The storm over Mumbai had turned the penthouse into a sealed chamber of heat and electricity, the air conditioning fighting a losing battle against the humidity seeping through every window frame. Priya had prepared the room herself candles placed strategically around the edges, casting amber shadows that danced against the walls, and the bed dressed in fresh emerald silk sheets that matched her chosen attire.

She stood before the mirror, adjusting the velvet saree for the hundredth time. It draped across her body like a lover's hand, clinging to her hips, her waist, the curve of her ass. The blouse pushed her boobs up and together, creating a cleavage so deep it could hold a man's gaze forever.