Neha encountered this guy online on an app, which is basically used for sexual encounters. His name was Raghav. Their first night was just a steamy, sexy night for both of them.
She had no clue that he worked in such a place until they were meeting again and again.
He revealed a lot of things, such as his similarity with Neha. He had never felt any connection with any of the women he has slept with and needed to feel something other than his duty. Which rested Neha's raising questions.
She allocated about her life as well. About her being an only child, but a problematic one. About the relationship with her mother and her best friend.
Since he worked in that secret bawdyhouse, he realized what kind of women usually arrived there and assumed Mira would love the experience.
"She'd like this place!" He suggested and handed a black card to Neha. "You have to go to this place." He said, "They are very secretive and very safe. She will like it."
And thus Neha suggested a suggestion given to her to Mira.
Midnight, bright lights, brown walls, in the office in her apartment on the 23rd floor. In front of her large computer screen, wearing a dark black flowy, nightgown, Mira was beating her keypad, struggling to write an idea.
Getting distracted by the busy city lights visible from the large glass door to her right, she gasped, glancing at the couch in front of the glass door, right beside her.
Although Mira desired a change. She denied considering a bawdyhouse. It was not the virtuous place for someone like her; she thought. It was not decent and upright.
As her thoughts started growing, thinking about what to do. Whether to call the bawdyhouse or not, she received a call herself.
It buzzed beside the mouse, making the wooden, white working table buzz as well.
Rolling her eyes at the view of the name popping on her phone screen, she exhaled hard, astonished at his audacity to call her this late.
Irritated, she answered the call. "Why did you call?" She could not sound any harsher.
"Do not be angry! It's important." He startled.
Mr. Rao was the next successor of the famous publishing firm and had been appointed as Mira's manager by her own agreement.
The main motto of Mr. Rao's mother by appointing him to Mira was to teach him flexibility. Which Mira disliked so much. But let it happen anyway.
Mira was the toughest and the nastiest writer in their famous publishing firm. The fame of the firm was brought up by her writings, which is why she was a spoiled writer. Who was just as richer as the firm itself.
"What for?" She coldly replied, staring at the blue screen with empty word pages.
"What?" He was the joyful sibling of three of his brothers. A hardworking, tall, sturdy, brown skin, black hair, and black-eyed, 27 years old lad.
He was a guy of wit and competitive nature. Yet he surrendered before Mira.
"To help, of course. To help you write. You know I'm your manager, right? Plus, -- my mother will kill me if I do not -wag- behind you."
"I would have fired you already if you weren't your mother's son."
"I know. -- That's why I'm very thankful for her being the CEO of the company." Rolling her eyes at his trying-to-be-funny words, she disconnected the call, slapping her forehead.
"His golden retriever conduct irks me," Mira bitterly whispered, leaving the white wooden chair empty.
