Neha (22) pursuing MBA had every man drooling over her beauty and her audacity form of confidence that stunned the representatives of the college and her classmates. Unlike the other girls, she enjoyed provoking men through her exposure and feel ashamed of being ignored by the other fellow male. It dazzled her, as it made her feel strong which was something she found quite appealing. She was a curvaceous woman with thin waist and broad hips, a perfect round and quite tight ass that will definitely make any man swerve towards their direction, and her big round melons were so hard to fit her clothes. The transparency of her kurti was also ideal because it was low cut revealing a lot of cleavage and the fabric hugged her body tightly, enhancing her curves.
She had rather juicy lips which were distinctly pink most of the time, and her mouth was slightly open; as if inviting. What fascinated her most was that men looked at her lips so often fixing their sight on the lower lip with dreams in their eyes. The woman had nice shaped hips, sexy thighs, bouncy appealing breasts to capture the attention of the object of affection. One day as she was on her way to the local market to purchase a new pair of heels for an upcoming party, she was eagerly alert of how her tight jeans enhanced the shape of her body and indeed drew the unpleasant but irresistible stares.
Feeling that familiar buzz rise within her, Neha was again walking along the road as she enjoyed what she was doing. She was fully aware that the old men at the paan shops (a roadside small stall or shop that sell paan- betel leaf, areca nut and other ingredients. They also sell cigarettes, small candies, small snacks, etc.) would definitely look at her whenever she walked past them; she wanted it that way. She enjoyed how they ogled at her and how they attempted to sneak looks at her ample bosom every time they carried the impression that she was unaware of it. It apparently aroused her, although she would never own up to it, and definitely not to her conservative family would she ever admit to that.
Why should women hide their beauty? Neha would often think. Something, she never obeyed her family, they were traditional, the girl had been dressing up in more revealing clothes rather than the salwar-kameez her mother wanted her to wear. Today she adorned a black, very sexy, knee-long kurti which was tight and had a deep neck that showcased her body shape and form fitting jeans that clad her curve perfectly. She knew that heads were sure to turn in her direction as she strut.
Now she had stepped into the crowded market and as she turned the corner to get into the alley like path leading to the market, the sandal strap broke and she nearly stumbled. Shit! she whispered some nasty words under her breath and searched for anyone who would be in a position to assist. There she saw a small shop of a cobbler within a distance of few feet. This was nothing more than a small dark cluttered shop and it was partly shaded by an enormous banyan tree. The man inside was sitting with his back bent at a small wooden stool and was mending a shoe.
Neha sighed and moved towards him, she wanted to avert her eyes from few of the men hovering around and learing at them. The shoe maker, a middle-aged man who had white and black hair was looking up as she approached and his eyes popped open when he saw her. His gaze audaciously roamed through her body almost disrespecting her but his eyes were drawn to her exposed stomach and her firm bosom.
“Sandal toot gayi hai, bana doge?" (My Sandal broke, can you fix it?) She said in her gentle but authoritative voice as she handed over her broken sandal.
The cobbler sighed and nodded his head vigorously, his hands shook as he took the sandal from her. Each time they met his gaze was gravitating towards her chest she was clad in a kurti that barely concealed her bosom as she stood there with her arms folded. Neha saw that but did not speak anything. Moreover, she was glad when it got over. She senzationalised the men she slept with by always putting them in uncomfortable situations they never wished for. She slightly placed her hand on her chin, twisting her body little to one side, as if she purposely arranged herself to offer him a better glimpse of the fruits of her labor.
The cobbler gestured her to take a seat on the wooden stool next to him; Neha thought there could not be a filthier place then the chairs, so she agreed weakly and crossed her legs. The action pulled her jeans even tighter across her thighs, which elicited gasps and the attention of several more people who had been attracted to the small shop.
She shifted uneasily in her seat, putting her hand to her hair in an attempt to arrange it in a more fashionable manner and saw through the windshield a young boy staring at her in through the window with his eyes opened very wide. She put on a smile and winked at him and she loved it how he blushed and how he quickly walked away.
Suddenly, she heard a hacking cough from the cobbler and she had to shift her focus towards him. He returned the fixed sandal to her but even then he was still looking at her chest. Neha could feel his eyes piercing through her. It thrilled her. She got up, but she had to bend a little, saying she wanted to adjust the sandal strap on her foot which was actually done just to offer him a good look at her large and firm breasts.
“Yeh theek hai ab?" (Is it fine now?) she asked brow-raising, but that was despite her realizing the impact she was having on him.
“Ha... ha theek hai," (Y-yes…yes fine) the cobbler answered nervously, he immediately looked down, he blushed red.
Neha had a bashful smile in herself satisfied with the turmoil she created; however, she was about to walk away when the cobbler called her and said something in a very gruff tone.
"Waise… kya tumhe pichle saal ka kissa yaad hai?" (By the way... do you remember last year’s incident?)
Neha froze in place. Her heart started racing. She then slowly rose to turn her back toward him with her mind already racking her brain to try and guess whatever it was he found so outrageous that he needs to talk about it.
“Kya?" (What?) she asked trying to sound as calm as possible but deep inside she was slowly freaking out.
The cobbler’s smirk grew even wider revealing his yellow stained teeth. “Cinema hall ke peeche, tum aur woh ladka. Haan, woh kaafi mazzedaar tha." (The thing behind the cinema hall, you and that boy. Yeah it was entertaining.)
Neha’s face went pale. But she remembered it all only too well. The previous year, due to some silly lapse of reason, she had met her ex-boyfriend Aarav and got intimate with him behind a decaying cinema theater. It did not take long before things happened. They believed that there was no other person around them, but as it is evident, someone had been observant.
"Kya…kya baat kar rahe ho?" (What…what are you talking about?) she asked shaking in her voice.
The cobbler took out a phone from his pocket and then flourished it before her. “Tumhe andaaza hai? Maine sab kuch record kiya hai. Mere paas poora video hai.” (Guess what? I recorded everything myself I have the full video.)
Neha’s heart dropped. She did not allow herself to imagine that she was a victim of such a situation. Why didn’t she be more careful? But now this man had a video recording of her captured that night. The idea of him watching it - and, God forbid, reposting it - steeled her stomach lining with acid.
“Kya chahiye tumhe?" (What do you want?) Neha questioned, her voice had dropped to a mere whisper. She already knew the answer but she wanted to hear the words coming from him.
The cobbler leered at her, his gaze travelling to her breasts and back, much in the same way as he had done earlier. “Tu samajhdar hai. Tum jaise ladkiyan bohot kuch de sakti hain. Mere paas thoda waqt hai... toh soch le.” (You are smart, the kind of girl that can offer a lot... so think about it.)
Neha’s blood ran cold. She used to play with men’s emotions and tease them but for the first time the roles were reversed. This man had her cornered. If he shared that video, her reputation would be ruined, her family would be devastated and she even does not know how her current boyfriend, Rohit, will act on this.
She looked at him, her thoughts churning with confusion. She understood what he desired and the very idea made her feel sick - but within herself there was a wicked, dark part that secretly relished the risk. It has stemmed from a desire, she had always wanted attention, but this was something else entirely.