[Innocent_Pervert]

Papa’s boss sat alone in the guest room, shirt open, a glass of whisky on the side table. The wedding noise had finally thinned out.
He kept seeing her.
The girl in the red lehenga. She had walked into the courtyard with a kind of quiet certainty. The blouse had held a full, heavy chest that moved with natural weight. Her midriff had been left bare — smooth, soft, unapologetic. The lehenga sat on wide, rounded hips and followed the strong line of her thighs. Nothing about her looked accidental or shy.
She carried herself like a diva.
Not loud. Not performing. Simply aware of her own body and unwilling to shrink it. He had watched older men go silent when she passed. He had watched their eyes follow the shape of her chest, the open waist, the heavy sway of her hips. She had accepted those looks without flinching. That composure stayed with him longer than the clothes themselves.
Taau had spoken about her in a blunter language, but even his words had recognised the same thing: she had a rare physical presence. Soft, full, striking. The kind of body that remained in a man’s mind after the evening ended.
He finished the whisky slowly and decided he wanted a second opinion.

Down the corridor he found Rakesh, an old business associate who had come for the wedding and could be trusted. They stepped out onto a dark corner of the terrace with fresh drinks.
The boss lit a cigarette and exhaled.
“You saw the girl in the red lehenga?” he asked.
Rakesh gave a low, knowing smile. “The one with the full chest and the open waist? Difficult to miss. She walked through the courtyard like she owned the temperature of the place.”
“That’s the one.” The boss took a drag. “Papa’s daughter. The uncle spoke to me about her earlier. Said she has a rare kind of presence. Soft, full, completely aware of the effect she has. He wasn’t wrong.”
Rakesh leaned on the railing. “She has that heavy, feminine build. The blouse was doing a lot of work. And she didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable with people looking. Most girls that age still fidget. She didn’t.”
“Exactly.” The boss watched the smoke drift. “She carries herself like someone who already knows her body is the first thing people notice… and she has decided that is their problem, not hers. That kind of confidence is rare. It stays with you.”
Rakesh chuckled softly. “You’re speaking about her the way men speak about a woman they keep remembering after they go home. You planning to look for her tomorrow?”
“I’m planning to see whether the impression holds in daylight,” the boss replied. “Some women only exist under fairy lights. I don’t think she is one of them. The way she moves, the way she lets people look without losing composure — that doesn’t disappear in the morning.”
Rakesh raised his glass slightly.
“Well… if you do speak to her, I want a full report. A girl who walks like that and looks like that tends to leave an impression. I’d like to know if the close-up matches the view from across the courtyard.”
The boss gave a small smile and tapped his glass against Rakesh’s.
“I’ll let you know.”
Both men drank.
Below them the house stayed quiet.
But in the boss’s mind the girl in the red lehenga remained exactly as she had been: composed, fully aware of her own body, and completely uninterested in making herself smaller for anyone.

Morning at the wedding house.
Papa’s boss sat with Rakesh on the quieter side of the veranda, coffee in hand, watching the courtyard as the household slowly came to life. He had already showered and changed into a fresh shirt. Money made certain things simple. He had sent his driver out at first light with a short list.
Rakesh stirred his coffee. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m thinking,” the boss replied. His eyes moved across the people coming and going. “She’s still in the house. That means the next two days are usable.”
He spoke softly, almost casually.
“I had the driver pick up a few things. Better alcohol than what they’re serving here. A proper Bluetooth speaker. Some expensive sweets and dry fruits from that place in the city that people actually notice. I also told him to arrange two extra rooms in the better guest house down the road — quiet, top floor, no family traffic. If I need space, I have it.”
Rakesh raised an eyebrow. “You’re building a private corner inside someone else’s wedding.”
“I’m building options.” The boss took a sip. “If she steps out for air, I want the best seat on the terrace already prepared. If the power cuts, I want my rooms to have light and cold drinks. If she looks even slightly bored with the family noise, I want a quieter, more comfortable place ready. Unlimited resources mean I don’t wait for opportunities. I create the conditions around her.”
He glanced toward the main wing where the women were staying.
“I also told the driver to keep the big car free. Clean, cold, stocked. If she ever needs a ride to the market or the temple or anywhere else, the best car in the lane will be available. People remember who made things easy for them.”
Rakesh smiled slowly. “You’re not chasing. You’re surrounding.”
“Exactly.” The boss’s voice stayed mild. “She has a body that stays in the mind and a way of walking that says she knows it. Girls like that usually notice comfort. Soft chairs. Cold drinks. Quiet rooms. Air-conditioning that actually works. I can provide all of it without asking permission from anyone in this house.”
He leaned back.
“Your job is simple. Keep an eye on where she moves. If she comes downstairs alone, if she looks for shade, if she steps away from the main group — you tell me. I’ll handle the rest.”
Rakesh nodded once.
The boss looked out at the courtyard again, already mapping the spaces he could quietly improve. A better corner. A cooler room. A private balcony with a view. All of it possible before lunch if the driver worked quickly.
He had no intention of involving Papa or Taau today.
He had money, a trusted man, and two full days of wedding left.
That was enough to start shaping the space around the girl who had refused to leave his mind.