Shalini had barely closed the front gate behind her when her phone buzzed with Malika's name flashing on the screen. The familiar thrill, that guilty excitement, pulsed through her. She hadn't even changed out of the sleeveless, deep-neck lavender kurta she'd worn to class — a soft cotton fabric that clung to her breasts, hugging the shape of her body more tightly than she would have dared just weeks ago. Its paired leggings were so snug they felt like a second skin, accentuating the curve of her thighs and hips.
She slipped off her sandals and settled on the sofa, a mix of exhaustion and excitement swirling inside. She picked up the call.
"Shalini," Malika's voice oozed through the phone, low and teasing, "I have to tell you something... but promise you won't judge me."
Shalini smiled, already intrigued. "You know I never judge you."
There was a tiny pause, then Malika laughed. "Alright. You remember I told you about that boy I fooled around with last year?"
"The one who was a bit… younger?"
Malika giggled, sounding almost wicked. "Yes, exactly. Well, what I never told you was how I played with him. I made him worship me, Shalini. Made him crawl to me, kiss my heels, beg to lick my sweat."
Shalini's breath caught, her cheeks heating up. A wave of guilt mixed with excitement surged through her belly.
"You really did that?" she whispered.
"Oh yes. I made him feel worthless if he couldn't please me. And he loved it." Malika's voice grew smoky. "He was about Avi's age, you know."
Shalini stiffened, a strange shiver down her spine. "Malika…"
Malika laughed again, unbothered. "Oh come on, don't get so shocked. Boys that age, they crave a woman's power. You've seen how Ravi and Prayush look at you."
Shalini shifted on the couch, uncomfortably aware of the truth in Malika's words. The memory of Ravi's eyes locked on her feet during class made her pulse jump. Prayush's heated stare whenever she raised her arms to write on the board still haunted her at night.
"Malika, I can't think about that," she protested, but her voice lacked conviction.
"Yes you can," Malika purred. "You can, and you should. There's power in making them ache for you, in letting them feel like slaves at your feet. Don't you feel alive when they stare?"
Shalini swallowed, throat dry.
She did feel alive.
Every time she caught Ravi stealing glances at her ankles or Prayush practically hypnotized by the curve of her hips, a twisted thrill surged through her, even if shame followed right after.
"Admit it, Shalini," Malika goaded, "you like being worshipped. And you deserve it after all these years."
There was a silence so heavy it felt like the world might break. Shalini's mind went to Dushyant — faithful, honorable, dead too soon. He had left her with a child, a home, and a void no one ever filled.
Why shouldn't she taste something reckless?
Shalini found her voice again, so soft she almost didn't recognize it. "What exactly did you make that boy do?"
Malika laughed, delighted. "Do you really want to know?"
---
Shalini closed the door to her bedroom, locking it, heart hammering.
"Tell me," she whispered.
Malika went on, describing in explicit detail how she had made the boy massage her sweaty feet after a morning run, how she'd forced him to kiss each toe, how she'd let him breathe in the scent of her underarms while she watched TV, casually ignoring his obvious arousal.
Shalini squeezed her thighs together, mortified by the warmth building between them.
"You're blushing," Malika teased.
"How would you know?" Shalini laughed shakily.
"I just know," Malika shot back. "And I know you're curious. Maybe you'll try it with one of your boys?"
Shalini gasped, horrified — yet there was no denying the jolt in her chest, the spark of dangerous temptation.
"Malika, they're my students!"
"So what?" Malika purred. "You don't have to go all the way. But maybe you let one massage your feet after a long day. Maybe you let him hold your heel. Nothing illegal. Just… an education beyond books."
Shalini's mind spun. Ravi's shy, sweet admiration. Prayush's simmering need. It would be so easy to test them, to push them just a little.
"Malika, you're… you're wicked," she finally managed.
Malika only laughed, that husky, rich laugh that made Shalini weak. "Maybe. But I'm free. And I want you to be free, too."
---
That night, Shalini couldn't sleep. She stripped out of her lavender kurta and pulled on a loose silk nightie, lying down with her phone. Her mind ran in circles, replaying Malika's confessions.
Avi was home already, having gone to bed after barely speaking to her. His suspicion weighed on her, but she couldn't bear to let him see how stirred up she was.
She rolled over, picturing Prayush's intense eyes. Ravi's respectful, worshipful looks.
Would it be so wrong to indulge them?
Her thighs clenched together again, heat building. She had been a good woman for so long. A faithful wife. A dutiful mother.
Didn't she deserve to feel adored?
She drifted into a shallow sleep with these wicked thoughts lingering in her dreams.
---
The next day, she dressed differently again — a sleeveless cream kurta with a deep square neck, accentuating the smooth slope of her collarbones, paired with black leggings that hugged her calves. As she walked to class, she felt eyes on her immediately.
Ravi's jaw practically dropped. Prayush nearly dropped his books.
The thrill made her cheeks warm, her steps lighter.
Maybe, just maybe, Malika was right.
---
Later that evening, Malika sent her a voice note, the sultry voice making Shalini's knees go weak:
"Did you wear something for them today?"
Shalini blushed even before she could reply.
"Yes," she texted back, hesitating, then added, "They couldn't look away."
Malika replied with a voice message, chuckling. "That's my girl. Next time, maybe let one of them tie your sandal strap for you. Let them touch your ankle, just a little."
Shalini bit her lip, shivering at the mental image.
She hated how easily she could picture it — Ravi kneeling, fingers fumbling at the strap of her heel, eyes worshipping every inch of her foot.
Shalini closed her eyes, cursing herself, but also feeling the strongest, most unstoppable wave of heat she'd felt in years.
---
That night, she looked in the mirror again. For the first time, she didn't see a widow, or a teacher, or even a mother.
She saw a woman.
A woman on the brink of something wild.
---