Chapter 2: Becoming the Sketch
The story so far (Synopsis)
Anita, a married Mumbai literature teacher, is increasingly facing harassment by a student Aditya who is from a powerful family. Her husband, Kunal, surprisingly responds in an erotic way when she confides in him, unlocking a secret layer of shame and desire. The boundaries between power, fantasy, and humiliation are blurred as Anita fights to keep control in both her home and school. After receiving a provocative sketch of herself one day, she feels extremely humiliated and can't help but show it to her husband at home.
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Now story ahead
At night, she gave this sketch to Kunal quietly.
It was a drawing. Rude... yet clear. A woman--her--drawn spread out across a classroom bench. Blouse pulled tight, saree pleats upset. Her lips parted, breasts accentuated. Legs drawn wide open, provocatively. Rude. Disturbing.
At the top, scrawled in Hindi, the title read: "Ma'am ki Open Class" (Ma'am's Open Class).
With her fingers clasped and her legs drawn together, she perched on the edge of the bed. He continued to look at the paper. Her chest grew constricted. Was he upset? Stunned? Worse--interested?
As if learning the contours of her body from the sketch, his thumb absently touched the corner of the page.
"I am... amazed. Disturbed, indeed. But also amazed." Kunal said in slow voice.
Anita kept a careful eye on him. It was hard to miss the intensity in his eyes, the tiny heat that rose to his cheeks, and the way his breath caught just a little. Something more profound than his measured words was revealed by the faint trembling in his fingers and the slightest tightening of his jaw. "You're aroused," she remarked, smiling knowingly as she steadily met his eyes.
He didn't refute it. His gaze lingered over the paper, scanning it once more.
"He's fantasising about you. He draws you the way he imagines you."
"Stop," she said softly.
He did not listen. Instead, he came closer and said softly, "He has drawn as if you are offering your body. Legs apart, ready to fuck.
"Kunal, please- Hold on."
His eyes were fixed on a little detail.
He said," Look... here. At your wrist."
Anita looked carefully. Nearly buried in the lines, there was a mangalsutra, not around the neck....but gently looped around her wrist, like a bracelet.
A mangalsutra is a sacred necklace worn by married Hindu women which symbolizes a woman's marital status, much like a wedding ring in Western cultures.
She gasped.
Kunal leaned close, murmuring against her ear with a low voice: "Amusing! He slipped it from your neck to your wrist, as if you were offering it to him. What i I lower it, and put it down there, where only I have the right?
Her thighs reflexively squeezed together.
He kissed her on the shoulder. "You feel that, right?"
"His view of you is disgusting. But the way I see you now, it's fire."
He sat next to her.
"Anita, look at me."
She certainly did.
And he softly and maliciously, whispered, "Let us use it."
She opened her eyes. "Use what?"
" Use sketch."
She hoped she was mistaken, but she understood what he meant. It was filthy idea. However, something inside of her tightened at the imagination.
"Let me act as Aditya this evening. Let me play the boy who fantasizes about his teacher in that position."
She flinched slightly. "You want to turn me on from his filth?"
Kunal's eyes hardened, not with malice but with want.
"I wish to bring our sexual feeling back. That drawing enraged me. But, I cannot ignore the artistic value of it. I am excited to see how a student of yours imagines you. Let us turn his filthy fantasy into ours in constructive way."
The idea was disgusting. It scared her.
But, secretly it thrilled her also. She wanted to say no, but her body was already betraying her.
She finally said, "And what precisely would we do?"
He said softly, "We will not draw inspiration from the sketch, but we will be the sketch."
Being the sketch meant giving in to the gaze of the student who created that sketch and to make his fantasy a reality. Her thighs betrayed her with a throb.
Anita scowled.
"What do you mean?"
He took the wrinkled paper and smoothed it out.
"Your pose. Your bench seat. Your sari. The way your legs were sketched... I want everything. Exactly "
"Kunal, that drawing is disgusting."
"But it's you, Anita. Whether we like it or not, he caught your emotion very erotically."
She paused. Her breath was coming in rapid bursts. Kunal moved behind her. His voice, tinged with authority, softened.
"Listen. Adjust your saree as in the sketch."
She hesitated before starting to unwrap.
Her husband wasn't undressing her. Rather she was being undressed in front of a boy who wasn't even present in the room.
He carefully led her to the desk, surprisingly precisely arranging her body.
He said, "Sit at the edge. Just like that in the sketch"
He spread her legs and set one thigh bent at the knee while the other lay farther out. "It's uncomfortable," she replied, moving with uneasiness.
Her hair covered her features and her blouse stuct to her skin, making her exposed and venerable.
"I know," he remarked.
"But that's the point. It's not about your comfort. It's about losing control. Your student imagined her teacher spreading like this... and I get to make it real."
He thumbed her nipple as he grasped her breast through the blouse.
