Chapter 1

One day, I went with my family to inspect a house that was available for rent. It was a two-story building with a ground floor and a first floor. We were there to see the first floor.

I wasn’t sure if I’d like the place; it was far from where we lived, almost in the middle of nowhere, with no proper bus or auto-rickshaw service. Still, I came along.

When we arrived, I parked my bike in front of the house while my mother went inside. I stood outside, observing the narrow street. There wasn’t even enough space for two vehicles to pass each other comfortably, which only increased my doubts.

Just then, I noticed a chubby, dark-skinned girl washing her two-wheeler near the same house we were visiting. She looked like a typical neighborhood girl. Her dog started barking at me, and she tried to calm it down.

She glanced at me a few times while cleaning her scooter. I didn’t pay much attention, though I couldn’t help but notice her ass. She was bent over, and her short shorts had slipped just below her ass. But since I was with my family, I quickly looked away and walked toward the house.

While I was distracted, my mother had already gone ahead and was talking with someone who opened the gate. I heard a girl’s voice say her name was Ramya. I hadn’t seen her yet, but she was speaking with my mom as she opened the gate for us.

My mother walked inside, and I followed. The first thing I noticed was a little girl, probably around three or four years old. Then I saw her mother.

She was about 28, around 5 feet tall, slim, with dusky skin, a proper south Indian woman wearing a simple nightie. The kind of girl you’d see next door, simple, polite. As my mother introduced me, she looked at me, and we made brief eye contact. I gave a half-smile and looked away, focusing on the parking area.

Even though I was with my family, I kept stealing glances at her. I noticed her sneaking looks at me, too, whenever my mother wasn’t watching. At the time, I dismissed it as curiosity.

I knew she was married and had a child. While I’ve always been more drawn to married women, I didn’t think much of it then.

A little about me: I’m 30, about 5’8”, Indian white, with long hair dyed light brown and black. My body is average—not athletic, no six—pack—but I’ve always gotten attention. In college and at work, both single and married women have shown interest. So, I’d say I’m somewhat handsome.

Though I’ve had my share of experiences with single women, it’s always the married ones who stir something deeper inside me the allure of something forbidden, unavailable, untouchable.

After checking the parking space, my father joined us, and we went upstairs to inspect the house. It was a neat 2 BHK, almost new, with a small balcony. As I stood there, I glanced back at the street. There she was again.

The chubby neighbor girl was still washing her bike, bending over in the same way, her posture revealing her cleavage and ass crack. I looked for a moment, then quickly turned away and went back inside.

Despite the narrow street and limited parking, we liked the house. The presence of two attractive women, Ramya and the neighbor, made me like it even more.

We headed downstairs. My mother paused to chat with Ramya, asking about the neighborhood and safety. I took that moment to subtly glance at her again. Before leaving, we exchanged brief eye contact.

After completing the formalities, we moved into the new house. I resumed my routine, going to work and coming home in the evening. Every morning, I would see Ramya near the gate or in the common area when I took out my bike.

We exchanged occasional glances and small half-smiles. I kept my distance, never showing overt interest, and she didn’t either. It was quiet, unspoken, and low-key. I occasionally saw her husband, usually late at night.

Then one morning, everything changed.

As I came down the stairs, I saw her playing with her child near the bottom step. She was wearing a nightie and was wet around the neck and chest, likely just having bathed her child.

She didn’t see me at first. But I noticed how the wet fabric clung to her body, outlining her shape clearly, her shoulders, the gentle curves of her form. I felt a familiar stir inside me.

She finally looked up after hearing my steps. I quickly shifted my gaze from her body to her eyes, showing no sign of surprise or guilt. Our eyes met and locked. She knew where I had been looking and made no move to adjust her posture or cover herself.

I held her gaze as I descended, smirked slightly, then took my bike and left for work.

From that day onward, something changed. Whenever I see her, I let my eyes rest on her, openly admiring. I liked to slowly seduce, to string things along, leaving something hanging, a quiet challenge.

Though she always averted her gaze after a moment, I could feel something there. Even at night, when I returned home, I’d find her standing at her entrance alone, glancing at me.

Sensing an opening, I began to plan, not rushed, just enough to test her.

One morning, I saw her baby playing near my parked bike. I bent down, picked up the child, and handed her over to Ramya. I let my fingers linger on her arm for a moment, deliberately slow.

She let it linger, then suddenly pulled away, guilt mixed with something else, desire.

One day, I came home early from work to go to a function. I parked my bike outside and walked in. She had her back to me and didn’t hear me approach. Her child was playing near the gate. I picked the baby up with a playful laugh. Hearing her child, she turned around, startled.

I walked toward her, still holding the child, and gently set the baby down beside her.

“Did I startle you?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied, a little nervously.

“What were you doing? Not watching the kid?”

“Cleaning the floor,” she said, brushing her hair back, clearly shy.

I looked into her eyes and spoke again.

“Does she always play around the gate and parked bikes?”

“Yes,” she said, adjusting her nightie slightly. “She’s very energetic. Sometimes it’s tough to keep up.”

“Yeah ... I’ve noticed. You’re the one always running after her,” I said with a slight smile.

She smiled back, a little more relaxed now.

“He works late, right?” I asked, already knowing.

She nodded. “Yes.”

After a pause, she looked at me and asked softly, “Why were you always watching me?”

As we talked, I took a few small steps closer. She instinctively backed up toward her doorway, nervous but curious.

“I just like watching you play with your child,” I said calmly, meeting her gaze.

She looked surprised and caught off guard. Then she quickly said, “I have to get her some snacks,” and turned to go inside.

But I gently caught her hand instinctively.

She turned, shocked. I was surprised by my own action and said softly, “Bring the baby inside too. I’ll be back down after I get ready for the function.”