Chapter 22: The Unplanned Inspection

The next morning, the air in the apartment was thick with a nervous, electric energy. I was a coiled spring, every muscle tensed with anticipation. My plan was simple, elegant, and, I hoped, foolproof. Wait for Devi to leave for work, then bolt across the street to Janaki’s. I needed answers. I needed to know if Devi’s sadness was her handiwork, a calculated move in our grand game of conquest. And more than that, I needed her. I needed to feel her hands on me, to hear her praise, to lose myself in the intoxicating power of being her prince. The thought of it was a constant, throbbing ache, a low hum beneath my skin that made it hard to focus on anything else.

I heard the front door close, the sound of Devi’s departure a starting pistol. I shot up from the sofa, my heart hammering against my ribs, and was halfway to the door when a sharp, insistent knock echoed through the apartment.

I froze, my hand on the doorknob. It couldn’t be. Not now. Not when I was so close.

I pulled open the door, and my heart sank. It was Kushi. She was standing on my doorstep, a bright, determined smile on her face, her gym bag slung over her shoulder. My internal clock screamed at me. It was barely seven. Gym time wasn’t for another two hours.

“Kushi? What are you doing here? We’re not supposed to meet for—”

She didn’t let me finish. She breezed past me, a whirlwind of floral perfume and barely contained energy, dropping her bag on the floor with a soft thud. There was a different air about her today. An air of heat. Of purpose. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, a vibrant, almost feverish energy radiating from her.

“I know, I know,” she said, her voice a little breathless, a little rushed. “I’m early. But I couldn’t wait. I need your help, Sid.”

My mind was a frantic scramble. Janaki was waiting. My queen was waiting. But Kushi was here, standing in my living room, her eyes wide with a desperate, pleading need that I found impossible to ignore. “Help? With what?”

“Just ... just look,” she said, her voice a little shaky. She took a deep breath, her hands fumbling with the zipper of her sweat jacket. With a single, fluid motion, she pulled it off.

And my plan, my desperate, urgent need to see Janaki, evaporated.

She was wearing a sports bra underneath. A simple, black, athletic sports bra. But on her, it was a masterpiece of engineering and nature. It struggled to contain her massive, perfect breasts, the fabric stretched taut, the soft mounds of flesh spilling out over the top, creating a deep, inviting cleavage that was both wholesome and utterly pornographic. My mouth went dry. My cock, which had been a constant, aching reminder of my mission to Janaki’s, sprang to life with a sudden, violent intensity. I forgot about Janaki. I forgot about Devi. I forgot about everything. All I could see was Kushi.