Her Husband’s Boss
Her Husband Took Three Minutes. His Boss Took All Night.
Six years married. Three minutes a night. A husband who has never once asked what she wants.
Reshma doesn’t leave Mohan. She loves him: his manners, his careful kindness, his chai made exactly right. She just stops pretending that three minutes is enough.
Then the new CEO arrives from Sydney. Neil is tall, fair, thirty-two, with a handshake that lasts a beat too long and a way of listening that Mohan lost years ago. “I’d ask you out,” he says, “if you weren’t married.”
She plans the dinner herself. Three days of shopping. A burgundy saree, black lace cut exactly where a man’s thumbs would go, a galouti her Nani would have approved of. Mohan’s promotion review is in March, and Mohan thinks the evening was his idea.
Then one phone call takes her husband out of the house, and his wife asks his boss if he has somewhere else to be.
By morning she has a lie ready, a dupatta wound around her throat, a pharmacy to find, and one question for the man in her husband’s bed: how do we find the time?
Cheating Indian wife • CEO boss • Husband’s boss • Interracial: Indian heroine, Caucasian Australian hero • Unpunished infidelity • Husband never finds out • First time anal • Unprotected sex • Husband on the phone mid-act • Not romance • Standalone novelette
Explicit content. 18+ Adults only.
A glimpse beneath the sheets…
Six years married to a good man who takes three minutes. Reshma has not stopped thinking about what Neil, the new CEO and her husband’s boss, said to her at the party: he’d ask her out if she weren’t married. Neil is an Australian from Sydney, fair where everyone in Mohan’s office is brown. Tonight she has cooked for three days, wrapped herself in burgundy georgette over black lace, and invited him to dinner. Mohan thinks it’s about his promotion.
***
Neil looked at her: face, breasts, bare midriff, face. Two seconds, measured, and what crossed his expression was not social politeness.
He held out a bottle of wine. “You didn’t have to,” she said.
“Barossa Shiraz,” he said. “Can’t arrive empty-handed.”
When they settled for dinner, Neil stopped after taking the first bite. He looked at her across the table.
“You made this,” he said. Not a question.
“Some things deserve the effort,” she said. The sentence was entirely innocent. She held his gaze a beat longer than it required.
“Some things certainly do,” he said, his eyes sliding downwards till the dining table stopped them.
Under the table she had removed one heel. Her foot found Neil’s ankle. She pressed lightly against his calf and watched him reach for his wine without a change in expression. That was all she did while Mohan was present. It was enough.
Mohan stepped away to take a call, and the apartment went briefly, usefully quiet.
Neil looked at her immediately.
“Mosquitoes under your dining table?”
“Monsters. The biting kind.”
“You cook like this for everyone?”
“Only when I want something.”
He waited. She smiled. Mohan returned.
The call came at ten-fifteen. She watched Mohan’s face go through its sequence: confusion, recognition, duty, as he stepped away from the table. When he came back he wore the expression of a man about to apologise.
“Emergency at Gurgaon. Inspector at dawn, I have to go tonight.” He looked at Neil with real discomfort. “I’m so sorry. Terrible hospitality.”
“Go. Don’t worry about it, mate. No dramas.”
“Reshma will—”
“I’ll take care of him,” she said. Perfectly even. “Go. Call when you get there.”
Laptop bag. Site jacket. A kiss on her cheek. Four minutes and he was gone.
She stood at the closed door. When she turned, Neil was on his feet, moving toward the hall for his jacket: doing the correct gentlemanly thing, reading the situation exactly right, which was exactly wrong.
“Neil.”
He stopped and turned.
She reached up and drew the gold pin from her shoulder. The pallu loosened and slid and she let it fall.
“Have somewhere else you need to be?” she said.
He looked at the pallu gathered at her feet. He looked at her face. A beat: the gentleman making his decision.
“No.”
Continue the story in Her Husband’s Boss.
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All images are AI generated and do not depict any real person.