I pushed the door open without knocking. Amit’s house always smelled like his mom’s perfume mixed with that warm, lived-in scent. Amit had texted me twenty minutes ago saying he was stuck at the market and would take at least an hour. That was all the invitation I needed.

Mrs. Sharma was in the living room, standing near the window with her back to me. She wore a thin white cotton nighty that stopped mid-thigh. The fabric was almost see-through in the afternoon light. I could see the dark shape of her bra-less tits and the soft curve of her heavy ass.