The late afternoon sun slanted across Shalini's room, catching in the fine sheen of her pantyhose as she turned before the mirror, appraising herself with a complicated mix of excitement and dread. The pantyhose clung like a second skin, hugging her hips, thighs, and calves so tightly it almost felt indecent. She'd pulled on a simple black sports bra, the kind she normally wore only for morning yoga, and layered a loose cotton kurti on top. But this kurti was scandalously short, barely covering her hips, the deep neckline giving teasing glimpses of her cleavage.
She touched up her lipstick, smudging a darker, more sensuous shade than usual, and let down her hair. A generous mist of sandalwood-heavy perfume followed, filling the air around her in a bold, seductive cloud. She stared at her reflection. A teacher, a mother — and yet today, she looked more like a temptress.
Malika's messages buzzed in her mind.
Don't play safe all your life.
They're young men, 18 and legal, let them worship you.
If you feel it, live it.
Shalini's cheeks burned with a mixture of shame and desire. Maybe she was a monster for letting herself enjoy this attention. But there was no denying the thrill in it.
The house fell quiet as she walked toward the living room, her heels clicking on the floor. Her coaching group was already there — Ravi, Prayush, and two other boys, their eyes wide the moment she entered. Shalini felt a lightning bolt of power course through her at their stunned faces. The sports bra barely smoothed her curves, and every movement made the fabric shift just enough to hint at what lay underneath.
"Good evening," she greeted, voice calm and teacher-like, though inside she was already trembling.
The boys responded with awkward nods, their gazes struggling to stay on her face.
She sat down, crossing her legs high, letting the short kurti ride up to reveal more of her glossy pantyhose. Ravi's throat worked as he swallowed, his eyes fixated on the subtle shimmer of her stockinged legs. Prayush was staring, too, but he shifted uncomfortably, as if fighting an obvious bulge in his trousers.
"Let's get started," she smiled, pretending not to notice their reactions.
They launched into equations, but Shalini had no intention of making it easy. She leaned forward deliberately to help Ravi with a problem, letting the neckline of her kurti droop just enough to show the edge of her sports bra. His eyes darted downward, helpless, and a soft blush stained his cheeks.
"Focus," she teased, her breath close enough to fan the heat of his skin.
"Sorry, ma'am," he stammered.
She straightened up slowly, enjoying how flustered he was, then turned to Prayush. He was struggling with a geometry problem, so she moved closer, bending at the waist to look over his shoulder. As she did, her arm brushed against his, and a strand of hair fell forward, tickling his cheek. The scent of her sandalwood perfume seemed to drown him.
"Draw your angles properly," she said in a husky tone, her eyes lingering on his parted lips.
"Yes, ma'am." Prayush's voice cracked.
And then she did something riskier. She slid her foot from her sandal, toes in their sheer pantyhose, and let it rest on Ravi's ankle under the table — feather-light, almost innocent. Ravi froze, eyes wide. When he looked up at her, she gave him the faintest, dangerous smile.
He didn't pull away.
Shalini's heart hammered. Her breath went shallow as she curled her toes, pressing just a bit more against his leg. Ravi shifted, trying to hide the growing erection tenting his pants. The moment felt so shameless she could barely breathe, but she liked it — the raw, unfiltered reaction from him.
She let the contact linger, then slowly withdrew, pretending it had been accidental. Her cheeks burned, but she felt powerful, wanted, feminine in a way she had not felt in years.
Halfway through the session, she excused herself to fetch water, using it as an excuse to regroup. In the kitchen, she leaned against the counter, her legs weak, the scent of her own desire mixing with the sandalwood perfume. What am I doing? she thought wildly. But the excitement wouldn't let her stop.
When she returned, she "accidentally" let the strap of her sports bra slip down her shoulder, exposing a smooth expanse of skin. She caught Ravi looking, caught Prayush following the line of her neck to her collarbone.
"Ma'am," Prayush dared, "your strap..."
"Oh!" she laughed lightly, pulling it back into place, acting flustered — but loving every second.
For the last part of class, she stood at the board, her back turned, writing long equations while knowing the short kurti rose up higher with each stretch, showing the curves of her hips where the pantyhose gripped them. She even shifted her weight side to side, accentuating her shape. She could practically feel their hungry gazes.
At one point, she pretended to scratch her underarm, lifting her elbow high, letting Prayush get a glimpse of the faint, smooth hollow of her armpit. She knew from his earlier fascination that this was a deliberate invitation.
He was practically panting.
When the bell finally rang to dismiss them, the boys looked exhausted — flushed, stiff, fumbling their bags. Ravi lingered a moment longer, eyes locked on hers.
"Ma'am… see you tomorrow," he said, voice trembling.
"Of course," she smiled sweetly, brushing her fingers against his knuckles as she handed back his notebook.
He swallowed hard, cheeks burning, and bolted from the room.
Shalini let out a breathless, shaky laugh, leaning against the door once they had all gone. She felt drunk on the rush of it — the power, the shame, the fierce pleasure.
Back in her bedroom, she stripped off the short kurti and examined herself again in the mirror. The pantyhose clung to her like a lover's hands, the sports bra showing the faintest hardening of her nipples. She touched her thighs lightly through the nylon, shivering at the memory of Ravi's gaze.
Her phone buzzed — Malika again.
Malika: So? How did they look at you?
Shalini typed with trembling fingers:
"Like they would kneel for me. Like they would worship me."
Malika: Good. Let them. You deserve that.
Shalini's heart stuttered. Worship. Was that what this was? Or something darker, more twisted?
Either way, she was no longer interested in stopping.
She slipped out of the sports bra and pantyhose, stepping into the shower with the faintest ache of guilt — but also an unstoppable heat. As the water ran over her bare skin, she imagined Prayush's eyes on her armpit, Ravi's touch at her ankle, and let out a soft, guilty moan.
Her double life was just beginning.