accent, I can tell. And your husband works so much. Must be hard, shifting to a new city, sitting alone in a new flat."
She didn't answer. Took a long sip of tea.
"Sorry, aunty. I shouldn't have—"
"No, no—" She waved it away. "You're not wrong. It is hard sometimes. But that's life, no? Husband has to work. I have to adjust."
"Still doesn't mean it's easy."
She looked at him then—really looked—and something in her eyes cracked open. "You're very mature for twenty-two."
"Twenty-two going on forty, my mother says." He grinned. "Too much thinking. Not enough enjoying."
She laughed. "That's every parent's complaint."
They talked. About Fergusson College, about Pune's heat, about the market vendors near Kothrud who cheated on weight. Somewhere in the conversation, Pathan relaxed completely into the sofa, and Devika uncrossed her legs, let them stretch out more naturally. The distance between them softened.
He started dropping jokes—small ones at first, testing boundaries. An old professor who wore the same purple shirt every Tuesday. A friend who failed three times because he kept writing "under construction" on exam papers he couldn't answer. She laughed freely now, the wariness completely gone.
Then he pivoted.
"Aunty, you know what the most awkward thing in college is?"
"What?"
"When they teach reproduction in biology."
She paused mid-sip. "Biology? You're in commerce stream, you said?"
"Ya, but first year we had basic science subjects. Environmental studies, some biology module." He shook his head with exaggerated embarrassment. "Whole class goes silent when professor starts explaining reproductive system. Boys giggling like idiots. Girls staring at their notebooks like it's the most fascinating thing they've ever seen."
Devika's lips twitched. "That happens everywhere. Even in my time."
"You studied biology, aunty?"
"I did my degree in it."
His eyes widened—perfectly timed surprise. "Really? Wow. So you must know everything then. All those diagrams, scientific terms—"
"Not everything," she said modestly. "But yes, I studied it properly."
"Lucky you. We boys—we just memorized whatever was there without understanding anything." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Secretly, I think most boys don't even know basic anatomy properly. Just pretend we do."
"That's terrible!" But she was smiling. "How will you explain things to your wife someday?"
"Exactly!" He slapped his knee. "That's what I'm saying, aunty. Boys should learn properly. But it's so awkward to ask anyone—can't ask mother, can't ask female friends, professors just rush through the chapter..."
He trailed off, watching her process the conversation's direction. She caught it—he saw recognition flicker across her face—but she didn't pull back.
"Well," she said carefully, "nowadays you have internet. Everything is available online."
"Internet just confuses more, aunty. Too much random information. Needs proper guidance from someone who actually studied the subject." He paused. "Someone like you."
There it was. Laid out plainly.
Devika's fingers tightened around her cup. "Imran—"
"I don't mean anything wrong, aunty." Quick, earnest, hands raised. "Just that... if I have some basic biology doubts, maybe you could explain? Like a teacher? I know it's asking too much, but I don't have anyone else who actually knows this subject properly—"
"What kind of doubts?" Her voice had gone quiet.
"Just... basic things. Cell structure. How body systems work. That kind of stuff." He looked down at his hands. "I'm weak in science generally. Always struggled. But now for some bank exam preparations, they're asking basic science questions, and I'm completely blank."
She studied him. This boy who'd helped her with groceries, who'd bought her pads without hesitation, who'd brought fruit when she had cramps. Who sat in her flat at eight PM looking genuinely helpless and young.
"You're really preparing for bank exams?"
"Trying to, aunty. Father drives auto, mother works in garment shop—someone needs to get proper job in family, no?"
Something softened in her expression. The teacher instinct, the desire to help earnest students, rose up naturally.
"Okay." She set her cup down with finality. "I'll help you. Not today—it's late already. But maybe tomorrow evening? We can start with basics."
Pathan's face lit up—genuine surprise beneath the performance. He hadn't expected her to agree so readily. "Really, aunty? You'll teach me?"
"Only if you promise to study seriously. No wasting time."
"I promise!" He stood up quickly. "Thank you so much, aunty. You don't know how much this helps."
She walked him to the door. "Come around seven tomorrow. I'll prepare some notes, we'll go through basics first."
"Thank you, thank you—" He folded his hands. "You're like a blessing, aunty. Truly."
She smiled—the warm, maternal smile that had made him hard in his bed every night since the grocery incident. "It's just teaching. Nothing special."
He left. Took the stairs up two at a time, controlling the urge to punch the air in victory. Once inside 3A, he grabbed his phone and typed a message.
Done. She agreed. Tomorrow 7 PM.
The reply came within seconds.
Good boy. I'll come at 7:30. Don't start anything without me.
Pathan grinned at Kulkarni's message. Tossed his phone on the bed. Stripped off his clean shirt and collapsed onto the mattress, one hand already moving to his cock.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd sit in that flat with sweet Devika aunty, pretending to struggle with biology, while dirty old Kulkarni kaka showed up with his innocent spectacles and grandfatherly smile.
And together they'd begin peeling away every modest layer she wrapped around herself.
Downstairs, Devika locked her door and walked to the kitchen. Started washing the tea cups mechanically, her mind elsewhere.
She'd just agreed to teach biology to a twenty-two-year-old boy. Alone in her flat. While Arjun worked night shift.
It's just teaching, she told herself. He's a good boy. Respectful. Needs help.
But something whispered underneath—something that remembered how he'd looked at her when she'd kissed his cheek. The way his jaw had tightened. The heat that had flashed behind his eyes before he'd covered it with that sheepish grin.
She dried the cups. Set them in the rack. Stared at her reflection in the kitchen window.
Nothing will happen. It's just teaching.
From next door, through the shared wall, she heard Kulkarni's TV. Some old Marathi film. His presence so close, so constant, like a weight pressing against the boundary between their flats.
She touched her neck—the spot where his mouth had been just hours ago in the lift. The ghost sensation still lingered.
Her phone buzzed. Arjun's name lit the screen.
Working late. Don't wait up. Love you.
She read the message twice. Typed back a single word.
Okay.
No "love you too." No "come home safe." Just okay.
She set the phone down. Walked to the bedroom. Changed into her nightgown. Lay in the dark staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow at seven, Imran would knock on her door. And somewhere in the building, Kulkarni kaka would be watching. Waiting. Planning.
She closed her eyes.
And behind her eyelids, she saw an old man's hands lifting her saree. A young man's eyes watching. Her own body responding to touches she shouldn't want.
It's just teaching, she whispered to the darkness.
The darkness didn't answer.
Across the landing, Kulkarni sat in his chair with the lights off, curtains open just enough to see the glow from 2B's windows.
He'd watched Pathan arrive. Watched the door close. Seen the lights stay on for exactly twenty-three minutes before the boy emerged and climbed back upstairs.
Good. He didn't overstay. Didn't push too hard.
Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow Kulkarni would knock at seven-thirty—perfectly timed, perfectly innocent—and find Devika sitting with this young Pathan boy, discussing biology.
And then the real lesson would begin.
He smiled in the darkness. Reached down to adjust himself through his dhoti.
Tomorrow, my sweet Devika. Tomorrow we teach you what your body already knows.
The evening arrived with Pune's typical stifling heat. Devika had changed into a simple cotton saree—pale blue with a thin white border, pallu pinned carefully across her chest—and tied her hair in the usual jasmine-scented bun. The ceiling fan circulated warm air that clung to her skin beneath the blouse.
At seven PM sharp, the knock came.
She opened the door to find Pathan standing with two thick notebooks and a worn biology textbook pressed against his chest. He wore the same clean black shirt, hair combed neatly, face scrubbed fresh of gutka stains.
But the moment he saw her—really saw her in proper light, standing in that modest saree with her wet hair still damp from the evening bath, small drops of water clinging to her neck—he froze.
"Aunty—I—" His voice cracked slightly. He looked down at his books. "Good evening."
Devika's irritation from Kulkarni's constant presence melted slightly at his obvious nervousness. "Come in, Imran. No need to be so formal."
"Yes, aunty." He stepped inside, movements stiff and careful, like he might break something just by breathing wrong.
She gestured toward the dining table where she'd already laid out a notebook and pen. "Sit there. Show me what you're studying."
Pathan settled into the chair, placed his books on the table with exaggerated care. She pulled another chair beside him—not too close, maintaining proper distance—and reached for his textbook.
"Let me see the syllabus first."
He handed it over. Their fingers didn't touch but he flinched anyway, pulling back quickly. She noticed but pretended not to, flipping through pages marked with old highlighter and pencil notes.
"This is NCERT standard biology," she murmured, more to herself than him. "Cell structure, plant systems, human anatomy..." She glanced sideways at him. "How much have you covered?"
"Not much, aunty. Maybe first three chapters only."
She nodded, pulled the notebook closer, uncapped her pen. "Okay. Today we'll start with basic cell structure. Animal cell versus plant cell. After that we'll see how much time is left."
For the next twenty minutes, she taught. Drew neat diagrams with labeled parts—nucleus, mitochondria, cell membrane—explaining functions in simple Tamil-English like she was back in college giving presentations. Pathan listened, took notes, asked small questions that showed he was actually trying to understand.
"So the mitochondria is like the battery?" he asked at one point.
"Exactly. Powerhouse of the cell. Produces energy." She tapped the diagram with her pen. "Without it, cell would die. Like house without electricity."
He nodded, scribbling notes in surprisingly neat handwriting.
She relaxed into the rhythm of teaching. This she knew. This felt safe—pure knowledge transfer, nothing complicated or dangerous. Just teacher and student, biology and notebooks, exactly like she'd imagined.
Pathan read through her notes, lips moving silently. Then looked up. "Aunty, one doubt—"
"Yes?"
"Here you wrote about osmosis. Water moving from low concentration to high concentration. But how does cell know which direction to push water?"
She smiled. Good question. "It doesn't know. It's not conscious process. Just natural movement based on—"
A knock interrupted her. Sharp, familiar, three precise raps.
Devika's spine stiffened. She knew that knock.
Pathan looked toward the door, then at her. "Someone's there, aunty."
"I know." She stood slowly, smoothing her pallu. Walked to the door with reluctance radiating from every step.
Kulkarni stood in the corridor, hands folded, spectacles reflecting the tube light, that gentle grandfather smile plastered across his face.
"Devika beta—"
"What do you want?" No warmth in her voice. Just flat irritation.
His eyebrows rose slightly. "Such harsh tone? Did I do something wrong?"
"Kulkarni kaka, I'm busy right now—"
"Busy?" He craned his neck slightly, looking past her into the flat. "Oh! You have company. That young Pathan boy from upstairs, no?" His smile widened. "What's he doing here so late in the evening? Arjun isn't home, if I remember correctly..."
Heat rushed up Devika's neck. "It's not what you're thinking—"
"What am I thinking, beta?" All innocence. "Just observing that you're alone with a young man in your flat while your husband works night shift. Nothing wrong with that, surely? You're a modern educated girl."
"He came to study!" The words came out sharper than intended. "I'm teaching him biology. That's all."
"Biology?" Kulkarni's eyes gleamed behind his spectacles. "How wonderful. You're using your education to help others." He paused deliberately. "Though I must say, teaching biology to a twenty-two-year-old boy... very personal subject, no? All those body parts, reproductive systems..."
"Kulkarni kaka—" Her jaw tightened. "Don't think like that. It's completely innocent."
"Of course, of course. I'm sure it is." He adjusted his dhoti casually. "Actually, I came because my flat has no power since last hour. Fuse problem, I think. And this heat—" He fanned himself with one hand. "At my age, without fan, sitting in dark... very difficult, beta."
Devika stared at him. "So?"
"So I thought maybe I can sit here for some time? Just until power comes back? Your fan is working, I see. Nice and cool inside." He peered past her again. "I won't disturb your teaching. I'll just sit quietly in the corner."
Every instinct screamed to refuse. To close the door in his face. To maintain the boundary that was already crumbling between them.
But how could she? Deny an old man suffering in the heat? What reason could she give that wouldn't sound heartless?
"Please, beta." He put a hand over his heart. "I'm not feeling well in this heat. Just for little while."
She stepped aside. "Fine. But stay quiet. Don't disturb us."
"I promise." He walked in, moving past her close enough that his kurta brushed her arm. That familiar old-man smell—sandalwood soap and something else underneath, something earthy and male.
Pathan had turned in his chair, watching this exchange with confused curiosity. "Evening, uncle."
"Evening, beta." Kulkarni settled into the sofa near the TV, making himself comfortable. "Don't mind me. Continue your studies. Pretend I'm not even here."
Devika returned to the table, jaw set, shoulders tense. Kulkarni's presence filled the room like smoke—invisible but suffocating.
"Where were we?" She forced brightness into her voice.
"Osmosis, aunty." Pathan pointed at the diagram.
"Right. Osmosis." She picked up the pen, tried to focus on the explanation, but her awareness kept drifting toward the sofa where Kulkarni sat watching them with that infuriating gentle smile.
They continued. She taught him about cell division—mitosis, meiosis, the stages of replication. Pathan asked questions. She answered. All normal. All innocent.
Twenty minutes passed.
Then: "That's not quite accurate, beta."
Devika's pen froze mid-sentence. "Excuse me?"
Kulkarni stood from the sofa, walked closer to the table. "What you just explained about meiosis. The chromosome pairing. You simplified it too much."
"I simplified it because he's learning basics—"
"But basics should still be correct." He leaned over the table, looking at her diagram. "See, here you said chromosomes just pair up randomly. But they don't. They pair homologously. One from mother, one from father. Very specific process."
Devika's grip tightened on the pen. "I was getting to that—"
"I'm also biology graduate, you know." Kulkarni smiled at Pathan. "Did my degree back in 1978. Old knowledge, but still relevant. So if you need more detailed explanation—"
"I'm so lucky!" Pathan's face lit up with manufactured enthusiasm. "Two biology teachers! Now I'll understand everything properly."
Devika wanted to slam the notebook shut. To tell both of them to leave. But she couldn't. She was trapped in her own flat, in her own offer to teach, with this dirty old man inserting himself into every safe space she tried to create.
"Fine." She pushed the notebook toward Kulkarni. "You explain meiosis then."
He did. In detail. With diagrams. Pathan listened intently, asked good questions, and Kulkarni answered with the patience of an experienced professor. For a moment, Devika saw what he must have been forty years ago—intelligent, educated, respected.
But underneath, she felt his eyes sliding toward her whenever Pathan looked down at the notes. Felt the weight of his gaze on her waist, her neck, the curve of her breast beneath the blouse.
They moved through topics. Respiration. Circulation. Nervous system. The clock ticked past eight. Past eight-thirty.
Finally, they reached the chapter on human reproduction.
Devika's stomach tightened. "We should stop here for today. It's getting late—"
"No, no—" Pathan shook his head. "Just this chapter, aunty. This is the one I'm most confused about."
"Why are you confused?" She kept her tone brisk, clinical. "It's very straightforward. Male reproductive system, female reproductive system, process of fertilization. What's to confuse?"
"Everything, aunty." He looked up at her with those wide innocent eyes. "All those parts with big names. Where everything is located. How it actually works."
"You have the textbook. Just read it—"
"Reading doesn't help. I need someone to explain."
She pulled the textbook toward her, flipped to the chapter on human reproduction. Found the diagram of the female reproductive system—cross-sectional view, all organs labeled in sterile medical terminology.
"See this?" She pointed with her pen, keeping her voice flat and factual. "These are ovaries. They produce eggs. Once a month, one egg is released—that's ovulation. It travels through the fallopian tube here. If it meets a sperm, fertilization happens. If not, it exits through menstruation."
She spoke quickly. Clinically. Like reading from a textbook. No elaboration. No detail.
Pathan frowned at the diagram. "But aunty, I don't understand the positions. Like where exactly is the uterus compared to the stomach?"
"Here." She tapped the diagram. "Lower abdomen."
"How low?"
"Just... low." She tried to flip to the next page. "Anyway, that's the basic overview. Now for the next topic—"
"Wait, wait—" Pathan put his finger on the diagram, stopping her from turning the page. "What about these parts? Labia, clitoris, vagina? What are they?"
"External and internal organs." Her voice went even flatter. "Not relevant for your exam."
"But I'm curious, aunty. The textbook mentions them but doesn't explain properly."
"That's because—" She closed the book with finality. "That's very detailed anatomy. Not necessary for basic understanding."
"I think it's very necessary." Kulkarni's voice cut through the room.
Both of them turned. He'd moved closer again, standing behind Devika's chair, looking down at the closed textbook.
"Kulkarni kaka—" Warning in her voice.
"Beta, you can't teach reproduction by skipping the actual organs." He spoke reasonably, like explaining something to a child. "How will the boy understand the full process if you just gloss over anatomy?"
"He understands enough—"
"I don't, aunty." Pathan looked genuinely confused now. "Like, I know babies come from the uterus. But how does the sperm even reach there? Through which opening?"
"Through the vagina." She forced the words out. "It's all written in the textbook. Read carefully—"
"But where is the vagina exactly?"
"Between the legs—" Heat crept up her neck. "Look, Imran, this is very sensitive topic. Maybe you should ask male teacher—"
"Why male teacher?" Kulkarni interrupted again. "You're biology graduate. You know the subject perfectly. Just explain clearly, no need to be shy."
"I'm not shy—" She turned to glare at him. "I just don't think it's appropriate—"
"What's inappropriate about science?" His eyes held hers steadily. "You're teaching from textbook. Using medical terms. Nothing inappropriate in that."
"He's right, aunty." Pathan's voice came softly. "I'm not asking anything dirty. Just trying to understand biology properly."
Devika looked between them—old man and young man, both watching her with expectant faces. Both waiting. Both pushing.
She wanted to scream. To throw them both out. To lock her door and call Arjun and beg him to come home.
But what would she say? That she couldn't teach basic biology because it made her uncomfortable? That two men sitting in her flat asking medical questions felt like a trap?
She opened the textbook again. Stared at the diagram of female reproductive anatomy. All the parts labeled in neat black text.
"Fine." Her voice came out tight. "What exactly do you want to know?"
Pathan leaned closer. "Start from the beginning, aunty. Explain each part and what it does."
Devika took a breath. "Okay. The labia are the external folds of skin that protect the vaginal opening. The clitoris is a small sensitive organ located at the top, above the urethra—"
"Where exactly at the top?" Pathan interrupted. "Like near the stomach?"
"No—" She pointed at the diagram with trembling fingers. "Here. Between the legs. At the upper part of the vulva."
"Vulva is different from vagina?"
"Yes. Vulva is the external part. Vagina is the internal canal." She spoke rapidly, wanting this over. "The vagina is approximately three to four inches long, expands during arousal and childbirth, connects to the cervix which leads to the uterus—"
"During arousal?" Pathan tilted his head. "What does that mean?"
Devika's throat went dry. "It means... when a woman is... stimulated. Sexually. The vagina produces lubrication and expands to accommodate... penetration."
The word hung in the air.
Kulkarni made a small sound—approval or amusement, she couldn't tell.
"So the vagina changes size?" Pathan's face scrunched in concentration. "How much does it expand?"
"It varies." She kept her eyes fixed on the diagram. "Depends on the woman. On the situation. There's no fixed measurement."
"And the clitoris—you said it's sensitive? Why?"
"Because it has many nerve endings. It's the primary source of female sexual pleasure." The clinical explanation felt obscene in her mouth.
"More sensitive than other parts?"
"Yes."
"More than breasts?"
Her face burned. "Different type of sensitivity."
"But breasts are also sensitive during arousal, no?" Pathan looked genuinely curious. "The textbook says nipples become erect when stimulated—"
"That's enough for today." Devika slammed the book shut. "You've learned plenty. Come back tomorrow if you have more questions."
"But aunty—"
"I said enough." She stood abruptly, chair scbanging. "It's almost nine. You should go."
Pathan gathered his books slowly, reluctance evident. "Okay, aunty. Thank you for teaching. You explain very clearly."
Kulkarni still stood near the table, watching her with those knowing eyes. "Yes, beta. Very clear explanation. Though I think the boy needs more practical understanding, no? Just theory is not enough for such complex topic."
"What do you mean, 'practical understanding'?" Ice in her voice.
"I mean visual aids. Models. Diagrams he can touch and examine." Kulkarni smiled innocently. "In our college days, we had proper anatomy models. Helped students understand three-dimensional structure much better than flat textbook pictures."
"Well, we don't have models here." She crossed her arms. "So textbook will have to do."
"Actually—" Kulkarni adjusted his spectacles. "The best model is the real thing. Nothing teaches anatomy better than actual human body."
Silence crashed down.
Devika stared at him, heart hammering. "What are you suggesting?"
"Nothing inappropriate, beta." His voice stayed calm, rational. "Just that if you really want to teach him properly, you could demonstrate using your own body. Show him where organs are located. Let him understand positioning and proportion. All very scientific and educational."
"You've gone mad." She barely whispered it. "You're completely insane—"
"I'm being practical. How else will he learn? You said yourself the textbook isn't clear enough—"
"Get out." She pointed at the door. "Both of you. Now."
"Aunty, I didn't mean to upset you—" Pathan started.
"OUT!"
They left. Kulkarni with slow reluctance, Pathan with hurried confusion. The door closed behind them.
Devika locked it. Leaned against the wood. Her whole body shook.
Demonstrate using your own body.
The words circled in her head like vultures.
She walked to the bathroom. Splashed cold water on her face. Stared at her reflection—flushed cheeks, wild eyes, pallu askew from where she'd stood up too fast.
Her phone buzzed. Arjun.
How was your day?
She typed back with trembling fingers.
Fine. Just tired. Going to sleep early.
She didn't wait for his response. Just turned off the phone and crawled into bed in her saree, not bothering to change.
Outside, through the shared wall, she heard Kulkarni moving in his flat. The creak of his door. The soft shuffle of his footsteps.
And above, faint footsteps pacing. Pathan. Unable to sleep either.
Both of them thinking. Planning. Waiting.
Tomorrow they would come back. She knew it. And next time, they wouldn't stop at questions.
She pulled the blanket over her head and tried to pretend she was anywhere else.
But her body remembered. The heat in her face when explaining arousal. The strange tight feeling between her legs when Pathan asked about sensitivity. The shameful curiosity about what "practical demonstration" would actually mean.
This is wrong, she told herself desperately. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
But somewhere underneath, a whisper asked: Then why does it feel so inevitable?
At night, when Arjun pulled her close in bed, she froze. His hands felt wrong. Too young. Too gentle. Not the rough, knowing grip that had made her knees buckle in the kitchen.
She hated herself for thinking it.
Kulkarni, for his part, played the perfect patient hunter. He didn't knock on her door. Didn't send desperate messages. Just waited. Smiled politely when they passed in the corridor. Let the tension build until it became unbearable.
He knew she'd come to him eventually.
They always did.
But on the fourth evening, something unexpected happened.
Kulkarni stood at his window, newspaper folded in his hands, watching the building's entrance as the sun dipped low over Swargate. His routine. His favorite time. When the working husbands left and the lonely wives emerged for evening walks or temple visits.
Movement caught his eye.
Ground floor. Behind the row of parked scooters.
Someone crouched low, partially hidden, watching Devika's window.
Kulkarni's eyes narrowed behind his spectacles.
The figure shifted. Young. Lean build. Dark clothes.
That fucking Pathan boy from the top floor.
Kulkarni had noticed him before — always skulking around, spitting red gutka stains on the stairs, leering at women with that hungry '. intensity that made decent families uncomfortable.
And now here he was. Hiding. Watching Devika's flat like some common stalker.
Kulkarni's jaw tightened.
No. She's mine.
He folded his newspaper carefully, set it on the table, and walked downstairs.
Pathan didn't hear him approach.
The boy was too focused on Devika's window — pressed against the compound wall, eyes locked on the lit curtains where her silhouette moved inside.
"Enjoying the view?"
Pathan jumped. Spun around.
Kulkarni stood three feet away, hands clasped behind his back, expression calm and grandfatherly.
"Uncle—" Pathan's face went pale. "I was just—"
"Just what? Hiding behind scooters? Watching our neighbor's window?" Kulkarni's voice stayed soft, reasonable. "That's called stalking, beta. security officer take it very seriously these days."
"No, uncle, I wasn't—"
"Don't lie." Kulkarni stepped closer. "I've seen you. Many times. Following her. Staring. Even helped her with groceries once, didn't you?"
Pathan's throat worked. His hand moved unconsciously to his pocket where the gutka packet bulged.
"I should tell the society secretary," Kulkarni continued conversationally. "Or better — tell her husband. He works in IT, you know. Very protective type. Probably wouldn't appreciate knowing a '. boy is stalking his wife."
"Please—" Pathan's voice cracked. "Please don't tell anyone, uncle. I swear I wasn't doing anything wrong—"
"No?" Kulkarni tilted his head. "Then why hide? Why watch?"
Pathan's mouth opened. Closed. No words came.
Kulkarni studied him in silence. Let the fear build.
Finally: "Do you like her?"
"What? No—"
"Don't lie to me, Pathan." Kulkarni's voice hardened slightly. "I saw the way you looked at her that day. When she kissed your cheek. You've been hard for her ever since, haven't you?"
Pathan's face burned red. He looked away, unable to meet those knowing eyes behind the spectacles.
"It's alright," Kulkarni said gently. "She's a beautiful woman. Any man would want her."
Pathan swallowed. Nodded reluctantly.
"Do you need her?"
The question hung in the air.
Pathan's eyes snapped back to Kulkarni's face. "What?"
"Do. You. Need. Her." Each word deliberate. "Her body. Her touch. Want to fuck that sweet Kerala pussy?"
"No!" Pathan stepped back. "Uncle, what are you saying? I just... I just watch sometimes. That's all. I would never—"
"But you want to."
Silence.
Then, very quietly: "Yes."
Kulkarni smiled.
He moved closer. Put a hand on Pathan's shoulder like a friendly uncle having a private chat.
"Tell me about her," he said warmly. "What do you see when you watch?"
"Uncle, I don't think—"
"Tell me." Firmer now. "If you don't want me complaining to the society, you'll tell me everything you've seen."
Pathan's resistance crumbled. The words came tumbling out — nervous, guilty, excited.
"Her... her saree. The way it clings when she comes back from the market. Sweating. You can see the outline of her waist, her hips—"
"Yes?"
"And her pallu. Sometimes it slips. Just a little. You can see the shape of her breasts pressing against the blouse—"
"Go on."
"She ties her hair in a bun but sometimes strands fall loose and she tucks them behind her ear and I just... I imagine pulling that bun open. Fisting her hair—"
"Good." Kulkarni's grip tightened on his shoulder. "What else?"
"Her lips. God, uncle, her lips. So pink and soft. She wears that gloss and they shine and I think about—" He stopped. Embarrassed.
"Thinking about your cock between those innocent lips? Watching her suck?"
Pathan's breath came faster. "Yes."
"And her ass?"
"Round. Perfect. The way she walks, it sways just a little, and I imagine grabbing it, squeezing—"
"That's enough." Kulkarni released his shoulder. Stepped back.
Pathan stood there panting, ashamed and aroused and confused all at once.
Kulkarni adjusted his spectacles. "I won't tell anyone."
"Thank you, uncle—"
"On one condition."
Pathan's relief froze. "What condition?"
"I need a favour."
"What kind of favour?"
Kulkarni smiled that soft, grandfatherly smile. "I need your help to get her."
The words landed like a bomb.
Pathan stared. "What?"
"You heard me. I want Devika. Want to touch her, taste her, fuck her. But I need help."
"Uncle, that's—" Pathan shook his head. "That's too risky. Her husband—"
"Works night shifts twice a week." Kulkarni spoke calmly, like discussing cricket scores. "Leaves at seven PM. Doesn't return until morning."
"Still—"
"I'm friendly with her," Kulkarni continued. "Very friendly. She trusts me. Calls me 'kaka'. But I can't take the next step alone. I need someone else. Someone young. Someone she'll want to help."
"I don't understand—"
"You will." Kulkarni's eyes gleamed behind his spectacles. "I have a plan."
Pathan's mouth went dry. "What plan?"
"Tomorrow evening. Her husband works night shift tomorrow. You'll go to her flat around eight PM."
"What? No, I can't—"
"Yes, you can. You'll knock on her door. Tell her you're from upstairs. Need help with studies."
"Studies? Uncle, I'm twenty-two—"
"She doesn't know that. You look young enough. Tell her you're preparing for medical entrance. Weak in biology. Need guidance."
Understanding dawned slowly on Pathan's face.
"She's a biology graduate," Kulkarni continued. "Very serious about education. If you ask properly, respectfully, she'll help. That's the kind of woman she is."
"And then?"
"Then you study with her. Normal topics first. Cell structure, respiration, whatever. Build trust. After a few sessions, slowly shift to human anatomy. Reproductive system. Sexual organs."
Pathan's cock stirred in his pants.
"Make it academic," Kulkarni said. "Clinical. Say you're confused about female anatomy. How pregnancy happens. Where exactly is the clitoris. What do breasts feel like."
"She'll never—"
"She will. If you act innocent enough. Confused enough. Just a boy struggling to understand biology." Kulkarni leaned closer. "And once she's explaining, once she's comfortable discussing sex and women's bodies... that's when I show up."
"You?"
"I'll knock. Say I came to check on her. See you studying. Join the conversation." Kulkarni's voice dropped to a whisper. "And I'll encourage her. Tell her to explain in more detail. More clearly. Use examples."
"Examples?"
"Her body, Pathan. I'll convince her to use her own body as a specimen. To show you. Demonstrate. Help you understand." Kulkarni's hand moved to his lungi, adjusting himself. "Imagine it. Sweet Devika lifting her saree. Showing you her thighs. Explaining where the vagina is located. Letting you see. Maybe even letting you touch. All for education, of course."
Pathan couldn't breathe.
The image filled his mind — Devika in her modest saree, slowly unwrapping herself under the guise of teaching. Her pale thighs. Her hidden pussy. Her heavy breasts freed from the tight blouse.
"It's too risky," he said weakly.
"Everything worth having is risky." Kulkarni patted his shoulder again. "But if we do this carefully, properly, she won't even realize what's happening until it's too late."
"What if she refuses?"
"She won't. Not if you play your part well. Act shy. Respectful. Desperate to learn." Kulkarni's smile widened. "Trust me, beta. I know how her mind works. I've been studying her for months."
Pathan looked toward Devika's window. The curtains glowed warm in the evening dark.
Inside, she moved. Cooking. Cleaning. Completely unaware that two men stood below, plotting her corruption.
"Okay," Pathan heard himself say. "I'll do it."
"Good boy." Kulkarni squeezed his shoulder one last time. "Tomorrow evening. Eight PM. Wear clean clothes. Don't chew gutka. Be polite."
"Yes, uncle."
"And Pathan?"
"Yes?"
Kulkarni's eyes gleamed behind his spectacles. "If this works, we share her. Understood? Both of us get to enjoy that sweet body."
Pathan nodded slowly.
"Now go. Don't let anyone see us talking."
Pathan slipped away into the darkness.
Kulkarni stood alone in the compound, looking up at Devika's window.
Tomorrow, my sweet beta. Tomorrow we begin your real education.
He smiled.
And walked back to his flat, already imagining how she'd look with her saree lifted, her thighs spread, her innocent face flushed with shame as two men stared at her most private places.
All in the name of biology, of course.
The evening air hung thick and still over Swargate as Pathan stood outside Flat 2B, his hand raised to knock. He'd changed into a clean black shirt—no gutka stains visible on his collar for once—and combed coconut oil through his hair until it gleamed under the corridor's fluorescent tube. His jaw worked nervously, teeth grinding against themselves instead of paan.
Just a student asking for help. Confused boy. Biology weak. That's all.
He knocked. Three times. Waited.
The door opened a crack. Devika's face appeared in the gap—curious, cautious, her dupatta pulled modestly across her chest.
"Yes?"
"Namaste, aunty." He kept his eyes down, hands folded. Perfect respectful posture. "I'm Imran. From 3A. Is—is your husband home?"
"Arjun?" Her brow furrowed. "No, he's at office. Night shift today. Won't be back until morning." She studied him through the crack. "Why? You need something?"
"Oh." Pathan's face fell with practiced disappointment. "I wanted to ask him about... actually, nothing important, aunty. I'll come another time."
He turned to leave. Took two steps toward the stairs.
"Wait—Imran?"
He stopped. Looked back. "Yes, aunty?"
She'd opened the door wider now, one hand on the frame. "What did you need? Maybe I can help?"
"No, no—it's nothing serious. Just some computer doubt. My friend said Arjun sir works in IT, so I thought—" He waved it away. "Don't worry, aunty. I'll manage."
"Computer?" Her expression softened. "What kind of doubt?"
"Just Excel formulas. For my project." He shrugged, playing it casual. "But really, aunty, I don't want to disturb you. Especially this late."
"It's only eight." She glanced back into the flat, then at him. The same maternal concern that had made her kiss his cheek last week flickered across her face. "You came all the way down. At least come inside, I'll make tea. When Arjun calls, you can ask him on phone."
"Are you sure? I don't want to—"
"Come." She stepped aside, holding the door open.
Pathan walked in, keeping his movements slow, non-threatening. The flat smelled of incense and coconut oil. A small TV played some Tamil serial on mute in the corner. Everything neat, modest, utterly respectable.
Devika gestured toward the sofa. "Sit, sit. I'll make tea."
"Thank you, aunty."
He settled onto the edge of the cushion, knees together, hands folded in his lap. Model good boy. She disappeared into the kitchen. He heard water running, the click of the gas stove.
"So you're in college?" Her voice floated out.
"Yes, aunty. Second year."
"Which college?"
"Fergusson. Commerce stream."
"Commerce? Then why computer doubts?"
"Side project, aunty. Trying to learn Excel for... for job preparation only."
She emerged with two cups, handed him one. Settled into the opposite chair with her own, legs tucked sideways, dupatta adjusted perfectly across her chest. Even at home, even relaxed, she maintained that careful modesty.
"You're very studious," she said warmly. "Coming to ask doubts at eight PM. Most boys your age are outside smoking, making timepass."
"No, aunty—" He shook his head with exaggerated innocence. "I don't do all that. My mother would kill me."
She laughed. Soft, genuine. "Good boy. Your mother raised you well."
They sipped tea in comfortable silence. Pathan watched her over the rim of his cup—the way she blew gently on the hot liquid, the small sip, the tongue that darted out to catch a drop on her lower lip. His cock stirred. He shifted slightly, crossed his legs.
"Aunty, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"You seem... I don't know, different from other aunties in the building. More—" He pretended to search for words. "More friendly? More modern?"
Pink crept up her neck. "Modern? Me? No, no—I'm very traditional only."
"But you opened your door for me. You made tea. Other aunties would just say 'come tomorrow when husband is here' and close the door."
She smiled into her cup. "That's just being helpful. Nothing modern about it."
"Still." He leaned forward slightly, warming to the role. "You're also very young, aunty. Sometimes I forget you're married even. You look like you could be in college yourself."
"Chee!" She swatted the air between them with mock outrage. "What are you saying? I'm twenty-four, not seventeen."
"Sorry, sorry—" He raised both hands in surrender, grinning. "I just meant you don't seem like the typical serious married aunty types. You know how to laugh. How to talk normally."
She studied him over her cup. "You're very smooth-talking for a second-year boy."
"Smooth-talking?" He tried to look wounded. "Aunty, I'm just saying what I observe. My friends always say I notice too much detail—gets me in trouble sometimes."
"What kind of trouble?"
He set his cup down. "Like... I'll notice if someone got a haircut. Or if they're wearing new earrings. Or if they seem sad even when they're smiling." He met her eyes. "Girls especially hate it. They think I'm flirting. But I'm just... observant."
"Hmm." Something shifted in her expression—amusement mixed with curiosity. "And what do you observe about me?"
The question hung between them.
Pathan paused, as if weighing whether to answer honestly. "You want the truth, aunty?"
"Sure."
"You seem lonely."
Silence dropped like a stone.
Devika's smile froze. She looked away, toward the muted TV where some actress was crying in slow motion.
"I'm not lonely," she said quietly. "I have Arjun."
"I didn't mean it like that." Quick backpedaling, but gentle. "Just that... Pune is new for you, no? Kerala accent, I can tell. And your husband works so much. Must be hard, shifting to a new city, sitting alone in a new flat."
She didn't answer. Took a long sip of tea.
"Sorry, aunty. I shouldn't have—"
"No, no—" She waved it away. "You're not wrong. It is hard sometimes. But that's life, no? Husband has to work. I have to adjust."
"Still doesn't mean it's easy."
She looked at him then—really looked—and something in her eyes cracked open. "You're very mature for twenty-two."
"Twenty-two going on forty, my mother says." He grinned. "Too much thinking. Not enough enjoying."
She laughed. "That's every parent's complaint."
They talked. About Fergusson College, about Pune's heat, about the market vendors near Kothrud who cheated on weight. Somewhere in the conversation, Pathan relaxed completely into the sofa, and Devika uncrossed her legs, let them stretch out more naturally. The distance between them softened.
He started dropping jokes—small ones at first, testing boundaries. An old professor who wore the same purple shirt every Tuesday. A friend who failed three times because he kept writing "under construction" on exam papers he couldn't answer. She laughed freely now, the wariness completely gone.
Then he pivoted.
"Aunty, you know what the most awkward thing in college is?"
"What?"
"When they teach reproduction in biology."
She paused mid-sip. "Biology? You're in commerce stream, you said?"
"Ya, but first year we had basic science subjects. Environmental studies, some biology module." He shook his head with exaggerated embarrassment. "Whole class goes silent when professor starts explaining reproductive system. Boys giggling like idiots. Girls staring at their notebooks like it's the most fascinating thing they've ever seen."
Devika's lips twitched. "That happens everywhere. Even in my time."
"You studied biology, aunty?"
"I did my degree in it."
His eyes widened—perfectly timed surprise. "Really? Wow. So you must know everything then. All those diagrams, scientific terms—"
"Not everything," she said modestly. "But yes, I studied it properly."
"Lucky you. We boys—we just memorized whatever was there without understanding anything." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Secretly, I think most boys don't even know basic anatomy properly. Just pretend we do."
"That's terrible!" But she was smiling. "How will you explain things to your wife someday?"
"Exactly!" He slapped his knee. "That's what I'm saying, aunty. Boys should learn properly. But it's so awkward to ask anyone—can't ask mother, can't ask female friends, professors just rush through the chapter..."
He trailed off, watching her process the conversation's direction. She caught it—he saw recognition flicker across her face—but she didn't pull back.
"Well," she said carefully, "nowadays you have internet. Everything is available online."
"Internet just confuses more, aunty. Too much random information. Needs proper guidance from someone who actually studied the subject." He paused. "Someone like you."
There it was. Laid out plainly.
Devika's fingers tightened around her cup. "Imran—"
"I don't mean anything wrong, aunty." Quick, earnest, hands raised. "Just that... if I have some basic biology doubts, maybe you could explain? Like a teacher? I know it's asking too much, but I don't have anyone else who actually knows this subject properly—"
"What kind of doubts?" Her voice had gone quiet.
"Just... basic things. Cell structure. How body systems work. That kind of stuff." He looked down at his hands. "I'm weak in science generally. Always struggled. But now for some bank exam preparations, they're asking basic science questions, and I'm completely blank."
She studied him. This boy who'd helped her with groceries, who'd bought her pads without hesitation, who'd brought fruit when she had cramps. Who sat in her flat at eight PM looking genuinely helpless and young.
"You're really preparing for bank exams?"
"Trying to, aunty. Father drives auto, mother works in garment shop—someone needs to get proper job in family, no?"
Something softened in her expression. The teacher instinct, the desire to help earnest students, rose up naturally.
"Okay." She set her cup down with finality. "I'll help you. Not today—it's late already. But maybe tomorrow evening? We can start with basics."
Pathan's face lit up—genuine surprise beneath the performance. He hadn't expected her to agree so readily. "Really, aunty? You'll teach me?"
"Only if you promise to study seriously. No wasting time."
"I promise!" He stood up quickly. "Thank you so much, aunty. You don't know how much this helps."
She walked him to the door. "Come around seven tomorrow. I'll prepare some notes, we'll go through basics first."
"Thank you, thank you—" He folded his hands. "You're like a blessing, aunty. Truly."
She smiled—the warm, maternal smile that had made him hard in his bed every night since the grocery incident. "It's just teaching. Nothing special."
He left. Took the stairs up two at a time, controlling the urge to punch the air in victory. Once inside 3A, he grabbed his phone and typed a message.
Done. She agreed. Tomorrow 7 PM.
The reply came within seconds.
Good boy. I'll come at 7:30. Don't start anything without me.
Pathan grinned at Kulkarni's message. Tossed his phone on the bed. Stripped off his clean shirt and collapsed onto the mattress, one hand already moving to his cock.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd sit in that flat with sweet Devika aunty, pretending to struggle with biology, while dirty old Kulkarni kaka showed up with his innocent spectacles and grandfatherly smile.
And together they'd begin peeling away every modest layer she wrapped around herself.
Downstairs, Devika locked her door and walked to the kitchen. Started washing the tea cups mechanically, her mind elsewhere.
She'd just agreed to teach biology to a twenty-two-year-old boy. Alone in her flat. While Arjun worked night shift.
It's just teaching, she told herself. He's a good boy. Respectful. Needs help.
But something whispered underneath—something that remembered how he'd looked at her when she'd kissed his cheek. The way his jaw had tightened. The heat that had flashed behind his eyes before he'd covered it with that sheepish grin.
She dried the cups. Set them in the rack. Stared at her reflection in the kitchen window.
Nothing will happen. It's just teaching.
From next door, through the shared wall, she heard Kulkarni's TV. Some old Marathi film. His presence so close, so constant, like a weight pressing against the boundary between their flats.
She touched her neck—the spot where his mouth had been just hours ago in the lift. The ghost sensation still lingered.
Her phone buzzed. Arjun's name lit the screen.
Working late. Don't wait up. Love you.
She read the message twice. Typed back a single word.
Okay.
No "love you too." No "come home safe." Just okay.
She set the phone down. Walked to the bedroom. Changed into her nightgown. Lay in the dark staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow at seven, Imran would knock on her door. And somewhere in the building, Kulkarni kaka would be watching. Waiting. Planning.
She closed her eyes.
And behind her eyelids, she saw an old man's hands lifting her saree. A young man's eyes watching. Her own body responding to touches she shouldn't want.
It's just teaching, she whispered to the darkness.
The darkness didn't answer.
Across the landing, Kulkarni sat in his chair with the lights off, curtains open just enough to see the glow from 2B's windows.
He'd watched Pathan arrive. Watched the door close. Seen the lights stay on for exactly twenty-three minutes before the boy emerged and climbed back upstairs.
Good. He didn't overstay. Didn't push too hard.
Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow Kulkarni would knock at seven-thirty—perfectly timed, perfectly innocent—and find Devika sitting with this young Pathan boy, discussing biology.
And then the real lesson would begin.
He smiled in the darkness. Reached down to adjust himself through his dhoti.
Tomorrow, my sweet Devika. Tomorrow we teach you what your body already knows.
The evening arrived with Pune's typical stifling heat. Devika had changed into a simple cotton saree—pale blue with a thin white border, pallu pinned carefully across her chest—and tied her hair in the usual jasmine-scented bun. The ceiling fan circulated warm air that clung to her skin beneath the blouse.
At seven PM sharp, the knock came.
She opened the door to find Pathan standing with two thick notebooks and a worn biology textbook pressed against his chest. He wore the same clean black shirt, hair combed neatly, face scrubbed fresh of gutka stains.
But the moment he saw her—really saw her in proper light, standing in that modest saree with her wet hair still damp from the evening bath, small drops of water clinging to her neck—he froze.
"Aunty—I—" His voice cracked slightly. He looked down at his books. "Good evening."
Devika's irritation from Kulkarni's constant presence melted slightly at his obvious nervousness. "Come in, Imran. No need to be so formal."
"Yes, aunty." He stepped inside, movements stiff and careful, like he might break something just by breathing wrong.
She gestured toward the dining table where she'd already laid out a notebook and pen. "Sit there. Show me what you're studying."
Pathan settled into the chair, placed his books on the table with exaggerated care. She pulled another chair beside him—not too close, maintaining proper distance—and reached for his textbook.
"Let me see the syllabus first."
He handed it over. Their fingers didn't touch but he flinched anyway, pulling back quickly. She noticed but pretended not to, flipping through pages marked with old highlighter and pencil notes.
"This is NCERT standard biology," she murmured, more to herself than him. "Cell structure, plant systems, human anatomy..." She glanced sideways at him. "How much have you covered?"
"Not much, aunty. Maybe first three chapters only."
She nodded, pulled the notebook closer, uncapped her pen. "Okay. Today we'll start with basic cell structure. Animal cell versus plant cell. After that we'll see how much time is left."
For the next twenty minutes, she taught. Drew neat diagrams with labeled parts—nucleus, mitochondria, cell membrane—explaining functions in simple Tamil-English like she was back in college giving presentations. Pathan listened, took notes, asked small questions that showed he was actually trying to understand.
"So the mitochondria is like the battery?" he asked at one point.
"Exactly. Powerhouse of the cell. Produces energy." She tapped the diagram with her pen. "Without it, cell would die. Like house without electricity."
He nodded, scribbling notes in surprisingly neat handwriting.
She relaxed into the rhythm of teaching. This she knew. This felt safe—pure knowledge transfer, nothing complicated or dangerous. Just teacher and student, biology and notebooks, exactly like she'd imagined.
Pathan read through her notes, lips moving silently. Then looked up. "Aunty, one doubt—"
"Yes?"
"Here you wrote about osmosis. Water moving from low concentration to high concentration. But how does cell know which direction to push water?"
She smiled. Good question. "It doesn't know. It's not conscious process. Just natural movement based on—"
A knock interrupted her. Sharp, familiar, three precise raps.
Devika's spine stiffened. She knew that knock.
Pathan looked toward the door, then at her. "Someone's there, aunty."
"I know." She stood slowly, smoothing her pallu. Walked to the door with reluctance radiating from every step.
Kulkarni stood in the corridor, hands folded, spectacles reflecting the tube light, that gentle grandfather smile plastered across his face.
"Devika beta—"
"What do you want?" No warmth in her voice. Just flat irritation.
His eyebrows rose slightly. "Such harsh tone? Did I do something wrong?"
"Kulkarni kaka, I'm busy right now—"
"Busy?" He craned his neck slightly, looking past her into the flat. "Oh! You have company. That young Pathan boy from upstairs, no?" His smile widened. "What's he doing here so late in the evening? Arjun isn't home, if I remember correctly..."
Heat rushed up Devika's neck. "It's not what you're thinking—"
"What am I thinking, beta?" All innocence. "Just observing that you're alone with a young man in your flat while your husband works night shift. Nothing wrong with that, surely? You're a modern educated girl."
"He came to study!" The words came out sharper than intended. "I'm teaching him biology. That's all."
"Biology?" Kulkarni's eyes gleamed behind his spectacles. "How wonderful. You're using your education to help others." He paused deliberately. "Though I must say, teaching biology to a twenty-two-year-old boy... very personal subject, no? All those body parts, reproductive systems..."
"Kulkarni kaka—" Her jaw tightened. "Don't think like that. It's completely innocent."
"Of course, of course. I'm sure it is." He adjusted his dhoti casually. "Actually, I came because my flat has no power since last hour. Fuse problem, I think. And this heat—" He fanned himself with one hand. "At my age, without fan, sitting in dark... very difficult, beta."
Devika stared at him. "So?"
"So I thought maybe I can sit here for some time? Just until power comes back? Your fan is working, I see. Nice and cool inside." He peered past her again. "I won't disturb your teaching. I'll just sit quietly in the corner."
Every instinct screamed to refuse. To close the door in his face. To maintain the boundary that was already crumbling between them.
But how could she? Deny an old man suffering in the heat? What reason could she give that wouldn't sound heartless?
"Please, beta." He put a hand over his heart. "I'm not feeling well in this heat. Just for little while."
She stepped aside. "Fine. But stay quiet. Don't disturb us."
"I promise." He walked in, moving past her close enough that his kurta brushed her arm. That familiar old-man smell—sandalwood soap and something else underneath, something earthy and male.
Pathan had turned in his chair, watching this exchange with confused curiosity. "Evening, uncle."
"Evening, beta." Kulkarni settled into the sofa near the TV, making himself comfortable. "Don't mind me. Continue your studies. Pretend I'm not even here."
Devika returned to the table, jaw set, shoulders tense. Kulkarni's presence filled the room like smoke—invisible but suffocating.
"Where were we?" She forced brightness into her voice.
"Osmosis, aunty." Pathan pointed at the diagram.
"Right. Osmosis." She picked up the pen, tried to focus on the explanation, but her awareness kept drifting toward the sofa where Kulkarni sat watching them with that infuriating gentle smile.
They continued. She taught him about cell division—mitosis, meiosis, the stages of replication. Pathan asked questions. She answered. All normal. All innocent.
Twenty minutes passed.
Then: "That's not quite accurate, beta."
Devika's pen froze mid-sentence. "Excuse me?"
Kulkarni stood from the sofa, walked closer to the table. "What you just explained about meiosis. The chromosome pairing. You simplified it too much."
"I simplified it because he's learning basics—"
"But basics should still be correct." He leaned over the table, looking at her diagram. "See, here you said chromosomes just pair up randomly. But they don't. They pair homologously. One from mother, one from father. Very specific process."
Devika's grip tightened on the pen. "I was getting to that—"
"I'm also biology graduate, you know." Kulkarni smiled at Pathan. "Did my degree back in 1978. Old knowledge, but still relevant. So if you need more detailed explanation—"
"I'm so lucky!" Pathan's face lit up with manufactured enthusiasm. "Two biology teachers! Now I'll understand everything properly."
Devika wanted to slam the notebook shut. To tell both of them to leave. But she couldn't. She was trapped in her own flat, in her own offer to teach, with this dirty old man inserting himself into every safe space she tried to create.
"Fine." She pushed the notebook toward Kulkarni. "You explain meiosis then."
He did. In detail. With diagrams. Pathan listened intently, asked good questions, and Kulkarni answered with the patience of an experienced professor. For a moment, Devika saw what he must have been forty years ago—intelligent, educated, respected.
But underneath, she felt his eyes sliding toward her whenever Pathan looked down at the notes. Felt the weight of his gaze on her waist, her neck, the curve of her breast beneath the blouse.
They moved through topics. Respiration. Circulation. Nervous system. The clock ticked past eight. Past eight-thirty.
Finally, they reached the chapter on human reproduction.
Devika's stomach tightened. "We should stop here for today. It's getting late—"
"No, no—" Pathan shook his head. "Just this chapter, aunty. This is the one I'm most confused about."
"Why are you confused?" She kept her tone brisk, clinical. "It's very straightforward. Male reproductive system, female reproductive system, process of fertilization. What's to confuse?"
"Everything, aunty." He looked up at her with those wide innocent eyes. "All those parts with big names. Where everything is located. How it actually works."
"You have the textbook. Just read it—"
"Reading doesn't help. I need someone to explain."
She pulled the textbook toward her, flipped to the chapter on human reproduction. Found the diagram of the female reproductive system—cross-sectional view, all organs labeled in sterile medical terminology.
"See this?" She pointed with her pen, keeping her voice flat and factual. "These are ovaries. They produce eggs. Once a month, one egg is released—that's ovulation. It travels through the fallopian tube here. If it meets a sperm, fertilization happens. If not, it exits through menstruation."
She spoke quickly. Clinically. Like reading from a textbook. No elaboration. No detail.
Pathan frowned at the diagram. "But aunty, I don't understand the positions. Like where exactly is the uterus compared to the stomach?"
"Here." She tapped the diagram. "Lower abdomen."
"How low?"
"Just... low." She tried to flip to the next page. "Anyway, that's the basic overview. Now for the next topic—"
"Wait, wait—" Pathan put his finger on the diagram, stopping her from turning the page. "What about these parts? Labia, clitoris, vagina? What are they?"
"External and internal organs." Her voice went even flatter. "Not relevant for your exam."
"But I'm curious, aunty. The textbook mentions them but doesn't explain properly."
"That's because—" She closed the book with finality. "That's very detailed anatomy. Not necessary for basic understanding."
"I think it's very necessary." Kulkarni's voice cut through the room.
Both of them turned. He'd moved closer again, standing behind Devika's chair, looking down at the closed textbook.
"Kulkarni kaka—" Warning in her voice.
"Beta, you can't teach reproduction by skipping the actual organs." He spoke reasonably, like explaining something to a child. "How will the boy understand the full process if you just gloss over anatomy?"
"He understands enough—"
"I don't, aunty." Pathan looked genuinely confused now. "Like, I know babies come from the uterus. But how does the sperm even reach there? Through which opening?"
"Through the vagina." She forced the words out. "It's all written in the textbook. Read carefully—"
"But where is the vagina exactly?"
"Between the legs—" Heat crept up her neck. "Look, Imran, this is very sensitive topic. Maybe you should ask male teacher—"
"Why male teacher?" Kulkarni interrupted again. "You're biology graduate. You know the subject perfectly. Just explain clearly, no need to be shy."
"I'm not shy—" She turned to glare at him. "I just don't think it's appropriate—"
"What's inappropriate about science?" His eyes held hers steadily. "You're teaching from textbook. Using medical terms. Nothing inappropriate in that."
"He's right, aunty." Pathan's voice came softly. "I'm not asking anything dirty. Just trying to understand biology properly."
Devika looked between them—old man and young man, both watching her with expectant faces. Both waiting. Both pushing.
She wanted to scream. To throw them both out. To lock her door and call Arjun and beg him to come home.
But what would she say? That she couldn't teach basic biology because it made her uncomfortable? That two men sitting in her flat asking medical questions felt like a trap?
She opened the textbook again. Stared at the diagram of female reproductive anatomy. All the parts labeled in neat black text.
"Fine." Her voice came out tight. "What exactly do you want to know?"
Pathan leaned closer. "Start from the beginning, aunty. Explain each part and what it does."
Devika took a breath. "Okay. The labia are the external folds of skin that protect the vaginal opening. The clitoris is a small sensitive organ located at the top, above the urethra—"
"Where exactly at the top?" Pathan interrupted. "Like near the stomach?"
"No—" She pointed at the diagram with trembling fingers. "Here. Between the legs. At the upper part of the vulva."
"Vulva is different from vagina?"
"Yes. Vulva is the external part. Vagina is the internal canal." She spoke rapidly, wanting this over. "The vagina is approximately three to four inches long, expands during arousal and childbirth, connects to the cervix which leads to the uterus—"
"During arousal?" Pathan tilted his head. "What does that mean?"
Devika's throat went dry. "It means... when a woman is... stimulated. Sexually. The vagina produces lubrication and expands to accommodate... penetration."
The word hung in the air.
Kulkarni made a small sound—approval or amusement, she couldn't tell.
"So the vagina changes size?" Pathan's face scrunched in concentration. "How much does it expand?"
"It varies." She kept her eyes fixed on the diagram. "Depends on the woman. On the situation. There's no fixed measurement."
"And the clitoris—you said it's sensitive? Why?"
"Because it has many nerve endings. It's the primary source of female sexual pleasure." The clinical explanation felt obscene in her mouth.
"More sensitive than other parts?"
"Yes."
"More than breasts?"
Her face burned. "Different type of sensitivity."
"But breasts are also sensitive during arousal, no?" Pathan looked genuinely curious. "The textbook says nipples become erect when stimulated—"
"That's enough for today." Devika slammed the book shut. "You've learned plenty. Come back tomorrow if you have more questions."
"But aunty—"
"I said enough." She stood abruptly, chair scbanging. "It's almost nine. You should go."
Pathan gathered his books slowly, reluctance evident. "Okay, aunty. Thank you for teaching. You explain very clearly."
Kulkarni still stood near the table, watching her with those knowing eyes. "Yes, beta. Very clear explanation. Though I think the boy needs more practical understanding, no? Just theory is not enough for such complex topic."
"What do you mean, 'practical understanding'?" Ice in her voice.
"I mean visual aids. Models. Diagrams he can touch and examine." Kulkarni smiled innocently. "In our college days, we had proper anatomy models. Helped students understand three-dimensional structure much better than flat textbook pictures."
"Well, we don't have models here." She crossed her arms. "So textbook will have to do."
"Actually—" Kulkarni adjusted his spectacles. "The best model is the real thing. Nothing teaches anatomy better than actual human body."
Silence crashed down.
Devika stared at him, heart hammering. "What are you suggesting?"
"Nothing inappropriate, beta." His voice stayed calm, rational. "Just that if you really want to teach him properly, you could demonstrate using your own body. Show him where organs are located. Let him understand positioning and proportion. All very scientific and educational."
"You've gone mad." She barely whispered it. "You're completely insane—"
"I'm being practical. How else will he learn? You said yourself the textbook isn't clear enough—"
"Get out." She pointed at the door. "Both of you. Now."
"Aunty, I didn't mean to upset you—" Pathan started.
"OUT!"
They left. Kulkarni with slow reluctance, Pathan with hurried confusion. The door closed behind them.
Devika locked it. Leaned against the wood. Her whole body shook.
Demonstrate using your own body.
The words circled in her head like vultures.
She walked to the bathroom. Splashed cold water on her face. Stared at her reflection—flushed cheeks, wild eyes, pallu askew from where she'd stood up too fast.
Her phone buzzed. Arjun.
How was your day?
She typed back with trembling fingers.
Fine. Just tired. Going to sleep early.
She didn't wait for his response. Just turned off the phone and crawled into bed in her saree, not bothering to change.
Outside, through the shared wall, she heard Kulkarni moving in his flat. The creak of his door. The soft shuffle of his footsteps.
And above, faint footsteps pacing. Pathan. Unable to sleep either.
Both of them thinking. Planning. Waiting.
Tomorrow they would come back. She knew it. And next time, they wouldn't stop at questions.
She pulled the blanket over her head and tried to pretend she was anywhere else.
But her body remembered. The heat in her face when explaining arousal. The strange tight feeling between her legs when Pathan asked about sensitivity. The shameful curiosity about what "practical demonstration" would actually mean.
This is wrong, she told herself desperately. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
But somewhere underneath, a whisper asked: Then why does it feel so inevitable?
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