Misc. Erotica The unexpected path

[shaalu_re]

Navya and Ajay left for the shop together a little after 8 AM. The flat fell into a peaceful silence. Meera had been told the new driver would pick her up at 10 AM, so she had some rare free time.
She took a long, relaxing bath, letting the hot water wash away the tension from the previous night. When she stepped out, she didn’t bother with a bra. She slipped on one of Ajay’s loose white t-shirts — it fell just below her ass — and a pair of simple panties. Her full breasts moved freely under the thin fabric, her dark nipples faintly visible. She felt comfortable and relaxed in her own home.
She went to the kitchen to have breakfast, still in just the t-shirt and panties. She was midway through eating when the calling bell rang.

Meera quickly grabbed a night pant from the chair and pulled it on, tying the string hurriedly. She opened the door.
It was the new driver — the same young man who had dropped her home the previous night. He was early.
“You’re early,” Meera said, slightly surprised.
He smiled politely. “Yes, madam. Sir asked me to be on time.”
She stepped aside. “ You are very early it's just 9:30. I’m still having breakfast. Have you eaten?”
“My name is Shyam, madam,” he replied. “And yes, I’ve had something. Can I wait inside?”
Meera thought it was a bit unusual — Sunny never used to come inside — but she nodded.

“Okay. Sit down.”
She went back to the kitchen to finish washing the plates. Shyam stood near the living room, curiously looking around the house, his eyes scanning the furniture and doors.
While washing, a few water droplets from the tap sprinkled onto her white t-shirt, making the thin fabric damp over her chest. Her right nipple became clearly visible through the wet patch, the dark circle pressing against the material.
She finished quickly, wiped her hands, and walked out of the kitchen.
Shyam was standing right outside the kitchen entrance, his eyes dropping immediately to her chest. The damp spot on her t-shirt made her hard nipple prominently visible. He stared for a second before quickly looking away, but the glance was unmistakable.

Shyam stood just outside the kitchen, his eyes flicking around the flat to make sure they were alone. Then he looked directly at Meera and asked in a low voice:
“Are you a slut?”
Meera felt like she had been slapped. The word hit her hard, humiliating and crude. Her cheeks burned with anger and embarrassment. She remembered how she had come home yesterday in that revealing slate-grey dress in his car, how Shyam had been the one to hand her the trench coat outside. And now, standing here in front of him wearing only a thin white t-shirt with no bra — her nipples faintly visible through the fabric — she felt even more exposed.
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, covering her breasts, and glared at him.
“How dare you—” she started, voice sharp with fury.
Shyam quickly raised his hand to stop her.
“Madam, wait. I am Shyam — from the Departmental Informant & Counter-intelligence Keeper.”

Meera’s anger faltered as the realization hit her. He was the undercover officer from the allied agency Raghav had mentioned.
But still… calling her a slut?
Maintaining her angry tone, she insisted, "I help the agency in my own capacity too! I'm a specialist in undercover logistics... wait, no, I'm a logistics specialist—no, hold on." She fumbled around for the paper where she had written her title down. Finding it, she opened her mouth to resume, but Shyam cut in smoothly.