Giri had been sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress still warm from his weight, a quiet anticipation building in him as he waited for Mira's call. He'd imagined her finishing up, perhaps needing help with her arm, but the thought of her calling him, truly needing him, sent a low thrum of excitement through his veins. The soft murmur of her voice reached him, a delicate sound that barely pierced the silence, and he was on his feet in an instant, pulling the bathroom door open with a gentle click.

The sight that greeted him stole his breath, making his carefully controlled composure waver. Mira was seated on the small plastic stool, perfectly framed by the stark white tiles of the bathroom. Water droplets clung to her wheatish skin, glistening like a thousand tiny diamonds under the soft bathroom light. She looked utterly captivating, a vision of raw, natural beauty, like a feast laid out just for him, ready to be devoured. Her curvaceous body was inviting him to devour it hungrily.