Drunk Upper class woman - Makes out with anyone - even with a Rickshaw Puller(video+)

[ashuezy2]

Story and more such videos will be added based on like count and feedback.

[ashuezy2]

Initial Character & Setting

Scene 1
=====

St. Stephen's, Delhi University. A few years ago...

The Delhi sun was proper hot , even in February.

It made the old red brick walls of St. Stephen's College look even more grand.
Inside, though, it was all serious business. And in the middle of it all was Anya.

Anya wasn't your typical South Delhi girl.
She lived in a big, fancy house in Sainik Farms, with sprawling lawns and a driver.

Her papa, Mr. Arjun Oberoi, was a big shot architect, making glass towers. Her mamma, Mrs. Tara Oberoi, ran a boutique, selling designer sarees that cost more than Anya's entire semester fees.

But Anya? She was... different.

She had this mischievous glint that promised fun, a little bit of masti, but never anything truly bad. She loved her parents, deeply.

Anya: “Maa, Papa. I’m home! And guess what? I think I aced my English Lit test!”

Tara: (Her voice, soft like silk, coming from the living room) “Acha? My darling is so smart! Come, sit, have some tea. Driver bhaiya, please get some pakoras for Anya beti.”

Arjun: (Looking up from his newspaper, a warm smile spreading across his face) “My little scholar, huh? Soon you’ll be teaching us new words.”

They were a loving family, formal, but full of love.
They trusted her, gave her freedom, but also expected her to be a 'good' girl, always.
The kind that makes them proud.

Her closest friend at St. Stephen's was Zara.
Zara was the complete opposite fire and ice, a proper firecracker. Zara was from a Punjabi family in West Delhi, loud and full of energy, always ready for an adventure, sometimes a bit too much adventure. They balanced each other out perfectly.

Zara: (Leaning over to Anya in the college canteen, eyes wide with gossip) “Yaar Anya, did you see him? The new guy in economics, so dreamy, haina? I swear, I almost tripped over my own feet, trying to get a better look!”

Anya: (Laughing, nudging Zara playfully) “Duffer! Focus on your samosa before it attacks you! And no, I was too busy trying to understand Professor Khanna’s lecture on Marx. Uff, so difficult.”

Zara: “Marx, Shmarx! Life is about living, my dear! Come on, let’s go to Hudson Lane later? There’s a new cafe opening, I heard they have amazing cold coffee!”

Anya’s other friend was Kian, a quiet, thoughtful boy, always with a book in his hand, a little bit nerdy, but in a cute way. He was the one who could calm Zara down and make Anya think.

Kian: (Adjusting his spectacles, a faint blush on his cheeks as he spoke to Anya) “Anya, about that Marx lecture… if you want, I can explain some of the concepts. I found some really good summaries online.”

Anya: (A smile, genuinely grateful) “Oh Kian, you’re a lifesaver! My brain feels like aloo gobhi after that class. Thank you!”

These were her people. Her world. Full of laughter, innocent crushes, late night study sessions (mostly with Kian, Zara was usually planning their next food adventure), and the safe, comforting bubble of a privileged Delhi upbringing.

[ashuezy2]

Reserved.

[sarit11]

continue dear

some may irritate you.

ignore them.

there are many readers who want your stories.

[Gopalu]

Super story update plzz

[ashuezy2]

Target is 20 Likes. Once that happens more videos and scenes will be added.

[Sweetrati]

Superb ...very promising
Pls read your PM
I wrote a message

[ashuezy2]

One more,     For your eyes only, for now.  

[ashuezy2]

Scene 2: The First Taste of Mischief

The new cafe in Hudson Lane was buzzing. It was loud, full of students from different colleges, all shouting over the music. The air smelled like fried momos and strong coffee. Zara, of course, had found them the best table, right in the corner, a bit hidden.

Zara: (Leaning in, her eyes sparkling with a secret) “Okay, so... I brought something to make the cold coffee extra special.”

She dug into her big jholla bag and, like a magician, pulled out a small, shiny bottle. It was vodka.

Anya: (Her eyes went wide, a shocked little laugh escaping) “Zara! You are mad! Pagal ho gayi hai kya? Put it away! What if the manager sees?”

Kian: (Sighing, already looking uncomfortable) “Zara, seriously? We’re in a public place. This is not a good idea. We could get into proper trouble.”

Zara: (Waving her hand, dismissing their worries) “Oh ho, stop being such fattus, both of you! Everyone does it. It’s college! And Kian, you sound like my dadi.”

She quickly unscrewed the cap and, before Anya could protest again, poured a small (splash) into Anya’s glass of cold coffee. Then one in her own. She looked at Kian.

Kian: (Shaking his head) “No. Not for me. I’ll stick to my aam-panna, thank you.”

Zara: (Shrugging) “Your loss, baba. Okay, Anya... cheers! To being young, wild, and... studying Marx!”

Anya giggled, her hand hesitating over the glass. This was naughty. This was something her parents would be so shocked about. The 'good' girl in her head was screaming "No!"

Anya: “Zara, nahi yaar. It will taste bad. And... I’ve never... you know.”

Zara: (Her voice softened, but still teasing) “Arre, just one sip. Chakh le (Just taste it). It’s just a little fun. Don’t be such a behenji! It’s just a tiny bit. I promise it won’t bite.”

Anya looked at Zara’s encouraging face, then at Kian, who was pretending to be very interested in the menu. She felt a sudden rush. Why not? It was just fun.

She took a small, shy sip.

The coffee taste hit first, sweet and creamy. Then... a strange, sharp warmth slid down her throat. It wasn't bad. It was... interesting. It made her tummy feel warm, fuzzy.

Anya: (Her eyes widening slightly) “Oh.”

Zara: (Grinning, knowing she had won) “See? Not so scary, haina? Now take another one.”

Anya took a bigger sip this time. A giggle bubbled up from her chest, a real, free giggle. Suddenly, the loud music sounded better, the cafe lights seemed brighter.

Anya: (Leaning forward, her voice a happy whisper) “It tastes... funny. But nice-funny! Kian, you have to try!”

Kian: (Smiling slightly at her sudden cheerfulness) “I’ll pass. But you... just be careful, okay? Don't have too much.”

Zara: “Oh, don’t worry, Professor Kian! I will take care of our little gudiya. Today, we are having fun!”

Anya laughed again, feeling light and wonderfully mischievous. It was her first little secret, her first step into Zara’s "wild" world. It felt exciting. It felt safe. After all, she was with her best friends. What could possibly go wrong?

[Gopalu]

Nice story

[ashuezy2]

Scene 3: The Fluffy Walk Home

The Delhi evening had turned cool, a nice thandi hawa blowing away the day's heat.

The three of them spilled out of the noisy Hudson Lane cafe, the sounds of traffic and street vendors instantly replacing the loud music.
Anya was walking, but it felt... different. She felt light, like she was floating just one inch above the pavement.

Anya: (She suddenly stopped and giggled, a loud, happy sound that was not her usual polite laugh) “Wait! Wait... did you guys feel that? The ground just... it just jiggled!”

Zara: (Throwing her head back and laughing, linking her arm with Anya’s) “Arre crazy girl! The ground isn't jiggling, you are jiggling! That's the vodka baba, saying hello!”

Kian: (Walking on Anya's other side, a small, worried smile on his face. He looked like a mother hen) “Okay, okay, fun’s over. Let’s get you to the car. Your driver must be waiting near the metro station, chal aja..”

Anya: (She turned to Kian, her eyes wide and sparkling, looking extra innocent) “Kian, you are so serious! Like... like a professor! 'Professor Kian'!”
She poked him in the chest playfully. This was new. Anya was never this... touchy-feely.

Kian: (Blushing a deep red, catching her hand gently) “Anya, bas. Stop it. People are looking.”

Anya: (Pouting, but still smiling) “Let them look! I feel... I feel fluffy. Like a cloud. A big, pink, cotton candy cloud!”

Zara: “A-ha! See? I told you it was fun! Now you’re a fluffy cloud. And I’m... I'm a rockstar!”

Zara struck a pose, pretending to play a guitar, right there on the pavement. Anya fell against her, laughing so hard her stomach hurt. Kian just shook his head, but he was smiling now, too. It was hard to be serious when Anya was being this... cute.
But as they got closer to the main road, the flashing lights of the cars brought Anya back to earth.

Anya: (Her voice suddenly small, the giggles gone) “Oh no. My driver. Papa. Mamma. Kian... will they smell it? Oh my god, Mamma will be... she’ll be so upset.”

The "fluffy" feeling was suddenly replaced by a cold, sharp fear. She was the good girl. Good girls didn't come home smelling like... like whatever this was.

Zara: (Instantly becoming the crisis manager) “Arey, no, pagli (silly). Stop it. It was just one small daru in a huge glass of coffee. No one can smell anything.”

She dug in her bag and pulled out a packet of mint chewing gum.

Zara: “Here. Chew two of these. And just... act normal. Don't be all giggly and ‘fluffy cloud’ in front of your driver, okay? Just be normal, tired, 'Professor Khanna's-lecture-was-so-boring' Anya.”

Kian: (Nodding, his voice kind) “She’s right. Just take a deep breath. You’re fine. It was just coffee.” He gave Zara a little look.

Anya chewed the gum, the strong minty flavour making her eyes water a bit. She practiced her "normal" face.

Anya: (In a very serious, robotic voice) “Hello, Driver bhaiya. The college was very... educational today. I am now going home to study.”
Zara and Kian burst out laughing.

Kian: “Okay, maybe... maybe not that normal. Just be quiet. Quiet is good.”

Anya’s white car pulled up. The driver, an old man who had been with her family for years, got out to open the door.

Driver: “Gudiya-ji, all good? You look tired.”

Aanya: (Taking a deep breath, and giving him a small, sweet smile) “Yes, bhaiya. Just... a very long lecture. I think I’ll just rest my eyes.”

She slid into the back seat. She looked out the window at her friends. Zara gave her a wink. Kian gave her a small, worried wave.
As the car moved away from the busy, noisy North Campus and started the long, quiet drive back to South Delhi, Anya leaned her head against the cool glass. The fear was gone, replaced by the humming, warm feeling.

She had done something naughty. A small, satisfied smile played on her lips. She quite liked being a fluffy cloud.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 4: The Bubble in the Backseat

The big, comfortable car was like a quiet bubble, cutting through the shor sharaba of Delhi traffic.
Anya was in the back, her head still feeling light and "fluffy." The minty chewing gum was long gone.

She looked at the back of her driver's head. Suresh bhaiya. He had been with her family since she was a little girl in pigtails.
He was safe. He was... just Suresh bhaiya.

That warm, naughty feeling from the vodka was still humming inside her. It made her brave. It made her want to... play.

Anya: (Leaning forward slightly, her voice playful and a little slurred) “Suresh bhaiya...”

Suresh: (His eyes meeting hers briefly in the rearview mirror) “Jee Gudiya-ji?” (Yes, Miss Anya?)

Anya: “Aap... thakte nahi ho?” (Don't you... get tired?)

Suresh: (A small, polite smile) “Nahi Gudiya-ji. It is my job. Aadat hai.” (No, Miss. I am used to it.)

Anya giggled. A little, secret giggle.

Anya: “Arre, not your job. I mean... sitting. All day. Daba ke.” (Pressed down.)

Suresh's shoulders tensed just a little bit. He didn't understand.

Suresh: “Gudiya-ji? My back is fine, beta.”

Anya: (Now she was properly smiling, feeling very mischievous) “Uffo, not your back, bhaiya! I’m talking about... your... saamaan.” (your... 'stuff'/'things'.)
Suresh said nothing. His face was like stone in the mirror.

Anya: (She pushed on, the vodka making her completely blind to the line she was crossing) “My friend Zara was saying... she said boys have a lot of... problem. Their... auzaar (tool/equipment)... it gets stuck. Dab jaata hai.” (It gets squashed.)

She was speaking in Hindi, the easy, casual slang they used in college.

Anya: “Aapka... kitna bada hai?” (How... big is yours?)

There was a dead silence in the car. Even the sound of the air conditioner seemed to get louder.
Suresh bhaiya gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. He was a simple man, and he had seen this girl grow up. He felt... ashamed. Uncomfortable.

Suresh: (His voice was very stiff, very formal. He did not call her Gudiya-ji.) “Madam, we are 10 minutes from your home.”

Anya: (She pouted, the rejection stinging her a little, even in her fog) “Arre, I was just asking. It’s a... biology... question!”

Suresh: “The gate is coming. I will tell the watchman.”

He pressed the button to roll down his window, and the sound of the outside world rushed in, breaking the strange, tense bubble.

Anya leaned back in her seat, a little confused. Why was he being so khadoos ( grumpy)? It was just a funny question.
She giggled to herself, quietly this time. It was her secret joke. She didn't realise, not at all, what she had just done.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 5: The Line That Breaks

The big, white car crunched over the gravel of the Sainik Farms driveway, the sound unnaturally loud in the night. The house was lit up, a warm, safe box. But inside the car, the air was cold and tight.

Suresh bhaiya cut the engine. The silence was immediate and heavy. He sat for a long moment, just staring at the garage door.

Suresh: (His voice was flat, tired.) “We are home, Madam.”

He got out of the car. His movements were stiff, like an old man's. He walked around to the back and opened her door.
Anya got out, but not like she usually did, tumbling out with her big bag and a "thank you." 

She got out slowly, uncurling herself from the seat. She stood very, very close to him. So close, he could smell the sweet coffee and the sharp, ajeeb (strange) smell underneath.

She looked right up into his eyes. He tried to look down, to look at the ground, to be the good, invisible driver.

Anya: (Her voice was a low, playful whisper, but it felt... wrong.) “You didn't tell me, Suresh bhaiya... about your... saamaan.”

Suresh flinched, a small, tiny movement. He took a half-step back, hitting the car door.

Suresh: (Pleading, almost) “Gudiya... Madam, please. Go inside. Sahab and Memsahab are waiting.”

Anya smiled. It was not her normal, sweet smile. This one was all teeth, sharp and knowing.
Suresh bhaiya’s throat felt dry. He just stared, his mind blank with shock. He couldn't believe this was happening.
Anya held his gaze for one... two... three seconds. She loved the confusion she saw in his eyes. It felt... fun.

Anya: “Okay, fine. Be khadoos.”

She turned to walk past him, towards the big, polished front door of the house.
Suresh let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He thought it was over.
But as she passed, her hand, which was holding her college bag, swung out. It wasn't an accident.
Her fingers closed quickly, just for a second, right over the front of his uniform trousers.

She grabbed and squeezed, like she was honking a child's rubber horn.

Beep beep!

Anya: (She giggled, a tiny, suppressed sound) “Found it.”
Suresh made a sound like a choked gasp. His whole body jumped back, his hips and stomach slamming against the open car door as if he’d been hit.
He was stunned. Frozen.
Anya didn't even look back.
She just walked up the steps, pushed open the door, and disappeared into the bright, warm house.

Tara: (Her voice could be heard from inside, muffled) “Anya, darling! You’re just in time, Papa was asking about you...”
Suresh bhaiya just stood there in the dark driveway, next to the car. His heart was hammering. His face was burning with a deep, terrible (shame).
He couldn't move. He just stared at the closed door, his hand trembling slightly.
The "good girl," the Gudiya-ji he had known his whole life, was gone. And something else was in her place.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 6

The next day, the St. Stephen's canteen was back to its normal, noisy self. The smell of oily chhole bhature was in the air.

Anya, Zara, and Kian were huddled around their usual corner table.

Kian: “So, you got home okay, Anya? You were... very 'fluffy' yesterday.”
Anya was practically bouncing in her seat. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Anya: (Leaning in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper) “Oh my god, you guys. You won't believe what happened after you left.”

Zara: (Her eyes lit up, already smelling gossip) “Acha? What? Did your driver bhaiya finally stop being so khadoos?”

Anya: “No! That’s the thing! I... I think I made him more khadoos in my fluffiness.”
She told them everything. About asking him how big his saamaan was.

Kian: (His face went pale, dropping his samosa) “Anya! You didn't! That’s... that's horrible! He's an old man!”

Zara: (Was trying not to laugh, but failing. She was hiding her mouth behind her hand.) “You asked him kitna bada hai? Anya, you are pagal! What did he say?”

Anya: “He said nothing! He just went all 'Madam, we are home.' He was so boring!”

Kian: “He was probably terrified! You can't just... talk to people like that. He could lose his job!”

Anya: (Waving her hand, just like Zara would) “Arre, Kian, don't be such a professor. He knows I was just joking.”
She then leaned in even closer. Her eyes were dancing.

Anya: “But... that’s not the best part.”

Zara: (Leaning in too, her voice hungry for more) “There’s more?”

Anya: “When he opened the door for me at home... I asked him again. He still didn't answer. So... I... well...”
She paused for dramatic effect.

Anya: “I... I found it myself.”
There was a second of silence. Kian looked confused. Zara's jaw dropped.

Kian: “What does that mean, 'you found it'?”

Anya: (Giggling, she couldn't help it) “I... I... honked his horn!”

Zara: “NO!”

Anya: “YES! Just as I walked past. I just... reached out and... beep beep!”

Kian: (He finally understood. He was completely horrified.) “Anya... you... you grabbed his... his penis?”

Zara: (She exploded. She slammed her hand on the table, howling with laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks.) “BEEP BEEP?! I'M DEAD! I'M DEAD! ANYA OBEROI, YOU ARE A LEGEND! HIS FACE! WHAT DID HE DO?!”

Anya: (Laughing so hard she was crying too, high on Zara's reaction) “He just... jumped! He looked... phunny! His face was like... gasp!”
She made a funny, shocked face, imitating Suresh.

Kian: (He stood up, looking sick.) “That’s... that’s not funny, you guys. That's... assault. That’s disgusting.”

Zara: (Wiping her eyes, still giggling) “Oh, shut up, Kian! Don't be such a behenji. It was just a little masti. He’s a driver. What’s he going to do? Complain to her dad? 'Sir, your gudiya grabbed my auzaar?'”
Zara’s words hit Anya. She was right. He couldn't complain.

Anya: (A new, cold, calculation dawning in her eyes, even as she smiled) “Yeah... what is he going to do?”
She looked at Kian's disgusted face, and then at Zara's delighted one. She had made her choice.

Anya: “Come on, Zara, let’s go. Kian is ruining the fun. I want a cold coffee. A... special... cold coffee.”

Zara: (Grinning, slinging an arm around Anya) “Now you're talking, my little shaitaan (devil). Let's go.”

Kian just stood there, watching them walk away, laughing together. He felt like the entire world had just tilted off its axis.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 7: The Professor and the 'Shaitaan'

Kian followed them into the noisy cafe, his shoulders slumped. He felt like a disappointed dad.
He sat down opposite them, his arms crossed.

Kian: “I can’t believe you, Zara, for encouraging her. That was... wrong.”

Anya: (Waving her hand, already high from the memory) “Oh, Kian, stop being so heavy. It was just a joke! He’s a driver, he’ll forget. Right, Zara?”

Zara: (Already signalling the waiter) “Exactly. He probably gets worse from the auto-w,.'s every day. Bhaiya, three cold coffees!”

Kian: “I’m not having one.”

Zara: “Fine, two special cold coffees and one aam-panna for 'Professor Kian' here.”

When the drinks came, Zara was ready. She pulled out the familiar shiny bottle from her jholla. This time, she poured a big splash into Anya's glass, and one for herself.

Zara: “Cheers to... beep beep!”
Anya giggled and took a long, fast drink, finishing half the glass in one go. The warm, fuzzy feeling came back, this time faster and stronger.

Kian: (Just sipping his drink, watching her over the rim of his glass) “Anya, (slowly). That’s not water.”

Anya: (Ignoring him, her eyes sparkling) “It’s so... yummy! I feel all warm again. Like a fluffy, pink cloud.”
She finished the glass in another two gulps.

Anya: (Slamming the glass down a little) “Another one!”

Zara: (Her eyebrows shot up, impressed) “Whoa! Okay! Bhaiya, one more cold coffee!”

Kian: “Anya, no! That’s two. You were almost falling over with one yesterday!”

Anya: “But today is not yesterday! Today I am not a fluffy cloud. Today I am... a... a rockstar! Right, Zara?”

Zara: “My very own rockstar!”
The second coffee came. Zara poured another big splash in. Anya drank it just as fast.
Now, her face was properly flushed. Her movements were bigger. Zara, on the other hand, looked exactly the same. She was sipping her second drink slowly, laughing and handling it like a pro.
Anya finished the second glass. The world was now very bright and very funny.
She looked at the vodka bottle. There was just a little bit left.

Anya: (Reaching for the bottle) “I want... this. No coffee. Coffee is... yuck. It spoils the taste.”

Kian: (His voice sharp, standing up halfway) “Anya, DON'T! That’s a straight shot! You’ll be sick!”

Anya: (She grabbed the bottle, pouting at him) “Stop... shouting... at me, Professor!”
She poured the last of the vodka into her empty glass. It was a proper, full shot.

Zara: (She was watching, a little worried now, but mostly just entertained) “Okay, shaitaan (devil). Be careful...”

Anya looked at Kian, smiled a cheeky, naughty smile, and downed the entire shot in one go.
A long, hot burn went down her throat. She coughed, her eyes watering.

Anya: (Gasping, then breaking into a huge, happy laugh) “Whoooooo! That’s the stuff!”

She slammed the glass on the table. She felt amazing. She felt like she could fly.
She turned her full attention to Kian, who was staring at her, his mouth open in shock.

Anya: (Leaning way over the table, her voice all slurring and playful) “Kian... you know... you are so cute when you are angry.”

Kian: (Blushing bright red) “Anya, shut up. You’re drunk.”

Anya: (She reached out and poked his chest, just like she had yesterday) “No, really... all... serious... and... tight.”
She used the word "tight" with a very funny emphasis, giggling.

Zara: (Howling with laughter, almost falling off her chair) “Oh my god! Kian, run! She’s going to beep beep you next!”
Anya's tipsy gaze dropped from Kian’s face, down his chest, and then lower, to his lap. She stared, with a very open, very naughty curiosity.

Anya: (Her voice a loud whisper) “Maybe... is your saamaan all (squashed) under the table too, Professor? Should I... check?”

Kian: (Absolutely mortified, his face burning) “That’s it. I’m done. You’re disgusting, Anya.”
He grabbed his bag and stood up, ready to storm out.

Anya: (Her face instantly fell, the fun gone. She looked like a child about to cry.) “Arre, Kian, no! Sit! I'm just joking! It’s masti! Don't go!”

Zara: (Still laughing, but pulling Kian back down by his sleeve) “Sit, yaar. She’s just drunk, pagli hai. Don't be such a (spoilsport). Look, she's fine. I'm fine. We’re all fine!”

Kian sat back down, sighing. He knew he couldn't leave them.

Anya, her mood changed again, just like that. She was now leaning her head on Zara’s shoulder, humming happily to the loud music, feeling absolutely wonderful.

She was not just a fluffy cloud anymore. She was the whole storm.
She is now fully drunk, not just tipsy. Zara is the enabler, and Kian is the trapped, disapproving caretaker. This is a very unstable and dangerous mix.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 8: Professor Kian

Anya, who had been humming happily on Zara’s shoulder, suddenly sat bolt upright.

Her eyes, which were a little unfocused, zeroed in on the waiter clearing the next table. He was a young guy, probably just a few years older than them, wearing a tight black t-shirt.

Anya: (In a voice that was much too loud) “Bhaiya! Oye... hero!”
The waiter looked over, confused, a dirty plate in his hand.

Anya: (She gave him a big, sloppy smile, pointing a wobbly finger) “You... you have a very nice... ass.”

Zara: (She spat out her coffee, half in shock, half in laughter) “Ass?! Anya!”

Kian: (His face turned to stone. He stood up and threw some money on the table.) “That’s it. We’re leaving. Now.”
He didn't even wait for the bill, just threw a five-hundred-rupee note down.

Anya: (Pouting, her voice a drunken whine) “But I was just... talking to him! He’s cute!”

Zara: (Wiping her mouth, her eyes wide) “Kian, save yourself, she is full talli! (Drunk!)”
Zara was laughing, but even she looked a little freaked out now. This was next-level.

Kian: (He grabbed Anya’s arm, his voice harsh) “Get up. Get up, Anya. We’re going.”
Anya stumbled as he pulled her. Her legs, which had been fine sitting down, suddenly went soft like idli. She fell right against him.

Anya: (She wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling against his shirt. She giggled, her warm, vodka-smelling breath hitting his face.) “Ooooh... Professor Kian... so strong... so... angry... I like it...”

She tilted her head and pressed her lips to his neck. It wasn't a proper kiss, just a wet, warm press.
Kian froze.

All his anger, his 'Professor' stiffness, just... melted. He went soft.
This was Anya. His Anya. The one he secretly wrote bad poems about. And she was clinging to him, her body pressed all along his.
He could feel the soft press of her breasts against his chest. He could smell the coffee and vodka on her skin.
He didn't push her away. He didn't do anything. He just let her.
After a long second, his arm, which had been stiff, went around her waist, holding her up.

Kian: (His voice was no longer angry, just... thick) “Come on. Let's get you out of here.”
He started guiding her out of the cafe, with Zara following behind, still half-giggling, half-worried, grabbing their bags.
Kian was holding Anya tight. He was no longer just the angry professor. He was... something else.

[blackdesk]

Waooo. Excellent storytelling. Excellent style. Please write long updates. Heavy sexy.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 9: The Make out with Rickshaw Puller (Video shared above)

The cool night air of the street hit them, but it did nothing to sober Anya up. She was giggling, leaning almost her entire weight on Kian.
Kian held her tight, his mind still spinning from her lips on his neck.

Zara came out of the cafe behind them, her face pale.

Zara: “Shit, Kian. Look at her. She's gone. We can't put her in the car with Suresh bhaiya.”

Kian: (His voice was still thick, but the practical problem was sinking in) “No. Not after yesterday. And... he’d smell this. She reeks of it.”

Zara: “And my parents will kill me if I bring her home like this. My dad will lock me in my room for a year. Yours?”

Kian: (Shaking his head) “My house is not an option. My mother is waiting up.”
They were stuck. Trapped on a busy pavement with a giggling, with talli(drunk) girl who couldn't stand up straight.

Zara: “Okay, okay, I have an idea. We just... we have to walk her around. We need water. And mints. Lots of mints. Sit her down here.”
Kian carefully lowered Anya to sit on the edge of the pavement, the patri, her back against a lamppost.

Anya: (Giggling as she sat) “The ground is spinning! Wheee!”

Zara: “Shit. Okay, Kian, just... watch her. Don't let her talk to anyone. I'll run to the pan-waala(pan shop) at the corner for water and gum. I’ll be right back.”

Zara ran off, disappearing into the crowd.

Kian was left alone with Anya. He squatted in front of her. Just then, his phone buzzed.
He looked at it. Maa Calling. He couldn't ignore it.

Kian: (His voice strained, answering) “Hello? Hi, Ma. No, I'm just... I'm still in college. Library. Yes, library.”
He stood up and turned his back to Anya, just for a moment, to make his lie more convincing. He paced two steps away.

Kian: “Yes, Ma... I know it's late... I'm just finishing some notes... I'll be home in an hour.”
Anya was left alone on the pavement. The world was a wonderful, blurry, spinning light show.
She saw a cycle rickshaw parked just a few feet away, in the shadow, waiting for a customer.

The rickshaw puller, a thin man in a pujama and head band and a shirt, was just sitting on his own seat, smoking a bidi, watching the traffic.
Anya giggled. He looked... funny.

She stood up, wobbly, but with a mission. Kian's back was still turned.
She tottered over to the rickshaw. The man saw her coming. A rich, amreekan-looking (American-looking) college girl. He was confused.

Rickshaw Puller: “Kya chahiye, memsahib?” (What do you want, miss?)
Anya didn't answer. She just put her hands on the side of the rickshaw and climbed onto the back seat, he was standing with his hands on the handle of the rickshaw.

Rickshaw Puller: (Arre! kahan chalna hai... Madam...) “Hey! Where to... Madam?”

He was alarmed, watching her movements.
Anya just smiled at him. She loved his shocked face. It was just like Suresh bhaiya's face.

Anya: (Slurring) “You... are... cute.”
Before he could react, she leaned in, grabbed his rough, sweaty vest, and pulled his face to hers.
She kissed him.

It wasn't a peck. It was a deep, wet, passionate kiss. She mashed her lips against his, pushing her tongue right into his shocked, tobacco-tasting mouth.
The man froze. His bidi fell from his fingers. He was terrified.

The street was busy. Cars, autos, and buses were rushing by, their headlights sweeping over them. But nobody was looking at a parked rickshaw in the shadows. They were invisible.

Anya's other hand, the one not holding his vest, moved down.
It landed on his lap, on his thin cotton pajama.

She didn't hesitate. She knew what she was looking for.

She found his "beep beep."

She started stroking him, right there, from outside the cloth, her fingers moving up and down, feeling him start to get hard under her hand.
The rickshaw puller made a small, choked sound. He was completely stunned, half-terror, half... something else. He didn't push her away. He couldn't.

Kian: (Finally hanging up) “...I'll be home in an hour. Bye.”
He turned around, pocketing his phone.

Kian: “Anya, Zara should be back...”
The pavement was empty.
His heart stopped. Stops.

Kian: “Anya? ANYA!”
He spun around, panic rising.
And then he saw it. The parked rickshaw. He saw her shape in the shadows, on the back seat.
He ran over.

Kian: “Anya! What the... hell...?”
He stopped dead. He saw her hand moving. He saw her mouth on the man's face.

He reacted on pure, horrified instinct.
He grabbed Anya by the arm and ripped her out of the rickshaw.

Kian: (Screaming, his voice cracking) “GET OFF HIM!”
Anya tumbled out, landing hard on the pavement, completely shocked by the sudden violence, her jeans dirty up her legs.

The rickshaw puller was just staring, his eyes wide, his mouth open, breathing hard.
Just then, Zara ran up, holding a water bottle.

Zara: “I got it! What... what happened? Why is she on the ground?”
Kian was just standing there, breathing like he just ran a marathon, looking from the terrified rickshaw puller to Anya on the ground.

Kian: (His voice was shaking) “She was... she was kissing him. She was... touching him.”
Zara looked at Anya, who was starting to cry from the shock and the fall. She looked at the terrified rickshaw puller. She looked back at Kian's white, shaking face.
Her jaw dropped.

Zara: “Oh... my... god.”


This is a massive escalation. She is now completely out of control.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 11: The 'Masti' 

Kian was shaking. He couldn't stop. He was just standing there, breathing hard, looking at the empty patch of pavement where the man had been.
The rickshaw puller, seeing Kian's pure, white-hot rage, had jumped on his pedal and was gone, disappearing into the traffic in two seconds. He wanted no part of this.

Anya was on the ground, starting to cry. It was a drunk, confused, angry cry.

Anya: (Her voice a wail) “You pushed me! Kian, you’re mean! You hurt my arm!”

Zara: (Her face was pale, the "fun" completely gone. She was now 100% practical.) “Kian! Kian, chhod (leave it). We have to go. Now. Before someone calls the security officer.”

Kian: (His voice was dead, hollow. He wasn't looking at Anya. He was looking at the spot the man had been.) “He... she... her hand was on him, Zara. She... she...”

He couldn't finish. He felt like he was going to be sick, right there on the pavement.

Zara: (She grabbed Kian's arm and shook him, hard.) “Kian! Look at me! I don't care! She is talli(drunk), she is pagal(mad), and we are in the middle of the road. Help me.”

She grabbed the water bottle she had bought and crouched down next to Anya.

Anya: (Sniffling, pushing the bottle away) “Don't want it! Want to go home...”

Zara: (Her voice was a hiss, no more "masti," no more "baba") “Anya, shut up. Shut up and drink this. Now.”
She forced the bottle to Anya's lips. Anya, shocked by her tone, coughed and drank, spilling water all down her chin.

Zara: “Now get up. Get up, or I am leaving you here.”

Anya: “I can't... my leg hurts...”

Zara: (Looking at Kian) “Kian, soch kya raha hai (what are you thinking)? Grab her other arm. We have to move.”
Kian looked at Anya.

His face was like stone. The "Professor" was gone. The blushing, secret-crush boy was gone. The "strong, angry" Kian she had liked in the cafe was also gone.

This was someone else. He looked... broken. And disgusted.
He moved mechanically, like a robot, and grabbed Anya's other arm.
He didn't hold her. He didn't support her. He hauled her to her feet.

Anya: “Oww! Kian! Bas!”
They were a horrible sight.

After 2 hours, she was home. She lied to her parents about food poisoning.
But all 3 of them know, Anaya shouldn't drink again. They made her promise that she will not drink again. 

But that promise broke after few months.

[ashuezy2]

Part 2 of the Series : Anaya ends up performing to "Choli ke Peche" song fully drunk at a Karaoke night in front of College students.

What else she will do that night ? We shall see.