The ceiling fan spun lazily above the living-room couch, doing little to cut the summer heat that clung to Akhil and Karan while they killed time on their phones. Both boys wore thin gym shorts, the kind that did nothing to hide the way their half-hard cocks twitched whenever they scrolled past something stimulating. Neither had expected company—certainly not the click of stilettos that now rang down the hallway.

Ramba appeared in the doorway like a deliberate daydream. The lavender sundress she favored had been traded for a charcoal body-con sheath that strained over generous hips and a trim waist. The stretch fabric ended mid-thigh, flashing smooth brown legs and the faint dimple where her thighs met the hem. She combed lacquered nails through dark waves, letting the strands fall in glossy disarray around her shoulders, then stepped inside and shut the door with a decisive push.