Chapter 1: The Beginning

The soft thump of the bedroom door closing was the most exciting sound of Tina’s day. The click of the lock sliding into place was her starting pistol. A slow, relieved sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the door, her ear straining for any sound from the other side. Silence. Perfect, beautiful silence. Her husband, Kunal, was at the bank. The kids were at school. And her in-laws were deep in their afternoon slumber, their soft snores a faint, reassuring rhythm from down the hall.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, thrilling counterpoint to the quiet house. She padded across the room, her bare feet silent on the cool marble floor. Her fingers, trembling with a familiar mixture of guilt and anticipation, went to the pallu of her lavender saree. She unwound the fabric, the silk whispering against itself as it pooled at her feet. Swish. Her blouse followed, then her petticoat, until she stood naked before the full-length mirror.

Her eyes, dark with hunger, roamed her own body. They lingered on the heavy, full swell of her breasts, the way they hung with a weight that begged to be held. Her nipples were already tight, pebbled peaks against the fair skin of her areolas. “Kya motte doodh se bharey chooche hai mere, kash koi choos leta” she muttered to her reflection, her voice a husky whisper.

She lay back on the bed, the starch-stiff cotton of the bedsheet cool against her heated skin. One hand slid down her flat stomach, through the neat triangle of coarse black hair, and found the slick, aching center of her. Her eyes fluttered closed as her middle finger circled her clit. Oh my. A low groan built in her throat. Her other hand cupped her breast, squeezing the soft flesh, pinching her own nipple until a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain made her back arch off the mattress.

Her hips began a slow, grinding rhythm against her own hand. The only sounds were her ragged breathing and the wet, obscene schlick, schlick, schlick of her fingers working her pussy. She pictured the men from the videos she watched, their hard, anonymous bodies. She imagined a stranger’s calloused hands on her, a rough mouth on her nipples, a thick cock stretching her open. “Chod do mujhe,” she pleaded to the empty room, her hips bucking faster. Fuck me. Her climax built, a tight coil in her belly, and unraveled with a silent, desperate scream, her body shuddering through the waves of pleasure. Splurt. A final, wet sound as her orgasm subsided, leaving her panting and alone. This was now almost a routine ... each afternoon her secret moments of lust.

The next afternoon, the ritual was interrupted. Her phone vibrated on the kitchen counter, an unknown number flashing on the screen. She answered, her voice still husky from her solo session an hour prior.

“Hello?”

“Tina? Tina, is that you? It’s Koe. Koe from college.”

Her entire body went still. Koe. Memories flooded her: studying in the library while he stole glances looking at her breasts, his shy, fumbling hands when they hugged and his chest was pressed against her boobs. Always so shy, and now he was here. In Ahmedabad.

“Koe? Oh my god! After so many years!” she breathed, infusing her voice with a warmth she didn’t have to fake. She listened as he explained the conference, the polite small talk. And then she saw her chance. A narrow, perfect window of time.

“You must come over! Tomorrow. For lunch,” she said, the idea forming fully in her mind, wicked and intoxicating.