Incest Little sis Anjali and her friends

[prasannas2001]

 
The evening of the dinner, Rohan was a bundle of nervous energy.
 
He and Anjali spent nearly an hour strategizing in his room.
 
"So, what's your angle?" Anjali asked, applying a fresh coat of lip gloss while studying him critically.
 
"Charming and innocent? Or sophisticated and intellectual?"
 
"Both," Rohan replied, pacing across the room.
 
"I can't come across as just Neetu's friend. I need her to see me as someone mature, someone with ambition, confidence, and a future.”
 
“I'll ask about her interests, her hobbies... maybe even what her life was like before she became a mother. I want her to see me as a man... someone she could actually have a conversation with."
 
Anjali looked at him for a moment before shaking her head, unable to suppress a grin.
 
"You're such a scheming little bastard," she laughed.
 
"Unfortunately, you're my brother, so I guess I have to support your ridiculous plans. Just try not to stare at her like an idiot."
 
"I won't."
 
"You definitely will."
 
He sighed dramatically.
 
"Have a little faith."
 
"I have faith," Anjali replied.
 
"It's your self-control I'm worried about."
 
By the time they reached Neetu's house, Rohan had rehearsed half a dozen conversation starters in his mind.
 
He reminded himself to stay relaxed, make eye contact, smile naturally, and above all, not appear as though he had spent the entire week planning this evening.
 
The dinner that followed became a masterclass in performance.
 
Rohan was polite without being overly eager, attentive without appearing intrusive, and confident without seeming arrogant.
 
He listened carefully whenever Mamta spoke, asked thoughtful questions, and effortlessly balanced conversations with both Neetu's parents.
 
To everyone at the table, he appeared to be nothing more than a remarkably mature and well-mannered young man.
 
But beneath that composed exterior, Rohan was fighting to hide how deeply he was affected by Mamta’s presence.
 
To him, she seemed almost unreal, the kind of person who quietly matched an image of the goddess of love.