Under the Influence

Under the Influence

By Litorigami

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© All rights reserved. Original work of the author. All characters and story are fictional, any likeness is coincidental.

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Note: This is the first story in our new series.

In this, we are exploring the arc of a relationship between two people who chance upon to meet at a Diwali cards party. Everyone knows they're a huge thing in New Delhi, and come October -- everyday is a cards party somewhere.

Against the backdrop of the festive season, a relationship between a man and a woman blossoms, and just like in real like, it takes time to build. So don't expect the hardcore stuff right away -- but we promise, when it rains, its pours ;)

PS : Fans of blowjobs are going to love this one, and the series.

PS2 : The whole read will be worth it. We keep our promises, as our readers know by now.

Happy Reading!

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Chapter One: Diwali Cards Party

By ten thirty at night, Tanya Bansal's house in Vasant Vihar was practically glowing.

Every balcony railing in the colony had been lined with a string of warm yellow lights.

At the entrance, a fresh rangoli spread across the marble floor in shades of red, orange, and gold, with tiny lamps placed carefully around its edges.

Inside, the house was much more lively.

Some were laughing near the bar, while others were arguing about the cards.

Music played softly in the background, although it was mostly drowned with the clink of glasses and occasional burst of laughter.

It was the kind of Diwali party that Delhi did particularly well - Beautiful houses. Expensive clothes. Old friends. New Introductions. Too much food. Too much alcohol.

And, eventually, a card table at which everybody became fiercely competitive.

At one such table, Amarjeet had been winning for most of the night.

He sat at one of the larger tables in the living room, sleeves of his navy-blue kurta rolled back slightly. On his left wrist was an Omega; and on his right, a designer gold bracelet. He wore a matching Turban to complement his whole look. Standing at 6'3" with a lean, athletic build he carried himself with a relaxed confidence.

A glass of whiskey sat beside his cards, which he hadn't touched in almost twenty minutes.

Kabir noticed. "You're not even drinking anymore."

Amar didn't look up. "I'm playing."

"You're playing like your life depends on it."

"My money certainly does."

Kabir looked at the pile of chips in front of Amar, then at his considerably smaller pile.  "You know, friendship is supposed to mean something."

"It does. I've been letting you sit here for free entertainment."

"Kamine!" (Scoundrel)

Amar finally looked up, smiling.  "Do I smell a sour loser?"

"I'm not losing. I'm being robbed."

The people around the table laughed.

Tanya Bansal, the gorgeous host, was passing behind them when she stopped.

"Can you two keep the drama down for five minutes? Some of us are trying to host a party."

At 5'4, Tanya was compact but carried herself with enough panache to outshine most other girls in the room. Her smooth dusky skin glowed under the ambient lights. Tonight she was wearing a powder blue off shoulder ensemble -- a heavily embroidered, scalloped choli crop top that sat low across her shoulders and ended just beneath her bust, paired with matching high waisted, patiala pants with gold beads lining the outer seams. The top did little to hide the swell of her full, round 32C breasts. Her shoulder length hair was wavy, perhaps blow-dried and rolled. On her feet she wore transparent strappy heels that added a few inches, and a pair of simple diamond solitaires completed her look.

Kabir pointed at Amar. "Tell him to stop cheating."

Tanya rolled her eyes. "Amar doesn't cheat. He's just annoyingly good."

Amar gave her a satisfied smile. "Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment." she said.

"Still counts."

Before they could go back to the game, the sound of the front door opening drew Tanya's attention.

She looked towards the entrance, and her face immediately brightened.

"Oh, finally."

She hurried away from the table.

Amar barely noticed. He was sorting his cards when Tanya's voice rose above the noise.

"Ashmita!!"

His hands froze mid-way. Then he looked up.

A woman had just stepped inside.

She paused near the entrance for a moment, allowing Tanya to practically tackle her into a hug.

She wore a chic, designer outfit that was worth mentioning -- a rose-gold, crushed velvet sharara set, richly embroidered in antique gold and silver - apt for a high society Diwali Party. The choli had a high neckline and was fitted close through the bust and waist, as if a structured silhouette that followed her figure before ending just above her waist, leaving her navel exposed. Matching sharara pants fell in wide, heavy folds, their embroidered details catching the light whenever she moved.

Statement earrings framed her face, while metallic heels added to her height. Her dark hair was swept into a neat bun, leaving her neck and shoulders exposed.

From the front, the outfit was elegant, regal almost.

The back, however, was a different matter.

Almost entirely open, the choli featured a deep, triangle shaped back cut, with delicate strings crossing the exposed skin to hold the embroidered panels together. Clusters of ornamental tassels and tiny gold toned ghunghroo bells hung along the shoulder seam, the hem and along the edges of the back panels. The design revealed most of her back while keeping the front structured and covered.

She was maybe 5'6" tall, slim and had this effortless poise about her. Despite the couture outfit that she wore tonight, nothing about her looked 'extra' or 'too much' -- she just looked perfectly put together for a Diwali party.

Amar looked at her for a second longer than he meant to.

Then as she smiled at Tanya, he actually saw her face properly. High cheekbones, expressive dark eyes, and a warm, confident smile. She was striking, but there was nothing intimidating about her expression. She seemed friendly, and approachable.

Ashmita glanced around the entrance, taking in the rangoli and the lights reflected in the tall windows. Without thinking, she reached for her phone and took a quick photo.

Tanya caught her. "Seriously? You've just arrived."

"Look at the lighting!"

"Ashmita!"

"I'm sorry, but look." She turned her phone towards her friend. "You have to admit, you've done a great job with the place."

Tanya tried not to smile. "Come inside before I throw your phone into the garden."

"That would be a tragedy." Ashmita joked.

"You're impossible, yaar!" (you're impossible, dude.)

Ashmita laughed, tucked her phone away and followed her into the living room.

Across them, Amar had noticed the little ritual. Then he went back to his cards.

Or, he pretended to.

Kabir leaned towards him, whispering. "Who is she? She looks familiar."

Amar kept his expression neutral. "No idea."

"You're looking."

"I'm looking in that direction."

"Right. & I am winning big."

Amar finally glanced at him, then at his pathetic pile of chips. "Let's not get carried away, bhai." (Let's not get carried away, brother.)

Tanya was already heading their way, with Ashmita in tow.

When she turned to follow Tanya, the open back of her choli came fully into view. Amar's gaze dropped before he could stop it -- the bare stretch of skin, the thin ties crossing over each other, the way the long tassles swayed against the curve of her lower back with every step. He looked away a moment later, but the image stayed fresh in his mind for a long time.

Kabir grinned. "This is going to be interesting."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Then stop talking."

Before Kabir could get another word out, Tanya reached the table.

"Everyone, this is Ashmita. She just moved back from Mumbai."

Ashmita smiled at the group. "Hi."

A few people waved back.

"She does fashion and lifestyle content," Tanya continued. "And just so you know, she has a frightening number of followers, so behave yourselves."

Ashmita gave her a deadpan look. "You're announcing my follower count as if it's police record."

"I'm just warning them."

"They look sufficiently warned already."

Tanya laughed.

Kabir leaned back into his chair. "Mumbai se aaya mera dost."

Ashmita stared at him for a second before bursting out laughing. "Oh, God. That joke has followed me across cities."

Kabir put a hand to his chest. "I'm honoured to be the first person to welcome you back to Delhi."

"And you're the first person to remind me why I left."

The table erupted in laughter.

Tanya shook her head. "Ignore him. He gets worse after two drinks."

"Only two?" Ashmita asked.

"She's a fast learner," Amar said.

It was the first time he had directly spoken to her.

Ashmita turned towards him.

Tanya seized the opportunity. "And this is Amarjeet. But we call him Amar."

Amar stood up.

Tanya pointed towards him. "And tonight he is our resident cards champion, apparently."

"Apparently?" Amar said.

"Don't make me regret introducing you." Tanya joked.

HE stood and extended his hand. "Amarjeet. Amar, usually."

Ashmita took it. "I am Ashmita."

"I got that much."

"Good, then we can skip formalities."

He smiled. "Please do."

They let go, but neither of them looked away. It was just a handshake -- nothing special -- yet Amar found himself smiling as pulled out the empty chair beside him.

"Do you play?"

"Cards?"

"No, Cricket. We're only sitting here for decoration."

She laughed. "Okay. I see what I'm dealing with."

"That remains to be seen."

Ashmita glanced at the cards, then at the chips stacked in front of him. "Are you actually good, or has everyone here agreed to let you win?"

Kabir made an appreciative noise. "Finally, someone asking the right questions."

Amar ignored him. "I'm good."

"Modest, too."

"I try."

"Well, I haven't played in ages, so don't get too excited."

"That's fine. I'll take it easy on you."

She pulled out the chair a bit more and then sat down. "Please don't. I hate it when people do that."

Amar laughed. "All right. No special treatment."

"Good."

She set her phone beside her glass and picked up the cards he dealt her.

"Although," she added, looking at her hand, "if I lose badly, I'm blaming the dealer." she joked.

"Naturally."

Tanya pulled up a chair on the opposite side. "Right. Let's see whether Mumbai has taught her anything useful."

"Quite a lot, actually," Ashmita said. "Mostly that people will charge you four times

as much for a smaller apartment."

"Welcome home," Amar said.

She looked at him. "Thank you. It feels nice to be appreciated. And have space to enjoy that appreciation."

He laughed and the game began.

Amar was suddenly more aware of her than he wanted to admit.

It was the little things : The soft clink of her diamond bracelets as she picked up her cards, the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the faint scent of her perfume when she leaned towards the table.

Nothing dramatic. Nothing that should have mattered.

But it did.

He dealt the next hand.

Ashmita studied her cards with a level of seriousness that honestly amused him.

"You're concentrating very hard," he called out.

"I'm trying to work out whether you're bluffing."

"And?"

"Still undecided."

"Take your time."

She looked up. "How generous of you."

"I'm a generous man."

Kabir snorted. "He's taken half my money."

"That's generosity by my standards." Amar replied.

Ashmita laughed, then played her card.

Amar expected her to be bluffing.

She wasn't.

She won the hand.

Kabir slapped the table. "Finally! Someone has broken the curse."

Ashmita looked at the cards, then at Amar. "Oh."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I didn't think I'd actually win."

Kabir laughed so hard that Tanya had to hold him to stop shaking the table.

Amar looked at Ashmita for a moment. "You're going to be a problem, aren't you?"

"Only if you keep losing."

"I've lost one hand."

"That's how it starts."

He shook his head, smiling, and shuffled the cards.

For the next twenty minutes, they played, chatted and occasionally argued over the rules.

He found that Ashmita was better than she let on.

She didn't win every hand, but she had a knack of spotting exactly when someone was trying too hard to appear confident. And as for herself, she didn't fidget when she had a bad hand. She didn't celebrate excessively when she won. And whenever he caught her watching him, she gave him a small smile that left him wondering whether she'd noticed something he hadn't.

Amar, who was accustomed to reading people, found her surprisingly hard to pin down.

Especially when he was concentrating less on the cards, and more on her.

He kept stealing glances, especially when she leaned forward to place a card on the table or reached for her glass. Every chance he got, Amar let his eyes drift past her shoulders to the open back of her choli. The bare skin, the soft movement of the long tassles, the way the fitted velvet choli hugged the sides of her waist before giving way to the flare of the sharara.

He looked away before anyone could notice.

Eventually, Ashmita put down her cards. "Wait. Before you all start looking miserable about losing money, I need a picture."

Kabir laughed. "Why? Are you documenting our financial ruin?"

"Exactly. It's a public service."

She picked up her phone and held it out towards the table. "Everyone, move closer."

Tanya leaned in. Kabir made an exaggeratedly tragic face. Someone at the far end complained that the lighting was terrible.

Ashmita adjusted the angle. "Amar, smile."

"I am smiling."

"Try looking like you actually enjoy spending time with other people."

Kabir burst out laughing.

Amar turned towards her. "You've known me for twenty minutes."

"And I'm already concerned."

He shook his head, but the corner of his mouth lifted just as she took the picture.

Ashmita checked it. "Perfect."

"Let me see." Tanya said, leaning closer.

Ashmita showed her the photo, then took another with everyone crowded together. As she shifted sideways to fit everyone in the frame, the wide sharara moved around her legs and the little metallic ghungroo bells shone under the lights.

Amar noticed how naturally she moved between talking to everyone and checking photographs on her phone. She was dressed for a Diwali Party, but she had the ease of someone accustomed to being photographed.

It occured to him that she probably knew exactly which angles worked for her.

"Content creator, was it?" he asked as she returned her phone to the table.

"Occupational hazard."

"Do you photograph everything?"

"Not everything."

"Then what makes the cut?"

She considered the question. "Good lighting. Good food. People I like.

Occasionally, something funny enough that I want to remember it."

"So we're being documented for posterity."

"Don't flatter yourself. You're mainly here because Tanya's house looks beautiful."

Tanya looked offended. "Mainly?"

Ashmita smiled. "Fine. The company here is acceptable too."

"That's the nicest thing you've said all evening." Amar replied.

"Don't get used to it."

She picked up her cards again.

He found himself smiling at the table long after the joke had passed.

The game continued.

Around them, the conversation moved between work, holidays, mutual friends and the usual complaints about Delhi traffic. Someone opened another bottle. A waiter appeared with a tray of kebabs. Kabir began telling a story about a disastrous trip to Goa which became increasingly difficult to follow as he kept interrupting himself to defend his own behaviour.

Ashmita listened, laughed at the right moments and occasionally asked questions that made the story even worse for him.

She fitted into the group easily.

When Tanya asked about Mumbai, Ashmita talked about the city with affection.

"I loved living there," she said "The work was great. There was always something happening, and I met some wonderful people."

"Then why come back?" Tanya asked, genuinely keen to know what made her move back.

Ashmita shrugged. "I don't know. I missed home. I missed my family. And after a while, I realised I didn't have to stay somewhere just because it was good for work."

"Are you going to keep working from Delhi?"

"That's the plan. Most of what I do can be managed from anywhere, provided the Wi-Fi works and nobody decides to renovate the building next door."

Amar laughed. "That sounds like a very specific trauma."

"You have no idea. I once had a brand call interrupted by a man drilling through a wall. I tried to pretend it was part of the background music."

"What did they say?"

"They asked if I was speaking from a construction site. And then rescheduled the call."

Kabir nearly choked on his drink.

Ashmita grinned. "Anyway. Delhi should be easier. I already know the city. I know where to go, who to call, and which roads to avoid at what time."

"That last one is an important skill," Amar said.

"Exactly. You understand."

He looked at her. "So you're happy to be back?"

She considered it for a moment. "Ask me again in a month?"

"Still doubtful?"

"No. It's just that moving back is different from visiting. When you visit, everything

feels familiar and exciting. When you move back, you have to find a plumber, buy groceries and remember where you've put the charger."

"I thought you were staying with family."

"Technically my family lives in Gurgaon."

"I just rented a place in Delhi. In New Friends Colony."

"Interesting."

"No. It's devastating."

He laughed. "Well, if you need a plumber-"

"Do you have one?"

"No."

"Then I don't see how this conversation is helping me."

He laughed again.

She smiled down at her cards, and for a moment he found himself watching her rather than playing.

It wasn't only her appearance, though that was difficult to ignore. It was the way she spoke, the ease with which she moved between people, the fact that she could make a joke without seeming to need everyone to laugh.

He was starting to like her company.

Which he realized, was becoming a problem.

Eventually, Tanya announced a break.

People stood, stretched, refreshed their drinks and drifted towards the terrace.

Ashmita rose from her chair, collected her phone and followed Tanya towards the bar.

Amar remained by the side of the table, finishing his drink.

Kabir appeared behind him. "You like her."

Amar glanced at him. "Here we go."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. Here we go."

Kabir grinned. "You've barely looked at your cards for the last half hour."

"I've been playing."

"You've been staring at Ashmita."

"I have eyes."

"Congratulations. You also have a crush."

Amar took the last sip of his whiskey. "She's interesting."

Kabir nodded solemnly. "Ah. The opening stages of denial."

"Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?"

"No. But I appreciate you asking."

"I've known her for twenty minutes."

"That hasn't stopped you before" Kabir laughed, mocking how easily Amar usually fell head-over-heels, always convinced the next person was 'the one.'

Then casually he remarked:

"Bahut Engligh jhaad raha hai uske saamne. Do drink aur jayengi andar, saari English bhool jayoge, Paaji.)

(You're flaunting your English in front of her. Another two drinks, and you'll forget how to speak in English, brother.)

"Bataun, Saale?" (Shall I tell you, You bastard?)

Kabir immediately looked around the empty table, triumphant.

"Dekha!" (See!)

Amar shook his head and headed towards the balcony doors before Kabir could continue.

He found Ashmita outside.

She was alone near the railing, busy setting up her phone on a small tripod.

The balcony overlooked the colony, where string of lights glowed along the terraces and windows.

She had positioned her phone to capture the lights behind her with the warm reflections in the glass adding depth to the frame.

She adjusted its position, stepped back, checked the frame, and moved a loose strand of hair away from her face.

Then she returned to the phone and started recording.

For a few seconds, she smiled towards the camera, turning slightly as if to show the ghunghroo bells along the back of her choli. She checked the result and frowned at something on the screen and adjusted the tripod by another inch.

Amar stopped just inside the balcony.

He watched her try again.

From where he stood, he had a clear view of her back. The deep open cut of her choli left most of the back bare, the thin criss-cross ties holding the fabric just enough to be decent, the long tassels falling in clusters along her spine. The fitted blouse clung to the sides of her body, emphasising her narrow waist, before the sharara took over, hugging the full curve of her hips and then flaring out in heavy folds.

He took his time looking.

Then another thought occurred to him. The choli was fully backless from neck down. With a back that open, she wasn't probably wearing a bra.

The realization settled low in his stomach.

Just the thin ties and fitted velvet keeping her breasts in place. He wondered how heavy they would feel without support. How warm the underside of them would feel against his palms. How easily the ties could come undone, the fabric loosened, and those soft, full tits freed into his hands. He thought about cupping them from behind, thumbs brushing over her nipples until they tightened, about the weight of them spilling into his palms once the choli was gone. About sucking on them, slow and thorough, while she was still standing like this.

Amar took in the outfit once more -- the ornate front, the exposed back, the strings and tassels, the contract between the fitted choli and the generous flare of the sharara.

It revealed plenty without showing everything.

The view held him there for a moment.

Then snapped back to reality.

Ashmita shifted her weight and glanced towards the phone.

She finally seemed satisfied. She checked the clip once more and began typing something on her phone.

He found the whole process unexpectedly amusing. At the cards table, she'd been quick with her jokes and entirely unbothered by the competition. Here she was, taking the framing of a few seconds of video so seriously as he'd taken the game.

Amar walked over and placed his glass on the side table beside her. "How many takes?"

She looked up, surprised, then laughed. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know the first version wasn't good enough."

"It was terrible."

"It looked fine from here."

"That's because you're not the one who has to post it."

"Right. My mistake."

She smiled and slipped her phone into her hand. "Besides, the lights look better in person. The camera makes everything look flat."

His gaze dropped without apology to the high necked choli which clung to the full, soft weight of her breasts. "Not everything, I'm sure."

She arched an eyebrow, catching his lingering glance. "Is that your way of saying I look much nicer in person?"

"Among other things."

"Do you know how to be subtle?"

He shook his head, smiling, then nodded towards the party behind them. "Maybe you should just enjoy the party."

She looked at him. "Are you suggesting I put my phone away?"

"Wouldn't dare."

"Good. I was beginning to worry about you."

He leaned casually against the railing beside her. "I just wanted to see what had your attention."

She glanced towards the houses. "The lights, mostly."

He followed her gaze.

Balconies, windows, and terraces glowed across the colony. A car moved slowly through the street below, its headlights passing over decorated walls. Somewhere nearby a child was setting off a string of firecrackers.

"Diwali always feels different." he said.

"It does."

"Do you know why?"

She looked at him. "Is this a test?"

"No."

"Good. I haven't revised."

He laughed. "I was just wondering what you thought."

Ashmita rested her elbows against the railing. "Maybe it's because everybody makes an effort at the same time. The houses look better, people dress up, everyone buys too much sweets and pretend they haven't."

"That's... optimistic.. but also cynical." He smiled a confused smile.

"It's also accurate."

"Hmm."

She smiled. "What about you?"

He looked at the lights. "I like the feeling that things can start again."

"Like New Year's?"

"Similar. Except Diwali feels more personal to me. You clean the house, get rid of

things you don't need, make everything look new again."

"Even if the same problems are waiting for you next morning?"

"Especially then."

She looked at him for a moment, surprised by his depth. "That's actually quite nice."

"Thank you."

"Don't look pleased. I'm not saying it was profound." she said, although she did find it profound.

He laughed. "You're very generous with your compliments."

"I save them for special occasions."

"And tonight isn't one?"

"You're still being assessed."

He turned towards her. "Is this what this is?"

"What?"

"An assessment."

She smiled, looking back at the lights. "Maybe."

"Should I be taking notes?"

"Probably. You seem like someone who likes to be prepared."

He laughed softly.

For a few seconds, neither spoke. The party continued behind them, but the noise seemed less intrusive out here.

Ashmita glanced at his glass. "How long have you been playing cards?"

"Tonight?"

She gave him a look. "No, in your entire life"

"Long enough to know when someone is trying to distract me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is it working?"

He looked at her. "A little."

Her smile widened, but she didn't say anything.

He found himself enjoying the silence as much as the conversation.

After a moment, she turned towards him again. "So, Amar. What do you actually do?"

"Business."

She stared at him. "That tells me absolutely nothing."

"I know."

"Is that your standard answer."

"Usually."

"Why?"

He considered the question. "Because people tend to make up their minds about

you as soon as they hear what you do. Sometimes it's easier to talk about

something else first."

She nodded slowly. "That's fair."

"You're not going to ask again?"

"Oh, I probably will. Just not tonight."

He laughed. "Good strategy."

"Thank you. I have my moments."

He looked at her. "And you? Fashion and lifestyle?"

"Mostly. Fashion campaigns, styling, beauty, travel. Sometimes I work with hotels or brands that want me to create content around experiences."

"So you're working even when you're on holiday."

"Being on Holiday is my job. And I love my job."

He laughed. "That helps."

"It does actually. Although people occasionally assume because I take photographs for a living, I spend all day taking pictures of myself."

"Don't you?"

She gave him an incredulous look. "Wow."

He laughed. "I'm joking."

"Good. Because I was about to tell you that you're not photogenic enough to understand the process."

He put a hand to his chest. "That's harsh."

"I believe in honest feedback."

"I'll remember that."

"Please do."

She slipped her phone into her small evening bag.

For the first time since he'd approached her, she seemed content to leave it there.

He noticed.

"Are you always this particular about your pictures?" he asked.

She turned to him, amused. "Are you always this interested in what I'm doing?"

"Only since you told me it's a full time occupation."

"Some of us take our social lives seriously."

"So, should I pose for you to get your full attention?"

She laughed. "You'd need better lighting."

"Ouch. You are brutal."

She laughed, and changed the subject, and finally asked: "Have you always lived in Delhi?"

"Mostly. Although my family is based in Chandigarh, I studied here in Delhi and

then chose to settle here. I do a lot of back and forth though, I'm close to my parents and younger sister." Amar replied.

"You like your family?"

He looked almost surprised. "Yes. They are nice people, I have found over time."

She laughed a hearty laugh. "That's not what I meant."

"Sure." giving her the side eye, mockingly.

"But do you like living in Delhi?"

"Most days."

"That's a very diplomatic answer."

"Delhi is the state of Diplomats."

She laughed. "Very funny."

He smiled. "Besides, Delhi has great food."

"That's your strongest argument."

"Absolutely."

"Okay. Name your top three places to eat in Delhi."

He pretended to think. "You're going to judge me on this aren't you?"

"Obviously."

"Then I'm not answering until I've had time to prepare."

She laughed again.

It was an easy sound, and he liked that she wasn't trying to make every moment

meaningful. They could talk about work, complain about Delhi, joke about food.

The attraction was there, but it didn't need to carry the entire conversation.

From inside, Tanya called out. "Ashmita!"

Ashmita turned towards the doors. "Coming!"

She picked up her bag, then looked at Amar. "Are you going to go back to the game?"

"Of course."

"Good."

"Why?"

"Because I haven't beaten you properly yet."

He laughed. "You've beaten me twice."

"Yes, but I think one of those was just beginner's luck."

"You're welcome to keep telling yourself that."

She smiled. "See you inside, Amar."

She started towards the door, then paused. "Actually, before I forget."

He turned.

"I'm having a house-warming this weekend. Saturday evening. Just a few friends,

nothing too formal."

"Your new place?"

"Yes. I've only just moved in, so I thought it would be a good excuse to get

everyone together."

"Sounds nice."

"It should be. Provided the electrician finished whatever he's doing before then."

"Another occupational hazard?"

"Moving house. Much worse than social media."

He laughed. "You've made a convincing case."

She looked at him for a moment. "You should come."

The invitation was casual, but she held his gaze while she said it.

Amar found himself straightening slightly. "Saturday?"

"Yes. Seven-thirty."

"All right."

She smiled. "That was easy."

"Should I have made you work harder for it?"

"Would you have?"

"Possibly."

"Then it's probably a good thing you didn't."

He laughed. "Fair enough. I'll be there."

"Good."

She disappeared into the room.

Amar remained on the balcony for a few seconds, looking at the lights.

Then he went back inside.

Kabir spotted him almost immediately. "Where have you been?"

"Outside."

"With Ashmita."

Amar looked at him. "You're very observant."

"It's a gift."

"Get a better one."

Kabir grinned. "So?"

"So what?"

"Did you get her number?"

"No."

"Did you ask?"

"No."

"Did she ask you?"

Amar paused. "She's having a house-warming this Saturday."

Kabir stared at him and then he burst out laughing. "Of course she is."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Amar shook his head and sat down at the table.

He had barely settled back into his chair when Kabir leaned towards him, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Haivaniyat ki mishaal hai tu. Abhi tak aankhon se nanga kar chuka hoga usse."

(You're the definition of a pervert. You've probably undressed her with your eyes by now.)

Amar shot him a look as he picked up his cards.

"Chal harami. Teri nazrein kam hain?"

(Fuck off, you bastard. As if your eyes are any less guilty.)

"Arre, main to apni powers test kar raha ha hoon." Kabir straightnened in his chair, narrowed his eyes at the opposite end of the room, and slowly raised two fingers to his temples. "X-ray vision. Dekhte hai kitni layers pehni hai.

(I am testing my powers. Let's use my X-Ray vision to see how many layers she has on.)

Amar reached across and slid his hands down as if Kabir actually had X-Ray vision.

"Abey band kar ye sab. I called dibs."

(Oi, cut the drama. I called dibs.)

Kabir blinked, and broke into a delighted grin.

"Oho, dibs? Bhai, usse pooccha bhi hai yah seedha court marriage ka papers banwa liye?"

(Oh ho, dibs? Have you even asked her or have you just got the court marriage papers ready?"

"Tu bas door reh."

(You just stay away.)

"Accha, aur agar usne tukhe mana kar diya toh?" Kabir asked, leaning back with exaggerated innocence.

(Fine, what if she says no to you?)

Amar arranged his cards in his hand, entirely too pleased with himself.

"Phir bhi meri hai. Tu chalta ban, dhoondh koi aur."

(She's still mine. Now get lost and find yourself someone else.)

Kabir stared at him a beat longer before bursting into laughter.

"Benchod, banda balcony se paanch minute mein lauta hai aur poori shaadi karke aaya hai."

(Fucker, the guy goes out to the balcony for five minutes and returns as if he's already married to her.)

Amar flicked a card at him.

"Chup kar, aur chaal chal."

(Shut up and play your turn.)

Kabir caught the card against his chest, still grinning.

Across the table, someone demanded to know whose turn it was. Kabir finally picked up his cards shaking his head in disbelief.

He had no intention of explaining himself to Kabir.

Besides, there was a game to finish.

Or there should've been.

But as he picked up his cards, he found himself thinking about Saturday. About Ashmita's smile, the way she's laughed at his jokes, and how easily the conversation had moved from one subject to another.

He'd met attractive women before.

Not many had made him want to keep talking after the obvious things had been said.

He glanced towards the other side of the room.

Ashmita was standing besides Tanya, listening to something one of the guests was saying. She laughed, then reached for her phone to check a notification.

Amar took out his own phone as well.

He opened the social media app, and looked her up. Finding her account wasn't particularly difficult. Tanya had mentioned that Ashmita had a substantial following, and one quick search brought up her profile.

He opened it.

The first thing he noticed was how different she looked from one photograph to the next.

Her feed was a mix of fashion, travel, lifestyle, and little glimpses of her everyday life. There were photographs of her in fitted jeans and boots on a hillside, smiling as her long dark hair falling over her shoulders, others showed her dressed for evenings out, in sarees and carefully chosen jewelry, looking completely at ease with the camera.

There were beach holidays, hotel balconies, swimming pools, dinners under candle light, and the occasional candid looking shot that was probably anything but candid.

The photographs were carefully framed, the colours worked together, and even casual candid photos had a polish to them.

She clearly knew what she was doing.

He scrolled further.

He found himself looking at a photograph of her in fitted spaghetti crop top and denim shorts, standing in what looked like a hotel room. She looked younger there, more relaxed, with her hair tied back and a mischievous smile on her face.

He wondered if there was a story behind that particular picture.

Then he reached her holiday pictures.

And stopped.

Ashmita was wearing a black bikini with tiny white polka dots, the sea stretching out behind her.

The photograph showed her almost full length, standing beside an infinity pool overlooking the Mediterranean.

The sky was a brilliant blue, the water below it turquoise, and white buildings dotted the distant coastline. But it was Ashmita who held his attention.

Her long, dark hair fell in loose waves over one shoulder, slightly tousled by the breeze. She wore narrow, dark sunglasses, small gold earrings and a tortoise shell bracelet. One hand rested lightly against her hair while the other lay near her hip.

She wasn't doing anything particularly dramatic.

She was simply standing there, looking straight at the camera with a composed, faintly teasing expression.

Amar stopped scrolling.

This time he took in the picture, as if taking a mental screenshot.

The bikini suited her, he thought to himself.

It had a fitted polka dot top with a small gold detail at the centre and narrow straps over her shoulders.

The matching high-cut thongs sat at her hips beneath a sheer black cover up skirt, also patterned in matching white polka dots. The translucent fabric of the skirt fell almost to her ankles, revealing the outline of her long legs.

He looked at her figure more closely than he intended.

She must've been 5'6" -- Ashmita had the sort of proportions that made her look tall even in a photograph. Her shoulders were balanced against her hips, her arms thin and slender, and lightly toned. Her bust was the most noticeable feature about her body -- maybe 34DD or 36D- but had a natural droop that came with those measurements. Her waist narrowed noticeably before flowing into her curving hips, not prominent but still feminine.

Her abdomen was flat and defined without looking too sculpted. Her hips were full and high, thighs shapely with not an extra ounce of fat, and the long line of her legs gave her a silhouette of a super model.

Amar immediately thought of the British super model, Penny Lane.

Yes, she looked like her. But prettier.

He went back to the first picture.

Well, he thought to himself, Tanya left out a few details of her 'mumbai ka dost'.

She was smoking hot.

Tonight, he assumed the choli and sharara set she was wearing had given him a pretty good idea of her figure. But he was wrong. In-fact, while the choli deliberately showed off the smooth, open line of her back, it softened the outline of her full bust, revealing only its shape when she moved or turned. It had been elegant, and understated.

But the bikini pictures showed her differently. There were no elaborate embroidered panels or structured fabric to contain her. Just her figure.

It wasn't that one version of her was more attractive than the other. They were simply different sides of the same woman. At the party, she had been poised and elegant. Here, she looked relaxed, sun-kissed and a little more playful.

But the smile was the same.

That small, confident curve of her lips, as though she knew something the rest of the world hadn't quite figured out yet.

Amar stared at the photograph for another moment.

His attraction sharpened into a more unmistakable physical response.

The erection caught him off guard, particularly because he was seated amongst others.

Thank God, he was seated and not standing, he thought to himself.

Then, he almost laughed at himself.

He had met Ashmita barely an hour ago. She had beaten him at cards, challenged him at every opportunity and managed to make him lose track of a conversation twice. Now he was sitting with others at a cards table, at a Diwali Party, studying her holiday photographs like a teenager who had just discovered his crush had a social-media account.

He smiled to himself, then tapped follow.

He put his phone away, as it was the most ordinary thing in the world but wondered whether she enjoyed the places she visited as much as she enjoyed photographing them.

Across the room, Ashmita's phone buzzed.

She glanced at the notification while standing besides Tanya.

'Amarjeet started following you.'

Her eyes lingered on the same for a second.

So, the man did know how to use social media.

She opened his profile.

It was locked.

Just his profile picture, looking dapper in a dark coloured shirt.

There wasn't much more to see. Except his full name -- "Amarjeet Singh Ahluwalia."

Then she tapped - Follow back.

It was a small thing.

But the start of something big.

She slipped her phone into her bag and looked across the room, she found Amar seated at a cards table.

He was already looking at her.

Neither of them smiled immediately.

Then Ashmita's lips curved, just slightly and she smiled.

Not the polite smile she'd given everyone else.

A smaller one.

Private.

Amar returned it.

Then she turned away.

Amar got back to playing cards.

He told himself it had been an ordinary evening.

A Diwali party.

A new acquaintance.

A little flirting.

A house-warming invitation.

Nothing more.

But as he continued with playing cards, he realized he was no longer thinking about the game.

He was thinking about Saturday.

And somewhere else in the room, Ashmita was thinking about it too.

*******************************************************************************************

Chapter Two: The House-warming

By seven-thirty on Saturday evening, Amar's Greater Kailash home in New Delhi was buzzing with energy.

Not the fun kind.

The nervous kind.

Amar had already changed his shirt twice, yet he remained undecided, until he settled on a classic white shirt.

Later, he stood in-front of the bedroom mirror, buttoning the cuffs of a crisp white shirt beneath a charcoal blazer. High waisted, black pleated trousers sat perfectly on his waist and settled nicely on his penny loafers. Black turban sat high and modern atop his head. He checked his watch, straightened his collar, and regarded his reflection with the expression of a man who had a perfectly reasonable explanation for behaving like an idiot.

He was going to a house-warming.

Not a business dinner. Not an important meeting where money was at stake. Just a few people, some food, and a woman he had met last week at a cards party.

There was no reason to be this particular about what he wore.

His phone offered no assistance. No message from Ashmita. Nothing to suggest she was thinking about him at all.

He picked up his keys.

Then put them down again.

"Get a grip." he muttered to himself.

The trouble was that he remembered their first meeting far too clearly. Her laughter when she had beaten him at cards. The way she'd looked at him on the balcony, as though she'd noticed his curiosity and decided to make him work for every answer.

But that wasn't the whole truth and he knew it.

He had also remembered what she wore that night - her rose-gold sharara set. The soft chime of gold ghunghroo bells when she walked. The open back of her blouse and how the thin ties had held the embroidered choli in place.

He had also wondered what the outfit concealed at the front, too. The structured choli revealed her shoulders and back while giving little away about the precise shape beneath its embroidered panels. He'd caught himself imagining what she might look like without all that velvet and embellishment, then dismissed the thought before it could go any further.

Except it had a habit of returning.

That night after Tanya's party, when he got home, he had checked her social media.

Then he'd checked it again.

Lying in his bed in nothing but his boxers, Amar scrolled through her profile with his phone held above his chest. One photograph led to another, and before long he was scrolling through the pictures he'd already seen, studying her expressions, her outfits, the little glimpses of her life that she chose to share with strangers.

The more he looked, the difficult it became to pretend he was only curious. By the time he reached the polka-dot bikini pictures again, he was fully hard, the thick outline of his cock pressing against the soft cotton of his boxers.

Eventually, the attraction that he had been trying to brush aside won.

Alone and comfortable in his room, he propped the phone against a pillow, and opened the polka-dot bikini photograph again and left it there. The image of her standing by that infinity pool -- full breasts barely contained by the bikini top, the soft natural weight of them, the narrow waist, the high cut thongs under the translucent skirt -- filled the screen while he pushed his boxers down and took his erect cock in his hand.

He stroked slowly at first, eyes fixed on the exact place where the bikini top cut across the heavy underside of her breasts, imagining what they would feel like without it. Warm. Soft. Heavy enough to spill over his palms.

Then the memory of the choli took over. The open back. Those thin ties. He pictured himself standing on Tanya's balcony, fingers working the knots free one by one, the embroidered velvet loosening, the gold tassels brushing against bare skin as the fabric finally gave way. Her breasts would fall free into his waiting hands -- larger than the structured choli had allowed anyone to see.

Had she been a 34DD? A 36DD? He had absolutely no basis for knowing, and the fact that he was mentally debating her bra size didn't stop him from stroking himself to climax.

His fist moved faster.

Then, he came hard to the combined image : Ashmita in the bikini & Ashmita with the choli undone, her bare breasts filling his hands while she arched her back against him. The orgasm left him breathing roughly, and half embarrassed -- He was thirty years old and jerking off to pictures from social media.

Now, back in the present, he stopped himself right there.

He barely knew the woman. They'd exchanged a few conversation, played cards, and shared a look or two that might have meant something -- or might simply have been his imagination working overtime.

The worst part was his complete inability to stop himself from imagining her naked.

Yet, here he was, wondering about things he absolutely had no right to assume.  Atleast not yet.

He exhaled slowly, dragged a hand over his face, and forced himself to Kabir's advice from earlier in the day.

The call had gone exactly as expected.

"So you're going tonight?" Kabir had asked, already sounding too pleased with himself.

"I said I was."

"Just checking. You've been unusually quiet about it."

"There's nothing to discuss."

"Right. That's why you've apparently spent the whole week discussing nothing."

Amar had laughed. "You have too much free time."

"And you have a date."

"It's a house-warming."

"Of course. Very romantic. Flowers, furniture, perhaps a minor plumbing emergency. Shall I send a toolbox or a bouquet?"

"Don't you have a life."

"I did. Then my best friend developed a crush and became more entertaining than Netflix."

"I don't have a crush."

"Listen Bhai. Just have fun. Be charming. And make sure not to propose marriage by the time for dessert."

"'Aur maze lele'" (Have your fun.)

"It's just a house-warming Amar. So take it easy, and tone down the intensity. Thank me tomorrow."

And then the call had ended.

Amar agreed, that for once, Kabir was right.

Now, he picked up his keys again.

He glanced at the time and left.

He arrived at eight-oh-three.

So much for being particular.

He parked outside and looked at the house for a second.

Ashmita's new house was in New Friends Colony, one of Delhi's quieter, up-market residential societies, tucked behind old trees and wide road that seemed strangely peaceful for a Saturday night.

The house itself was modern, although an older construction. The one's built in late 90's or early 2000's. The ones which still had a small garden in-front of them instead of the stilt parking.

It almost fell nostalgic, in the midst of newer similar looking 'brown-grey coloured' buildings all across the colony.

Clean lines. Large glass windows. Warm exterior lighting. A small garden in front with a few potted plants and diyas placed along the steps. Music drifted faintly down from above, mixed with the sound of light traffic and occasional burst of laughter.

Elegant & Classic.

It suited her.

He stood frozen for a second, and then muttered to himself:  "House-warming." as if reminding himself to remain calm.

He knew better.

He smiled to himself and rang the bell.

The door opened.

Ashmita stood before him in a fitted black mini dress. The fabric was densely embroidered, covered in tiny sequins, with intricate red, gold and champagne floral motifs scattered across the dark fabric. The neckline was high and clean, almost halter like, gave the dress a sophisticated, almost sculptural finish while leaving her shoulders and arms bare. The dress had a fitted cut that followed her figure closely through the bust and waist before ending on her thighs, leaving her long, toned legs on full display. Gold strappy heels added to her height while a pale cocktail sat in her hands.

Her dark hair was half-pulled up, the rest falling over her back and shoulders. Small diamond earrings caught the light when she moved and a delicate bracelet flashed at her wrist.

Her curves were completely covered by the dress, but the close fit still made the shape of her upper body impossible to miss.

Amar stopped for half-a-second.

It seemed overly glamorous until Amar realized that the dress was perhaps something an "influencer' might wear for her own house-warming knowing that the evening will get sufficiently photographed.

The dress was completely different from the rose gold velvet sharara set he's seen her in at Tanya's party. That had been festive and unmistakably Indian.

This was sharper, and sexy without looking as though it was trying to be.

The high neck kept 'everything' contained. The fitted black fabric doing the rest.

His eyes travelled down her figure before settling on her legs.

For one brief moment, he found himself wondering what she might look like

underneath all the carefully chosen outfit.

Heat settled low in his stomach.

He worked himself back to her face.

He smiled. "You look lovely."

The compliment escaped him before he could dress it up as a joke. He meant it. The dress made it impossible not to notice her body, and the fact that she seemed entirely comfortable in it only made her more distracting.

She noticed him checking her out, but for once, she didn't immediately tease him. Instead she said : "Thank you."

Then she smiled. "Eight-oh-five"

He glanced at his watch. "You timed me?"

"I looked at the clock when the doorbell rang."

"That's considerably less impressive."

"I'll work on it."

Her gaze travelled over his charcoal blazer.  "You've made an effort."

"Should I have come in my pyjamas?"

"No. I'm glad you didn't."

"Good to know."

She stepped aside to let him in. As he passed, he caught the faint fragrance of her perfume. Their shoulders nearly brushed, and neither seemed particularly interested in moving out of the other's way. He was aware of the soft brush of her breast against his arm for a fraction of a second -- warm, deliberate or accidental, he couldn't tell -- and the sensation went straight through him.

Ashmita closed the door behind them.

"Come on. Let me show you around before everyone decides I've abandoned them."

Amar followed her inside and finally got a view of her back side.

He noticed that the dress was even better when she moved. The short hem showed off her long legs with every step.

At Tanya's party he had been distracted by the open back of her sharara.

Tonight, there was no open bare back to stare at.

Instead, everything was covered.

And somehow, that made his imagination work harder.

He caught himself wondering if she was wearing a bra underneath that dress, or did she skip it tonight as well?

He stopped the thought before it went any further.

Mostly.

He tried diverting his attention to the house instead.

The apartment was warm and inviting, with large windows, contemporary furniture, fresh flowers, and little personal touches that kept it looking like a showroom. Diyas lined the windowsills, and framed photographs rested on a console near the entrance.

A phone stand sat beside one of the windows.

Amar nodded towards it. "Filming?"

"Trying to. I wanted to make a little house-warming reel, but the caterer called, a flower arrangement arrived looking nothing like what I'd ordered, and I spent twenty minutes moving a lamp six inches to the left."

He glanced at the lamp.  "Can you tell?"

"No."

"Then the twenty minutes were well spent."

She gave him a look. "You're going to a problem, aren't you?" - using his own line

against him.

"I've been told that."

"By women who invite you to their homes?"

"Mostly by Kabir."

She laughed. "That makes more sense."

Then led him into the living room.

"Anyway, the reel can wait till tomorrow. I'm too tired to pretend moving house is effortless."

"Do you have to pretend?"

She glanced at him, apparently surprised by the question.

"Online? Sometimes. People like the finished version. Nice lighting, flowers, coffee on the table, the impression that I woke up looking like this."

"And you don't"

"Absolutely not. Before nine in the morning, I'm barely a person."

"That's disappointing."

"I know. I'm much less impressive before coffee."

"Good. I was beginning to feel inadequate."

"Oh?" her eyebrow lifted.

"I had a very specific image of you before I came tonight."

"And what was that?"

"Someone who has everything figured out."

"That would be so exhausting."

"It probably is."

She smiled, but there was a brief change in her expression, as though the joke had landed closer to something real.

"That's the problem with doing what I do," she said. "People see the photographs, the clothes, the places I travel to, and they assume the rest of my life looks just as polished."

"Doesn't it?"

"Have you been into the kitchen?"

He looked towards the dining area.  "No."

"Exactly. There are probably three unopened boxes in there that I've been pretending don't exist since I moved in."

He laughed. "So the great Ashmita has boxes."

"Several. And a wardrobe I haven't finished organising."

"I'm beginning to feel lied to."

"Good. That keeps you interested."

She resumed walking, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

Amar followed her into the living room, thinking that she was even more attractive

in her own surroundings. At Tanya's party, he'd noticed her appearance first. Here, he noticed the easy confidence with which she made people feel welcome. The little decisions she'd made to turn an unfamiliar apartment into a home only added to the effect.

He could understand why people would want to watch her online.

What interested him more was the woman who existed between the photographs.

But the fact that the dress was doing a good job at hiding the ample size of her breasts was making him frustrated. His imagination had to all the work and that was not helping him concentrate.

"Come," she said. I'll introduce you before you start hiding near the drinks."

"I don't hide."

"You were standing near the drinks at Tanya's."

"I was getting a drink."

"Of course." She glanced back at him. "Come on, Amar."

He followed, stealing glances at her ass stretching the tight fabric of her dress with every step.

There were about a dozen guests, mostly friends Ashmita had made in Delhi or through her work. A couple of people were discussing an upcoming fashion campaign near the windows, while others had gathered around the dining table, arguing over what to order for dessert.

Ashmita moved easily through the room, stopping every few steps.

"Hi Amar, Good to see you." Someone from a common circle greeted him.

"Hey, man."

"Come, meet everyone." Ashmita took him on.

A few hands were shaken. Someone offered him a drink. Another guest asked if he knew Tanya. Amar answered easily, but Ashmita kept pulling him from one small conversation into another, introducing him without making it feel formal.

"This is Amar."

"Amarjeet," he corrected.

She glanced at him.  "Nobody calls you Amarjeet."

"Some people do."

"Who?"

He thought about it.  "My mother."

Ashmita smiled.  "Then Amar it is."

He looked at her.  "You're getting very comfortable."

"I invited you to my house. I think I've earned the privilege."

He smiled. "Fair."

And standing near the drinks, holding a glass of wine and talking animatedly to a woman in red dress, was Tanya.

She spotted them almost immediately.  "There you are!" she called. "I was beginning to wonder whether you'd got lost on the stairs."

Amar looked at Ashmita. "Apparently, arriving on time is no longer enough."

"Eight-oh-five isn't on time." Ashmita reminded him.

Tanya grinned. "He was early for him... And Oh! By the way, you should have seen him at my party. He was pretending not to look at you so hard that it became impossible to notice."

"Tanya!"

"What?" Tanya asked innocently. "I'm welcoming your guest."

Amar gave her a dry look. "Is this how you welcome everyone?"

"Only the interesting ones."

Ashmita shook her head. "I'm beginning to regret inviting you both."

"You invited me because you love me," Tanya said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"And you invited him because----"

"Finish that sentence and find out what I do to you!" Ashmita glared.

Tanya laughed and lifted her glass in surrender.  "Fine. I'll behave... For at-least ten minutes."

Ashmita then introduced Amar to a few more guests, then returned to Tanya, who had apparently decided that the evening required her supervision.

"So," Tanya said, lowering her voice just enough to be unconvincing, "how are you two getting along?"

"We've been in the same room for approximately four minutes." Ashmita replied.

"Five." Amar corrected.

Tanya looked delighted. "Oh, he's counting."

"I'm standing right here," he reminded her.

"We know," Tanya said. "That's why we're talking about you."

Ashmita laughed, and Amar found himself smiling despite his best efforts. He was also uncomfortably aware of how close Ashmita was standing, of the soft curve of her breasts when she turned, of the way the black fabric stretched across her hips when she shifted her weight.

Tanya had known Ashmita long enough to tease her without needing to explain herself. The easy familiarity was obvious in the way they interrupted each other, stole sips from another's glasses, and traded stories with the shorthand of friends who's shared plenty of evenings together.

It also meant that Amar was unlikely to get away with pretending he was merely there for the food.

Tanya turned to him. "Have you played cards with her again?"

"Not yet."

"Good. Save yourself the humiliation."

Ashmita folded her arms. "You say that as though you've ever beaten me."

"I've beaten you."

"When?"

Tanya paused.

Amar watched her think. He also watched the way Ashmita's arms pressed her breasts together slightly.

"I'm sure it happened."

"Convincing," he said.

Tanya pointed her glass at him. "Careful. You're a guest in this house."

"And apparently a source of entertainment."

"Now you're learning."

Ashmita laughed, and for a moment the three of them fell into easy conversation.

The party grew livelier as more food arrived. Amar found himself listening as Ashmita explained a recent campaign to a photographer, her expression becoming more focused as she spoke about the creative decisions behind it. He watched the way she gestured with her hands, the way the dress moved with her body, the soft bounce of her breasts when she laughed. He forced himself to look away more than once.

"It's not just taking pictures," she told him. "You have to know what people respond to, but you can't keep giving them the same thing. They'll get bored, and honestly, so will I."

"Sounds overwhelming," Amar said when the photographer was called away.

"It can be."

"Does it ever stop?"

"Not really. There's always something to post, something to plan, something you should have posted yesterday."

"And you enjoy it?"

She considered the question.  "Most of the time. I like the creative side. I like building something that's mine. And I like having control over what I do."

"That makes sense."

She looked mildly surprised. "I haven't said anything controversial. You'd be surprised how many people have an opinion about what I do," she added. "Usually without understanding it."

"Well, I'm not going to pretend I understand your job better than you do."

Her expression softened. "That's a refreshing change."

"Don't sound so shocked."

"I'm trying not to."

Tanya appeared beside them, carrying a small plate of snacks.  "What's refreshing?"

"Amar's ability to have a conversation without pretending he's an expert on my work." Ashmita explained.

Tanya gave him an appraising look, "That's a useful quality. Keep it."

"I'll add it to my list of achievements."

"Don't get carried away, now" Ashmita said.

Tanya glanced at the time on her phone and made a face.  "Oh damn."

"What?" Ashmita enquired.

"My cousins Diwali party. I promised I'd show up before she started sending dramatic messages about how I've abandoned the family."

"Already? Ashmita asked. " Stay for another half an hour."

"I would, but if I arrive any later, I'll spend the entire evening explaining why I was late to my hundred cousins." Tanya finished her drink. " Besides, I've done my duty. I've introduced you to people, checked the food, and made sure Amar doesn't get too comfortable, too soon."

"Your contribution has been invaluable." Amar said.

"I know."

Tanya hugged Ashmita, then leaned close to whisper something in her ear.

Ashmita's eyes widened. "Tanya!!"

"What? I said nothing."

"You said plenty."

Tanya only grinned before turning to Amar.  "Look after her, will you? She's been pretending this house-warming hasn't stressed her out for a week."

"I can hear you," Ashmita protested.

"Good. Then I don't have to repeat myself." Tanya gave Amar a playful, assessing look. " And don't let her boss you around."

"I'll bear that in mind."

"Excellent. I approve."

"You don't have to approve." Ashmita said.

"Of course I do. I'm Tanya."

She kissed Ashmita's cheek one more, waved to others, and headed for the door.

"Text me when you get home," Ashmita called after her.

"Yes, Mum!" Tanya laughed from the door. "Happy House-warming! Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That leaves us with very few options," Amar called.

Tanya pointed at him approvingly. "I like him."

Then she was gone.

Ashmita closed the doors and turned back to Amar.  "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For Tanya."

He smiled. "I thought she was entertaining."

"She'll be unbearable when I tell her that."

"Then perhaps we should keep it between us."

Ashmita looked at him for a moment.  "Perhaps we should."

Something about the way she said it made the words feel less like a joke than they

ought to have.

She turned towards the living room before he could respond.  "Come on. You haven't eaten enough."

"Are you going to supervise my plate now?"

"Absolutely. Tanya just warned you. I can be bossy too all by myself."

He laughed and followed her, smiling to himself, while his eyes dropped

automatically to her legs.

Long. Toned. Bare.

He realized he was staring and looked away before she could catch him.

As the evening wore on, the party settled into an easy rhythm. People ate, drank and moved between the living room and the balcony. Ashmita checked that everyone had been fed, introduced two guests who turned out to have mutual friends, and rescued a conversation when someone brought up their ex-boyfriend.

She also took photographs but never so many that the party began to revolve around her phone.

At one point, she gathered a few people for a group picture.  "Come on, everyone.

Before the food disappears."

"Is this mandatory?" one of her friends asked.

"Yes."

"Do we get paid?"

"You get tagged."

"That is not the same thing."

"That is my best offer."

Amar stood at the edge of the group until Ashmita pulled him into the centre, right next to her.

"You're in this one."

"Why?"

"Because you're here."

"Compelling argument."

"Thank you. I worked on it."

She stood beside him, adjusting the phone. Her shoulder brushed his arm. The soft press of her breast against his side was brief, but enough to make his body respond. He felt the first unmistakable stirrings of an erection and shifted slightly, hoping no one would notice.

The first picture was blurred. In the second, someone had their eyes closed. By the third, Amar was laughing.

Ashmita studies the screen.

"Finally. A photograph where you look like you enjoy yourself."

"I was enjoying myself."

"Could have fooled me."

She showed him the picture. He stood beside her, smiling properly this time, while one of her hands rested lightly againt his arm.

It was a good photograph.

Better than he wanted to admit.

"That one's actually nice."

"Actually? Let's take more."

"Now don't get carried away."

"Too late."

She snapped a selfie with just him -- a blurred photo, but showing a genuine laugh between the two.

She saved the photograph and slipped her phone into her hand.

"Do you ever take a picture and just leave it alone?" he asked.

"Of course."

"For how long?"

"Until I notice something wrong with it."

He laughed.  "I'm beginning to understand the profession."

"Good. I'll invoice you for consultation."

Someone called her over to the dining table. Before leaving, she glanced back at him.  "Don't disappear."

She excused herself and walked across the room.

He watched her join the others, laughing at something one of them said.

The gold heels clicked softly against the floor. The black mini dress moved with her, its short hem teasing him. He forced himself to look away before his erection would become impossible to ignore.

The woman online and the woman in front of him were recognisably the same person.

But they weren't quite identical.

He found himself wanting to know the difference.

It was well past eleven when Amar found Ashmita collecting empty glasses near the dining table.

He took two from her.

"You don't have to do that." she said.

"I know."

"You're a guest."

"Apparently, guests can carry glasses."

"Not at my parties. I have a reputation to maintain."

" Your reputation is safe."

She smiled. "Thank you."

He carried the glasses to the kitchen counter where a member of the household staff was gathering the remaining dishes. When he returned, Ashmita was standing by the window, checking a message on her phone. The light from outside caught the curve of her hip, the soft line of her waist, the way the black fabric stretched across her breasts.

"Work?" he asked.

"Just sending someone the group photograph."

"Hmm."

She put the phone away.  "Sorry. I've been looking at it for the last few minutes."

"Why are you apologising?"

"It's rude."

"I've checked mine too."

She looked at him suspiciously. "Who are you messaging?"

"No one."

"Then why are you checking your phone?"

"The time."

She laughed. "You're a terrible liar."

"I'm an excellent liar. You're just difficult to convince."

"That's exactly what a terrible liar would day!"

He couldn't argue that.

They talked about ordinary things for a while -- Delhi traffic, the cost of furniture, and the small frustrations of settling into a new home. Ashmita told him about the difficulty of getting a delivery slot for a piece of furniture she'd ordered and how she'd nearly given up and bought something entirely different.

"You seem very patient." Amar said.

"I'm not. I'm just good at looking patient when someone else is responsible for the

delay."

"Useful distinction."

"Essential distinction."

He laughed and she smiled into her glass.  "What about you? Are you always this difficult to know?"

"Only when people ask too many questions."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not curious."

"Not at all?"

"Barely."

He gave her a look.

She smiled. "Fine. I'm curious about you. Happy?"

"Immensely."

"Don't let it go to your head."

They spoke about work next.

"So can I be curious about what you do for work?" she asked.

Amar smiled slightly.  "You asked me that at Tanya's too."

"And you gave a very unhelpful answer."

"I was being careful."

"Careful?"

"You're an... influencer. I didn't know if telling you might make me suddenly useful."

She stared at him for a second and then laughed.  "Are you serious?"

"A little."

"What could I possible want from you?"

He shrugged. "My family owns a chain of luxury salons across North India."

Her expression changed with mild surprise.  "Oh!"

"Exactly."

"So that was the big secret."

"Not a secret. Just something I don't lead with."

He had learned to be cautious about it.

It was a well established brand, the kind of name people in Delhi's more affluent circles knew immediately. Premium locations, high end treatments, celebrity clients, expensive products. The sort of salon where getting an appointment could sometimes be more complicated than actually deciding what treatment to get

done.

Amar had learned not to lead with it, especially with women.

He'd seen what happened when some women found out. The sudden interest. The extra friendliness. Invitations that appeared out of nowhere. Conversations that became suspiciously warm, usually followed by a request for a complimentary treatment, an appointment or an introduction.

Sometimes they wanted the salon.

Sometimes they wanted the man who could get them inside it.

With Ashmita, there had been an added question mark. She was an influencer, after all. He had wondered whether she might see the family business as another useful connection.

"And what is your role in this business?" she asked.

"I manage the Delhi NCR operations. The salons, staff, vendors, new locations.

Basically, I make sure everything runs properly."

She smiled. "SO you're basically the man who makes sure everyone else's hair looks good."

He laughed. "That's one way of putting it."

"I like that version. I'm going to stick with it."

"It sounds better than spreadsheets and staff meetings."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"I enjoy the work. I don't always enjoy everything that comes with it."

"That sounds familiar."

He smiled. "I imagine it does."

"Good." She smiled. "And for the record, I wasn't asking because I wanted free salon services."

He laughed.  "I didn't say you were."

"You were thinking it."

"Maybe."

"Good. Then we're even."

Someone called for Ashmita from the other side of the room. She excused herself, then paused before leaving.  "We haven't finished this conversation."

"No?"

"No. I have at-least three more questions."

"Should I be worried?"

"Probably."

She walked away. He watched the soft sway of her hips and felt another unwanted pulsation in his pants.

He wanted her.

Amar shook his head.

He was beginning to suspect that he was in trouble.

*******************************************************************************************

Chapter Three: After the last guest

By half-past twelve, the party had thinned out.

Two of Ashmita's friends left together, followed by another couple who promised to meet her for lunch in the coming week. The remaining guests exchanged plans for the weekend and disappeared into the Delhi night.

Ashmita saw the last of them downstairs.

When the door finally closed, the apartment felt quiet.

The music still played softly. A few glasses remained on the coffee table, and the lights from the neighboring houses flicked through the large windows.

Amar stood near the balcony doors when she returned.

She looked at him.

Then she walked over, her gold heels clicking the floor with each step.

The black sequined mini dress caught the light as she moved. Its high neckline kept the look polished and controlled, while the fitted fabric followed her figure down to the short hem. Her long, bare legs disappeared into delicate strappy heels.

Ashmita stopped beside him.

The night air was cool.

Diwali lights flickered across the buildings opposite them. Somewhere below, someone set off a string of crackers and both of them looked down instinctively.

"Enjoying your own party?" he asked without looking.

"You're still here."

He just smiled.

Ashmita leaned against the railing and glanced at him, then added "Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"One guest is becoming a problem."

"Which one?"

She took a sip of her drink. "You."

He leaned against the balcony railing too, inches from her.

"Should I leave?"

"No."

The answer came too quickly.

They both noticed.

Ashmita sat down her glass on the rectangle of the railing.

Amar smiled again.

She glanced at the scattered glasses and plates inside the house.

"The maid will finish cleaning up in the morning. I've told them to leave the rest."

"Good."

"Good?"

For a while, neither spoke.

Ashmita rested her hand on the railing. The short black sequinned dress pulled tight across her back and hip as she leaned forward, the high hem riding slightly higher on her thighs. Amar stood beside her, trying not to stare at the rounded curve of her ass or the soft swell of her breasts under the dense embroidery - or at her long, bare legs elevated by gold strappy heels.

He looked anyway.

His eyes travelled over her almost as if he were mentally undressing her piece by piece -- the high neckline, the fitted bodice, the glittering fabric, the short length -- until his imagination had taken over where his eyes couldn't go.

Eventually, she glanced at him.

"Did the evening meet your expectations?"

"I didn't have any."

"Convenient. Now you can say you had a wonderful time without admitting you

expected one."

He laughed.

"Maybe I want to know if you enjoyed yourself," she added.

He looked towards the lights.

"I did."

"Good."

"And you?"

She considered.

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"Hosting is strange. You're having a goods time, but you're also checking if

everyone else is having a good time. You're making sure people have drinks, introducing them to each other, checking the food, wondering whether someone's bored."

"Sounds fun."

She gave him a look.

"But I wanted to do it. I've spent the last fee weeks settling into this place, It felt nice to have people over."

He nodded. "Then I'd say it was a success."

She looked at him. "That's a very generous review."

"I'm known for my generosity."

"Really?" She gave him the side eye.

"No."

She laughed.

"you know, tanya was very pleased with herself tonight."

"She always is."

"She seemed convinced she was doing you a favour by introducing us."

Ashmita turned her head towards him. "Was she?"

"That's the impression I got."

"She's been waiting to tease me about you since the cards party at her place."

"About me specifically?"

"Don't look so pleased with yourself."

"I'm trying not to."

She narrowed her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. "What exactly did she say to

you?"

"Nothing I can repeat without compromising my reputation."

"Your reputation?"

"It's a delicate thing."

"Clearly."

He laughed, then rested his forearms on the railing.

"You were much more interested in my business when we first met?"

"Was I?"

"You asked about it within the first ten minutes."

"That was you were being mysterious."

"I was answering all your questions."

"You were giving me one word answers."

"Efficient answers."

"Annoying answers."

He smiled.

"And now?"

She studied him.

"Now I'm beginning to think you do that on purpose."

"Maybe."

"Why?"

He took a moment to consider it.

"I suppose I like finding out what people want to know before I tell them too much."

She nodded slowly. "I understand that."

"Do you?"

"Of course. People make assumptions about me all the time. They see the

photographs, the clothes, the holidays, and they think they know everything."

"And they don't?"

"Not even close."

There was a sincerity beneath the lightness of her voice. Amar noticed it, but didn't push.

Instead, he asked, "What do you wish they knew?"

For a moment, she seemed tempted to make a joke.

Then she changed her mind.

"I'm actually quiet private."

He glanced at her.

"That's not what people would expect."

"I know."

She smiled faintly.

"That's partly my fault. I show people exactly what I want them to see. The clothes, the travel, the work, the parties. It looks like a very open life because there are photographs of so much of it."

"But there isn't much of you in those photographs."

She gave a small shrug. She turned her glass slowly between her fingers.

"Sounds like there are two Ashmita's."

Her eyes moved to him.

"Maybe there are."

She lowered her voice slightly.

"That I'm more private than I look. Online I show one version of myself - the polished, put together side. The rest stays closed. People assume a lot from the pictures. Sometimes they assume the wrong things entirely. Especially about how open I am... in every sense."

She paused, then added more quietly, almost against his shoulder "I'm not as bold as the feed makes me look. Most of the time I prefer not being the one in control."

Amar held her gaze for a moment.

He understood what she was saying. More importantly, he understood what she wasn't saying.

A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"That's disappointing human."

"Exactly. Very bad for the brand."

She smiled too, but there was something different in her expression now, less

guarded.

"I'll try and not tell anyone."

"Thank you. I appreciate the discretion."

Then Ashmita glanced towards the living room, breaking the tension just enough to breathe.

"Well, I was in control of the party tonight, at-least nobody can accuse me of being a bad host then... I've even managed to keep you entertained."

"You make it sound like a challenge."

"It is a statement of fact."

"Then why are you looking so pleased with yourself?"

"Because I'm right."

He laughed.

She watched him for a moment, then looked away with a smile.

"You know, I nearly didn't come tonight." Amar said, with some hesitation.

She got surprised.

"Really?"

"I considered it."

"Why?"

He could've said he had plans, he had a busy week, yada yada yada.

Instead, he told her the truth.

"I wasn't sure what to expect."

"And now?"

"Now I'm glad I came."

For once, she had no immediate reply.

The silence that followed felt different from the ones they'd shared earlier. Neither was uncomfortable, but both seemed suddenly aware of how close they were

standing.

Ashmita looked down at her hands, then smiled to herself.

"Good."

He watched her. "What?"

"Nothing."

"That doesn't look like nothing."

She lifted her eyes to his. "I'm just glad you came too."

He smiled. There it was again : the brief moment when she stopped teasing and

said something she actually meant.

He was beginning to like those moments more than the jokes.

Then, Ashmita went inside and he watched her go.

The remaining staff were finishing up in the kitchen before retiring to the servant quarters. Ashmita checked the main door, made sure everything was settled, then locked it before returning to the balcony.

She came back to him and leaned against the railing again.

The gold heels caught his attention and his eyes dragged over her long legs.

Amar noticed them intently.

This time, she caught him.

She glanced down at herself, then back at him.

"You're doing it again."

He looked up. "Doing what?"

"You've been watching me all evening." she said.

"I have."

"And you've been trying very hard not to make it obvious."

"How am I doing?"

"Not particularly well." she was smiling when she said it.

His eyes dropped briefly to the black dress and then to her legs, then back at her

face.

"You picked that dress knowing exactly what it would do, didn't you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "That's a very confident accusation."

"Is it wrong?"

She looked down at the sequins, then back at him.  "I thought it looked good."

"It does."

"That's all?"

"It's distracting."

She laughed softly. "Thanks for the compliment."

He laughed. "I thought you'd noticed already"

"I did." She shook her head, amused, then added "You're unbelievable."

"So I've been told."

"By women who invite you to their houses?"

"You're becoming attached to that question."

"You're not answering it."

He smiled.

"Maybe I like keeping you curious."

She turned towards him.

"That's a dangerous habit."

"Why?"

"Because I might stop being curious."

"Would you?"

She held his gaze.

Amar smiled without turning it into another joke. Ashmita looked away first,

laughing softly under her breath.

Amar smiled, taking a sip of his drink.

"Would it help if I told you I'm not seeing anyone at the moment?"

"Aren't you?"

"No girlfriend. No complicated situation-ship. Nobody waiting for me to explain why

I came home late."

He paused,

"I haven't been in a relationship for the past two years."

She nodded slowly, as if filing the information away rather than reacting to it.

"All right."

He looked at her, amused. "That's all?"

"What did you expect? A round of applause?"

He laughed under his breath.

"I thought you might have a few more questions."

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm deciding whether the information is relevant."

"And is it?"

"I'm still deciding."

Her expression remained composed, but the little smile tugging at the corner of

her mouth gave her away.

Amar rested his glass on the railing.

"Does the two year gap surprise you?"

"A little."

"Why?"

She tilted her head, studying him over the rim of her glass.

"You seem like someone who would be in a relationship."

He laughed softly.

"I didn't realize I had a particular look for it."

"You know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do."

"You're charming when you want to be. You're reasonably good looking." She let

her eyes travel over his face with deliberate consideration. "And you seem to know

your way around a conversation when you're not being deliberately difficult."

"That's quite a generous assessment."

"Don't interrupt. I'm not finished."

He gestured for her to continue, thoroughly entertained.

"You have a good career. You dress well and you don't appear to be a total

nightmare."

"Don't appear to be?"

"I haven't known you long enough to rule it out."

He laughed and she smiled into her wine.

"So," she continued, "two years is a long time. Was it particularly a bad break up?"

His expression grew thoughtful, though he didn't seem uncomfortable with the question.

"Not particularly bad. Just a relationship that ran it's course. We wanted different things by the end of it."

"And you haven't met anyone since?"

"Met people, certainly." He glanced at her. "Just haven't met someone I've wanted

to build something with."

Ashmita held his gaze for a moment, absorbing the distinction.

"That's a very diplomatic answer."

"It's an honest one."

"I didn't say it wasn't honest."

He smiled. "And what about you? Are you going to interrogate me without offering

anything in return."

"I'm deciding how much information you've earned."

"After all your hospitality tonight? That's harsh."

"You've had scotch, your food, and an entire evening of my wonderful company. I

think you've done rather well."

"I agree. But I was hoping for a little more honesty."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Careful, Amar. You might get it."

He looked at her, his smile softening.

"I'm counting on it."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them becoming frequent, but not uncomfortable.

The teasing had remained as a cover up, but the conversation had moved somewhere personal.

Ashmita found herself wondering about the two years he wasn't in a relationship, about the woman who he'd once been with, and about what it took for a man like him to decide he was ready to let someone new into his life.

She was curious.

More curious than she intended to let him know.

Instead, she lifted her glass, "Well, atleast I know you're not going to have a girlfriend calling halfway through the night."

"Were you worried about that?"

"I'm a considerate hostess. I wouldn't want to interrupt anyone's evening."

"Of course."

"Besides, it would be terribly embarrassing if I had to explain why my guest was still here after everyone else had left."

"I'm sure you'd manage." he said, half smiling.

She smiled back.

"I'm very good at managing things."

"I've noticed."

She shook her head, then looked at him again.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Why did you really come tonight?"

"I thought I'd already answered that."

"You said you were glad you came. That's not the same thing."

He took a moment.

"Because I wanted to see you again."

Ashmita went still.

Not dramatically. She didn't gasp or look away in embarrassment. She simply stopped moving for a second, caught off guard by his directness.

Then her expression softened.

"All right."

"All right?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"How about something honest?"

She laughed.

"Sorry to disappoint."

"You haven't."

Her smile grew.

"Good."

A quiet beat passed between them. The she finally spoke.

"I've been looking forward to seeing you again, too."

Amar turned fully towards her. "Have you?"

"Don't make me repeat it."

"I'm just making sure I heard it properly."

"You heard me."

He smiled. "Good."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're going to use that single word all night, aren't you?"

"Probably."

"Terrible conversationalist."

"And yet you're still here."

She looked at him for a long moment.

"Yes." she said. "I am."

The words settled between them.

Amar moved a little closer, giving her time to step away if she wanted to.

She didn't.

Instead, she turned towards him, her hands resting lightly against the front of his blazer. The soft press of her breasts against his chest was unmistakable. He felt his cock stir fully now, hard and insistent against the fabric of his trousers.

She looked up into his eyes, while her hands moved slowly along the lapel of his blazer.

"You've been looking at me too." He declared.

She didn't deny it.

"I have."

He laughed softly.

Then his expression changed, becoming a little more serious.

"Ashmita."

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

For the first time that evening, she looked genuinely surprised.

Not because she hadn't thought about it. She had. But she'd expected him to make another joke, to lean closer and leave her to work out what he wanted.

Instead, he's simply asked.

Her smile returned, smaller now.

"Yes."

He lifted a hand to her cheek and leaned down.

The first kiss was gentle, a brief meeting of the lips that left room for either of them to change their minds.

Neither did.

Ashmita's fingers curled into the front of his blazer. Amar's hand settled at her waist, drawing her a little closer. When he kissed her again, she rose slightly onto her toes to meet him.

The kiss deepened.

For a few seconds, the unfinished dinner, the conversations and the long evening seemed to disappear. There was only the warmth of her against him. Her hand at the back of his neck, the soft give of her body under his hands, and the faint sound of crackers somewhere in the background.

When they finally drew apart, Ashmita kept her eyes on his.

She was smiling.

"So," she murmured.

Amar laughed under his breath. "So?"

"That was a good start."

He shook his head. "You're reviewing it already."

"I'm a professional reviewer."

"Of course you are."

She brushed her thumb lightly against his lapel.

"And you?"

He looked at her.

"I'd like another one."

"That can be arranged."

She pulled him down to her.

The second kiss was less careful. Their bodies pressed together. He could feel every inch of her through the thin fabric of her dress. His cock was fully hard now against her stomach. He was certain she could feel it.

They kissed until a distant burst of crackers went off -- sharp, bright, then gone.

Across the neighboring buildings, early festive lights in red, gold, and green flickered against the railings. The city was dressed for Diwali, although the festival itself was two weeks away.

That made her laugh against his mouth.

He drew back just enough to look at her.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just think the neighbors are providing an unnecessary dramatic soundtrack."

He looked at her amused, but went in for another kiss.

She stopped him, and slipped her hand into his.

"Come inside."

He followed her through the open balcony doors, already hard and entirely aware of how much more of her he wanted to see.

Ashmita closed the balcony doors behind them, but didn't draw the curtains as yet.

For a moment, she simply stood there, looking at him. There was a light nervous energy under usual composure now that they were alone, and kissing.

Amar smiled. "What?"

"Nothing."

"That's twice tonight."

"Maybe I like watching you get suspicious."

"You've gone awfully quiet."

"I'm allowed to go quiet."

"Ofcourse."

He took a step towards her. "It's just that I'm beginning to think you're quiet

because you don't know what to do next."

Her eyebrows lifted. "That sounds very confident."

"I am."

She smiled, but didn't answer.

He closed the gap between them.

"You don't have to make up an excuse."

"Excuse? For what?" she enquired.

"For wanting to kiss me again."

Her fingers caught his blazer. "I wasn't... making an excuse."

"Good."

He kissed her before she could say anything else.

When they broke apart, she was smiling against his cheek, a little breathless.

He kissed her forehead.

That, unexpectedly, made her look away.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Ashmita."

She looked back at him. "Don't make a habit of being sweet without warning."

"Why?"

"It's disarming."

He considered that.

"Good."

"Arrogant man."

"Beautiful woman."

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

He caught her chin lightly between his fingers and turned her face back towards him.

"Look at me."

She did.

Something about the simple instruction made her expression change.

He noticed.

"So," he said quietly "Is this one of those times when you'd prefer not to be in control?"

Her lips parted slightly.  "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

He let his thumb brush once along her jaw before releasing her.

Instead of stepping away, he let his hand settle lightly against the full curve of her breast through the sequinned fabric. He cupped her carefully at first, as though testing whether she would let him get away with it. When she didn't pull away, he squeezed a little more firmly, feeling the natural heaviness of her fill his palms.

There was a particular satisfaction in finally feeling what he had spent so long imagining.

Then his other hand slid down her back, and settled on the rounded curve of her ass. He squeezed once lightly, then again -- with more intent, drawing her a fraction closer.

She watched him carefully.  "You're going to enjoy this, aren't you?"

"Thoroughly."

Then her gaze dropped.

The change in her expression was subtle, but he caught it. The kisses had left him breathing a little harder, and his attraction to her was no longer something he could hide behind a teasing remark.

The unmistakable outline of his erection strained sideways against the fabric of his trousers -- thick, hard and impossible to ignore.

Ashmita looked back up at him, her cheeks flush.

"Well," she murmured. "You really have been thinking about this all evening."

"All week, if you want the truth."

She drew back enough to look at him.

"All week?"

"Since Tanya's party. Since the first time I saw you in that outfit."

For a moment, the teasing expression slipped from her face.

"That's actually sweet."

"Don't look so surprised."

"I'm not. I'm just deciding what to do with that information."

Amar didn't give her time to decide alone. He took both of her wrists gently, turned her hands, and places her palms flat against the hard length of him over the fine wool of his trousers. Her fingers curled instinctively, measuring the thickness and heat of him through the fabric. A soft, surprised breath left her.

Her eyes lifted to his. "You're not subtle."

"I never claimed to be."

He held her hands there for a second longer, letting her feel the full, insistent pulse of him, before releasing her wrists. Ashmita's fingers lingered against the hard shape of his erection even after he let go, as though she needed another second to commit fully to what was about to happen next.

She kept one hand exactly where he had put it, stroking once, slowly, along the rigid line of him. The other hand rose to his lapel, pulling him down for another passionate kiss.

This time it was pure hunger on his side. Mouths open, teeth grazing, tongues sliding deep. He walked her backward until her shoulders met the wall inside the living room.

As they kissed, one of his hands slid down her back and over the curve of her round ass. He squeezed once through the sequinned fabric, then again, more deliberately. His fingers found the hem of her dress and slipped underneath, hiking the short fabric higher as his palm met the bare skin of her cheek. Two fingers traced the soft underside, skimming underneath the edge of her dress, before cupping her ass more firmly, pulling her tighter.

Ashmita's free hand went to his neck, careful of his turban, while the other stayed busy between them, rubbing him through the cloth until his breath turned rough against her lips. She didn't take the lead, she let him set the pace.

He broke the kiss only long enough to frantically search for the zipper on the dress.

Her fingers helped him find it.

His eyes moved over her face, and then he asked quietly:

"Are you sure?"

Ashmita held his gaze.

There was a small pause -- not reluctance, but the hesitation of someone who didn't do this often and was choosing to move forward anyway.

Then she nodded.

"More than ever."

She turned lightly, giving him room and access to help her with it.

Amar undid the halter neck fastening and then lowered the zip carefully, from the neck till the top of her ass, and the dress loosened.

He hooked his fingers under the neckline and slowly worked it down over the full swell of her breasts. The dress stretched, then slid lower. He kept going, dragging the fabric over the narrow span of her waist and the soft flare of her hips, until it pooled at her feet.

She stepped out of it, without looking away from him.

What remained was a black strapless sheer lace bra that cupped her heavy breasts without trying to restrain them, and a matching black high cut g-strings with a small patch of v-shaped lace fabric barely offering her decency. The gold strappy heels stayed on.

Amar's gaze travelled over her, without apology.

"Fuck!"

Ashmita's mouth curved, but the flush on her cheeks deepened. "How eloquent."

"I'm working with limited vocabulary right now."

That earned him a laugh. She stepped closer and pushed the charcoal blazer off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it without looking away from her.

Her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt next, working them open one-by-one until the fabric hung loose.

He glanced down at her hand before looking back at her face. "Taking matters into your own hands?"

"Someone has to."

"I was under the impression I was doing quite well."

She slid it down his arms, revealing the lean, defined lines of his chest and the dark

trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his high-waisted pleated

trousers.

"You were. Now don't ruin it by talking."

He laughed and let her continue.

She gave him a look and reached for his belt.

His loafers came off first, he nudged them aside as she worked the buckle open.

The belt slid free with a soft metallic sound. She undid the button of his trousers and lowered the zip, the glanced up at him.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked, catching her looking intently.

"Still deciding if you're worth the trouble." she said tugging the waistband down.

He grinned as she pushed the trousers down over his hips. He stepped out of them, leaving him in his dark briefs that did nothing to hide his thick, upward slant of his cock, the head already pushing against the waistband.

His turban stayed perfectly in place.

Ashmita's eyes travelled the length of him -- broad shoulders, the cut of his waist, the heavy outline straining against his briefs- then returned to his face.

"Not bad," she said.

"High praise."

"Don't get used to it."

She ran a fingertip along the waistband of his briefs before tracing along the rigid shape of his cock.

She watched his expression change.

"Still thinking about me?" she asked, voice low.

Amar caught her hand, and pulled her flush against him, so her lace covered

breasts pressed into his bare chest, and answered against her mouth.

"Every second."

Then he reached for the clasp of her strapless bra. "No more permissions," he said.

"Not after this."

Ashmita laughed -quiet, genuine, a little breathless but with a nervous edge now.

"Thank god."

That was all the invitation he needed.

The lace fell away.

He had imagined this, of course. More times than he could possibly admit, his mind had returned to the question of what Ashmita looked like beneath carefully chosen outfits, the teasing smiles and the easy confidence she wore so well.

His imagination had been generous.

But now he suspected it failed him.

Her breasts were fuller than he had pictured, their natural weight and softness impossible to ignore with the way they hung. Perfectly shaped, they settled with a gentle downward curve that made them look even more substantial without the support of fabric.

There was something so unexpectedly intimate about seeing her like, standing before him without the layers that had kept his imagination busy for weeks. He took in the shape of her, then looked back at her face, as though he had to remind himself that this was really happening.

For once, Amar had absolutely nothing to say.

Ashmita watched his reaction with growing amusement.

"Oh, this is priceless."

He finally found his voice. "You enjoy making me miserable."

"Immensely."

He was still staring.

"Now you're just staring."

"I'm allowed."

"You're supposed to be charming, not obvious."

"I'm afraid you've made that rather difficult."

He just looked at her, absorbing the shape and weight of her stupendous tits.

"Awww, Poor Amar. Come here." She pulled him close.

She caught his hand and drew him closer, and whatever clever response he might have had managed to disappear when she kissed him. His arms went around her, his palms moving across her bare back before settling at her waist. When he looked down at her again, the wonder in his expression made her feel oddly shy.

"What?" she murmured.

"Nothing."

She gave him a look.

Then he simply lowered his head.

His mouth closed over one breast, drawing the nipple deep. He sucked slowly at first, tongue circling the stiffened peak, then harder, pulling more of the soft flesh into his mouth. His hand came up to cup the other breast, kneading it firmly, thumb sweeping back and forth across the nipple until it hardened full against his skin.

Ashmita's breath caught. "Ahhh.."

He switched immediately, mouth moving to the second breast while his free hand took over the first one. He sucked harder this time, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp again, then soothed the same spot with a slow, wet strokes of his tongue. Both hands worked her breasts at once -- lifting, pressing, squeezing -- feeling the soft weight of them spill and settle between his fingers.

Ashmita's fingers slid to his back, holding him close. "That's good," she murmured.

"Keep doing that."

He did.

He buried his face between them, turning his head so the warm press of his mouth and the scrape of his beard brushed the sensitive inner curves. He motor-boated her gently, the soft vibration of his breath and the friction of his stubble drawing a low, startled laugh from her throat before it melted into a moan. "Oh.."

He lingered there, kissing the deep valley between her breasts, then moved lower to the soft undersides, tracing the natural curve with his lips and tongue. He returned again and again to the stiff nipples, sucking one while pinching and rolling the other between his fingers, then switching without rhythm, until her breathing had turned shallow and hips shifted helplessly against him.

Only when her hands tightened on his shoulders did he finally ease back, looking

up at her with dark, focused eyes.

Then he guided her back towards the couch, one hand steady at her waist as she lowered herself onto the cushions. Her gold heels remained firmly in place.

He stood between her knees for a moment, looking down at her -- breasts rising and falling, the tiny high cut g-strings still in place, the dark lace already damp between her thighs -- before he dropped to his knees in front of her.

"Comfortable?"

Ashmita arched an eyebrow. "You plan on keeping me here for a while?"

"That's the idea."

"Then yes. Very."

She laughed, reaching for him, and he bent to kiss her. The teasing faded as soon as they started to kiss, her fingers resting against his cheek. He kissed her slowly at first, then deeper, before brushing his lips along her jaw, cheek, and the ear.

He didn't rush.

He intended to enjoy himself, and her.

From her mouth he moved lower in a continuos path -- kissing the side of her neck, the soft skin above her collarbone, then the upper slope of her breasts -- before taking the nipples into his mouth again. He lingered there, sucking gently at the peaks. When he finally let go, he kissed a trail of kisses down the centre of her stomach, pausing just above the waistband of that tiny lace g-string.

Ashmita answered without words.

She slowly opened her legs, the movement deliberate and unhurried. It was a symbolic invitation that made her trust unmistakable.

"You know," he said "for someone who spent all evening pretending she was completely in control, you're making this remarkably easy for me."

Ashmita laughed. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

"I intend to."

His hands ran up the smooth length of her legs, parting them wider. He kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other, the soft chiming of her anklets the only sound besides their breathing. When he reached the apex, he didn't remove the barely there piece of fabric she wore as a panty. He simply hooked two fingers under the narrow strip of lace and slid it to the side, exposing her pussy.

She was already wet, glistening under the lights.

The first stroke of his tongue was slow and deliberate, tasting her from bottom to top.

Ashmita's breath hitched.

He did it again, firmer this time, then closed his mouth over her and began to work in steady, focused attention, lips, tongue, the occasional scrape of teeth, all the while his hands held her thighs open and steady.

He found the small, swollen peak of her clit and sealed his lips around it, sucking gently while the tip of his tongue circled in tight, steady motions.

Not too hard at first.

He paid attention to the way her breathing changed, the way her fingers tightened over his when he got the pressure just right.

When her thighs began to tremble he eased off just enough to keep her on the edge, then returned with the same rhythm -- suck, circle, flatten, repeat -- building her slowly, instead of rushing.

One hand stayed on her thigh, holding her open. The other hand slipped beneath her, cupping her ass and as if lifting her to his face. This enabled him to tilt her hips slightly upward, giving himself a better angle.

Ashmita's head tipped back against the cushions. "Amar..."

He paused at the sound of his name and looked up at her.

She met his gaze, a little breathless, and curled her fingers around his hand. "Don't stop now."

He didn't.

He licked deeper, tongue pushing into her, then returned to her clit with firmer strokes, the light scrape of his beard adding another layer of sensation between her legs.

Ashmita's hands found his shoulders, then the back of his neck, holding him exactly where she needed him. Her hips rolled against his mouth in small, helpless movements.

That made him narrow his focus.

He sealed his lips around her clit and sucked gently, creating a steady, rhytmic pressure while the tip of his tongue flicked in small, precise circles just beneath the hood.

Her breathing grew shallower. Her hips began to rock in small, involuntary movements.

Amar pulled back just enough to replace his mouth with his fingers.

He let one finger circle her entrance slowly, coating itself with her wetness. Then without preamble, he slid it inside in one smooth motion. He curled it upward immediately, searching for the slightly ridged area along the front wall. When he found it, he applied gentle pressure in a 'come here' motion.

Then he put his mouth back on.

Ashmita's breathing changed. The soft sounds she made became lower, more continous.

He stayed with that combination of steady suction on her clit, slow curling of the finger until her thighs began trembling against his shoulders.

Then, he added the second finger, easing it beside the first.

The stretch made her gasp. He waited a few seconds, letting her adjust, then resumed the curling motion with both the fingers together.

Ashmita's head pressed back into the cushions, lost in sensation. Soft, broken moans came out of her.

"Just like that," she whispered, voice already fraying, "Don't stop"

The coil tightened fast. He felt it in the way her breathing changed, in the way her thighs squeezed around him. He stayed right there, tongue working her clit in tight, relentless circles, until her whole body arched off the couch and she came with a sharp, broken cry -- her hips bucking, thighs shaking, the anklets chiming wildly as the orgasm rolled through her.

Amar kept his mouth on her through every pulse, gentling only when the intensity began to fade, licking her slowly. Almost soothingly, until her legs finally went slack and she sank back against the cushions, chest heaving.

He lifted his head, lips shiny and looked up at her.

Ashmita was watching him through half-lidded eyes, flushed and open and still trembling faintly.

"Wow," she managed, voice rough. "That was.... fucking incredible.."

Amar wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then rested his cheek against the soft inner skin of her thigh.

Ashmita, still gasping, "Come here..."

He rose just enough to kiss the soft skin above her navel, then higher working his way back up to her body until he claimed her mouth again -- letting her taste herself on his tongue while his cock still trapped in the dark briefs, pressed hard against her thighs.

She smiled against his mouth when they pulled back.

"You're looking rather pleased with yourself," she murmured.

"I have excellent reason."

"Modest as ever."

"I try."

She laughed softly, the sound still a little unsteady.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured against her ear, his breath warm, then added

" I want you so much." His voice needy.

She knew exactly what he meant.

With a small, deliberate smile she pressed her palms against his chest and eased him back just enough to stand. Then she reached down, hooked her fingers under the thin lace of her g-string and settled it carefully back in its place. The tiny triangle sat high on her hips, just like before, as she straightened.

Amar stayed on the couch, turning a little, watching her closely.

Ashmita gave him one last, deliberate look then turned and walked over to the bar counter on the far side of the living room. She didn't hurry. Every step was certain, hips moving with an easy sway, her ass flexing with each stride that made the tiny string of her panty disappear more into her ass cheeks. The gold heels clicked softly against the floor.

She knew exactly what she was doing, and she let him see it.

When she reached the marble counter she turned, rested both palms flat on the cool surface, and leaned forward just enough to offer him an unobstructed view of her bare breasts swaying and hanging under their weight. She tilted her head towards the tall bar stool directly infront of her and said :

"Come sit."

Amar rose from the couch and crossed the room without looking away from her.

The leather of the bar stool creaked as he settled into it. He smiled, amused, but eyes locked on her body, especially on the full heavy breasts hanging freely infront of him.

Ashmita looked down at herself, then back at him. "You like what you see?"

"More than you know."

She tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips, "How about another drink before we continue?" she raised an eyebrow. "Or do you want to rush into things?"

Amar leaned back, looking entirely unrepentant "I think I'll take that drink first,"

He paused, his gaze returning to hers

"Then you."

She burst out laughing, "You're very direct, aren't you?"

"Always."

She turned towards the bottles and poured a measure of whiskey, then dropped in a single piece of big, round, globe ice. In that moment, the soft clink of ice was the only sound in the quiet apartment.

She slid the glass across the counter, the amber liquid catching the warm ambient light.

Amar lifted the glass in a small salute before taking a sip, the whiskey burned pleasantly on its way down. He set the glass aside, and stretched out one leg, and patted his thigh, an unmistakable invitation.

She looked at the gesture, then at him.

Still smiling, and with the same unhurried grace, she moved from behind the counter to now in-front and in between his knees. She settled sideways across his lap, one arm slipping around his shoulders, and one gold heel dangling.

His free hands immediately found her breast, cupping the soft weight of it, thumb brushing lazily across the still-tight nipple, before settling it at her waist, supporting her on his lap.

He took another sip, then turned towards her. He leaned in and kissed her, letting the whiskey linger between them, sharing its warmth in a slow, teasing kiss.

When he drew back a single droplet of whiskey clung to his lower lip.

Ashmita noticed. "I can't let it go waste." brushing it off with her tongue.

Amar's smile turned less innocent as he set the glass aside. His hand moved from her waist, sliding higher until he was cupping one full breast, thumb playing with her nipples. He kissed the side of her neck, feeling the quick pulse under her skin.

"You're so hot."

She tipped her head back, giving him more of her throat, while his free hand continued to explore -- kneading the soft weight of her breast, rolling the peak between finger and thumb until her breath shortened.

Their mouths met again, deeper this time, the taste of whiskey mixing with the earlier taste of her.

When she pulled back, he lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking slowly, then harder while her fingers threaded behind his neck. He switched sides, giving the same attention to the other while one hand stayed busy.

When he finally lifted his head, she was breathing a little faster.

Ashmita reached for the glass and turned it slowly between her fingers. "Let's see if this can add a new thrill for you."

He laughed. "Tell me what you're thinking."

She held his gaze for a beat, then smiling, traced the cold rim of the glass slowly along the upper curve of her right breast watching the way her skin tightened and her nipple hardened further under the chill.

"Where's the fun in telling everything in advance?"

"Ah. So another one of your games?"

She inhaled sharply as the glass brushed the stiff peak of her nipples, her back arching a little. "You don't want to play?"

"You already know I do."

She tilted the glass carefully and a thin stream of whiskey spill over the slope of her breast. The liquid ran in a warm, glistening trail between the soft valley of her cleavage.

He leaned in at once, tongue following the path of the whiskey, licking the alcohol from her skin, circling one nipple, then the other, drawing them into his mouth until she was shifting restlessly on his lap. The heat of her through the thin lace of the thong was impossible to ignore, he could feel how wet she still was.

"Mmm," she whispered, eyes half-closed. "That's nice."

When he finally set the empty glass down, the sound of crystal against marble was loud.

He eased her off his lap with a gentle nudge.

Ashmita got off his thigh and stood in front of him again, cheeks flushed.

The hard outline of his cock strained painfully against the tight fabric of his briefs, the thick head peeking out from above the waistband.

"Suck my cock, Ashmita."

Ashmita's eyes widened for half a second. Then the familiar slow smile returned.

"Subtle."

"I didn't want there to be any confusion."

"God forbid."

Amar's grin was answer enough.

She laughed under her breath and bent to help him out of his briefs. She hooked her fingers into the waistband and Amar lifted his hips without being asked, making it easier for her. She dragged the fabric down over his thighs, then helped him free one leg and then the other, and casually tossed them on the bar stool beside him.

"How cooperative." she observed, and stood straight in front of him.

"I know when to be useful." He spread his knees wider, and held her gaze, entirely

unembarrassed.

His cock rose thick and fully hard, the length curving slightly upwards. It was fully veined and his foreskin, atleast two shades darker than the rest of him, was partially retracted revealing a thick, angry cock-head, leaking precum profusely.

Below it, his balls hung heavy and dark, drawn tight with arousal.

Ashmita stopped for a beat.

She didn't look away. In fact, she admired it for longer than a second.

"Oh!" She said, then cleared her throat "You could at least pretend to be nervous."

His mouth curved into a smile as he stroked himself lightly.

"You've spent the entire evening making me lose my mind." he said, voice low "I am not going to apologise when its my turn."

"Your turn?" She raised an eyebrow, recovering some of her bravado "How very entitled."

He looked her in the eye, and said without hesitation:

"Muuh mein le." (Take it in your mouth)

Ashmita's eyebrows shot up.

"Did you just switch languages because you thought it would make you sound more commanding?"

Amar's grin widened. "A man often returns to his mother tongue in two situations -- extreme anger and... extreme ecstasy."

"Which is it now?" she teased.

Amar's smile didn't falter. He kept his eyes on her, still stroking himself lightly.

"You already know the answer."

Ashmita held his gaze a second longer, then smiled to herself as the last of her nervousness dissolved into something more submissive. She stepped closer between his knees, while he tilted his head to follow her movements, now resting both his hands loosely on his thighs.

She bent down forward from the waist, gold heels keeping her elevated.

From where he sat on the high stool, the position gave him an unobstructed view down the long line of her bare back -- the elegant dip of her spine, the twin dimples just above the high cut lace of her g-string, and the soft, full curve of her ass as she leaned in. The tiny string disappeared between her cheeks, framing everything perfectly.

She wrapped both hands around the thick base of him first, feeling the heat and the solid pulse under her palms. The skin was smoother than she expected, stretched tight over his hard length.

She stroked him slowly from root to tip, watching the way more precum beaded at the top with every pass of her fingers. The dark foreskin slid back to reveal the full, flushed head, and she used the pad of her thumb to spread the clear fluid in slow circles over the sensitive skin, feeling him twitch in her hand.

Then she lowered her head and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the broad, flushed head of his cock.

Another kiss followed, lower this time, along the sensitive underside where the thick vein ran.

She opened her mouth and dragged the flat of her tongue along the same full vein in one long, wet swipe, from the base till the top. She did it again, slower, letting her tongue linger at the frenulum before swirling it over the tip, collecting the precum that had gathered there.

"Look at that," he said quietly. "And you had me thinking you were the shy one."

Ashmita lifted her eyes to his again, and opened her mouth wider and took him in.

The first inch slid between her lips, heavy and hot against her tongue. She paused, adjusting to the thickness, then sank further, taking another inch, then one more.

She obviously couldn't take all of him yet, but she didn't try it as yet.

She used her fingers to wrap around the base that she hadn't reached as yet with her mouth and began the slow bob of her head.

One hand stayed around the base, the other still using his thigh to steady herself.

She worked him with steady attention, eyes lifting to meet his occasionally. Amar's hand settled lightly in her hair, not guiding, simply resting while she set the pace.

From Amar's vantage point, the view remained perfect.

Every time she sank deeper, the full sway of her breasts visible from the sides, nipples brushing against his thighs.

The music had died with the speakers battery running out perhaps.

The only sounds in the room were hers -- bobbing her head up and down, and the occasional chime of her anklets when she shifted.

"God," he said under his breath "That's... good."

Amar reached down with his right hand and gathered her dark hair, drawing it back from her face and holding it loosely at the base of her neck so nothing unobstructed the view. He watched the way her lips stretched around him, the way her cheeks hollowed, the focused concentration in her expression.

His left hand moved next.

He cupped one full breast, squeezing the soft weight of it, thumb rolling over the stiffened nipple. Then his palm slid lower, over the elegant curve of her back, following the dip of her spine until he reached the high cut lace of her g-string. He cupped one rounded cheek, kneading the firm flesh, before lifting his hand a delivering a single, open-palmed smack that echoed softly in the room.

Ashmita's eyes widened sharply around him. She held his gaze, clearly filing the incident for later.

"Keep going," he murmured, eyes locked on her body.

Amar didn't let her pull away.

Instead he used the hand still tangled in her hair to guide her deeper -- another inch, then one more -- until the thick head pressed firmly against the back of her throat. She gagged once, the sound involuntary and throat tightening around him.

He held there for only a second before easing the pressure.

Ashmita pulled off with a soft, gasping sound a thin string of saliva connecting her shiny lips to the glistening head of his cock. She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at him with watery eyes, still catching her breath,

"Careful," she said. "I need my voice for the reels I have planned for tomorrow."

Amar's smile was dark, almost lazy.

"Maza aa gaya Ashmita. Gale tak utaar, dubaara."

( It felt so good, Ashmita. Deep-throat it again. )

She smiled and gave him an incredulous look. And then leaned in again.

This time there was no teasing build up.

She took him deep in one smooth motion, lips stretching around his thick shaft, and began to work him with focused intensity. Her head started to bob faster, her mouth started to suck harder, her hands stroking whatever she couldn't get in her mouth. The wet, rhytmic sounds grew louder. Every time she sank down she forced herself a little deeper, committed to his challenge. Saliva ran down his shaft and over her fingers.

"Look at you," he murmured. "You really don't do anything by halves, do you?"

Amar's breathing had turned rough.

He hadn't expected this commitment from her, his hand tightened in her hair as he enjoyed the view -- her back arched, ass high, tiny string disappearing between her ass cheeks.

He felt the first sharp pulse of at the base of his cock and immediately pulled her off by the hair, just before he could lose himself in the sensation.

He didn't want to cum as yet.

Ashmita withdrew with a soft, wet pop, lips shiny and swollen. She stood straight, smoothing her hair back, still regaining her composure as Amar sat on the leather bar stool, his chest rising and falling, the thick shaft throbbing on its own in the open air, still grinning.

"I'm just wondering how you manage to look so pleased with yourself all the time?"

"Practice."

She laughed. "Of course. God forbid you give credit where it's due."

"Oh, I intend to."

Amar's hand came down once more in a light, open-palmed slap against the curves of her ass. He nudged her gently towards the couch.

"Go on," he said, with a thoroughly satisfied grin "Let's see that walk again."

Ashmita turned to look at him over her shoulder. "You're getting awfully comfortable giving orders."

"Too late for complaints." Another smack.

She shook her head laughing, and started towards the couch with an exaggerated sway of her hips, the gold heels making a sharp click sound with every step.

By the time she reached the couch she was smiling too broadly to pretend she wasn't enjoying herself. She called for Amar by crooking her fingers, and he crossed the room in a few strides. She placed both her hands on his shoulders and guided him onto the cushions. She stood between his open knees for a moment, looking down at him before turning toward the large windows.

Outside, the Diwali lights from the neighbouring houses reflected in the tall windows, laying soft gold and amber patterns across her skin.

Ashmita's eyes flicked towards the curtains. She reached for them, but his hand closed gently around her wrists.

"Leave them open."

Surprise flicked across her face, followed by a faint flush that spread down her neck. She let her hand fall. The vulnerability was brief, but it was there, and it only sharpened the want already running through him.

"Anyone could see, Amar" she pointed out, glancing towards the large windows.

"I like the lights."

She narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. "You like the lights?"

"Very much."

"And if somebody happens to look over?"

"Then they'll see a very pretty woman enjoying her evening."

She blushed. "Amar!"

He finally released her hands.

"I like the lights," he murmured, eyes dark "And I want to watch your pretty mouth on my cock while I enjoy the view."

Ashmita's lips parted, but for once, no clever reply came to her rescue.

She glanced once more at the large windows, then back at Amar. Heat crept into her cheeks and she gave him a look that was equal parts embarrassment and accusation.

"God, you're impossible." she muttered to herself.

She pressed her lips together, fighting a smile that would only encourage him. She shook her head and lowered herself on to the carpet between his legs her gold heels catching the lamplight as she settled. When she looked up at him, the last traces of embarrassment were still visible in her flushed cheeks -- but so was the mischief returning to her eyes.

Amar's teasing expression softened for a moment as their eyes met. He watched her, one hand resting on the cushion beside him and with the other brushing his thumb along her cheek.

"I can't get over how beautiful you are."

She leaned into the touch. Then with a light pressure of his hand on her shoulder, he guided her down to his cock again. His hand lingered at the base of her neck again, thumb tracing line of her spine, before he sat back and simply looked at her.

Ashmita wrapped her fingers around him. The contrast of her palm against the hard heat of his cock felt unreal. She stroked him slowly, eyes never leaving his.

"You like this?"

"God, yes." His hand found her shoulder again. "Keep going Ash."

She tightened her grip, the rhythm steady and deliberate. Each pass of her hand drew another low sound from him. He watched the way her breasts moved with each motion, the way her lips parted as she concentrated on the feel of him.

"Let me make this even better." she said, the corner of her mouth lifting.

She leaned in and spat, the wetness mixing with the precum already beading at the tip. Amar's hips jerked once at the sudden heat and slickness. She stroked him again, the sound of her palm against his velvet skin soft but unmistakable in the quiet room.

"You like that?"

"Yeah," he managed. "I do."

She worked him faster, the wet slide of her hand filling the space between them.

His jaw tightened, and then :

"Suck me Ash."

Ashmita looked up at him, and for once didn't answer with a joke.

She leaned closer, one hand resting on his thigh and began to suck him again.

Her lips closed around his head gently, tongue swirling in slow, lazy circles while her hands stroked the thick base. She kept the initial pace unhurried for long minutes, sucking lightly, letting the saliva build and run down the shaft, eyes flicking up to his every so often. The only sounds in the room were the wet slide of her mouth and the occasional burst of crackers.

Gradually, her intensity rose.

Ashmita began to bob deeper faster, cheeks hollowing with each upward pull. She pushed herself further than before, taking as much as she could until the head pressed firmly against the back of her throat. She still couldn't fit all of him, last couple of inches remained outside her stretched lips. She compensated with her hands, twisting and stroking in time with her mouth, the wet sounds getting louder.

On her second attempt, she gagged and pulled off with a pop sound, gasping for air.

A thick rope of saliva stretched from her swollen lips to the glistening head of his cock before it broke into multiple strands. More saliva poured from her open mouth in a continuous, messy stream coating the entire length of him, running down his heavy balls and dripping in long strands on the leather of the sofa between his spread thighs.

"I cant quite...." she started, voice rough.

Amar's hands stayed in her hair, gentler now, but he didn't look away.

She swallowed, wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her wrist, and looked up at him again, eyes still watery but determined.

Her hand stayed around him, stroking with firm, measured pressure that made his eyes half-close for a second.

"I want to try," she said, breathless " Just a little longer."

Amar nodded.

She leaned in again and took him back into her mouth. The wet heat closed around him once at once, her tongue worked the underside in a slow, deliberate stroke while her eyes stayed locked on his, until one of his thrusts into her mouth shut them tight.

Her hand stayed around him, stroking with firm, measured pressure that made his eyes half-close for a second.

He placed a hand on the back of her head and pushed her mouth onto his cock.

Her lips stretched wide, saliva dripping down his length, forcing her now to take as much as she could, for as long as she could.

Amar's hand settled in her hair. For a few strokes he let her set the pace. Then he tightened his grip and thrust once more -- shallow, controlled -- into the heat of her mouth.

Ashmita's eyes flashed up at him, a sharp look of warning.

He didn't stop.

"What?" he said, voice low, almost controversial. "I told you. No more permissions."

When she didn't protest any further, Amar's control finally snapped.

His hands came up and framed her head, fingers sliding into her hair. He held her in place and began to thrust, slowly at first, testing her give.

Then he went deeper, and more deliberate.

He started fucking her mouth intently. Each stroke went a little further. Ashmita gagged hard around him but he held her in place.

He kept the steady rhythm when his gaze drifted past her for a moment, towards the tall glass windows. The Diwali lights from the neighboring houses reflected in the panes, laying soft patterns across the floor and also the curve of her back. In the reflection, he could see the rounded shape of her ass moving with every motion of her head, the thin strip of lace still in pace.

Then something caught his eye.

A figure stood on the balcony opposite -- close enough that the glass made her clear. A young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, dressed in a well cut Anarkali suit, dark hair in bangs. She was frozen, one hand half-raised to her mouth, eyes fixed on the scene inside. Shock first, then curiosity.

Amar felt the jolt of it travel straight through him. He didn't look away. Instead, he shifted his hips a fraction, opening the angle just enough that the reflected view would be clearer. The thrill was immediate and unexpected -- illicit, sharp, feeding the heat already building in his groin.

He said nothing.

Ashmita felt the change in his body. She pulled off with a wet pop, lips shiny, and looked up.

"What's wrong?"

His hand came to her cheek, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.

"Nothing." His voice rough.

She sat back on her heels, breathing hard, gold heels still on, and wiped her face again.

"I'll get better," she said, voice low. "I promise. But for now.. just enjoy this."

Amar rose from the couch, and stood tall infront of her.

"Haath peeche kar." he commanded.

(Hands behind your back)

Ashmita hesitated, but clasped her hands behind her back.

"Good girl. Main khud luunga ab."

(That's a good girl. I'll take fuck your mouth now.)

He took his cock in one hand, the other settling firmly at the back of her head, and guided himself back between her lips.

This time there was no build up.

He started slow for a few thrusts, getting his alignment right, then quickly built his hard, relentless rhythm. He held her head exactly where he wanted while he thrust deep into her throat. Wet, choking sounds filled the room and saliva ran down her chin and onto her bare breasts.

It was pure skull-fucking.

His gaze drifted back to the tall glass windows, and beyond to the young woman in Anarkali. Her eyes were fixed on them, scandal all over her face. Amar met her gaze, and a sharp rush of heat went through him. The knowledge that she was watching -- seeing Ashmita, the influencer, being skull-fucked in her own home, hands behind her back, taking everything he gave her made his cock throb violently inside her mouth.

"Fuck... yes"

He fucked her throat harder, hips snapping forward, using her mouth with unrestrained need while the stranger watched. Another deep groan left him, louder this time. Ashmita gagged around him, eyes watering but he held her in place.

"Ash," he said, words tight. "I'm close."

He loosened his grip, so she could pull back just enough to speak. A small, wicked smile curved her mouth.

"Cum in my mouth, Amar." as she put her mouth on him again.

That was all it took, the first pulse hit him without further warning.

"Ash.... fuck"

He came hard, thick ropes flooding her mouth and throat in heavy pulses. A long, broke groan tore from him as he kept holding her head tight through the orgasm, making her take every spurt. Surprised by the sheer volume of it, Ashmita's hands, clasped behind her until now, broke free and she slapped his thighs -- once, twice -- sharp and urgent signals to let her go.

He released her at once.

But the last few pulses still left him. Thick small ropes landed across her chin and the side of her face before she could fully pull away. Ashmita scrambled to her feet, coughing and gagging, cum and saliva running down her chin and breasts. She hurried to the bathroom on her gold heels, the tiny g-string framing the gorgeus curve of her ass with every step.

Amar sat back on the couch chest heaving, when he looked towards the window again the balcony was empty.

A faint, private satisfaction settled in him.

The sound of running water reached him first, her rinsing her mouth thoroughly. Then came the unmistakable sound of splash of her sitting down and peeing.

Something about that ordinary, intimate sound made him get up off the couch.

He walked quietly down the hallway and stopped in the open bathroom doorway.

Ashmita was still seated on the toilet, gold heels planted on the tiled floor, her g-strings bunched around her knees. She looked up sharply when she sensed him watching.

"Really?" she said, voice rough.

Amar didn't answer. He simply leaned against the doorframe, eyes on her, and began stroking himself lightly.

"I need to pee too," he finally replied.

She raised an eyebrow. "Then wait your turn."

She finished, stood and moved to the sink. While she washed her hands and face with a clean towel, Amar stepped up to the toilet. He held his heavy cock and let go. A strong, steady stream hit the bowl - loud, prolonged, unmistakably male.

Ashmita's eyes flicked up to the mirror.

She watched the reflection of him standing there, thick cock in hand, the long stream of urine arching in to the water. When he caught her looking, a faint flush rose on her cheeks.

"Curious?" he asked mildly.

She turned away too quickly, drying her face.

"I was just making sure you didn't miss."

Amar finished, flushed and washed his hands beside her. Their eyes met in the mirror again.

"Next time," he said, drying his hands "You can hold it for me."

Ashmita stared at him for a beat, then let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

"You're going to be impossible to be with, aren't you?"

"I'm still on my best behavior."

She tossed the towel at his chest and walked past him, gold heels clicking, the tiny g-string still the only thing she wore.

"Chut maaruunga teri." he muttered, stroking himself as he watched her go.

("I'll fuck your pussy.)

At the doorway she glances back at him over her shoulder, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Sounded like something."

"Must be the plumbing."

She laughed. "Well, Mr Singh.... Let's see how long that 'best behaviour' lasts."

She hooked her thumbs into the delicate waistband of her g-strings and slipped it off, leaving it on the floor, before walking into the bedroom completely naked. She didn't look back this time. She simply climbed into the bed and settled against the pillows and looked at him straight

"Come take these off" nodding towards her heels.

Amar glanced towards the gold heels, a slow grin spreading across his face.

"At your service."

He crossed the room as Ashmita stretched out on the bed, thoroughly pleased with how the night went.

His best behavior, apparently, shall have to wait till another night.

THE END

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EPILOGUE

Ashmita was lying on her side, her head resting against Amar's shoulder. The bedroom was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner and the occasional burst of crackers outside.

The sheets were tangled around their legs. Her hair had come loose from its earlier arrangement, and she was lazily tracing a pattern over his chest with one finger. Every small shift pressed the soft, full weight of her bare breast against his ribs. He could feel the faint drag of her nipple across his skin

For a while, neither of them said anything. Then Ashmita tilted her head to look at him, a curious little smile playing on her lips.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Depends?"

"Why did you suddenly start speaking such crude Hindi tonight?"

Amar turned his head towards her. "What?"

"Don't what me?" She lifted her head from his shoulder. "One minute you're speaking perfectly respectable English, and the next you're telling me to 'choos', 'chaat', 'gale tak utaar' 'pura kheech'..." She paused, looking thoroughly scandalized by the memory." And then there was chut maruunga teri..."

(suck, lick, take it all the way down your throat, I'm going to fuck your pussy)

Amar burst out laughing.

"Oh, you find this funny?"

"Very."

"I'm serious, Amar."

"So am I."

She gave his chest a light smack. " Where did all that come from? You sounded like an entirely different person."

He settled back against the pillows, looking far too pleased with himself.

"There's a saying, actually. A man returns to his mother tongue in two situations."

Ashmita raised her eyebrows. "Which are?"

"Extreme anger and extreme ecstasy."

She stared at him.

Then her mouth fell open.

"Oh my god!" She dissolved into laughter, dropping her face against his shoulder. "You did not just say that. I though you were joking earlier."

"What? It's a perfectly valid observation."

"Extreme ecstasy? She lifted her head again, laughing harder. "You make it sound like some scientific principle."

"It is. Years of rigorous research."

"By whom? You?"

"I'm a Delhi boy. We have our methods."

That only made her laugh more.

"Wait." She caught his chin between her fingers, making him look at her. "IS that your entire explanation? That you're from Delhi?"

Amar gave her his most matter-of-fact look.

"Dilli se hoon, bhenchod." (I'm from Delhi, for fuck sake.)

Ashmita howled.

She collapsed against him, shaking with laughter, while Amar grinned down at her as though he'd just delivered the finest line in the history of comedy.

"You're such an idiot." she managed.

"Thank you."

"No, seriously. You were sitting there all polished and well spoken, and then suddenly -" She attempted to imitate his voice, lowering it into an exaggerated growl. "Bhenchod! Pura kheech." (Fuck, take it all in.)

Amar laughed so hard that the mattress shifted beneath them.

"Arre, listen. Have you driven in Delhi, at all?"

"Of course."

"Then you should know!"

"How do you mean?"

"Some loser cuts you off on the road without warning. You hit the brakes, he looks at you like you've personally offended his ancestors, and suddenly you're both shouting 'bhenchod' at each other."

Ashmita burst out laughing again.

"And the best part?" Amar continued. "Sometimes you don't even have to say anything. You just make eye contact with the other driver, and you both know exactly what the other one's thinking."

"Bhenchod," she supplied solemnly.

"Exactly."

They dissolved into laughter again, her forehead pressed against his shoulder, his arm tightening around her waist.

When she finally looked up, there were tears of amusement in her eyes.

"I cannot believe how your brain works."

"Works perfectly well, thank you."

"Clearly. Especially during moments of extreme ecstasy."

He gave her a pointed look.

"Careful. You're going to make me demonstrate the theory again."

She gasped, and smacked his chest.

"Amar!"

He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles, still grinning.

For a little while, they lay there smiling at each other, the laughter gradually fading into the comfortable quiet of the bedroom.

Then Ashmita noticed something.

"You're smiling," she said.

"Am I"

"Yes. It's irritating."

"Should I stop."

"Immediately."

He laughed.

She lifted her head to look at him, narrowing her eyes. The movement made her breasts sway gently. "What?"

He considered, then said: "I should probably tell you something."

"Yeah.."

Then he changed his mind.

"Forget it, it's nothing."

"Amar!" She insisted.

He looked down at her. "You really want to know?"

"Obviously."

He hesitated, suddenly looking less confident than he had a moment ago.

"That look is making me nervous." she said.

"It's not bad.. it's just... slightly embarrassing."

She waited, watching him.

Amar exhaled. "That night after Tanya's party.. when I got home.. I couldn't stop myself from thinking about you.."

For a moment Ashmita's expressions softened. She expected something sweet, and romantic to follow -- like a shy confession on how he had been replaying their conversation from the balcony, or thinking about her smile, or wondering whether he might see her again.

Her lips curved into an almost bashful smile.

"And what particularly were you thinking about? She asked, already expecting the answer to be sweeter than her imagination.

And then, almost nonchalantly, he confessed :

"I jerked off to one of your pictures."

Ashmita went completely still.

She stared at him for another second, utterly speechless.

Then she pushed herself up on one elbow. Her breasts hung full and heavy, the soft undersides brushing his chest. "What?"

He burst out laughing at her expression.

"You're serious?" she demanded.

"Completely."

"Oh my god!" she stared at him, then covered her face with her hands. "Amar!!"

He caught her wrist gently and moved one hand away from her face. She was trying to look scandalized, but the corners of her mouth had already begun to betray her. A faint flush had spread across her cheeks and down her neck.

Then her expression changed.

"So let me get this straight," she said slowly. "You went home after having met me once.."

Amar nodded.

"... and instead of behaving like a normal man with a functioning brain you found one of my pictures and ---"

"I never said I was normal."

She gave him an incredulous look. "You're actually admitting this to my face?"

"Completely."

"I can't believe this, Amar!"

"What? You asked."

"I asked what you were smiling about. I was expecting something romantic."

He grinned. "It was romantic."

She slapped his chest lightly. "That is not what romance is."

"It did involve you."

She narrowed her eyes, "You are unbelievable."

Then despite herself, she laughed.

"Fine," she said. "I have a question... which picture?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow." Now you're interested?"

"I'm trying to establish the extent of your crimes."

He laughed again, but gave her details.

"One of the pictures you posted a while ago. The black polka-dot bikini. You were standing beside

the infinity pool."

She stared at him.

"That picture was posted months ago."

"I know."

"And you found it?"

"I browsed."

She smiled. "Stalker."

"Sort of.." he said, completely unashamed. "But honestly, it was mostly the top."

Ashmita blinked. "The top?"

"The way it fit." He shrugged, as though this were an entirely reasonable confession. "I kept looking at..." He pointed to her tits with his eyes.

Her mouth fell open.

"You're telling me you scrolled through my social media archive...."

"Not the entirety of it" making his unreasonable indulgence sound reasonable.

".... and settled on one picture because of my boobs?"

"I wouldn't say settled." He eyed her stupendous tits again.

"And then," he added, with a completely straight face, "I may have spent and ungodly amount of time thinking about them afterward."

She shook her head, laughing harder now. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm just being honest."

His hand slid up and cupped one full breast. He gave it a slow and affectionate squeeze. Then he played with her nipples gently, rolling the peak between his fingers.

Ashmita looked down at his hands and then back at his face.

"You really are obsessed."

He considered that for a moment.

"Possibly."

She covered her face again again, laughing into her palms.

Amar grinned.

"What now?" she asked.

"I was just thinking.."

She lowered her hands suspiciously "Thinking what?"

"That I probably should've warned you earlier."

"Warned me about what?"

He looked down at her tits again, then back at her face.

"I have a very serious weakness."

She narrowed her eyes.

"For your boobs," he said matter-of-factly.

Ashmita stared at him for two seconds before collapsing against his shoulder, laughing.

"This is insane. I post pictures, people like them, people comment on them. I don't sit there imagining what everyone is doing after I close the app."

"Perhaps you should."

She smacked his chest lightly, but her nipples had tightened into small, hard peaks against his skin.

"Don't encourage yourself."

"I'm not encouraging myself. I'm explaining reality."

She lifted her head again, curiosity beginning to replace her embarrassment.

"Wait. Do you genuinely think men do that?"

He gave her a look.

"Ashmita."

"What?"

"You post pictures in beautiful clothes, carefully chosen poses, flattering lighting. Sometimes almost nothing. You know exactly what you're doing."

"I'm a fashion influencer. Of course I know what I'm doing."

"Exactly."

"That doesn't mean I'm trying to make men---" she stopped, searching for a word.

"Hard?"

"Amar!"

"What? We're having an honest conversation."

She narrowed her eyes to him, but she was smiling now --and breathing a little differently. His hand had drifted up to cup the soft weight of one breast, thumb slowly circling the nipple until it stiffened further under his touch.

He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her cheek.

"What do you think happens when someone finds you attractive? They see your picture, they look at it for awhile, maybe they come back to it. Some men fantasise. Some might masturbate to you. Some move from one account to another until they've found that one perfect picture that does it for them. It's hardly an extra ordinary discovery."

Ashmita went quiet for a moment.

His thumb kept moving, slow and deliberate.

"So somewhere out there, random men have looked at my pictures and...."

"And you've just answered your own question."

She stared at the ceiling, cheeks flushed.

"That is such a strange thought."

"Why?"

"Because when I post something, I'm thinking about the outfit. The lighting. Whether the caption sounds stupid. Whether the picture fits my feed." She turned back towards him. "I'm not thinking about some random man sitting in his bedroom with his cock in his hand."

"Perhaps that's for the best."

She pinched his side.

He caught her hand, laughing, then guided it down until her palm rested over the growing hardness between his legs. She didn't pull away.

"I'm serious," she said, though her voice had gone softer. "I genuinely never thought about it like that."

"Most people don't think about every possible reaction to something they post."

After a while she spoke again.

"What is just the bikini picture that got you.. so worked up?"

He looked down at her and smiled.

"Why? You want the truth?"

"Apparently, I've opened a pandora's box, so might as well."

He laughed, then ran his hand lightly along her arm, down her side, and back up to cup her breast again, squeezing gently.

"I liked how you pretty you looked when I first saw you."

Ashmita's expression softened at once. A quiet, genuine smile curved her mouth -- the kind that reached her eyes. She looked pleased in a way that had nothing to do with teasing.

"Yeah?" she asked, almost shyly.

"Yeah. And I loved that outfit on you."

She blinked. "The velvet one?"

"The velvet one."

"What about it?"

"Everything, actually."

She gave him a look now that suggested she doubted his flattery.

He shook his head. His voice dropped lower, rougher. "I'm serious. I liked that colour on you. Also those tiny bells all over the outfit."

"You liked the ghunghroo bells?"

"Yes." He admitted, and then continued "Loved the small little chiming sound they made when you moved."

"Is that all you liked about the outfit?" she eyed him, now knowing fully well what his favourite part of the outfit would've been.

"You did turn around.... I might have also noticed the back.. and how open it was. Those fine strings holding it all together."

"You were standing there making your reels, completely absorbed in your phone while I was wondering how to walk over and have a perfectly normal conversation with you while imagining what it would feel like to undo those ties, one by one."

Her eyes widened.

"Amar!"

He laughed at her reaction.

"What were you thinking I was doing there, standing all that while?" he asked a rhetorical question.

"That is so scandalous!"

"I told you. 'Slightly embarrassing.'"

She shook her head, smiling.

"You have no idea how distracting you were that night."

"I think I'm beginning to understand."

He pulled her closer.

"But the entire time I was thinking about how the choli would loosen once the last knot gave way. How your breasts would spill into my hands. Honestly, I came so hard that night imagining my mouth on them while you were still half-dressed in that sharara, the gold bells against my wrists as I sucked on your nipples."

Ashmita's cheeks flushed deeper. She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh and hid her face again before looking up, eyes bright with embarrassment and curiosity.

"You actually imagined all of that?"

"All of it."

She buried her face against his shoulder again.

She lifted her head again, still smiling.

"So you were attracted to me from the get go."

"All hands on deck -- YES, the moment I saw you enter Tanya's apartment, I was gone."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"What was I supposed to say? 'Hello Ashmita. Lovely party. Your backless choli has destroyed my ability to think and left me hard enough to hurt?'"

She dissolved into laughter.

"I would've appreciated the honesty."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Probably not."

He kissed her forehead again, then her mouth, slow and deep, while his hand continued to play with the soft, heavy flesh of her breasts. She settled against him, still smiling, still a little flushed.

Then her expression turned thoughtful.

" Does it bother you? That other men might look at my pictures like that?"

Amar considered that question instead of answering immediately.

"Not particularly. I don't own your photogrpahs, and I don't get to decide who finds you attractive."

He glanced down at her. "I can dislike the idea of someone being creepy about you without pretending I can control what happens inside his head."

She seemed to consider that.

"And you're not going to to start telling me what I can wear, and what I can post?"

"Absolutely not."

"Even the more revealing ones."

He smiled against her skin. "You'd ignore me anyway. And I'd still end up with my hand around my cock looking at them."

"I would."

"I know."

Ashmita was quiet for a beat, then a slow, wicked smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She looked thoroughly entertained -- and more than a little turned on by the entire conversation.

She watched him for a moment, amused.

Than a more mischievous smile appeared.

"More than once?"

"Ashmita."

"What? I thought we were having an honest conversation."

He laughed and pulled the sheet higher over both of them, though his head stayed possessively on her breast and hers stayed exactly where it was."

"You're enjoying this far too much."

"I'm learning something new about you."

"You're collecting material to use against me."

"That too."

She leaned down and kissed him, slow and affectionate this time.

When she pulled away, she was still smiling.

"So the great Amarjeet Singh Ahluwalia spent a night going through my feed and jerking off..."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Apparently."

"And then came to my house-warming the next weekend and acted completely normal."

"I tried."

She laughed softly.

"My carefully curated feed is apparently a lot more dangerous than I realised."

Amar's hand tightened on her chest, He rolled her nipple between his fingers, then lowered his head and took it into his mouth, sucking slowly, deliberately. Ashmita's breath hitched. Her fingers slid into his hair as he switched to the other breast, licking the stiffened peak before drawing it deep, the wet heat of his mouth making her arch slightly against him.

"Hmm.." she moaned her approval.

He didn't stop. He kept sucking, slow and greedy, one hand kneading the soft weight of her breast he wasn't tasting.

After a long, thorough indulgence, he lifted his head lips shiny and eyes dark and pulled her closer. "You have no idea."

Ashmita looked at him for a second -- flushed and amused and thoroughly aroused. Then she pushed the sheet down, swung one leg over his hips and straddled him.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"That definitely is not a nothing face."

The soft, heavy weight of her breasts filled his vision as she leaned forward, deliberately lowering herself until they pressed against his face, smothering him in warm, soft flesh. The full, natural weight of them settled over his mouth and nose, the msooth undersides resting against his cheeks. Her nipples, already tight from his earlier attention, brushed his skin.

Amar's cock, which had been half-hard through most of the conversation, thickened rapidly beneath her. Within seconds he was fully erect again, the thick length of him rising hard and insistent between her spread thighs, pressing up against the soft, slick heat of her pussy lips.

Amar stared up at her. "Ashmita..."

"What?"

"This is revenge, isn't it?"

"Maybe a little."

She held him there for another moment, shifting slightly so that the soft weight of her breasts moved against his face, before lifting just enough to him breathe.

"Still obsessed"

He looked up at her. "Unfortunately."

She grinned. "Good."

Ashmita started to move away, but Amar caught her around the waist and pulled her back towards him. The sudden movement made her breasts sway heavily above him.

With one hand on her hip, he used the other to wrap his fingers around the thick base and deliberately guided it towards her entrance. His thick, upward curving cock, slid hot and insistent along the soft folds of her pussy, the head catching at her entrance for a second.

"Achha, hun aaja. Fudi mariye teri."

(All right, come here now. Let's fuck your pussy.)

She paused.

Then she looked at him.

"Excuse me?"

Amar's grin widened.

"Ki hoya?" (What's wrong?)

"Now, what's that now? Punjabi?"

"Bilkul." He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

"Tharak Hindi se Punjabi tak pahunch gayi, hun teri fudi hi thanda kar sakdi hai." (Absolutely! The lust has graduated from Hindi to Punjabi. Only your pussy can calm me down.)

Ashmita stared at him for a second then burst out laughing.

"Oh my god! Amar!! You cannot be serious."

"Main bilkul serious haan, sohniye." (I'm absolutely serious, beautiful.)

Before she could reply, he drew her closer, his grin turning wicked. She felt him teasingly line his thick, erect cock at her pussy, and a startled squeal escaped her.

Ashmita immediately began to wriggle, laughing as she shifted her hips just enough to keep him from slipping inside. Her soft folds slid teasingly over the head of his cock without letting him enter, the movement making her full breasts bounce above his face.

"Amar!" she clutched his shoulders, half laughing, half scandalized "You cannot just ---"

"Ki hoya?" he asked innocently. (What's wrong?)

"Stop it!" she tried to wiggle out of his arms, laughing so hard that she could barely manage it. " And have you ever heard of asking a woman out on a date?"

He blinked at her. "Date?"

"Yes, Amar. Date. The gentleman asks the lady out, takes her somewhere nice, buys her dinner, makes an effort to impress her. You know, the usual things."

He looked at her with exaggerated consideration.

"Dinner bhi khilana hai?" (Do I have to take you out for dinner?)

"Yes."

"Flowers?"

"Absolutely."

"Candlelight?"

"Amar!."

"Achha theek hai." He nodded solemnly. "Pehle dinner. Phir date. Phir permission. Bahut lamba process hai yaar."

( Ok fine. First dinner. Then date. Then permission. It's a long process.)

"That's generally how it works."

He gave her a long, suffering look.

"Madam, aap to badi posh nikli."

(Madam, you turned out to be very posh.)

"Damn right I am." She wriggled free and scrambled off the bed, laughing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have standards to maintain."

"Dinner ke baad standards gir jayenge?" ( Will your standards drop after dinner?)

"Ask me nicely and find out!"

He was about to reply when the doorbell rang.

Ashmita froze, then burst out laughing. "Oh, for god's sake."

She grabbed her robe and hurried towards the door, calling back over her shoulder. "And put some clothes on"

"Bhenchod!" (FUCK)

"Amar!"

"What? Extreme Anger. The first situation." He said it with an exaggerated scowl, pretending to be angry at her suggestion.

Ashmita shook her head, still laughing, and disappeared through the bedroom door.

Amar fell back in to the pillows, grinning at the ceiling.

Dinner. Flowers. Candlelight. Fudi.

He could manage the hoops.

He dragged a hand down his face, laughing his breath.

The woman was going to be the death of him.

Or, if he had anything to say about it, the very opposite.

THE END. (For real.)

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If you loved this story, please give your feedback in comments. It's what keeps us motivated and gives us a nudge in the right direction where needed.

After all, for Amar to 'thoroughly' enjoy his 'influencer' girlfriend Ashmita, insightful feedback and suggestions of readers are invaluable.

Thanks for reading! :)