02-10-2026, 06:10 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-10-2026, 12:04 AM by sharath841. Edited 3 times in total. Edited 3 times in total.)
The next afternoon, Padma went shopping alone.
She walked into a modern clothing store and slowly looked through the racks. For once she didn’t go straight to the sarees. She picked up a pair of jeans, then a light-colored shirt, then a pair of tailored trousers and a stylish top. She held each one up, checked the cut, and finally carried a sharp pencil-fit pair of pants and a tight T-shirt toward the trial room.
The curtain closed behind her.
She slipped out of her salwar kameez and hung it on the hook. Bra and panty only now. The trial-room light was bright and a little cold. She looked at herself once in the mirror—fair skin, the soft curve of her waist, the round weight of her bum—then bent, stepped one shapely leg into the pants, then the other.
They didn’t want to go up easy.
She forced them, slow, tugging, the fabric catching on her thighs. She bent further, ass pushed back, and pulled. The waistband climbed over her hips and caught on the swell of her bum. She had to work it, both hands, lifting and yanking until the pencil fit snapped into place over her ass and she could hook the front. It hugged her hard. The seam sat right in the crack. Her panty line showed faintly under the stretch.
She straightened, breathing a little harder from the fight with the cloth, and pulled the tight T-shirt over her head. It clung. The bra showed through. Her breasts sat high and full under the thin cotton, nipples already a little pointed from the cool air and the way the shirt dragged across them.
She turned in front of the mirror.
Side. Back. Side again.
The pants made her ass look bigger and rounder than the saree ever did. The T-shirt ended just above the waistband. She ran both hands down her sides, over her hips, then back over her bum, squeezing once like she was checking the fit. A small, private smile. She looked like someone else’s wife for a second—the one who wore jeans and walked like she knew men were watching.
She took her phone out.
A few pictures. Front, the shirt stretched across her chest. Side, the line of her waist into the tight pants. Then she turned, looked over her shoulder, and clicked the back—her big bum filling the fit, the seam disappearing between the cheeks. One more, closer, hand on her own ass, pulling the fabric a little tighter so the shape was shameless.
She checked the screen. The photos were clear. Too clear.
For a moment she just stood there, thumb hovering, heat low in her belly. Then she opened Mohan’s chat.
She didn’t type much.
Just the pictures. One after another.
![[Image: D7-C88-A6-F-5-DE5-474-E-8319-49-ED99-F71-EE5.png]](https://i.ibb.co/bggBz0Wx/D7-C88-A6-F-5-DE5-474-E-8319-49-ED99-F71-EE5.png)
![[Image: 0-E56-A6-A5-71-E6-43-E7-8-D99-E17-E98787-EA9.png]](https://i.ibb.co/KpyPddn4/0-E56-A6-A5-71-E6-43-E7-8-D99-E17-E98787-EA9.png)
And under the last one, the one of her ass in the pants:
Padma: Fitting room. These pants are trouble. Come see? Or should I buy them and let you peel them off at home?
She locked the phone, looked at herself once more in the mirror, and slowly ran a finger along the front seam where the fabric pressed between her legs.
She didn’t stop at the T-shirt.
Padma peeled it off again, the cotton dragging over her breasts, and reached for the next top. A thin, light-colored button shirt. She left the bra on at first, slipped her arms in, and did the buttons slowly in the mirror. The fabric was almost sheer under the trial-room light. The bra showed through completely—cups, straps, the dark line of her nipples when she shifted.
She opened the top two buttons. Then one more. Cleavage. The shirt hung open just enough that if she leaned forward the bra would spill into view. She took a picture like that, chin down, looking at the phone through her lashes, one hand holding the shirt apart.
Then she unhooked the bra.
It came off. She hung it with the salwar. Bare now under the open shirt, she did the buttons again—only the middle ones—so the shirt framed her breasts instead of covering them. The sides of them showed. The inner curves. She turned sideways, sucked her stomach in a little, and clicked. The photo caught the hang of one breast and the tight line of the pencil pants over her ass.
She sent both.
No caption on the first. On the second:
Padma: Shirt with nothing under. Too much?
She tried the stylish top next. Sleeveless, fitted, a deep neck. It fought her the same way the pants had. She had to work it down over her chest, tug it at the waist, smooth it over her hips. No bra this time. The neckline sat low. Every time she breathed, the edge of her breasts moved. She faced the mirror, pulled the neck a little lower with two fingers, and took the picture. Then one from above, so Mohan would see straight down the top.
That one she sent with:
Padma: This one too. Tell me which you want me to wear home.
She stood there a moment longer, phone in one hand, the other resting on the button of the pants. The fitting-room curtain didn’t quite reach the floor. Outside, other women were talking, hangers clicking. She could hear them. Her own face in the mirror was flushed. The pants were still biting into her bum. Between her legs the cotton panty was warm and a little damp from all the bending and posing.
Another photo. Just the waist down. Her hand on the fly. Thumb under the waistband.
Padma: Still in the trial room. Pants are not coming off easy. You watching?
She hit send, locked the screen against her chest, and waited to see if he would answer before she changed back.
Mohan stayed at his desk.
The photos kept coming, and he didn’t leave. He just turned his chair a little toward the wall, phone low in his lap, and answered between mails he was no longer reading.
Padma: Tried the white shirt again. Bra off. Too open?
The picture was the trial-room mirror, shirt hanging loose, only two buttons done, both breasts bare at the sides. He felt his cock push against his zipper and typed with his thumb under the desk.
Mohan: Buy it. Don’t button it in the car.
She sent the sleeveless top next, then a softer one with a tie at the waist. In one she had turned, the pencil pants still on, looking back over her shoulder so he could see how the new top ended just above the swell of her ass.
Padma: This or the tight T-shirt? I’m keeping the pants. They won’t come off without a fight.
Mohan: Keep the pants. Wear the tie one home. I want to pull that string and watch it fall.
Mohan: Bend once more before you change. Hand on your ass. Same angle.
A minute passed. The office was loud around him—phones, a printer, someone laughing two desks over. His screen lit up. She had done it. Bent, one palm spread on her own bum, the seam of the pencil pants sunk between her cheeks, the new top ridden up. He had to shift in the chair and press his forearm over his lap.
Mohan: Fuck. That’s the one.
Mohan: Buy the pants, the open shirt, and that top. Leave the rest.
Padma: Salesgirl asked if I need help. I said no.
He stared at that line longer than the photos.
Mohan: Good. Don’t fix it. Walk around the shop like that and then go to the counter. I want you paying while you’re still on them.
Mohan: Send me the bill photo when you’re done. Then go home. I’ll finish here and peel them off you myself.
He locked the phone, sat back, and tried to look like a man answering mails. Under the desk he was still hard, and he didn’t touch it. He wanted it waiting for her
That evening, Padma showed Mohan the clothes she had bought. He was visibly pleased to see her trying something outside her usual style.
Later, when they were alone, the mood between them became warm and affectionate. They hugged for a long time, kissed, and stayed close to each other. Padma felt relaxed and completely reassured by Mohan’s affection. Their private time brought them even closer, and afterward they lay together talking quietly.
Now Padma is fully satisfied..
The next day, Padma returned to the same shopping complex.
This time she walked into the women’s section with much more confidence.
She wasn’t looking for one particular outfit.
She wanted to experiment.
A salesgirl approached her.
?? Salesgirl: “Madam, looking for anything particular?”
? Padma: “Actually, I’m trying different styles. You can suggest some things.”
The salesgirl smiled and began selecting outfits for her.
The next day, Padma returned to the same shopping complex.
This time she walked into the women’s section with much more confidence.
She wasn’t looking for one particular outfit.
She wanted to experiment.
A salesgirl approached her.
?? Salesgirl: “Madam, looking for anything particular?”
? Padma: “Actually, I’m trying different styles. You can suggest some things.”
The salesgirl smiled and began selecting outfits for her.
First came another jeans-and-top combination.
Then a smart casual shirt.
Then a modest skirt paired with a tucked-in top.
Then a simple contemporary dress.
Padma carried them toward the trial room.
One by one, she tried them.
After each outfit, she stepped in front of the mirror, checking how naturally it suited her.
The salesgirl gave practical suggestions about the fit and combinations.
?? Salesgirl: “This one looks very elegant on you.”
? Padma: “Really?”
?? Salesgirl: “Yes. And this skirt would look better with the other top.”
Padma looked at herself again.
She smiled.
Mohan had been right.
She didn’t have to completely change her personality or become someone else.
There were simply more choices than she had ever allowed herself to consider.
She took a few mirror pictures to show Mohan later.
And somewhere in the middle of trying the different outfits, Padma realized she was actually enjoying herself.
While Padma was inside the trial room, Rajan quietly entered the store.
He noticed Padma’s shopping bag near the trial-room area and immediately recognized her.
He approached the salesgirl who had been helping her.
? Rajan: “Excuse me. That lady in the trial room—Padma. She’s my wife.”
The salesgirl looked surprised.
?? Salesgirl: “Oh, okay, sir.”
Rajan smiled.
? Rajan: “She’s trying some new outfits. I want to surprise her. Please don’t tell her I’m here.”
?? Salesgirl: “Of course, sir.”
Rajan moved away and stayed where Padma couldn’t see him.
The salesgirl quietly brought a few more outfits toward the trial room.
?? Salesgirl: “Madam, I found a few more styles you might like. Why don’t you try these too?”
Padma smiled.
? Padma: “Okay. I’ll try them.”
She disappeared behind the curtain again.
Rajan watched from a distance, careful not to let her notice him.
One by one, Padma tried the new outfits and came out to look at herself in the large mirror. The salesgirl helped her decide which styles worked best.
Eventually, the salesgirl suggested taking photographs so Padma could compare them later.
Rajan quietly handed over his phone.
? Rajan: “Could you take a few pictures with this? She can look through them afterward.”
The salesgirl nodded.
Padma still had no idea that Rajan was somewhere in the store.
Inside the trial room Padma peeled off the kurta and stood in her bra and panties under the hard light. The first dress was knee-length, simple neck, but the fabric sat closer than anything she wore at home. It caught under her breasts and skimmed her hips. When she turned, more leg showed than a salwar ever had, and the curve of her ass shifted the skirt. She took a mirror picture — front, then a side where the dress pulled — and sent it to Mohan.
? Padma: “Should I actually try something like this?”
? Mohan: “Yes. Come out and see it properly. Try a few more. Choose what you like.”
She smiled at the screen, then changed into a short skirt and a fitted top. The top clung to her breasts. The skirt ended high on the thigh; when she checked the side view, the hem lifted over the round of her ass. She sent that one too.
? Mohan: “Looks good. Don’t decide in there. Go out. Ask the salesgirl. Try different ones.”
? Padma: “Okay. I’ll try.”
She stepped out. The salesgirl had her stand at the big mirror.
?? Salesgirl: “Turn, madam. Slowly. I need to see the fit.”
![[Image: DF777346-56-D2-44-B3-B4-AC-733-EAF3-DD1-D1.png]](https://i.ibb.co/mC4d6X79/DF777346-56-D2-44-B3-B4-AC-733-EAF3-DD1-D1.png)
Padma turned. The skirt tightened across her hips. She smiled at herself, shy, pleased, one hand smoothing the top where it strained.
She did not know Rajan was a little way off, half behind a rack, exactly where he had said he would stay out of sight. He had promised Mohan he was only in the store for something else. He was not looking at the clothes. He was looking at Padma — the woman who had only ever worn cotton and sarees in front of him — now in a short skirt, breasts lifted by the top, ass moving when she turned, face soft with the pleasure of her own reflection.
The salesgirl took a few pictures on Rajan’s phone, angling low enough to catch thigh and hip, then the open line of the top.
“For you to compare later, madam.”
Padma nodded. She thought they were for her and Mohan.
Rajan said nothing. He watched her go back in, curtain swaying, and waited. When she came out in the next dress — thinner, closer, neck lower — she looked at the mirror and smiled without hesitating. The dress held her breasts and broke over her ass when she walked. She turned once because the salesgirl asked, and the smile stayed.
Rajan understood it then, and it made his mouth dry. She was not dressing for him. She liked this. She liked the fit, the leg, the way the mirror gave her body back.
Padma finally decided which outfits she wanted and walked toward the billing counter.
She was still smiling to herself when Rajan appeared beside her.
Rajan : Hey Padma …
Padma turned, surprised.
? Padma: “Rajan? You were here?”
? Rajan: “For a little while.”
And Rajan leaves to the door…
After that sales girl came to billing area where Padma’s shopping bill was ready and she was paying..
Padma: “Actually, could you send me those photographs you took?
The salesgirl looked confused.
?? Salesgirl: “Madam… you didn’t know?”
? Padma: “Know what?”
The salesgirl smiled, completely unaware of the confusion she had just created.
?? Salesgirl: “He wanted to surprise you! He gave me his phone and asked me to take the pictures. He also selected all these outfits for you.”
Padma’s cheeks immediately turned red.
? Padma: “Mohan…?”
The salesgirl pointed across the store.
?? Salesgirl: “There he is, madam.”
Padma turned.
Her expression changed instantly.
It wasn’t Mohan.
It was Rajan.
She stared at him, completely stunned.
? Padma: “What… again?”
Then she looked back at the salesgirl.
Rajan slowly approached.
Padma’s embarrassment turned into irritation.
Salesgirl: “Madam, your husband is very naughty. You are so lucky—he clearly wanted to make you happy.”
Padma glanced at Rajan, speechless.
The salesgirl continued innocently:
?? Salesgirl: “And look at him—so tall and strong. I’m sure he doesn’t let you go anywhere alone!”
Padma’s face became even more uncomfortable.
She lowered her voice.
? Padma: “Rajan… what exactly did you tell her?”
Rajan looked at her calmly.
? Rajan: “I wanted to surprise you.”
Padma stared at him.
The surprise had definitely worked.
Padma walked away from the store without looking back.
She could hear Rajan’s footsteps behind her.
She finally stopped near the bus stop and turned around.
? Padma: “Why are you following me?”
Rajan stopped a few feet away.
His expression had changed. The confidence was gone.
? Rajan: “I’m sorry.”
Padma said nothing.
? Rajan: “I shouldn’t have told that woman I was your husband. I shouldn’t have arranged those photographs without telling you.”
Padma remained silent.
? Rajan: “But there’s something I can’t keep pretending isn’t true.”
She looked at him reluctantly.
? Rajan: “I love you, Padma.”
She looked away.
? Rajan: “I know I’ve said it before. And I’ll probably say it again. I love you.”
He almost laughed at himself.
? Rajan: “I’ve probably said those words a hundred times in my head.”
Padma didn’t respond.
? Rajan: “I respect that you’re married. I know you have your life. I’m not asking you to abandon it.”
A bus appeared in the distance.
? Rajan: “But I can’t simply switch these feelings off.”
Padma’s expression hardened.
? Padma: “Rajan, enough.”
The bus pulled up.
Padma stepped aboard.
Rajan followed.
She immediately looked at him.
? Padma: “Why did you get on?”
? Rajan: “I just want to talk.”
They stood among the other passengers.
Rajan kept his voice low.
? Rajan: “I’ve spent years trying to forget you. It never worked.”
Padma stared through the window.
? Rajan: “I remember you from college. I remember the way you looked at me when you rejected me. I remember every conversation we’ve had since.”
Padma’s jaw tightened.
She could feel people nearby.
What must they think?
She wished he would stop.
Yet somewhere beneath the irritation was another feeling she didn’t want to examine.
Rajan continued.
? Rajan: “I’m obsessed with you. With your presence. With the way you carry yourself. Even when I try to concentrate on something else, somehow you come back into my mind.”
Padma finally turned toward him.
? Padma: “You need to stop following me.”
Rajan fell silent.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
The bus finally stopped near Padma’s neighborhood.
She stepped down quickly, hoping Rajan would finally take the hint.
He got off too.
Padma sighed.
She started walking toward her apartment.
Behind her, Rajan followed at a distance.
She stopped.
He stopped.
She started again.
He started again.
Padma turned around.
? Padma: “Rajan, seriously?”
? Rajan: “I’m sorry.”
? Padma: “You’ve already said that.”
? Rajan: “Then I’ll say it again.”
Padma shook her head and continued walking.
Rajan followed like a hopeless Romeo, completely refusing to accept that the conversation was over.
? Rajan: “Padma!”
Padma: “Rajan, why are you still following me?”
He stopped for a moment, then spoke quietly.
? Rajan: “Because I haven’t finished saying what I came to say.”
Padma sighed.
? Rajan: “In my whole life, I want you at least once, Padma.”
She immediately turned around.
? Padma: “Rajan…”
? Rajan: “Not because I want to disrespect you. I really love you. And I respect you.”
Padma stared at him, irritated by the persistence.
? Rajan: “I know you may never give me what I want. I know you’re married. But I’ve carried this feeling for years, and I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist.”
Padma said nothing.
Rajan continued, his voice quieter now.
? Rajan: “You don’t have to answer me. You don’t even have to believe me. I just wanted you to know.”
Padma looked away and continued walking.
Padma kept walking without looking back.
After a while, she reached the entrance of her apartment building. She stopped near the lift and finally turned toward Rajan.
? Padma: “Please don’t follow me any further. We’re near my apartment now. Just go.”
Rajan stood silently for a moment.
? Rajan: “Okay.”
He reluctantly turned away.
Padma entered the lift.
The doors closed.
She breathed out, relieved.
But when the lift stopped at the first floor and the doors opened, Padma froze.
Rajan was standing outside.
? Padma: “Rajan?!”
Before she could react, he stepped inside.
Padma immediately moved toward the exit.
? Padma: “No. Get out.”
Rajan raised both hands pleadingly.
? Rajan: “Please, Padma. Just listen to me.”
? Padma: “You’ve already said enough.”
? Rajan: “I love you.”
Padma stared at him.
? Rajan: “I will love you in a way you can’t imagine. I want you, Padma. I’ve wanted you for years.”
She shook her head.
? Padma: “You certainly look like a psycho right now.”
Rajan’s expression fell.
? Rajan: “Maybe I am obsessed. I can’t sleep properly sometimes. I keep thinking about you.”
Padma remained near the doors.
? Rajan: “I want to be near you. I want to feel your presence. I want to know you completely
want to love your whole body, every inch of it — from your hair down to the tips of your toes — slowly, with my mouth, until there is nowhere on you I have not tasted.
Padma looked at him sharply.
? Padma: “Rajan, wanting someone doesn’t give you the right to follow them.”
He lowered his eyes.
? Rajan: “I know.”
The lift continued upward in silence.
Padma pressed the button for her floor.
? Padma: “Then prove it. Respect what I’m telling you.”
Rajan: “I’ll give you two days. Just think about it, Padma. You don’t have to answer me now.”
? Padma: “Two days? What exactly do you expect me to think about?”
? Rajan: “About everything I said. About what I feel. About what you feel.”
Padma stared at him in disbelief.
? Padma: “You really are impossible.”
? Rajan: “Two days. That’s all I’m asking.”
? Padma: “Get lost, Rajan.”
The lift doors opened.
Padma stepped out immediately without looking back.
Rajan remained inside, watching the doors slowly close.
She walked into a modern clothing store and slowly looked through the racks. For once she didn’t go straight to the sarees. She picked up a pair of jeans, then a light-colored shirt, then a pair of tailored trousers and a stylish top. She held each one up, checked the cut, and finally carried a sharp pencil-fit pair of pants and a tight T-shirt toward the trial room.
The curtain closed behind her.
She slipped out of her salwar kameez and hung it on the hook. Bra and panty only now. The trial-room light was bright and a little cold. She looked at herself once in the mirror—fair skin, the soft curve of her waist, the round weight of her bum—then bent, stepped one shapely leg into the pants, then the other.
They didn’t want to go up easy.
She forced them, slow, tugging, the fabric catching on her thighs. She bent further, ass pushed back, and pulled. The waistband climbed over her hips and caught on the swell of her bum. She had to work it, both hands, lifting and yanking until the pencil fit snapped into place over her ass and she could hook the front. It hugged her hard. The seam sat right in the crack. Her panty line showed faintly under the stretch.
She straightened, breathing a little harder from the fight with the cloth, and pulled the tight T-shirt over her head. It clung. The bra showed through. Her breasts sat high and full under the thin cotton, nipples already a little pointed from the cool air and the way the shirt dragged across them.
She turned in front of the mirror.
Side. Back. Side again.
The pants made her ass look bigger and rounder than the saree ever did. The T-shirt ended just above the waistband. She ran both hands down her sides, over her hips, then back over her bum, squeezing once like she was checking the fit. A small, private smile. She looked like someone else’s wife for a second—the one who wore jeans and walked like she knew men were watching.
She took her phone out.
A few pictures. Front, the shirt stretched across her chest. Side, the line of her waist into the tight pants. Then she turned, looked over her shoulder, and clicked the back—her big bum filling the fit, the seam disappearing between the cheeks. One more, closer, hand on her own ass, pulling the fabric a little tighter so the shape was shameless.
She checked the screen. The photos were clear. Too clear.
For a moment she just stood there, thumb hovering, heat low in her belly. Then she opened Mohan’s chat.
She didn’t type much.
Just the pictures. One after another.
And under the last one, the one of her ass in the pants:
Padma: Fitting room. These pants are trouble. Come see? Or should I buy them and let you peel them off at home?
She locked the phone, looked at herself once more in the mirror, and slowly ran a finger along the front seam where the fabric pressed between her legs.
She didn’t stop at the T-shirt.
Padma peeled it off again, the cotton dragging over her breasts, and reached for the next top. A thin, light-colored button shirt. She left the bra on at first, slipped her arms in, and did the buttons slowly in the mirror. The fabric was almost sheer under the trial-room light. The bra showed through completely—cups, straps, the dark line of her nipples when she shifted.
She opened the top two buttons. Then one more. Cleavage. The shirt hung open just enough that if she leaned forward the bra would spill into view. She took a picture like that, chin down, looking at the phone through her lashes, one hand holding the shirt apart.
Then she unhooked the bra.
It came off. She hung it with the salwar. Bare now under the open shirt, she did the buttons again—only the middle ones—so the shirt framed her breasts instead of covering them. The sides of them showed. The inner curves. She turned sideways, sucked her stomach in a little, and clicked. The photo caught the hang of one breast and the tight line of the pencil pants over her ass.
She sent both.
No caption on the first. On the second:
Padma: Shirt with nothing under. Too much?
She tried the stylish top next. Sleeveless, fitted, a deep neck. It fought her the same way the pants had. She had to work it down over her chest, tug it at the waist, smooth it over her hips. No bra this time. The neckline sat low. Every time she breathed, the edge of her breasts moved. She faced the mirror, pulled the neck a little lower with two fingers, and took the picture. Then one from above, so Mohan would see straight down the top.
That one she sent with:
Padma: This one too. Tell me which you want me to wear home.
She stood there a moment longer, phone in one hand, the other resting on the button of the pants. The fitting-room curtain didn’t quite reach the floor. Outside, other women were talking, hangers clicking. She could hear them. Her own face in the mirror was flushed. The pants were still biting into her bum. Between her legs the cotton panty was warm and a little damp from all the bending and posing.
Another photo. Just the waist down. Her hand on the fly. Thumb under the waistband.
Padma: Still in the trial room. Pants are not coming off easy. You watching?
She hit send, locked the screen against her chest, and waited to see if he would answer before she changed back.
Mohan stayed at his desk.
The photos kept coming, and he didn’t leave. He just turned his chair a little toward the wall, phone low in his lap, and answered between mails he was no longer reading.
Padma: Tried the white shirt again. Bra off. Too open?
The picture was the trial-room mirror, shirt hanging loose, only two buttons done, both breasts bare at the sides. He felt his cock push against his zipper and typed with his thumb under the desk.
Mohan: Buy it. Don’t button it in the car.
She sent the sleeveless top next, then a softer one with a tie at the waist. In one she had turned, the pencil pants still on, looking back over her shoulder so he could see how the new top ended just above the swell of her ass.
Padma: This or the tight T-shirt? I’m keeping the pants. They won’t come off without a fight.
Mohan: Keep the pants. Wear the tie one home. I want to pull that string and watch it fall.
Mohan: Bend once more before you change. Hand on your ass. Same angle.
A minute passed. The office was loud around him—phones, a printer, someone laughing two desks over. His screen lit up. She had done it. Bent, one palm spread on her own bum, the seam of the pencil pants sunk between her cheeks, the new top ridden up. He had to shift in the chair and press his forearm over his lap.
Mohan: Fuck. That’s the one.
Mohan: Buy the pants, the open shirt, and that top. Leave the rest.
Padma: Salesgirl asked if I need help. I said no.
He stared at that line longer than the photos.
Mohan: Good. Don’t fix it. Walk around the shop like that and then go to the counter. I want you paying while you’re still on them.
Mohan: Send me the bill photo when you’re done. Then go home. I’ll finish here and peel them off you myself.
He locked the phone, sat back, and tried to look like a man answering mails. Under the desk he was still hard, and he didn’t touch it. He wanted it waiting for her
That evening, Padma showed Mohan the clothes she had bought. He was visibly pleased to see her trying something outside her usual style.
Later, when they were alone, the mood between them became warm and affectionate. They hugged for a long time, kissed, and stayed close to each other. Padma felt relaxed and completely reassured by Mohan’s affection. Their private time brought them even closer, and afterward they lay together talking quietly.
Now Padma is fully satisfied..
The next day, Padma returned to the same shopping complex.
This time she walked into the women’s section with much more confidence.
She wasn’t looking for one particular outfit.
She wanted to experiment.
A salesgirl approached her.
?? Salesgirl: “Madam, looking for anything particular?”
? Padma: “Actually, I’m trying different styles. You can suggest some things.”
The salesgirl smiled and began selecting outfits for her.
The next day, Padma returned to the same shopping complex.
This time she walked into the women’s section with much more confidence.
She wasn’t looking for one particular outfit.
She wanted to experiment.
A salesgirl approached her.
?? Salesgirl: “Madam, looking for anything particular?”
? Padma: “Actually, I’m trying different styles. You can suggest some things.”
The salesgirl smiled and began selecting outfits for her.
First came another jeans-and-top combination.
Then a smart casual shirt.
Then a modest skirt paired with a tucked-in top.
Then a simple contemporary dress.
Padma carried them toward the trial room.
One by one, she tried them.
After each outfit, she stepped in front of the mirror, checking how naturally it suited her.
The salesgirl gave practical suggestions about the fit and combinations.
?? Salesgirl: “This one looks very elegant on you.”
? Padma: “Really?”
?? Salesgirl: “Yes. And this skirt would look better with the other top.”
Padma looked at herself again.
She smiled.
Mohan had been right.
She didn’t have to completely change her personality or become someone else.
There were simply more choices than she had ever allowed herself to consider.
She took a few mirror pictures to show Mohan later.
And somewhere in the middle of trying the different outfits, Padma realized she was actually enjoying herself.
While Padma was inside the trial room, Rajan quietly entered the store.
He noticed Padma’s shopping bag near the trial-room area and immediately recognized her.
He approached the salesgirl who had been helping her.
? Rajan: “Excuse me. That lady in the trial room—Padma. She’s my wife.”
The salesgirl looked surprised.
?? Salesgirl: “Oh, okay, sir.”
Rajan smiled.
? Rajan: “She’s trying some new outfits. I want to surprise her. Please don’t tell her I’m here.”
?? Salesgirl: “Of course, sir.”
Rajan moved away and stayed where Padma couldn’t see him.
The salesgirl quietly brought a few more outfits toward the trial room.
?? Salesgirl: “Madam, I found a few more styles you might like. Why don’t you try these too?”
Padma smiled.
? Padma: “Okay. I’ll try them.”
She disappeared behind the curtain again.
Rajan watched from a distance, careful not to let her notice him.
One by one, Padma tried the new outfits and came out to look at herself in the large mirror. The salesgirl helped her decide which styles worked best.
Eventually, the salesgirl suggested taking photographs so Padma could compare them later.
Rajan quietly handed over his phone.
? Rajan: “Could you take a few pictures with this? She can look through them afterward.”
The salesgirl nodded.
Padma still had no idea that Rajan was somewhere in the store.
Inside the trial room Padma peeled off the kurta and stood in her bra and panties under the hard light. The first dress was knee-length, simple neck, but the fabric sat closer than anything she wore at home. It caught under her breasts and skimmed her hips. When she turned, more leg showed than a salwar ever had, and the curve of her ass shifted the skirt. She took a mirror picture — front, then a side where the dress pulled — and sent it to Mohan.
? Padma: “Should I actually try something like this?”
? Mohan: “Yes. Come out and see it properly. Try a few more. Choose what you like.”
She smiled at the screen, then changed into a short skirt and a fitted top. The top clung to her breasts. The skirt ended high on the thigh; when she checked the side view, the hem lifted over the round of her ass. She sent that one too.
? Mohan: “Looks good. Don’t decide in there. Go out. Ask the salesgirl. Try different ones.”
? Padma: “Okay. I’ll try.”
She stepped out. The salesgirl had her stand at the big mirror.
?? Salesgirl: “Turn, madam. Slowly. I need to see the fit.”
Padma turned. The skirt tightened across her hips. She smiled at herself, shy, pleased, one hand smoothing the top where it strained.
She did not know Rajan was a little way off, half behind a rack, exactly where he had said he would stay out of sight. He had promised Mohan he was only in the store for something else. He was not looking at the clothes. He was looking at Padma — the woman who had only ever worn cotton and sarees in front of him — now in a short skirt, breasts lifted by the top, ass moving when she turned, face soft with the pleasure of her own reflection.
The salesgirl took a few pictures on Rajan’s phone, angling low enough to catch thigh and hip, then the open line of the top.
“For you to compare later, madam.”
Padma nodded. She thought they were for her and Mohan.
Rajan said nothing. He watched her go back in, curtain swaying, and waited. When she came out in the next dress — thinner, closer, neck lower — she looked at the mirror and smiled without hesitating. The dress held her breasts and broke over her ass when she walked. She turned once because the salesgirl asked, and the smile stayed.
Rajan understood it then, and it made his mouth dry. She was not dressing for him. She liked this. She liked the fit, the leg, the way the mirror gave her body back.
Padma finally decided which outfits she wanted and walked toward the billing counter.
She was still smiling to herself when Rajan appeared beside her.
Rajan : Hey Padma …
Padma turned, surprised.
? Padma: “Rajan? You were here?”
? Rajan: “For a little while.”
And Rajan leaves to the door…
After that sales girl came to billing area where Padma’s shopping bill was ready and she was paying..
Padma: “Actually, could you send me those photographs you took?
The salesgirl looked confused.
?? Salesgirl: “Madam… you didn’t know?”
? Padma: “Know what?”
The salesgirl smiled, completely unaware of the confusion she had just created.
?? Salesgirl: “He wanted to surprise you! He gave me his phone and asked me to take the pictures. He also selected all these outfits for you.”
Padma’s cheeks immediately turned red.
? Padma: “Mohan…?”
The salesgirl pointed across the store.
?? Salesgirl: “There he is, madam.”
Padma turned.
Her expression changed instantly.
It wasn’t Mohan.
It was Rajan.
She stared at him, completely stunned.
? Padma: “What… again?”
Then she looked back at the salesgirl.
Rajan slowly approached.
Padma’s embarrassment turned into irritation.
Salesgirl: “Madam, your husband is very naughty. You are so lucky—he clearly wanted to make you happy.”
Padma glanced at Rajan, speechless.
The salesgirl continued innocently:
?? Salesgirl: “And look at him—so tall and strong. I’m sure he doesn’t let you go anywhere alone!”
Padma’s face became even more uncomfortable.
She lowered her voice.
? Padma: “Rajan… what exactly did you tell her?”
Rajan looked at her calmly.
? Rajan: “I wanted to surprise you.”
Padma stared at him.
The surprise had definitely worked.
Padma walked away from the store without looking back.
She could hear Rajan’s footsteps behind her.
She finally stopped near the bus stop and turned around.
? Padma: “Why are you following me?”
Rajan stopped a few feet away.
His expression had changed. The confidence was gone.
? Rajan: “I’m sorry.”
Padma said nothing.
? Rajan: “I shouldn’t have told that woman I was your husband. I shouldn’t have arranged those photographs without telling you.”
Padma remained silent.
? Rajan: “But there’s something I can’t keep pretending isn’t true.”
She looked at him reluctantly.
? Rajan: “I love you, Padma.”
She looked away.
? Rajan: “I know I’ve said it before. And I’ll probably say it again. I love you.”
He almost laughed at himself.
? Rajan: “I’ve probably said those words a hundred times in my head.”
Padma didn’t respond.
? Rajan: “I respect that you’re married. I know you have your life. I’m not asking you to abandon it.”
A bus appeared in the distance.
? Rajan: “But I can’t simply switch these feelings off.”
Padma’s expression hardened.
? Padma: “Rajan, enough.”
The bus pulled up.
Padma stepped aboard.
Rajan followed.
She immediately looked at him.
? Padma: “Why did you get on?”
? Rajan: “I just want to talk.”
They stood among the other passengers.
Rajan kept his voice low.
? Rajan: “I’ve spent years trying to forget you. It never worked.”
Padma stared through the window.
? Rajan: “I remember you from college. I remember the way you looked at me when you rejected me. I remember every conversation we’ve had since.”
Padma’s jaw tightened.
She could feel people nearby.
What must they think?
She wished he would stop.
Yet somewhere beneath the irritation was another feeling she didn’t want to examine.
Rajan continued.
? Rajan: “I’m obsessed with you. With your presence. With the way you carry yourself. Even when I try to concentrate on something else, somehow you come back into my mind.”
Padma finally turned toward him.
? Padma: “You need to stop following me.”
Rajan fell silent.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
The bus finally stopped near Padma’s neighborhood.
She stepped down quickly, hoping Rajan would finally take the hint.
He got off too.
Padma sighed.
She started walking toward her apartment.
Behind her, Rajan followed at a distance.
She stopped.
He stopped.
She started again.
He started again.
Padma turned around.
? Padma: “Rajan, seriously?”
? Rajan: “I’m sorry.”
? Padma: “You’ve already said that.”
? Rajan: “Then I’ll say it again.”
Padma shook her head and continued walking.
Rajan followed like a hopeless Romeo, completely refusing to accept that the conversation was over.
? Rajan: “Padma!”
Padma: “Rajan, why are you still following me?”
He stopped for a moment, then spoke quietly.
? Rajan: “Because I haven’t finished saying what I came to say.”
Padma sighed.
? Rajan: “In my whole life, I want you at least once, Padma.”
She immediately turned around.
? Padma: “Rajan…”
? Rajan: “Not because I want to disrespect you. I really love you. And I respect you.”
Padma stared at him, irritated by the persistence.
? Rajan: “I know you may never give me what I want. I know you’re married. But I’ve carried this feeling for years, and I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist.”
Padma said nothing.
Rajan continued, his voice quieter now.
? Rajan: “You don’t have to answer me. You don’t even have to believe me. I just wanted you to know.”
Padma looked away and continued walking.
Padma kept walking without looking back.
After a while, she reached the entrance of her apartment building. She stopped near the lift and finally turned toward Rajan.
? Padma: “Please don’t follow me any further. We’re near my apartment now. Just go.”
Rajan stood silently for a moment.
? Rajan: “Okay.”
He reluctantly turned away.
Padma entered the lift.
The doors closed.
She breathed out, relieved.
But when the lift stopped at the first floor and the doors opened, Padma froze.
Rajan was standing outside.
? Padma: “Rajan?!”
Before she could react, he stepped inside.
Padma immediately moved toward the exit.
? Padma: “No. Get out.”
Rajan raised both hands pleadingly.
? Rajan: “Please, Padma. Just listen to me.”
? Padma: “You’ve already said enough.”
? Rajan: “I love you.”
Padma stared at him.
? Rajan: “I will love you in a way you can’t imagine. I want you, Padma. I’ve wanted you for years.”
She shook her head.
? Padma: “You certainly look like a psycho right now.”
Rajan’s expression fell.
? Rajan: “Maybe I am obsessed. I can’t sleep properly sometimes. I keep thinking about you.”
Padma remained near the doors.
? Rajan: “I want to be near you. I want to feel your presence. I want to know you completely
want to love your whole body, every inch of it — from your hair down to the tips of your toes — slowly, with my mouth, until there is nowhere on you I have not tasted.
Padma looked at him sharply.
? Padma: “Rajan, wanting someone doesn’t give you the right to follow them.”
He lowered his eyes.
? Rajan: “I know.”
The lift continued upward in silence.
Padma pressed the button for her floor.
? Padma: “Then prove it. Respect what I’m telling you.”
Rajan: “I’ll give you two days. Just think about it, Padma. You don’t have to answer me now.”
? Padma: “Two days? What exactly do you expect me to think about?”
? Rajan: “About everything I said. About what I feel. About what you feel.”
Padma stared at him in disbelief.
? Padma: “You really are impossible.”
? Rajan: “Two days. That’s all I’m asking.”
? Padma: “Get lost, Rajan.”
The lift doors opened.
Padma stepped out immediately without looking back.
Rajan remained inside, watching the doors slowly close.
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