Chapter 17: Suit and Heels
The next morning, Shalini did not even glance at her modest sarees. They looked like a jail sentence now, suffocating and drab. Today, she wanted to taste the thrill of her own daring. She pulled out the boldest churidar she owned — deep crimson, with a high side slit that teased glimpses of creamy thighs, and a sheer dupatta that offered no real modesty.
She spread it on the bed, running her hands along the cloth, already imagining Ravi's bashful, wide-eyed stare and Prayush's hungry focus on every inch of her skin. A ripple of hot pleasure surged low in her belly.
Shalini undressed in front of the mirror, letting the night air brush against her bare breasts, nipples already hardened from the thought of what the boys might see. She touched herself lightly, a featherstroke over each nipple, imagining young hands trembling as they cupped her breasts. She gasped softly, then forced herself to stop.
Not yet.
She stepped into the crimson churidar, slowly pulling the tight fabric up over her hips, smoothing it until it clung like a second skin. The slit rose high along her left thigh, revealing a scandalous flash every time she moved. The sheer dupatta draped across her chest like a whisper, hinting at the deep cleavage beneath. She added her tall black stilettos, each heel thin and sharp, adding dangerous inches to her already powerful presence.
The finishing touch was a single trace of jasmine perfume, dabbed deliberately under her arms. A wicked, private offering to Prayush, who she knew had become addicted to her scent.
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When she walked into school, the entire corridor fell into a hush. Boys tripped over chairs to look. Girls glared with jealous confusion. Other teachers fumbled their registers and dropped chalk.
Shalini felt every step in her spine, hips swaying like a secret promise.
In her classroom, Ravi almost knocked over his own desk trying to stand up to greet her. His face was flushed pink from forehead to chin, eyes darting helplessly to the slit of her churidar every time she moved.
Prayush, usually cool and composed, couldn't hide the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His eyes tracked her arms, following the faint shimmer of sweat beneath the thin dupatta.
Shalini smiled, deliberately leaning to arrange her register, making sure Prayush could catch a hint of her underarm, scented and slick.
Yes. Look at me, she thought, exultant.
---
After the lesson, she gathered the boys for coaching as usual. Today, she made Ravi sit beside her instead of across from her. He was so close he could smell her jasmine perfume, see the faint rise of goosebumps on her arms.
"Are you paying attention, Ravi?" she asked, leaning closer so her breast nearly brushed his forearm.
"Yes…yes, madam," he stammered, voice shaking.
"Good." She let her hand rest lightly on his wrist, feeling the frantic pulse there. His skin burned under her fingertips.
Behind them, Prayush sat trying to focus, but whenever Shalini lifted her arm to adjust her dupatta, he fixated on the subtle shimmer of sweat under her arm, lips parted unconsciously.
She could feel their attention pulsing like a drug, feeding something dark and hungry inside her.
---
When Ravi tried to solve a math problem on the small board, Shalini stood so close behind him that her breast grazed his shoulder. He froze, nearly dropping the marker.
"You're trembling," she teased softly. "Scared of me?"
He shook his head, eyes pinned to the floor, too aroused and terrified to speak.
Shalini stepped closer still, her breath brushing his neck. Ravi shivered.
He would kneel if I asked him to, she realized with a rush of power.
---
Later, she called Prayush to help rearrange the coaching papers.
"Sit down, Prayush," she told him, sliding her chair closer, so close their knees touched.
He looked like he might burst from the contact.
"Is there something you want to tell me?" she asked, voice lowered to a private, seductive hush.
He swallowed hard, sweat beading on his upper lip. "No, madam."
But his eyes betrayed him, darting to the deep curve of her armpit where the dupatta shifted.
He's almost trembling.
Shalini felt heat spiral through her belly. On impulse, she reached over to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear — an intimate, soft gesture. Her sleeve fell away, baring the fragrant underarm to him, the faint sheen of sweat making it glisten.
Prayush leaned forward before he could stop himself, inhaling deeply, eyes fluttering closed.
"Prayush," she whispered, "focus."
He jolted, face red, but Shalini saw the raw devotion there.
---
That night, back home, Shalini couldn't stop replaying the day. She unzipped the churidar, letting it slither down her thighs to the floor, stepping free like a serpent shedding its skin.
She sat on the bed in only her heels, legs parted, running one hand across her damp inner thighs, thinking of Ravi's adoring, desperate face, Prayush's trembling hands.
Her other hand cupped her breast, thumb rolling across her nipple until it turned hard and sensitive.
A moan broke free as she teased herself lower, two fingers sliding into slick heat, curling up toward the place that ached for relief.
They worship me, she thought, breathless, they want to be destroyed by me.
The idea shattered her self-control. She bucked against her own hand, panting, one heel digging into the mattress as pleasure overtook her in waves.
Afterward, she lay gasping, body quaking, the day's perfume still clinging to her.
---
The next morning she dressed again, this time in an even bolder churidar — tighter, lower, brighter — craving the same reaction, the same worshipful stares.
She found herself checking the mirror repeatedly, practicing bending over, lifting her arms, seeing exactly what they would see. The boldness made her body flood with heat, nipples stiff even before she left the house.
When she reached class, Ravi nearly fell from his seat at the sight of her. Prayush dropped his pen with a loud clatter, unable to mask the need in his face.
Shalini moved around them, floating on an intoxicating current of her own confidence, every step of her heels punctuating a hidden beat in her chest.
The teacher had become the goddess.
She watched Ravi lick his lips, Prayush's hands clench and unclench, and knew they were hers.
Tomorrow she would push even further — shorter kurtis, deeper cuts, maybe no dupatta at all.
Why stop now, when their eyes were already at her feet?
Shalini smiled to herself, imagining the taste of that power, how it might spread through every vein until there was nothing left of her shame, only raw, shameless pleasure.
She would teach them everything — lessons beyond books, lessons that would stain them forever.
And maybe, if she was honest, stain herself just as deeply.
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