[shaalu_re]

Meera was still lost in the memory—the moving car, the cool air on bare skin, Raghav’s mouth—when Ajay’s hands suddenly tightened hard on her breasts.

She gasped and came back to the present with a jolt.

“We should give him something,” Ajay was saying against her ear, voice low and rough. “The poor man needs at least that much. A proper thank-you.”

Meera turned her head, startled. “What are you saying?”

Ajay squeezed her again, slower this time, thumbs brushing over her nipples.

“Where is your mind? I was talking about Raghav sir. We should take him out. Some good restaurant. Something he’ll remember. We owe him that.”

“Yes… yes, of course,” Meera answered quickly.
*I have already repaid him,* she thought, the words bitter and private.

Ajay’s mind was already racing ahead. The dress. The one she had worn the evening she met Raghav—the dress Shekhar had chosen for her. He had never seen it himself. Only heard the way Raghav had spoken about her that night, the quiet praise that had lasted a little too long. If she wore it again, he would finally know how much skin it had shown. How deep the neckline had been. One inch of cleavage? Two? More?

He kept his voice casual.

“When we invite him, wear the same dress you wore that day. He couldn’t stop talking about how critical you were for the mission. He was on full praise of you”

Meera went still.

She remembered exactly what that evening had become—how the dress had eventually come off, how she had walked beside Raghav in nothing but a thong, the city lights sliding over her bare body. The thought made her stomach tighten.

She looked at Ajay over her shoulder, eyes searching his.

“You really want me to wear that dress to welcome him?”

“Not just to welcome him,” Ajay said. His hands were still on her, restless. “Restaurant. And after that a walk. Marine Drive. Night air.”

Meera’s mind betrayed her. For a second she saw herself on the sea-facing promenade after dark wearing nothing just the thong, walking between her husband and his mentor while strangers passed and stared at her boncing boobs. The image was so sharp it almost felt real.

She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

“You really want that?”

Ajay’s palms cupped her breasts fully now, lifting them, feeling their weight.

“You already wore something that showed cleavage in front of him,” he murmured. “So no harm in doing this again” he somehow finished that sentence.

Meera’s voice turned playful, but there was an edge underneath.

“Oh? You’re very romantic today. How much cleavage are we talking about?”

“Whatever you decide.”

She leaned back against him, reached behind her with one hand, and wrapped her fingers around his cock. He was completely hard, throbbing in her grip.

“If you want,” she said softly, almost into his mouth, “I can go like this for you.”

Ajay’s breath broke. He imagined her naked in front of Raghav he got some dejavu moments but he cannot recollect.

“My wife is so brave…” he managed. “You’d really wear that dress again in front of Raghav sir?”. Meera was offering to go full nude infront of Raghav but Ajay was thinking about the dress she wore that day.

Meera stroked him once, twice, slow and tight. The fantasy had already done most of the work—the imagined neckline, the way Raghav’s eyes might drop, the public walk at night. Ajay’s hips jerked. A thick, helpless sound left his throat as he came hard against her back, spilling over her fingers and onto her skin.

For a moment neither of them moved.

Meera kept her hand on him, feeling the last pulses fade. Ajay’s forehead rested against the back of her shoulder, breathing uneven.

The morning light continued to fill the room, ordinary and bright, while the things they had not said settled quietly between them once more.