Erotica City Heat

[chaostheory]

## Chapter One: Forbidden Play

*(Raj ki nazar se)*

Raj poore lift mein seeti bajaata aaya. Koi gaana tha jiska naam bhi nahi pata tha, par seeti us marble pe aise goonj rahi thi jaise flat khud ka ho. Wednesday, saade saat. Laptop bag ek haath mein, tie pehle hi dheela. Aur Kitty ka ek message, jo woh teen baar padh chuka tha.

*Kitty: Aaj late hogi. Office mein hi dinner. Don't wait up *

Usne *okay* bheja, phone pocket mein daala, aur phir deewar ko aise dekh ke muskura diya jaise lottery lag gayi ho.

Chutiya nahi tha. Aadmi tha jise pata tha ki "don't wait up" ka matlab kya hota hai.

Matlab — Simmy.




Usne darwaza khola. Andar se thanda AC aur wood polish ki khushbu, aur uske neeche kuch garam — shampoo, skin. Living room se phone scroll karne ki halki tick-tick. Matlab sofa pe hai. Wahin, jahan woh doodh lene gaya tha tab thi.

"Suno," usne aawaz di, joote utaarte hue, "Kitty ka message aaya tha kya? Dinner—"

Aur ruk gaya.

Kyunki sofa uske saath kuch kar raha tha.

Simmy sofa pe tedhi padi thi, pair dabaye, aise scroll karti hui jaise zindagi mein koi scene hi na ho. Aur usne jung ke liye taiyari ki thi. Chhoti kaali shorts, jise shorts kehne mein sharam aaye. Ek tight ribbed top, jo har cheez ko poora insaaf de raha tha — aur chupchaap announce kar raha tha ki usne ek khaas cheez, lifestyle choice ke taur pe, pehnna chhod diya hai. Baal jut mein bandhe, teen lattein khuli, silver nath, naaf ka stud chaunkta hua. Nange pair. Bored. Killer.

Ushne bholi aankhon se upar dekha. "Haan, Jiju?"

Aur Raj ko turant samajh aa gaya ki aaj kis kism ki raat hone wali hai.

"Kitty late aayegi," usne kaha, bag dining table pe patakte hue, jaise duniya ka saara time uske paas ho. "Office mein dinner."

"Achha." Simmy ne sar hilaya, wapas phone mein ghus gayi, poori bored. "Toh aap akele khaa lo. Maggi bana doon?"

"Maggi." Woh chal ke sofa ke doosre sire pe baith gaya, taangein phailaye hue, pair uske ghutne ke paas ja pahunche. "Ek funda batao. Ye jo shorts pehne ho—"

"Shorts hai."

"Shorts hai," usne maan liya. "Ya shorts *ho*? Poochh raha hoon, knowledge ke liye."

Simmy ke hoth michke. Ushne poori jaan laga ke aankhein phone pe tiki rakhi. "Jiju, aap roz wahi sawaal poochhte ho."

"Kyunki roz jawaab nahi milta."

Tab woh hans padi — woh tez, chamakti hansi — aur phone cushion pe patak diya. "Aap na," ushne sar hilate hue kaha. "Full bekaar ho."

"Main serious hoon."

"Aap serious nahi ho." Woh thoda seedhi hui, aur top ne theek wahi kiya jo aise top karte hain. "Aap line maar rahe ho. Aur didi ko pata bhi nahi."

"Unhe pata hai."

"Nahi pata." Poora confidence. "Pata hota toh aaj tak office ka dinner miss nahi karti."

Yeh baat lagee. Dono ko lagi. Ek second ke liye kamra aise chup ho gaya jaise scene shuru hone se pehle hote hain.

Raj aage jhuka aur uske khule baal ki ek lat ungli pe lapet ke halka khinch diya — bahana chahiye tha chhoone ka. "Simmy."

"Haan."

"Ye top kis liye pehna hai?"

"Garmi hai."

"Andar AC full chal raha hai."

"Bahut garmi hai." Ushne palak ke neeche se dekha, dimples chidhate hue. "Aapko kya laga?"

Raj hans pada — pakda gaya, aur pakde jaane ka maza bhi le raha tha. "Mujhe laga... tumhe pata hai main kab aaunga."

"Pata hai." Jaise koi chhoti confession. "Aap roz saade saat. Main andhi nahi hoon, Jiju."

"Tum abhi chhoti—"

"Chhoti nahi hoon." Woh aage jhuki, uska ghutna uski jaangh se lag gaya. "Bees ki ho gayi hoon. Aapko lagta hai mujhe nahi pata—"

"Kya pata? Ye? Sab?"

"Sab." Uski nazar uske hothon pe giri, wapas upar aayi. "Campus ki sabse samajhdaar ladki hoon, Jiju. Bas aap dhyan nahi dete."

"Mujhe dhyan deta hai," usne kaha, aur gap band kar diya.

Pehla kiss hamesha halka shuru hota tha — Kitty shehar mein kahin thi, kabhi bhi aa sakti thi — aur phir bahut jaldi bhaari ho jaata tha. Simmy ne halki si aawaz nikali aur ungliyan uske baalon mein daal di, aur usne khinchne diya, kyunki use khinchwaana pasand tha, aur use pata tha use pasand hai, aur poora arrangement ek ishaare mein samajh aata tha. Uski saans garam thi, halka santre ke juice ka swaad, jo woh din bhar peeti rehti thi, aur jab usne sar tedha karke use khulne diya, toh laga jaise koi cheez haath mein thaam di gayi ho.

Ek minute baad usne hoth alag kiye, jitna maan sakta tha usse zyaada saans phooli hui.

"Chalo," usne kaha. "Cushion set karo."

"Kyun?"

"Kyunki tumhe is top se bahar nikalna hai. Aur mujhe kuch dekhna hai."

Simmy ne naak sikodi, par kar diya — ghutno pe uthi, peeche haath daala, woh chhota ribbed top ek hi baar mein sar se upar utaar diya, baazu cross karke jaise ladkiyan karti hain. Phir baal jhatke se khol diye aur wahin baith gayi — bas chhoti shorts, naaf ka stud, aur woh do naram, bhaari, bewajah milkies, jinke baare mein Raj subah do baje se soch raha tha.

"Bas," ushne bina bhaav ke kaha. "Dekh liya? Khush?"

Woh jawab nahi diya. Dono haath aage kar ke thaam liye — halke se, phir nahi halke se — angoothe nipples pe ragadte hue jab tak woh uski hatheli ke neeche sakht na ho gaye. Simmy ki saans atak gayi.

"Ye," usne dheere se kaha. "Is liye."

"Jiju." Ushne sambhala. "Aap milkies ke deewane ho. Sabko pata hai."

"Sabko pata hai," usne maan liya, aur sar jhuka ke ek pe muh rakh diya.

Simmy bal khaake uthi, sofa ka back thaam liya. Woh chaata, choosta, aur daanton ko bas itna ragadne deta tha, ek haath doosri milkie pe busy — dabao, ghumaao — aur woh hmm-hmm jaisi chhoti aawazein nikalti thi jo seedha neeche utarti thin. Woh poori raat yehi kar sakta tha. Flat khaali, darwaza band, phone silent, aur uski biwi ki behen uske living room mein uska naam haanf rahi thi, baal jut se khul ke bikhar rahe the.

"Raj—" Jab uski saans us pe hoti, toh woh use Jiju nahi kehti thi. "Raj, kuch karo na."

"Kya karoon?"

"Pata hai aapko."

Ushne sar peeche kiya, sirf dekhne ke liye — laal, dhut, dimples dhundh ko cheerti hui. "Bolo," usne kaha. "Hindi mein."

"Toh—" Ushne hoth kaat liye, socha, haar gayi, aur khud apni shorts ka button khol diya — khola, un se aur neeche ki chhoti lace se bahar nikli, baith gayi ghutne samaite hue aur beech mein ek nanga, geela, lajawab treasure. "Ye dekho. Aur kuch karo."

Raj ka gala sookh gaya. "Bolo. Kya."

"Chaat lo." Phir apne hi joke pe khilkhila padi.

"Matlab pata hai." Woh pehle hi sofa se utar ke ghutno pe aa gaya tha, uske hips se kheench ke usse bilkul kinare pe bithaya, dono jaanghein uske kandhon ke aar-paar khul gayi. "Chaat hi toh karne wala hoon."

Jaangh ke andar kiss kiya. Aur upar. Phir muh rakh diya.

Dheere shuru kiya — seedhi zubaan, lambi strokes, upar neeche, jaise use dobara seekh raha ho. Phir sabse upar, jahan woh sabse naram thi, ek gol — aur Simmy ka poora jism uchhal gaya, uska haath uske baalon mein zor se ghusa.

"Ah— Jiju—"

"Mmm." Goonj ne use kichkicha diya. Woh uske khilaaf muskura diya.

Yehi karta raha, badalta raha, uski saans chhoti hoti suni. Jab ek ungli andar daali, dheere, toh woh itni taiyar thi ki kuch laga hi nahi, aur usne aise kas ke pakda jaise din bhar intezaar kiya ho. Jo — phir se — usne kiya bhi tha.

"Raj," ushne haanfti. "Jaldi—"

"Jaldi kya hai?" Ushne sar uthaya, thuddi chamakti, khud pe hadd se zyaada khush. "Poora time hai, Simmy. Kitty ne bola hai — don't wait up."

"Don't wait up," ushne dohraya, bechain, jaise koi dua.

"Bilkul." Aur wapas neeche chala gaya.

Zubaan aur do ungliyon se kaam karta raha, bina jaldi, jaise woh har cheez karta tha. Jo rhythm use pasand thi woh pakad li aur usi pe tika raha. Aur jab uski jaanghein uske kandhon pe kaanpne lagin, toh usne dheema nahi kiya — tez kiya, use neeche dabaya, jab tak uske pair cushion mein na dhans gaye, kamar na bal kha gayi, aur woh ek tez, dabee hui cheekh ke saath aayi, dono haath baalon mein kas ke bandhe hue.

Ushne use poora choos liya. Phir ek baar aur chata, sirf chidhane ke liye. Phir ghutno pe peeche baith gaya, apni kalai se muh poncha, aur upar dekhne laga.

Tabahi. Seene se kaanon tak laal, baal poori tarah khule, ek haath aankhon pe daala hua.

"Jiju," ushne karaah. "Aap bekaar ho."

"Haan." Woh khada hua, ghutne chatakte hue, haath badhaya. "Chai piyegi?"

Simmy ne haath hataya. Ek nazar — *bas?* Doosri — *arre, paanch minute toh do*. Phir usne uski patloon ki waistband mein do ungliyan daali aur use wapas sofa pe kheench liya.

"Chai baad mein," ushne tay kiya.

End of chapter 1

 

[netsunil]

## Chapter One: Forbidden Play

*(Raj ki nazar se)*

Raj poore lift mein seeti bajaata aaya. Koi gaana tha jiska naam bhi nahi pata tha, par seeti us marble pe aise goonj rahi thi jaise flat khud ka ho. Wednesday, saade saat. Laptop bag ek haath mein, tie pehle hi dheela. Aur Kitty ka ek message, jo woh teen baar padh chuka tha.

*Kitty: Aaj late hogi. Office mein hi dinner. Don't wait up *

Usne *okay* bheja, phone pocket mein daala, aur phir deewar ko aise dekh ke muskura diya jaise lottery lag gayi ho.

Chutiya nahi tha. Aadmi tha jise pata tha ki "don't wait up" ka matlab kya hota hai.

Matlab — Simmy.




Usne darwaza khola. Andar se thanda AC aur wood polish ki khushbu, aur uske neeche kuch garam — shampoo, skin. Living room se phone scroll karne ki halki tick-tick. Matlab sofa pe hai. Wahin, jahan woh doodh lene gaya tha tab thi.

"Suno," usne aawaz di, joote utaarte hue, "Kitty ka message aaya tha kya? Dinner—"

Aur ruk gaya.

Kyunki sofa uske saath kuch kar raha tha.

Simmy sofa pe tedhi padi thi, pair dabaye, aise scroll karti hui jaise zindagi mein koi scene hi na ho. Aur usne jung ke liye taiyari ki thi. Chhoti kaali shorts, jise shorts kehne mein sharam aaye. Ek tight ribbed top, jo har cheez ko poora insaaf de raha tha — aur chupchaap announce kar raha tha ki usne ek khaas cheez, lifestyle choice ke taur pe, pehnna chhod diya hai. Baal jut mein bandhe, teen lattein khuli, silver nath, naaf ka stud chaunkta hua. Nange pair. Bored. Killer.

Ushne bholi aankhon se upar dekha. "Haan, Jiju?"

Aur Raj ko turant samajh aa gaya ki aaj kis kism ki raat hone wali hai.

"Kitty late aayegi," usne kaha, bag dining table pe patakte hue, jaise duniya ka saara time uske paas ho. "Office mein dinner."

"Achha." Simmy ne sar hilaya, wapas phone mein ghus gayi, poori bored. "Toh aap akele khaa lo. Maggi bana doon?"

"Maggi." Woh chal ke sofa ke doosre sire pe baith gaya, taangein phailaye hue, pair uske ghutne ke paas ja pahunche. "Ek funda batao. Ye jo shorts pehne ho—"

"Shorts hai."

"Shorts hai," usne maan liya. "Ya shorts *ho*? Poochh raha hoon, knowledge ke liye."

Simmy ke hoth michke. Ushne poori jaan laga ke aankhein phone pe tiki rakhi. "Jiju, aap roz wahi sawaal poochhte ho."

"Kyunki roz jawaab nahi milta."

Tab woh hans padi — woh tez, chamakti hansi — aur phone cushion pe patak diya. "Aap na," ushne sar hilate hue kaha. "Full bekaar ho."

"Main serious hoon."

"Aap serious nahi ho." Woh thoda seedhi hui, aur top ne theek wahi kiya jo aise top karte hain. "Aap line maar rahe ho. Aur didi ko pata bhi nahi."

"Unhe pata hai."

"Nahi pata." Poora confidence. "Pata hota toh aaj tak office ka dinner miss nahi karti."

Yeh baat lagee. Dono ko lagi. Ek second ke liye kamra aise chup ho gaya jaise scene shuru hone se pehle hote hain.

Raj aage jhuka aur uske khule baal ki ek lat ungli pe lapet ke halka khinch diya — bahana chahiye tha chhoone ka. "Simmy."

"Haan."

"Ye top kis liye pehna hai?"

"Garmi hai."

"Andar AC full chal raha hai."

"Bahut garmi hai." Ushne palak ke neeche se dekha, dimples chidhate hue. "Aapko kya laga?"

Raj hans pada — pakda gaya, aur pakde jaane ka maza bhi le raha tha. "Mujhe laga... tumhe pata hai main kab aaunga."

"Pata hai." Jaise koi chhoti confession. "Aap roz saade saat. Main andhi nahi hoon, Jiju."

"Tum abhi chhoti—"

"Chhoti nahi hoon." Woh aage jhuki, uska ghutna uski jaangh se lag gaya. "Bees ki ho gayi hoon. Aapko lagta hai mujhe nahi pata—"

"Kya pata? Ye? Sab?"

"Sab." Uski nazar uske hothon pe giri, wapas upar aayi. "Campus ki sabse samajhdaar ladki hoon, Jiju. Bas aap dhyan nahi dete."

"Mujhe dhyan deta hai," usne kaha, aur gap band kar diya.

Pehla kiss hamesha halka shuru hota tha — Kitty shehar mein kahin thi, kabhi bhi aa sakti thi — aur phir bahut jaldi bhaari ho jaata tha. Simmy ne halki si aawaz nikali aur ungliyan uske baalon mein daal di, aur usne khinchne diya, kyunki use khinchwaana pasand tha, aur use pata tha use pasand hai, aur poora arrangement ek ishaare mein samajh aata tha. Uski saans garam thi, halka santre ke juice ka swaad, jo woh din bhar peeti rehti thi, aur jab usne sar tedha karke use khulne diya, toh laga jaise koi cheez haath mein thaam di gayi ho.

Ek minute baad usne hoth alag kiye, jitna maan sakta tha usse zyaada saans phooli hui.

"Chalo," usne kaha. "Cushion set karo."

"Kyun?"

"Kyunki tumhe is top se bahar nikalna hai. Aur mujhe kuch dekhna hai."

Simmy ne naak sikodi, par kar diya — ghutno pe uthi, peeche haath daala, woh chhota ribbed top ek hi baar mein sar se upar utaar diya, baazu cross karke jaise ladkiyan karti hain. Phir baal jhatke se khol diye aur wahin baith gayi — bas chhoti shorts, naaf ka stud, aur woh do naram, bhaari, bewajah milkies, jinke baare mein Raj subah do baje se soch raha tha.

"Bas," ushne bina bhaav ke kaha. "Dekh liya? Khush?"

Woh jawab nahi diya. Dono haath aage kar ke thaam liye — halke se, phir nahi halke se — angoothe nipples pe ragadte hue jab tak woh uski hatheli ke neeche sakht na ho gaye. Simmy ki saans atak gayi.

"Ye," usne dheere se kaha. "Is liye."

"Jiju." Ushne sambhala. "Aap milkies ke deewane ho. Sabko pata hai."

"Sabko pata hai," usne maan liya, aur sar jhuka ke ek pe muh rakh diya.

Simmy bal khaake uthi, sofa ka back thaam liya. Woh chaata, choosta, aur daanton ko bas itna ragadne deta tha, ek haath doosri milkie pe busy — dabao, ghumaao — aur woh hmm-hmm jaisi chhoti aawazein nikalti thi jo seedha neeche utarti thin. Woh poori raat yehi kar sakta tha. Flat khaali, darwaza band, phone silent, aur uski biwi ki behen uske living room mein uska naam haanf rahi thi, baal jut se khul ke bikhar rahe the.

"Raj—" Jab uski saans us pe hoti, toh woh use Jiju nahi kehti thi. "Raj, kuch karo na."

"Kya karoon?"

"Pata hai aapko."

Ushne sar peeche kiya, sirf dekhne ke liye — laal, dhut, dimples dhundh ko cheerti hui. "Bolo," usne kaha. "Hindi mein."

"Toh—" Ushne hoth kaat liye, socha, haar gayi, aur khud apni shorts ka button khol diya — khola, un se aur neeche ki chhoti lace se bahar nikli, baith gayi ghutne samaite hue aur beech mein ek nanga, geela, lajawab treasure. "Ye dekho. Aur kuch karo."

Raj ka gala sookh gaya. "Bolo. Kya."

"Chaat lo." Phir apne hi joke pe khilkhila padi.

"Matlab pata hai." Woh pehle hi sofa se utar ke ghutno pe aa gaya tha, uske hips se kheench ke usse bilkul kinare pe bithaya, dono jaanghein uske kandhon ke aar-paar khul gayi. "Chaat hi toh karne wala hoon."

Jaangh ke andar kiss kiya. Aur upar. Phir muh rakh diya.

Dheere shuru kiya — seedhi zubaan, lambi strokes, upar neeche, jaise use dobara seekh raha ho. Phir sabse upar, jahan woh sabse naram thi, ek gol — aur Simmy ka poora jism uchhal gaya, uska haath uske baalon mein zor se ghusa.

"Ah— Jiju—"

"Mmm." Goonj ne use kichkicha diya. Woh uske khilaaf muskura diya.

Yehi karta raha, badalta raha, uski saans chhoti hoti suni. Jab ek ungli andar daali, dheere, toh woh itni taiyar thi ki kuch laga hi nahi, aur usne aise kas ke pakda jaise din bhar intezaar kiya ho. Jo — phir se — usne kiya bhi tha.

"Raj," ushne haanfti. "Jaldi—"

"Jaldi kya hai?" Ushne sar uthaya, thuddi chamakti, khud pe hadd se zyaada khush. "Poora time hai, Simmy. Kitty ne bola hai — don't wait up."

"Don't wait up," ushne dohraya, bechain, jaise koi dua.

"Bilkul." Aur wapas neeche chala gaya.

Zubaan aur do ungliyon se kaam karta raha, bina jaldi, jaise woh har cheez karta tha. Jo rhythm use pasand thi woh pakad li aur usi pe tika raha. Aur jab uski jaanghein uske kandhon pe kaanpne lagin, toh usne dheema nahi kiya — tez kiya, use neeche dabaya, jab tak uske pair cushion mein na dhans gaye, kamar na bal kha gayi, aur woh ek tez, dabee hui cheekh ke saath aayi, dono haath baalon mein kas ke bandhe hue.

Ushne use poora choos liya. Phir ek baar aur chata, sirf chidhane ke liye. Phir ghutno pe peeche baith gaya, apni kalai se muh poncha, aur upar dekhne laga.

Tabahi. Seene se kaanon tak laal, baal poori tarah khule, ek haath aankhon pe daala hua.

"Jiju," ushne karaah. "Aap bekaar ho."

"Haan." Woh khada hua, ghutne chatakte hue, haath badhaya. "Chai piyegi?"

Simmy ne haath hataya. Ek nazar — *bas?* Doosri — *arre, paanch minute toh do*. Phir usne uski patloon ki waistband mein do ungliyan daali aur use wapas sofa pe kheench liya.

"Chai baad mein," ushne tay kiya.

End of chapter 1

HGazab Start And Awesome Pic Bro So Hot

 

[chaostheory]

## Chapter Two: The Stranger

*(Kitty ki nazar se)*




Kitty ko hamesha lagta tha ki woh Mehra sahab ko achhe se samajhti hai. Aaj shaam, saade chhe pe, unke chehre pe ek aisi shakal aayi jo usne kabhi nahi dekhi thi — aur usse samajh aa gaya ki shayad itna bhi nahi jaanti.

Woh dono Mehra ki Fortuner mein baithe the, South Delhi ke traffic mein, apne theek-thaak paanch-sitara "Hotel Grand" ki taraf badh rahe the. Wahan unka ek pakka kamra tha — Room 702 — jise hotel ka staff chupke se "uncle ka room" bulata tha. Aaj bhi wahi plan tha. Mehra ne dopahar mein hi message bhej diya tha: *"7:30, Grand. Pehle dinner, phir woh pink champagne pilaunga jo pichhli baar tumhe itni pasand aayi thi."*

Phir phone baja.

Mehra ne screen dekhi, aur uska poora chehra badal gaya. Ek second pehle jo aadmi Kitty ke ghutne pe haath rakh ke use chidha raha tha, woh ab bilkul serious ho gaya. Ushne call uthai, "Haan," bola, aur phir sirf sunta raha. "Tum sure ho?" ... "Theek hai. Theek hai, aa raha hoon."

Call kaat ke ushne Kitty ki taraf dekha. "Baby, plan badalna padega."

"Kya hua?"

"Ek meeting hai. Critical. Aaj miss nahi kar sakta." Ushne steering pe ungliyan bajaayi. "Aur ye wala — ye personal aake mila hai."

"Personal?" Kitty ki bhaunh chadhi. "Kis cheez ka personal?"

Mehra muskura diya, par woh muskurahat poori nahi thi. "Woh baad mein. Aaj Grand nahi ja rahe. Yahin rukenge."

"Yahin?" Kitty ne khidki se bahar dekha. Woh "Hotel XYZ" ke saamne the. Teen sitara. Purana. Jise achhe ghar ke log "chalta hai" bolke tal dete hain. "Aap mujhe XYZ mein le ja rahe ho? Mehra sahab, aap Grand ke aadi ho."

"Boss hoon, baby." Ushne car park ki. "Aaj compromise karna padega."

"Aap roz batate ho ki aap boss ho."

"Aur tum roz bhool jaati ho," ushne kaha, aur bahar utarke uski kamar pe haath rakh diya — wahi aadat, public mein bhi possessive, jaise woh uski ho.

Bar andar se bhi wahi tha — thoda dim, thoda sticky, purane Bollywood gaane, ek sust waiter. Kitty ko laga ye jagah Raj ke saath aane layak hai, Mehra ke saath nahi. Par usne kuch nahi kaha. Boss ki marzi.

Woh ek corner table pe baith gaye. Mehra ne whiskey mangayi, usne white wine.

"Toh," Kitty ne glass uthaate hue kaha, "ye 'personal' kaun hai jiske liye aap apna Grand chhod aaye?"

Mehra jawab dene hi wala tha ki Kitty ki nazar us aadmi pe padi.

Woh bar ke doosre sire pe akela baitha tha. Ek drink saamne, haath table pe, bilkul still. Ganjha. Clean shaven. Lean, par bana hua — aise bana hua jaise roz paseena bahata ho. Aur woh seedha unki taraf dekh raha tha. Nahi — woh seedha *Mehra* ko dekh raha tha.

Kitty ko pehchaan ka ek jhatka laga. Woh ise kahin dekh chuki thi. Office mein? Kisi doosri party mein? Bas naam nahi aa raha tha.

Mehra ne uski nazar pakad li. "Aa gaya," usne dheere se kaha. "Wait karo. Do minute."

Woh utha, gaya, aur woh aadmi bhi utha. Dono ne haath milaye — par aise nahi jaise client milate hain. Aise jaise do aadmi jo ek hi cheez ke andar hain. Mehra ka poora body language badal gaya tha. Woh jhuka hua tha, sunta hua tha, jaise school ka head boy principal ke saamne.

Kitty ne dekha, aur use teesra jhatka laga. Kyunki Mehra, jo apni company mein senior logon ko bhi aadha sunta tha, apni chair se hamesha pehle uthta tha — woh is aadmi ke saamne is tarah jhuka hua tha jaise isse zyaada kuch matter nahi karta.

Ushne ishaara kiya. Kitty uthi aur gayi.

"Kitty," Mehra ne kaha, "ye Vikas hai. Vikas, ye Kitty — meri team se, meri sabse sharp ladki."

Vikas ne use dekha. Bas ek baar. Uski nazar uski tight skirt aur khuli blouse pe ek second ruki, phir wapas Mehra pe.

"Kitty," ushne kaha. Bas itna. Flat. Jaise naam register mein daal diya.

"Vikas ji," Kitty ne kaha.

Vikas ne haath se kursi dikhayi. Woh baith gayi. Aur phir usne woh cheez ki jisne Kitty ko poora hila diya.

Ushne ek chhota suitcase table ke neeche se uthaya, aur Mehra ki taraf sarak diya. "Count kar lo."

Mehra ne lock khola. Andar notes. Poora suitcase bhar. Kitty ne andaza lagaya — ek crore, aaram se.

"Amount zyaada hai," Vikas ne kaha, bina bhaav ke. "Warna tumhe personally call nahi karta. Tumhara cut, do percent."

Do percent. Kitty ke dimaag ne turant kaam kiya. Ek crore ka do percent — do lakh. Ek meeting mein. Ek baar mein. Uska poora mahine ka salary. Ye aadmi, jo usse hotel ke shady bar mein baitha hua hai, ek baithak mein do lakh kama raha tha — aur abhi bhi aise baithe hue tha jaise kuch hua hi nahi.

"Saala," Kitty ne dheere se kaha, bas apne aap se.

Vikas ne use dekha — pehli baar poora. "Kya?"

"Kuch nahi," Kitty ne muskura ke kaha. "Bas soch rahi thi, meeting achhi thi."

Vikas ke hoth halke se michke. Ye uski pehli expression thi. "Yahi sunna tha," ushne kaha, aur phir wapas Mehra pe.

Baaki das minute mein unhone sirf kaam ki baat ki — naam, dates, ek do jagah jo Kitty ke liye code the. Mehra do baar "samajh gaya" bola. Vikas do baar "theek hai" bola. Bas.

Phir Vikas khada hua. Ek drink bhi poora nahi piya tha.

"Chalta hoon," ushne kaha. Mehra turant khada hua. "Mehra." Bas naam. Koi "sahab", koi "ji".

"Aa jaao kabhi office," Mehra ne kaha.

"Zaroorat padegi toh aunga." Vikas ne ek baar Kitty ko dekha, aur woh uski nazar mein kuch dhundh rahi thi — kuch aisa jo usne pehle bhi dekha tha, kahin. "Behen, dhyaan rakhna iska."

Behen. Kitty hans padi.

Vikas chala gaya. Aur Mehra, jaise hi woh darwaze se bahar nikla, ek bachche ki tarah khil gaya.

"Ek crore," ushne dheere se kaha, suitcase pe haath rakh ke. "Ek crore, Kitty. Cash."

"Aur do lakh aapka."

"Poora meeting mein." Woh kursi pe wapas gir gaya, par uski aankhon mein bas thoda sa darr bhi tha. "Par ye banda... isko pata hai kya karna hai. Isliye to personally aaya."

"Kaun hai ye?"

"Baad mein." Mehra ne suitcase band kiya, uska handle pakda. "Chalo. Yahin do minute ke liye room liya hai. Ab wapas apne hotel chalein — Grand. Yahan aadmi ka mann nahi lagta."

Aur pandrah minute baad woh log Hotel ABC ke Room 302 mein the.

---

Woh unka theek-thaak kamra tha — bada nahi, par saaf, aur andar aate hi Mehra ne lights dim kar di. Suitcase ek side, coat doosri. Aur phir woh kursi pe baith gaya, aur Kitty ki taraf dekhne laga, ek aisi nazar se jo usne poori raat kisi ko nahi di thi.

"Aa jao," ushne kaha.

Kitty gayi. Uske god mein baith gayi, ghutne uski kursi ke dono taraf. Mehra ne uska chehra dono haathon mein liya aur usse aise dekha jaise poori shaam ka hisaab ho raha ho.

"Poori shaam tumne mujhe padha," ushne kaha. "Har cheez. Vikas. Suitcase. Sab."

"Padha hai to?" Kitty ne uski daadhi pe ungli pheri. "Aapne kuch bataya hi nahi."

"Batata hoon." Ushne uske gale pe haath rakha, aur dheere se uski blouse ka pehla button khola. "Par pehle tum."

"Main?"

"Tumne poori shaam ye tight skirt pehni hui hai." Ushne doosra button khola. Teesra. Chautha. "Vikas ne dekha tumhe. Maine dekha ki usne dekha."

"Ek second ke liye."

"Uske liye ek second bahut hai." Ushne blouse sarak di, kandhon se utaar di. Andar black lace tha. Ushne baaki khud khola — bra ka hook bhi, kyunki Mehra ke aage sab kuch poora hoke hi rehta tha. Ushne use utaar ke kursi ki back pe latka diya, aur phir Kitty uski god mein baithi thi, upar se poora nanga, sirf skirt aur uske neeche kuch nahi.

Mehra ne uske milkies dono haathon mein liye. Ushne aankhein band kar li. Woh dheere se thaamp raha tha, angoothe nipples pe ghumate hue, aur Kitty ka sir uske kandhe pe gir gaya.

"Yahi chahiye tha na?" ushne uske kaan mein kaha.

"Haan," Kitty ne maan liya.

"Achhi ladki." Ushne ek ko muh mein liya. Kitty ki saans atak gayi.

Woh poori shaam bhar ka tension nikaal raha tha, apne hisaab se. Ushne choosa, chaata, aur ek haath neeche uski skirt pe chala gaya, aur uski zip kheench di. Kitty ne khud hips uthai, aur skirt sarak gayi, aur ab woh god mein thi sirf ek kaali g-string mein — woh kaali, jise usne aaj subah bas "mood ke liye" pehni thi.

Mehra ne uske g-string ki kamanr pe ungli daali. "Ye kis liye?"

"Mood ke liye."

"Toh mood tha?" Ushne uski naaf pe hoth rakhe.

"Tha."

"Ab kya hai?"

"Ab?" Kitty ne uske chehre ko dono haathon mein liya aur upar kheench liya, hothon pe hoth rakh diye. "Ab aap dekho."

Woh kursi se utri — uske ghutno pe baithi, phir farsh pe. Aur uske ghutno ke beech. Mehra ki patloon ka button khola, zip. Ushne uski boxer ke andar haath daala aur woh nikaal liya — poora sakht, garm.

Kitty ne usse dekha. Phir Mehra ki aankhon mein dekha, jo usse dekh rahi thin, jaise poori duniya bhool ke bas usse dekh rahi hon.

Aur ushne zubaan bahar nikaali.

Pehle sirf top pe, ek gol, halka. Mehra ki saans phooli. Phir neeche, poori. Ushne aankhein band kar li aur sar aage kiya, aur woh dheere se andar gaya — garam, smooth, poora. Mehra ne uske baalon mein haath daal diya, par dabaya nahi. Kitty ko wahi pasand tha — woh usse control deta tha, kabhi zor nahi karta tha.

Woh upar neeche hone lagi, dheere, rhythm banate hue. Zubaan se saath, haath se saath. Mehra ki saans bhaari ho gayi, uski ungliyan Kitty ke baalon mein kasne lagin, aur woh dheere dheere badalne laga — uski taraf se woh chhoti harkatein jo bata deti hain ki bas thoda aur.

"Kitty—" ushne kaha, jaise warning.

Kitty ruki nahi. Ushne ek haath uski jaangh pe rakha, doosra neeche, aur tez kar diya — poora, gehra, us tarah jaisa use pata tha isko achha lagta hai. Mehra ka sar kursi ki back pe chala gaya. "Achha — achha baby—"

Woh aayi. Ek halki karaah ke saath, jisme ushne saara kaam ki thakan, saara gussa, saara "saala do lakh" nikaal diya. Kitty ne usse poori tarah piya, phir upar aake baith gayi, hoth ponchte hue, aur muskura di.

"Boss khush?" ushne poochha.

Mehra ki saans abhi thik nahi hui thi. Ushne usse ghoora, phir kursi se uthke, aur uske chehre se baal hata diye.

"Bed pe jao," ushne kaha.

"Abhi?" Kitty ne ghadi dekhi. "Late ho raha hai—"

"Raat abhi khatam nahi hui." Ushne uski kamar pe haath rakha aur bed ki taraf badhaya. "Aur tum abhi tak poori taiyar ho. Chalo."

Kitty ne apni kaali g-string ki taraf dekha, jo uski jaanch mein geeli thi. Phir Mehra ki taraf, jo abhi bhi adha khula khada tha, poori tarah shant nahi hua.

"Chalo," ushne dobara kaha.

Kitty muskura di, aur bed ki taraf chali gayi.

 

[chaostheory]

## Chapter Three: Day Off

*(Kitty ki nazar se)*

Subah nau baje.

Kitty balcony ki kursi mein baithi thi — ek haath mein coffee, aankhein neeche garden pe — aur poora jism aise dard kar raha tha jaise kal raat kisi ne use poora ka poora istemaal kar liya ho. Jisne kiya bhi tha. Mehra. Room 302. Do baar.

Ushne aankhein band kar li. Aaj usne chhutti li thi — asli chhutti, "work from home" wali bakwaas nahi. Raj subah nikal gaya tha, bas ek chhota sa "bye" dekar, jaise uske paas bhi apni koi duniya ho. Theek hai. Woh bhi busy tha. Dono busy the. Aise hi chalta tha ye ghar.

Neeche society ke garden mein bachche khel rahe the. Ek chhota bachcha apni maa ke peeche bhaag raha tha. Do buzurg couple apni roz wali walk pe nikle the — wahi chaal, wahi speed, wahi "society ka mahaul bahut achha hai" wali baatein.

Aur tab Kitty ki aankh ruki.

Woh aadmi.

Kal raat. Bar. Still baitha hua. Vikas.

Kitty seedhi ho gayi, coffee table pe rakhi.

Woh use yahin dekh chuki thi. Isi garden mein. Shaam ke waqt, jab woh kabhi kabhi walk pe nikalti thi. Woh akela chalta tha — koi saath nahi, koi se baat nahi, bas lap pe lap. Ganjha, clean shaven, wahi khali chehra.

Matlab woh yahin rehta hai. Inhi teen blocks mein se kisi ek mein. Teesri manzil, dusra block, kuch aisa.

Kitty bewakoof nahi thi. Poori raat usne socha tha — ek crore, cash, suitcase, "tumhara cut do percent", koi naam nahi, koi bill nahi, koi company ka letterhead nahi. Aisa paisa aasani se nahi aata. Is paise mein kuch tha jo white nahi tha — aur jitna safed nahi tha, utna hi mazedaar tha.

Aur Vikas. Uska shareer, uski chuppi, woh tarika jisse woh baat karta tha — jaise har shabd tol ke, aur zyaada bolne ki zaroorat hi na ho. Woh aadmi kisi bade kaam ke liye bana tha, aur bade kaam ka koi form nahi hota.

Danger. Kitty ko danger pasand tha. Woh filmy danger nahi. Simple — woh danger jo aapko baaki society se alag kar de. Yahan sab ek jaise the. Sab ek jaise jeete the, ek jaise sote the, ek jaise sapne dekhte the. Aur Kitty kal raat ek crore wale aadmi ki god mein baithi hui thi.

Aur agar woh itna paas rehta hai, toh baat karne mein kya jaata hai? Ek "hello". Ek "aap bhi yahin rehte hain?" Bas.

Ushne coffee khatam ki. Worth a shot.

Phir doorbell baja.

Kitty ne bina soche darwaza khola — aur Abhas khada tha.

Simmy ka "friend". Par Kitty jaanti thi "friend" ka matlab kya hota hai.

Woh lamba tha, bana hua, woh chehra jo college ki ladkiyon ko pagal karta hai. Gym ke baad aaya tha shayad — t-shirt pe paseene ka halka daag, baal geele. Ushne muskuraya.

"Hi Aunty—" phir sudhar ke, "Kitty ma'am. Simmy hai?"

"Aunty theek hai," Kitty ne kaha, aur darwaza poora khol diya. "Aa jaao."

Abhas andar aaya. Aur phir Kitty ne wahi kiya jo woh har aadmi ke saath karti thi. Ushne dekha. Aankhein — nahi, chehre pe nahi. Neeche. Ek jhalak uski shorts pe, ek uske gale se jhaankti hui, chhote chhote glances jo woh khud samajhta tha ki koi nahi dekh raha.

Kitty andar se muskurayi.

Woh prudish nahi thi. Uske college ke din yaad the — aur uske college ke din kaafi the. Isliye usne kabhi tay kiya tha ki is ghar mein Simmy ko zyada rok-tok nahi karni. Simmy zyada tar akeli hoti thi, dono office. Ek ladki jise rok-tok na ho, woh rebel nahi hoti. Aur jo rebel nahi hoti, woh blunder nahi karti.

Ya karti hai. Par kam se kam usse pata hota hai.

"Woh andar hai," Kitty ne kaha. "Jaao."

Abhas guzra — aur guzarte hue uska kandha Kitty ke kandhe se halka sa takraya — aur uske chehre pe woh pyaara, ghabraya hua expression aa gaya, jaise pakda gaya ho. Kitty ne use jaate dekha: uski kamar pe uske haath, uski chaal mein woh confidence.

Haan. Woh apne kamre mein chali gayi — par darwaza poori tarah band nahi kiya.

---

## The Room

*(Simmy ki nazar se)*

Raat ka jism abhi bhi dard kar raha tha.

Kal raat Jiju ne use aadhi raat tak chheda, khela, uske milkies se khelta raha, poora tadpaya — aur jab dono aage badhne hi wale the, tab usne didi ka message dekha, "20 minute mein pahunch rahi hoon", aur poora mood sabar mein badal gaya. Aadha-adhoora. Tadap ke reh gaya. Simmy bhi.

Aur abhi, agle din, nau baje, woh Abhas ki baahon mein thi.

Abhas — uska college wala. Bana hua, garam, aur aaj haath badhaye hue. Uski ungliyan uske top ke neeche jaane ki koshish kar rahi thi, aur Simmy baar baar hata rahi thi.

"Abhas, ruk." Ushne phusphusaya. "Didi ghar mein hai."

"Kahan aayegi."

"Kisi bhi waqt."

Abhas muskura diya — woh badmash wali muskurahat. "Simmy. Tumhari didi ko pata hai hum kya kar rahe hain. Woh chaahti hai hum karein."

"Pata hai?"

"Pata hai." Ushne uski kamar pe haath kas kiya. "Warna tum itni patli camisole pehenke baithti?"

Simmy ki baat atak gayi. Sach bol raha tha.

Woh aaj bas ek patli, strappy camisole pehne hue thi — kaali, kuch zyada hi patli — aur uske neeche sirf ek chhoti shorts. Camisole ke andar kuch nahi tha, aur Abhas ko ye pata tha, kyunki jab bhi woh saans leti, kapda uske jism pe chipak jaata tha.

Abhas ne jawab ka intezaar nahi kiya. Apne mazboot haath uski kamar pe daal ke use apne se chipka liya, aur uske hothon pe hoth rakh diye.

Aur Simmy pighal gayi.

Pehla kiss Abhas ke saath hamesha aisa hi hota tha — jaldi, bhookha. Ushne uske hoth khol ke andar aane ki koshish ki, aur Simmy ne use khulne di. Uski ungliyan uske baalon mein chali gayin. Poora kamra sookh gaya, sirf dono ki saansen bachi.

Sirf kiss thi. Par usse Simmy ki jaanghon ke beech garmi pahunch gayi.

Abhas ne uske camisole ki ek strap neeche sarak di.

"Abhas—"

"Bas dekh raha hoon."

Ushne doosri strap bhi sarak di. Camisole dheere dheere neeche, aur uske milkies — woh bhaari, naram — bahar. Abhas ne dekh ke halki si haanf li, jaise pehli baar dekh raha ho. Jhooth tha.

"Chhodo," Simmy ne kaha, par hataya nahi.

Woh jhuka aur ek nipple pe hoth rakh diya. Simmy ne sir peeche kiya. Uski zubaan garam thi, woh chaata, chucha, chhota sa daant lagaya, jab tak Simmy ke haath uske baalon mein kas na gaye.

"Didi—" Simmy ne phir kaha, bechain.

"Woh apne kamre mein hai." Abhas ne darwaze ki taraf dekha. "Gate band hai. Ghar khaali hai." Ushne uski jaanghon ke beech haath daala aur shorts ke upar se dabaya. "Aur tum poori geeli ho."

Simmy laal ho gayi. Kyunki sach tha.

Ushne andar haath daala. Ek ungli, phir do. Simmy ke ghutne kamzor ho gaye, woh uske kandhe pe jhuk gayi.

"Abhas—"

"Shhh." Ushne ungliyan ghumayi. "Itni jaldi?"

"Tumhari wajah se—"

Ushne use bed pe dhakel diya. Simmy peeth ke bal giri, Abhas upar aa gaya, aur uski shorts neeche kheench di. Simmy ne hips utha ke help ki, aur woh nikal gayi. Ab nange pair, aur beech mein bas uski chhoti lace.




Abhas ne jaanghein kholi. Ushne dekha. Phir ungli chalayi — upar se neeche, halke se, uske treasure pe. Ek baar. Do baar. Simmy ki saans tuti.

"Chahiye?" ushne poochha.

"Haan."

Ushne ek ungli andar daali. Simmy ki peeth bal kha gayi.

Woh use is tarah khelta raha — ek ungli, phir do, ghoomate hue, angoothe se upar — jab tak Simmy ki saansen phoolne lagin. Aur phir achaanak ruk gaya.

"Bas?" Simmy ne aankhein kholi.

"Abhi nahi." Abhas ne apni patloon ki taraf dekha, jahan kaafi der se ek tanaav tha. Ushne Simmy ka haath pakad ke wahan rakh diya. "Pehle iski bhookh mita do."

Simmy ne use dekha. Phir uske chehre pe woh cheez, jo Abhas ki hamesha hoti thi — mang. Woh maang raha tha, aur uski maang mein bhi woh confidence tha jo Simmy ko pasand tha.

"Achha," ushne kaha, aur bed se utar ke ghutno pe baith gayi.

Abhas khada hua, patloon kholi. Simmy uske saamne aayi, aur jab woh bahar nikla — sakht, garam, poora — ushne pehle haath se thaama, phir aankhein utaar ke Abhas ko dekha, jaise chidhane ke liye.

"Jaldi," ushne kaha.

"Jaldi?" Simmy ki bhaunh chadhi. "Aap poori raat ka badla le rahe ho."

"Le raha hoon." Ushne uske sar pe haath rakha. "Ab kar do."

Simmy zubaan bahar nikaali, aur neeche jhuk gayi.

Pehle top pe ek chhota chumban. Phir poora muh khol ke neeche. Woh garam tha, smooth, poora. Simmy ne aankhein band kar li aur upar-neeche hone lagi — dheere, rhythm banate hue, apne haath se saath. Abhas ne uske baalon mein haath daal ke halka dabaya, phir chhod diya.

"God, Simmy—"

Tareef se woh aur tez ho gayi. Jab uski saans bhaari hui, jab uski jaanghon ke muscles kase, tab usne jaana ki woh paas hai. Ushne rukna nahi kiya, tez kiya. Poora liya, gale tak.

Abhas ne sar peeche kiya. "Aa raha hoon—"

Aur Simmy ne aankhein utaar ke dekha — aur wahin ruki, poora muh bhara hua, aankhon mein woh badmashi, jaise keh rahi ho, *dekho, main kahan hoon.*

Woh aaya. Simmy ne poora piya. Phir peeche hatti, hoth ponche, aur muskurayi.

"Ab khush?" ushne poochha.

Abhas abhi saans le raha tha. Ushne use ghoora, phir bed pe gira diya.

"Khush," ushne kaha. "Par abhi shaam bhi hai."

 

[chaostheory]

## Chapter Four: The Danger

*(Vikas ki nazar se)*

Dopahar teen baje.

Vikas apne bed pe baitha tha — cross-legged, bareback, sirf ek towel lapete hue. Garmi thi, AC chal raha tha, par usse thandak nahi chahiye thi. Use chahiye tha focus.

Bed pe chaaron taraf notebooks faile hue the. Kaale cover wale, safed cover wale, ek red spiral. Har ek mein naam, tareekhe, raqam — crores mein. Uski handwriting chhoti thi, precise, jaise uski zindagi.

Doosri taraf bed pe do suitcase the. Teesra floor pe khula pada tha. Sab mein cash — pura, asli, ginna hua. Bedside table pe uski whiskey ka glass, adha bhara hua, aur uski gun. Beretta. Loaded. Hamesha.

Woh do ghante se yahi tha. Entries match kar raha tha — North India ke uske saare selling executives, unka hissa, unke advances, unke profits. Ek network tha, bada, aur Vikas uska cashier tha, manager tha, executioner tha.

Drugs aate the. Cash jaata tha. Vikas us cash ko safed karta tha — cronies ke through, Mehra jaise logon ke through, corporates mein ghusa ke, system mein wapas la ke. Uske paas power thi, par woh power dikhata nahi tha. Woh bas use karta tha.

Aankhein dukh rahi thin. Zehan thak raha tha. Ek distraction chahiye tha — kuch jism, kuch garam, kuch jo usse is kamre se bahar nikaale.

Usne uthke window pe gaya. Parking lot dekha. Neeche Abhishek ki grey Verna nahi thi. Confirmed.

Do floor neeche. Flat 1202. Name plate: 'Abhishek & Kajal Patel'.

Woh muskura diya — aisi muskurahat jo uske chehre pe bhi ajeeb lagti thi, jaise woh bhool gaya ho ki kaise karte hain.

Usne lift li. Do floor. Door ke saamne khada hua. Doorbell dabaayi.

Kuch seconds. Phir —

Darwaza khula.

Aur woh wahin thi.

Kajal.




Chhabbees, satteis — shayad. Housewife, par aisi housewife jo ghar mein reh ke bhi poori tarah aurat thi. Luscious. Bhaari. Maroon saree mein, jaise registan mein laal rang. Baal khule, pallu sir pe tha, par uski aankhein — darri hui, frozen.

"Vikas—" usne kaha, awaaz halki, tooti hui.

Woh andar ghus gaya. Usne haath se darwaza dhakka diya, latch lagaya. Kajal peeche hat rahi thi, haath uthaaye hue, jaise rok sake.

"Kya kar rahe ho," usne kaha, cheekhne se pehle hi dab gayi. "Koi dekh lega. Aise nahi aa sakte. Abhishek kabhi bhi aa sakta hai—"

Woh ruka nahi.

Usne uska pallu pakda. Ek jhatke mein kheench diya. Maroon ka dhaaga hawa mein uda.

"Vikas, please—" usne kaha, haath uske haath pe, par woh kamzor thi. Woh hamesha kamzor hoti thi iske saamne. Woh jaanti thi, aur woh jaanta tha.

Woh kuch nahi bola. Bas uski aankhon mein dekha — woh thandi, dark aankhein — aur usne uski saree kholna shuru kar diya.

Pehle petticoat ka naada. Phir blouse ke hook. Usne khol diye, ek, do, teen. Blouse khula, aur uske milkies — bhaari, gore, naram — bahar aaye. Woh unhe dekhta raha, jaise koi cheez evaluate kar raha ho. Phir haath badhaya, aur ek ko thaama.

Kajal ki saans phool gayi.

Woh usse choomne laga — nahi, choomna nahi tha. Feast. Woh unhe chaata, chabata, nipples ko daanton se ragadta, jab tak woh sakht na ho gaye. Kajal ke haath uske baalon mein theen, kabhi kheenchti, kabhi chhodti, uski awaaz nikal rahi thi — chhoti, rokhi hui cheekhein.

Phir usne haath neeche badhaya. Saree poori tarah gir gayi. Petticoat bhi. Ab sirf woh thi — nangi, khadi, kaanpti.

Woh uske peeche gaya. Haath uski kamar pe, phir neeche. Usne uski gaal pe thappad maara — halka, phir zor se. Ek. Do. Teen. Laal ho gayi. Kajal ki aankhon mein aansu aaye, par woh cheekhi nahi. Woh jaanti thi.

Usne ungli andar daali. Poori garam, poori geeli. Kajal ne munh band kar liya, par awaaz nikli — "ah, ah, ah" — bar-bar, jab tak woh uske andar ungliyan ghuma raha tha.

"Please," usne kaha, par pata nahi kis liye.

Woh ruka nahi.

Usne use deewar se chipkaya. Uski peeth thandi deewar se lagi. Woh peeche se aaya, aur usne apna cock — sakht, garam — uski jaanghon ke beech rakha, uske treasure pe ragadne laga. Upar neeche, upar neeche, bina andar gaye. Kajal ka sar peeche gira, usne deewar pakdi.

Phir ek jhatke mein andar.

Woh dono cheekhe — woh nahi, Kajal cheekhi, aur woh bas saans chhoda. Poora, gehra, ek hi baar mein. Phir woh hilne laga — zor se, zor se, zor se. Deewar pe takrayi. Kajal ki awaaz kamre mein goonji.

Woh uske baalon mein haath daal ke peeche kheenchta, aur saath mein zor se maarta. Spank. Maarta. Spank. Dono ek rhythm mein — uski thappad, uski thrust.

Kajal ne kaha, "Main— main aa rahi hoon—"

Woh jawab nahi diya. Bas tez kiya. Aur jab usne feel kiya ki woh paas hai, toh usne ruka nahi. Woh andar hi raha, poora, aur jab woh aaya, toh usne Kajal ko poora bhar diya. Dono saath mein — ek cheekh, ek lamba saans.

Woh ruka. Dono nange the. Deewar thandi thi. Kajal ka saans phoola hua tha.

Woh peeche hata. Nanga, ab bhi hard, uske ghar mein khada tha. Usne room dekha.

"Whiskey kahan hai?" usne poocha. Bas itna kaha

 

[chaostheory]

## Chapter Five: Curiosity

*(Narrator ki nazar se)*

Sunday subah.

Teen din ki subah-shaam ki walk ke baad, aaj use woh mila hi.

Kitty ne usse park ke track pe dekha — Vikas, jog karte hue. Slow, controlled, jaise har cheez uski zindagi mein thi. Usne ek pal ke liye socha ki mud jaaye, par phir himmat jutayi.

"Hi Vikas Ji," usne kaha, paas jaake. "Remember me? Kanika."

Vikas ruka. Pehle toh uski aankhein tez hui — recognition se nahi, warning se. Usne pehchaan mein aane mein waqt liya, phir uski nazar neeche gayi. Kitty ke gym shorts, tight top, uski curves. Phir uske chehre pe woh jaana-pehchaana look aaya — bar, Mehra, woh ladki.

"Ah," usne kaha. "Tum."

Chhota sa talk hua. "Toh aap yahin rehte hain?" Kitty ne poochha.

"Block B, Flat 1701," usne jawab diya, clipped.

"Oh," Kitty muskurayi. "Hum family ke saath Block A, Flat 3202 mein."

Mausam, traffic, chhota-mota chit-chat. Phir Kitty ne bye kaha, aage badhi. Vikas ki aankhein uski hilte hue kamar pe chipki rahi, tab tak jab tak woh turn leke gayab nahi ho gayi.

---

Monday shaam.

Vikas ke flat mein, Sahil khada tha. Young blood, lamba, mazboot, uska right hand — aankhein, kaan, zameen pe.

Sahil ne chaar photos table pe daali.

"Kanika, aka Kitty," usne kaha, pehli photo uthaate hue. "FMCG company mein kaam karti hai, Mehra ke under."

"Raj," doosri photo. "Uska pati. Pehle same company mein tha, love marriage. Ab tech company mein."

"Simran, aka Simmy," teesri photo. "Behen, masters kar rahi hai, unhi ke saath rehti hai."

Vikas ne Simmy ki photo uthai. Dekha. Lamba waqt tak dekha.

"Ek ghar," usne kaha, aawaz mein woh thandi cheez jo uski pehchaan thi. "Do sirens."

Sahil ne kuch nahi kaha.

Vikas ne photo table pe rakhi. "Teeno pe nazar rakhni hai. Pata lagana hai — kahan jaate hain, kisse milte hain, kiske saath sote hain."

Sahil ruka. "Ye kaam," usne kaha, dheere se, "organisation ke liye hai, ya aapke liye?"

Vikas ki aankhein tez hui. "Apni jagah mat bhoolo. Aur meri jagah."

"Nahi bhool raha," Sahil ne kaha, awaaz mein woh halka darr jo usme bhi tha. "Par aap apni ladkiyan yahan nahi laate, right boss?"

Vikas ne usse ghoora. Phir, achanak, uski awaaz naram hui.

"Nahi," usne kaha. "Bewakoof mat bano. Yahan 2.5 crore cash pada hai. Aur doosre kamre mein, bed ke neeche, apna maal hai — 10 crore se zyada. Koi bitch is ghar mein nahi aati. Hotel, ya unke apne bistron pe. Ab jao. Kaam karo."

Sahil ne sir hilaya. Photos uthaaye. Darwaze ki taraf badha.

Vikas ne uski taraf mudke nahi dekha. Bas window se bahar dekhta raha, jaise woh already teen logon ko dekh raha ho — jaise woh already unke raaste rok raha ho.

 

[chaostheory]

## Chapter Six: Spilling Secrets

*(Narrator ki nazar se, par Kitty ke kareeb)*

Mr Mehra out of town tha — Dubai, kisi conference ke liye, ya wohi bahana jo log dete hain jab asli kaam alag hota hai. Kitty ko pata tha. Aur usne socha — yehi mauka hai.

Archit.

Head of accounts, nerdy par cute, chashme wala, hamesha crisp formals mein, height thodi chhoti par body fit — woh ladka jo numbers jaanta tha, aur shayad numbers ke alawa bhi kuch jaanta tha.

Kitty ne usse approach kiya. Tight shirt-style blouse, pencil skirt, top button jaise hamesha — khula. Usne kaha, "Lunch pe chalo?"

Archit ne pehle toh hesitate kiya, phir uski aankhein uske blouse ke button pe ruki, aur woh haan mein sir hilaya.




Restaurant bahar tha — koi fancy nahi, par private. Kitty ne kaha, "Drinks lete hain."

"Office hai," Archit ne kaha, par awaaz mein woh excitement thi.

"Slow day hai," Kitty muskurayi. "Late jaayenge. Thoda time saath mein."

Teen round hue. Normal chit-chat, gossip — kaun kya kar raha hai, kaun kahan transfer ho raha hai. Phir, achanak, Kitty ne apna haath table pe badhaya, Archit ke haath ke upar rakha.

"Main jaanti hoon," usne kaha, awaaz dheere. "Tumhare aur Mr Mehra ke baare mein. Aur Vikas ke baare mein."

Archit ka drink uske muh se almost bahar nikal gaya. Usne khaansi roki, aankhein badi hui.

"Pagal ho gayi ho?" usne kaha, awaaz dabaye hue. "Vikas ke baare mein jaanne ki koshish mat karo. Main khud usse door rehta hoon."

"Kyun?"

Archit ne kuch seconds socha. Phir usne kaha, "Baba Pasha ke baare mein suna hai?"

Kitty ne sir hilaya.

"NCR ka jaana-maafiya. Parole pe Nepal bhaaga, wahan se Canada. Vikas uska chief accountant hai."

Kitty ki aankhein thodi badi hui, par usne apne chehre pe wohi lazy smile rakhi.

"Toh tum aur Mehra," usne kaha, "uske liye kya karte ho?"

Archit ne kuch nahi kaha. Phir, jaise dar ke maare, ya jaise impress karna chaahta ho, usne bolna shuru kiya.

"Hum whitewash karte hain," usne kaha, awaaz mein woh excitement jo logon ko hoti hai jab woh apna kaam samjhate hain. "Pehle fake sales create karte hain — unka cash dikhate hain jaise hamare FMCG retailers se collect hua hai. Hamari company mein already roz hundreds of lacs cash aata hai, perfect cover. Phir fake expenses bana ke, woh paise company accounts se multiple dummy accounts ke through un tak pahuncha dete hain. Main reconcile karta hoon, aur phir saari fake entries delete kar deta hoon books se."

Woh bolta raha, jaise koi student apna project samjha raha ho. "Isme humein milta hai 1.5%. Mera hissa 0.25%, Mr Mehra rakhte hain 0.50%, baaki team mein baant diya jaata hai."

Kitty ne apna haath uske haath pe ghumaya, apni ungliyan uski kalai pe chalain, apni body thodi aage jhukayi — stealthily, doosra button bhi khol diya. Archit ki nazar wahan gayi, uske mounds, uske milkies ka ek glimpse.

"Kitna?" usne poochha, awaaz mein woh halki si breathiness.

Archit ne chest phulaya. "Shuru mein chhota tha — 10-15 lakh, mahine mein 2-3 crore. Par ab amount bada hai. Pichhle mahine roughly 7.5 crore hue."

Kitty ki aankhein badi hui. "Tumhara hissa?"

"Kareeb 2 lakh," Archit ne kaha, boast karte hue.

Andar hi andar, Kitty ka dimaag tez chala. Mehra — woh jo use promotion ke sapne dikhata tha, foreign trip ke vaade, aur use apne bed pe bounce karwata tha — uska asli hissa? 7.5 lakh pichhle mahine. Aur Archit, yeh chashme wala ladka, 2 lakh le ja raha tha asli kaam ke liye, jabki woh sirf... woh sirf...

Usne socha — Mehra keeps 1%, lies to him also, that bastard.

Aur phir ek aur thought aaya — golden goose. Vikas.

Woh darti nahi thi. Woh ghusna chahti thi, andar, us duniya mein jahan asli paise the.

Unknown to her, restaurant ke ek kone mein, ek table pe, Sahil baitha tha. Aur uski aankhein, camera ki tarah, har cheez record kar rahi thin.

Archit ne aur drink mangaayi. Ab usmein woh power thi, alcohol ki. "Chalo," usne kaha, "kahin aur chalte hain. Saath mein time spend karte hain."

Kitty ne muskuraya. "Theek hai."

---

Car mein they — Archit ki hatchback, secluded parking, back seat.

Archit ne kaha, "Main jaanta hoon tumhare aur Mr Mehra ke baare mein. Maine apne raaz bata diye, ab tum apne dikhao."

Kitty ne kuch nahi kaha. Bas apne blouse ke baaki button khole, bra utaari, aur Archit ke saamne ho gayi.

Usne uske milkies ko haathon mein liye — nerdy ladka tha, par haath garam the. Usne unhe choosa, chaata, nipples ko daanton se ragada, jab tak woh sakht na ho gaye. Kitty ne sir peeche kiya, aankhein band kar li, par dimaag poori tarah kaam kar raha tha — pawn, ye ladka ek pawn hai.

Archit ne uski skirt upar ki. Passionate kissing — uska muh alcohol aur desire se bhar gaya tha. Kitty ne use roka. "Aaj ke liye bas."

"Kam se kam," Archit ne kaha, awaaz mein woh plea, "blow toh karo."

Kitty ne muskuraya. "Nahi," usne kaha, aur uski pant zip ki, uska cock nikala — sakht, chhota par excited. "Aise."

Usne apne haath se usko pakda, aur hilana shuru kiya — slow, tez, slow. Archit ki aankhein band ho gayin. Usne Kitty ke haath apne upar jaane diya, uske milkies ko chhoone diya, squeeze karne diya.

"Agli baar," Kitty ne kaha, hilate hue, "jab tum woh karoge jo main kahungi, tab."

Archit ne kuch nahi kaha. Bas aaya — jaldi, zor se, uske haathon mein.

Kitty ne tissues se saaf kiya, blouse band kiya, par bra nahi pehni. Usne Archit ko dekha — smitten, puppy jaise.

"Main tumhara kuch bhi karunga," Archit ne kaha. "Tumhara banne ke liye, anything."

Kitty ne darwaza khola. "Phone uthaana," usne kaha, aur bahar nikal gayi.

Archit wahin baitha raha, uski zip khuli, dimaag mein sirf woh — aur uski milkies.

 

[chaostheory]

## Chapter Seven: Knock on Door

*(Simmy ki nazar se)*

Wednesday shaam, paanch baje.

Simmy college se aayi thi — garam, thaki hui, aur usne jo pehna tha woh tha: chhoti hot pants, ek chhota crop top jo uske pet ko dikhata tha, aur woh silver nose ring jo uski maasi ne Brampton mein dilwayi thi. Hottie mode, jaise woh jaanti thi ki koi dekh raha hai.

Darwaze ki bell baji.

Usne socha Abhas hoga — ya Raj, agar jaldi aa gaya toh. Par jab usne darwaza khola, toh woh tha.

Gaurav.

Uska padosi — Block B, Flat 1402. Tall, lean, runner ka body par chehra soft, jaise koi sapna dekhta rehta ho. Guitar bajata tha, kabhi-kabhi shaam ko terrace pe sunaayi deti thi. Dreamer. Unemployed, ya shayad "freelance" bolta tha. Simmy ko uski yeh baat pasand thi — woh alag tha, Abhas se, Raj se, sab se.




Par aaj uski aankhein alag thi.

"Tu," usne kaha, awaaz mein woh halki si kadwaahat.

"Andar aa jao," Simmy ne kaha, par woh andar ghus gaya jaise uska haq ho.

"Maine dekha hai," Gaurav ne kaha, darwaza band karte hue. "Abhas. Tujhe drop karte hue. Tujhe hug karte hue. Uske haath tere kamar pe."

Simmy ne socha — saala, timing. "Woh bas friend hai," usne kaha, jaise woh Gaurav se kehti thi. "Jaise tu hai."

"Friend?" Gaurav ne muskuraya, par woh muskurahat thodi thi. "Toh phir, Simmy, woh time kya tha? Mere flat mein? Tere flat mein? Nange?"

Simmy ki saans atki. "Woh... woh galti thi."

"Galti?" Gaurav qareeb aaya. "Itni baar galti hoti hai?"

"Gaurav, please—"

Woh uske peeche aaya. Haath uski kamar pe, aur phir — hug. Peeche se. Uska chehra uske baalon mein, uski saans uske kaan pe.

"Dost hain hum?" usne kaha, dheere. "Toh phir, dost aise kyun karte hain?"

Usne uske haath upar kiye — crop top ke neeche. Simmy ne resist kiya, par woh ruka nahi. Uski ungliyan uske pet pe, uske milkies ke neeche, uske haathon ko pakad ke usse deewar se chipka diya.




"Gaurav—"

Woh kuch nahi sun raha tha. Usne uska top upar kiya — ek jhatke mein. Simmy ka top floor pe gira. Ab sirf bra, aur uski garam skin.

Passionate makeout. Gaurav ne uske hothon pe zor se kiss kiya, jaise kuch prove kar raha ho. Simmy ne pehle mana kiya, phir — pehle jaisa hi lagne laga. Gaurav alag tha. Soft tha, par aaj ziddi tha.

Woh use sofa ki taraf le gaya. Baitha, aur Simmy ko apni god mein bithaya. Bra ka hook — ek haath se, jaise guitar ka chord — khola. Bra hawa mein udi.

Aur Gaurav, woh soft-faced dreamer, uske milkies pe jhuk gaya.

Simmy ko yeh baat hamesha pasand thi — jab aadmi bachche ban jaate hain. Gaurav ne choosa, chaata, nipples ko daanton se ragda, jaise usme koi jaadu ho. Simmy ne uske baalon mein haath daal diya, aankhein band kar li. Woh bachcha ban gaya tha, aur woh uski maa thi, uski rani thi, uski —

Doorbell baji.

Dono jhatke se alag hue. Simmy flustered, top dhoondhti, bra pehnne ki koshish karti. Top mila, pehna — nipples poking through the thin cloth, bra nahi pehni.

Darwaza khola.

Aur woh tha.

Vikas.

Simmy ne use dekha. Usne Simmy ko dekha — top topless jaise, nipples poking, baal bikhre hue, hoth laal.

"Kanika?" Vikas ne kaha, awaaz mein woh thandi cheez. "Woh yahan nahi hai?"

"Nahi," Simmy ne kaha, awaaz halki. "Aap... aap kaun?"

"Main uske saath kaam karta hoon." Woh andar ghus gaya, confident, cold — jaise darwaza usne nahi Simmy ne khola ho.

Gaurav khada tha, shirt theek karte hue. "Maine aapko dekha hai," usne kaha. "Mere hi building mein rehte hain."

Vikas ne use dekha. "Haan. Aur tum bhi. Toh yahan kya kar rahe ho, akeli ladki ke saath, uske flat mein?"

Simmy sharma gayi. Gaurav ke paas koi jawab nahi tha.

Vikas ne bag uthaya — chhota, black. Simmy ko diya.

"Isme bees lakh hain," usne kaha. "Kanika ke liye. Mera number hai andar. Usse kehna — mujhe call kare."

Woh darwaze pe mudke khada raha. Gaurav ko dekha.

"Chalo," usne kaha, command jaise. "Chhodo. Lady ko aaram karne do."

Gaurav ne Simmy ko ek last look diya. Phir, bina kuch kahe, woh chala gaya — Vikas ke peeche, jaise koi school boy.

Vikas ne ek baar Simmy ko dekha — poori tarah se, jaise evaluate kar raha ho. Phir woh bhi chala gaya.

Simmy darwaze pe khadi rahi, bag haath mein, nipples poking, aur dimaag mein sirf ek thought — *ye kaun tha?*

 

[chaostheory]

## Chapter Eight: The Offer

*(Kitty ki nazar se)*

Usne bag ko bed pe rakha tha — woh chhota black bag jo Vikas ne Simmy ke haathon diya tha, aur jo Simmy ne use de diya tha "Didi, koi aadmi aaya tha" keh kar.

Ab uske saamne khula pada tha.

Bees lakh. Cash. Poora, asli, ginna hua. Ek paper bhi tha andar — ek taraf mobile number, doosri taraf bank account details.

Kitty ne ghadi dekhi. Raat ke gyarah baje. Raj so raha tha — ya jaise so raha tha. Uske kamre ka darwaza band tha.

Kitty ne woh number milaya.

Teen ring. Phir —

"Hello."

Woh awaaz. Thandi. Bina kisi bhaav ke.

"Hi," Kitty ne kaha. "Main... Kanika bol rahi hoon."

"Hi Kanika," usne kaha. Phir ek pause. "Ya should I say... Kitty?"

Kitty ki peeth kadak hui. "Sirf woh log mujhe Kitty bulate hain jo mujhe kareeb se jaante hain."

"Kareeb se?" Vikas ne kaha, awaaz mein woh halka sa smirk. "Jaise Mr Mehra? Kya Raj ko pata hai unke baare mein?"

Kitty ka dil zor se dhadka.

Woh stunned thi. Woh jaanti thi ki usne Vikas se pehli baar Mehra ke saath hi mila thi — woh connection toh asaan tha. Par usne kabhi usse apne pati ka naam nahi bataya tha. Kabhi nahi.

Usne koshish ki topic badalne ki. "Ye bag... ye paise... kyun?"

"Tune mere baare mein poochhna shuru kiya," Vikas ne kaha. "Lagta hai tujhe interest hai main kya karta hoon. Toh ye simple test hai. Friday raat tak — 18 lakh genuine business accounts se is account mein transfer karne hain. Bacha hua... tera. Appreciation award, first time ke liye."

Kitty ki aankhein badi hui.

Do lakh.

Usne kaha, "Tum ek stranger ko itna bharosa de rahe ho, kya agar main—"

"Don't worry," Vikas ne beech mein hi kaat diya. "Humein pata hai apne paise kaise waapas lete hain. Either cash... ya kind."

Usne "kind" pe zor diya.

Kitty jaanti thi. Uske jism ka matlab. Woh thandi awaaz mein bhi woh garmi thi.

Usne kaha, "Tum mujhe 10% de rahe ho iske liye. Mehra ko toh—"

"Kyunki mujhe tu pasand hai, Kitty," Vikas ne phir beech mein kaat diya. "Tu special hai."

Phone kat gaya.

Kitty wahin baithi rahi — bag saamne, bees lakh cash, aur dimaag mein dhuan.

Khelna tha ya nahi? Par do lakh. Easiest do lakh.

Usne socha. FMCG ki job mein usse NCR ke bade retailers pata the — woh log jinke paas moti cash counter hoti thi, jinke yahan roz lakho ka len-den hota tha.

Usne phone uthaya. Pehla number milaya.

"Ramesh ji? Kitty bol rahi hoon, Mehra sahab ki team se."

"Haah Kitty ji, boliye."

"Ek kaam tha. Ek retailer... legal trouble mein hai, uske paas cash hai par funds chahiye. Kya aap 9 lakh cash deposit kar sakte hain mere behalf pe, aur ek account mein transfer kar denge? Aap jaante hain... influence hai mera."

Ramesh ne kuch socha. Phir kaha, "Theek hai, Kitty ji. Aap bol rahe hain toh."

Doosra call. Same story. Same reply.

Kitty ne phone rakha. Bed pe let gayi. Socha — kal subah office jaate hue dono retailers ko cash drop kar degi. Woh transfer kar denge. Ek ghante ka kaam. Easiest do lakh.

Aur isi tarah, bina jaane, woh game mein phans gayi.

---

 

[chaostheory]

## Chapter Nine: The Warning

*(Kitty ki nazar se)*

Saturday subah.

Ghar mein shaanti thi — woh shaanti jo sirf tab aati hai jab sab bahar hon. Simmy aur Raj gym gaye the saath mein, kuch "sibling bonding" wala excuse leke. Kitty ne unhe jaane diya. Aaj usse akeli rehna tha.

Usne socha tha — kal raat. Usne Raj ko zabardasti apne upar ghaseeta, do baar. Pehli baar jaldi tha, dusri baar usne use poora khaya, aise jaise koi bhookha aadmi. Raj ne kaha tha, awaaz mein woh thakavat aur hairaani, "Aaj tu bahut fiery mood mein hai."

Woh muskurayi thi. Jeet ka maza alag hota hai.

Usne plan banaya tha. Kal shaam, woh expensive restaurant — wahi jahan woh hamesha jaane se bachti thi, "budget" bolke. Ab nahi. Ab uske paas paise the, asli paise. Do lakh, apni mehnat se. Toh teen logon ko dinner pe bulaya tha — Raj, Simmy, aur khud. Celebration. Pehli jeet.

Woh sofe pe baithi thi, ye sab soch rahi thi, jab doorbell baji.

Usne darwaza khola.

Aur woh thi.

Kajal Patel.

Kitty use jaanti thi — social functions mein mili thi, kisi ki shaadi mein, kisi society ke event mein. Par kabhi baat nahi hui. Kajal woh housewife thi jo hamesha pallu sir pe rakhti thi, hamesha thodi si darti hui lagti thi.

Aaj woh yahan thi. Akeli. Do bag haath mein.

"Kanika Ji," Kajal ne kaha, awaaz mein woh halki si kanpanti.

Kitty ne andar aane diya. Kajal ne drawing room mein do bag rakhe. Black, chhote, par bhaari lag rahe the.

"Ye," Kajal ne kaha, "50 lakh hain. Usne bheje hain."

Kitty ne socha — Vikas. Par dimaag mein pehla sawaal yeh aaya ki Kajal uske liye kaam kyun kar rahi hai?

Par Kajal ne usse pehle hi bolna shuru kar diya.

"Kanika Ji," usne kaha, awaaz ab tez ho gayi, "aap aise aadmi ke saath kya kar rahi hain? Vikas. Itna cash. Aap jaanti nahi hain woh kya monster hai."

'Monster.'

Yeh lafz Kitty ko thappad ki tarah laga.

Usne kuch nahi kaha. Bas Kajal ko dekhti rahi. Kajal ka chehra badal raha tha, aankhein badi ho rahi thin, jaise koi dam toot raha ho.

"Kya hua?" Kitty ne dheere se poocha. Console karne ki koshish.

Aur phir Kajal phoot padi.

"Main aur Abhi," usne kaha, saansein phoolti hui, "IPL pe betting karte the. Zyada nahi, 10-15 hazar. Kabhi jeet, kabhi haar. 50 hazar haarne ke baad Abhi ne chhod diya. Main nahi chhodi. Socha losses recover kar lungi. Jaldi hi 6 lakh ke debt mein thi. Abhi ko nahi bata sakti thi. Uske through Vikas ko jaanti thi. Usne warning diya tha — illegal type aadmi hai. Par madad chahiye thi. Uske paas gayi. Usne mera debt waapas kar diya. Par..."

Kajal ruki. Saans li. Aankhein band kar li.

"Par badle mein, ek baar jab Abhi trip pe tha, usne mujhe 3 din apne bedroom mein band rakha. Sirf bedroom. 3 din. Aaj bhi, dedh saal baad, main uski slave hoon. Uski property. Jab chahe, jahan chahe."

Kitty ne use hug kiya. Coffee offer ki. Snacks. Par uska dimaag kahin aur tha.

Woh Kajal Patel nahi thi. Woh housewife nahi thi. Woh gambler nahi thi. Woh smart thi. Control mein thi. Woh alag thi.

Kajal ne coffee nahi pi. Uthte hue usne kaha, "Usne phone kiya tha. Kaha tha ki abhi flat mein sirf tum ho. Woh tum pe nazar rakh raha hai. Tumhari family pe. Main tumhe warning de rahi hoon — uske jaal mein mat phanso."

Aur woh chali gayi. Do bag — 50 lakh — wahin chhod gayi.

Kitty wahin khadi rahi. Bahut sawaal. Conflicting thoughts. Par ek cheez pakki thi — woh Kajal nahi thi.

Woh Kitty thi.