[Innocent_Pervert]

The next afternoon function was held in the main courtyard under the shamiana. People moved between conversations and tea. The light was bright and open. Nothing was private.
She came down in a fitted blouse that held the full weight of her chest clearly. No one looking at her would have known that the same body had already been recorded topless the night before. But everyone in the courtyard could see her now.
She walked into the open space and the eyes followed.
A group of older relatives standing near the drinks table stopped talking as she passed. One of them, a grey-haired uncle, tracked the movement of her breasts under the blouse with open interest. Another man’s gaze dropped to the way the fabric pulled across her chest when she turned. They did not look away quickly. They simply watched the heavy shape of her move through the crowd.
Chacha noticed her from across the courtyard. His eyes stayed on her longer than necessary, following the line of her waist and the clear outline of her tits as she stopped to speak to someone. He took a slow drink and kept looking.
Taau, standing with two other men, glanced once and then again. His expression remained mild, but his attention returned to her each time she shifted her weight or adjusted her blouse. When she reached up to fix her neckline, pulling the cloth slightly so the upper curve of her breasts became more visible, Taau’s eyes stayed on that exact movement until she let the fabric settle again.
Near the main seating area, two senior women from the other side of the family watched her with a different kind of attention — sharper, assessing. One of them said something low to the other. Both of their eyes remained on the way the blouse held her chest and the confident way she carried the attention.
Maa was also in the courtyard. She saw the same things the others saw: the way older men paused when her daughter walked past, the way their eyes dropped and lingered, the small adjustments that made the weight of her breasts more obvious. Maa’s face stayed controlled, but her gaze followed the path of those stares, measuring them.
Papa’s boss and Rakesh were only two among many.
When she stopped in profile to drink tea, the blouse tightened across her chest with each breath. Several men noticed. When she bent slightly to place the cup down, the soft weight of her breasts shifted forward against the cloth and more than one pair of eyes stayed on the deepened cleavage until she straightened.
She moved through the courtyard as if the attention were simply part of the air. She did not rush. She did not cover herself. Every small action — the neckline adjustment, the profile hold, the slow bend — was visible to the entire gathering.
The house was watching.
Older men looked with open hunger. Some of the women looked with calculation or quiet disapproval. Chacha watched with familiar interest. Taau watched with renewed attention. Maa watched the watchers. And the boss, who had already seen her bare, watched with the private knowledge that sharpened every public detail.
She gave them all the same view.

Late night. Most of the formal functions were over. The open area near the service tables had turned into a chaotic food zone. The chaat and dessert counter was the worst — people packed tightly, reaching over each other, plates in hand, voices loud.
She went there for a plate of something sweet. The silver blouse she was wearing sat tight across her chest, the open back still visible under the loose end of her dupatta. The lehenga sat low on her wide hips.
The crowd closed around her almost immediately.
I stayed a few steps back, close enough to see.
The first man pressed in behind her without apology. He was one of the older relatives, thick around the middle. In the crush he put a hand on her waist as if steadying himself and let his crotch push directly against her ass. He stayed there longer than the movement of the crowd required, grinding once, slowly, before shifting his weight. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hip through the fabric.
She did not step away.
A second man, taller, used the excuse of reaching for a plate. His chest touched her shoulder blades and his lower body pressed flush against her. One hand landed on the upper curve of her ass and stayed there, kneading once under the cover of the bodies around them. When the crowd moved he moved with her, keeping the contact.
The boss was also in the press. He did not push as roughly as the others, but when the gap opened in front of her he stepped in close behind. His hand settled low on her waist, fingers spreading over the flare of her hip. He leaned in just enough that his cock, already half-hard, pressed against the soft give of her ass. He held the position while she was served, using the time to grind in small, controlled movements that looked like nothing more than the natural shift of a crowded line.
Rakesh was on her other side. At one point both he and another uncle were pressed against her at the same time — one behind, one angled at her side — so that her body was briefly trapped between them. A hand that did not belong to her slid under the edge of her blouse at the back and touched bare skin before withdrawing.
She kept her face calm. She accepted the plate, said thank you to the server, and began to edge out of the crush.
Even as she moved, another older man let her back slide across the front of his body, his hand openly gripping her hip for two full seconds before the crowd separated them.
By the time she stepped clear, at least five different men had used the density of the counter to grind against her ass or grip her hips and lower waist. Some had been brief. Some had stayed and pressed with clear intent.
She walked toward the edge of the courtyard, plate in hand, the silver blouse still neat, her expression unchanged.
Only I had watched the entire sequence closely enough to know how many times she had been groped and how deliberately some of them had used the crowd.
She found me a minute later, still holding the plate.
“You saw,” she said quietly.
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Five for sure. Two of them stayed longer on purpose. The boss was one of them.”
She nodded once, almost satisfied, and put a small piece of the dessert in her mouth.
“Good,” she said. “Remember the order. Tomorrow we use it.”
Then she walked away, the crowd still thick behind her, as if nothing had happened at the counter at all.