Ann Influences Her Neighbor's Son

Special Thanks to April Rose who edited my story.

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I vividly remember the day when I joined Jet Airways as an Air-hostess. I still remember that wonderful moment when my name was called and I was selected. Though my parents were not in favor of the idea, I still took that leap of faith, knowing I had all the traits to make it big in this profession: I was a young, smart and extroverted woman with a pleasing personality and good interpersonal skills. My name is Annapurna; people call me Ann.

Everything looked rosy in the beginning. There were frequent foreign trips, trendy clothes and late night parties, stays at five-star hotels; I loved my new found independence. But that jetset lifestyle also had its share of drawbacks, like the fatigue due to erratic sleep patterns. However, nothing bothered me as long as the pay was good.

There were also numerous temptations which led to my moral decadence. Unlike my other colleagues, who were in constant search around the globe for Mr Right, I was out there hobnobbing with the rich and famous ones, which led to many steamy love affairs with no commitments; I was much happier in those temporary romantic flings. Unlike my other colleagues who had to constantly balance their traditional values and professional demands, I was free from tradition, thanks to my non-religious upbringing - my dad and mom were Atheist.

But good days seldom last for eternity, eventually I had to quit airline industry due to downsizing. I was 30 and some months old, and all this seven years I'd amassed enough money to live a comfortable life for the next few years. With no responsibilities on my shoulders, it was time to enjoy the fruits of my labor.

I started living with my dad in a two-bedroom apartment. My mom had died three years ago and dad was working as a university professor where he taught accounts and economics. He was always an independent man, spending most of his days in intellectual musings, as well as always being a diehard Marxist. So I was home alone most of the time. This was a much needed break for me, after flying around the world like a crazy bird, for seven long years. It was time to ensconce myself in the city which is known for its laid-back attitude.

My family originally belong to the city Kolkata, which is situated on the eastern side of India in the state of West-Bengal, and it used to be the capital of British India. We migrated to Hyderabad around 40 years ago, which is known for its laid back attitude and conservative values. The face of the city has changed drastically in the last few years, especially since the emergence of BPO and the IT industry, it's been given a new cosmopolitan look - despite conflict still continuing between the traditional and modern values. When I returned after travelling for so long I couldn't believe how the city has changed in some ways and yet how certain things remained unchanged.

I was slowly getting accustomed to normal city life. I met some old friends and acquaintances with whom I'd had no contact for ages. The majority of my friends were married and happy with their traditional role as house wives; with at least one or two kids. I looked like a maverick among them, for some it was a cardinal sin for a woman to remain single at 30. Some well-wishers also encouraged me to get married, and went one step ahead to show me prospective grooms. If they had a glimpse of my wild nature - and were informed about the kinky stuff I did for seven years as an Air hostess - they would throw me in a brothel.

The colony where I lived had a sober environment, with a mixed culture. And people from various religions had co-existed peacefully there for years. Yet, the oriental values persisted, which were embedded in patriarchy; everyone wanted to keep the honor of their womenfolk and fantasize about the neighbors wife or daughter. Their eagerness would double if she belonged to a different religion. I wonder how many Muslim men eyed on me. It would've been wise to restrain my horny nature, when people around had such double standards, but somehow I managed to unleash my kinky side in this inhospitable environment. It all started when our neighbor Sadiq pleaded with my dad to help his son Jamal in studies.

Jamal was 19 and still struggling to pass high school examination. Dad couldn't say no, because Sadiq always helped us in bad times. His unconditional support was always around and he had deep respect for dad; in spite of being a devout Muslim, he respected dad's atheistic view. It was because of him that we could get a better deal for this apartment. He was also instrumental in getting us a home loan as he supported us when mom was terminally ill. He was the only person we could trust.

Even with no formal education Sadiq was a successful businessman. His only worry was his son's education. He wanted his son to at least finish his graduation, but Jamal's lackluster performance in academics persisted. He was struggling to clear his high school exams. Every day the classes would start around 5pm in the evening. In few days me and dad figured out that Jamal did not lack in IQ, his problem was lack of interest in academics.

Dad was giving his best shot, but in spite of being a professional tutor he had no magic wand to generate interest in education. All he could do was to hone the skills of students who were already interested. Jamal was a tough nut to crack. I knew Jamal when he was a toddler, so it was easy to strike conversation with him. Dad was always late by 15 minutes and in that short time me and Jamal would engage in small talk. I would make him feel comfortable, something which is natural to an air hostess.

One afternoon when I was alone in the apartment, someone began indiscriminately knocking on the door. I was petrified for a moment, then I realized that the bell wasn't working due to power-cut. In that very moment I received a miss call from my friend Tina. I was expecting her to be at my place this morning. I opened the door and to my shock it was Jamal. My reaction was a mixture of confusion and shock; I never expected him so early. It was 4pm and Jamal's normal time was 4:45. It wasn't his presence that embarrassed me, it was my dress. I was wearing a faded light blue, thin-strapped, 'V' neck line Maxi. It was a sexy outfit and titillating for a 19 year old boy. I was wearing a fairly small bikini that showed plenty of tits. Reluctantly, I allowed him in, but in my confusion I dropped my cell phone and bent over to pick up. This bending over exposed a good part of my cleavage, I'm sure he must have had a nice glimpse of the thin white bra. He had mixed expression on his face, and was completely shocked.

It took around a minute or two for the dust to settle. I escorted him to his regular place. Jamal was a decade younger to me. I would never attempt this sort of a brazen thing in my wildest dream. This was sheer accidental exposure, but somehow had a titillating effect on this 19 year old lad.

As I entered the kitchen to prepare some tea, the dim light which poured on me augmented the transparency of my maxi, and made everything crystal clear: my shapely lower body was blatantly exposed. The faded light blue color of the maxi didn't hide much of the bikini, my gorgeous behind was fully exposed underneath the transparent maxi. I wondered what Jamal would be thinking watching my curvy bottom half. I'm sure it must have been a huge fucking tease for him.

As soon as I prepared the tea I rushed to my room, without having a single word with Jamal. I didn't want to mess up his mind anymore. Furthermore I didn't want to screw up his academic life which was already in shambles.

During the next couple of hours I stayed in my room; spending my time on laptop checking my Facebook wall and dozens of friends request from desperate young men. When I came out I was surprised to see dad delighted. I couldn't believe it, as for the last two weeks he had always been disappointed after the class, Jamal's dipping performance worrying him. But mostly he had been worried about his friend, and how he would face him. I was curious to know what exactly happened and started probing. To my surprise Jamal showed keen interest in studies that day, he was able to grasp everything. This was nothing less than a miracle - even dad couldn't believe it. He had no rational explanation for it.

Next day, I was out with Tina, for the entire morning and afternoon. When I returned home late in the evening, dad had a disappointing look on his face. Jamal was back to his normal ways. The same lackluster performance continued. It seemed like yesterday's good work was like a flash in the pan.

I kept thinking that night: what made his interest kick in last evening and why hadn't it today? The only different thing that happened since yesterday was my accidental exposure, but that seemed like a wild guess. It would be a blatant assumption to link my semi-exposed curvaceous body with his academic intelligence.

To get appropriate answers I messaged my Facebook friend Jeremy. Jeremy lived in the USA and had a degree Psychology, his entire worldview was a long Freudian psychoanalysis; the word 'shame' had no place in his existence. His entire life revolved around sexual perversions, even in a normal conversation he would use nice euphemisms as a cover-up to his perversion. Nevertheless he always had some unique information to share.

It took 15 minutes to get a reply from this pervert, after some chit-chat I narrated the entire incident, by concealing my real identity, and using a fictitious identity of a non-existing friend. Jeremy patiently read everything that I wrote, and took an unusually long time to reply. He then narrated a psychological experiment which was conducted a few years ago. The purpose of the experiment was to show that lust can unleash creativity in any individual.

In the experiment, the psychologist divided his subjects into two groups. The first group of men would be sitting by themselves in his office room without interacting with anyone. After waiting for several minutes in a monotonous room, each man was called to meet the psychologist. The psychologist instructed them to draw for 5 minutes and express themselves through art work. Once the first group was over, he did something different for the second group of men. He introduces them, one by one, to the charming and desirable Kate in his office room. That group was lucky to find Kate: wearing a sexy miniskirt much above the knees and a tank top, she shamelessly flirted with every subject, and escorted them to the art room. The psychologist then called an art curator to compare the drawings of both groups. The ones who were introduced to Kate showed more creativity and produced better quality of art, when compared to the previous group. Subjects from both groups were amateur artists. Therefore the psychologist concluded that introducing Kate in her skimpy outfit made all the difference.

I was exhilarated to read about the experiment, but somehow I was still skeptical, because Jeremy wasn't one hundred percent sure that it could improve academic intelligence. I was still eager to give it a try.

Showing some skin wasn't new for me. I'd traveled around the world, slept with several high profile men, participated in group sex and orgies, been to the sexiest beaches in bikinis - even topless. I thought it wasn't a bad idea to show some skin to this handsome young man. Jamal was introverted and hardly spoke to anyone. He was unlucky to be born in a conservative family where his mom was an illiterate control freak. From all the small talk I had with him, it was easy to figure out that he had no meaningful relationship with any women.

Next evening, as usual, dad was late. I took advantage and wore a loose fitting black A-line miniskirt, slimming at the bottom, and way above my knees. My skirt was sexy and small showing good amount of legs while camouflaging those generous hips. I wore a white colored off shoulder tops, which had a deep V-neck line.

The door was unlocked and Jamal could be there any moment. Suddenly I heard a creaking sound. My heart was in the mouth for a moment I thought it must be dad. But it was Jamal, which gave me a sigh of relief. This lad never fails to surprise me, I thought.

Jamal was dumbstruck and embarrassed. With full confidence I told him to get inside and close the door. He completed the task in a clumsy manner, which made me giggle, then with the same audacity I told him to sit on the opposite sofa. He obeyed the order. We were now sitting opposite to each other. I leaned slightly forward, with my legs dangling on the side of the sofa. Jamal stopped looking at me - poor chap was too frightened to make any eye contact. My skirt rode high on my thighs. Jamal on the other hand was pretending to revise some notes, but simultaneously trying hard to get a glimpse of the forbidden region. I loved this hide and seek game.

The living room was tidy, perfectly arranged, not even a pillow out of place. I moved back while keeping my legs close together and then slightly opened my legs for a micro second, but not enough to see anything; I loved teasing him. I knew that he must be eagerly waiting for the magic moment to peek into my miniskirt. This waiting game was fun.

The inner thighs and upper hips were perfectly visible, but the area between my things was not clearly visible. I then made a slight adjustment by spreading my legs wide, with my skirt hitched up; my blue dotted underwear was on show. The movement was only for a few seconds, but I was confident that he had crystal clear view of my underwear.

I was texting on my mobile phone and also wondering what Jamal must have thought about this quick flash. Jamal was secretly stealing glances of my hips. I gently opened and lifted my leg and once again gave a free show of my undies. Then I slowly got up; without realizing that my skirt inched up a little further. His eyes savored my legs and good part of my inner thighs. My panty-clad pussy was blatantly exposed. I rushed to the kitchen to get some sweets. There were some Roshgullas made out of jaggery - Roshgulla is a famous Bengali sweet.

I returned in a minute with a bowl full of Roshgullas. He seemed completely taken aback, and fully confused. When I walked towards him to offer Roshgulla, he moved backwards, scared, as if I was a predator about to attack him. He reluctantly took one big piece and gulped it; the sweet water started oozing out of his mouth; while he was munching the whole piece. I went to my place, while sitting made a half twirl which raised my short skirt once again giving a perfect view of my underwear. Jamal's eyes were wide open while munching the big piece of Roshgulla.

Dad might be in at any moment, meanwhile Jamal's eyes were transfixed on my legs. One final time I opened my legs wide enough and my underwear was on display again. Jamal was embarrassed and gave a stupid grin. After that I got up and went to my room. I could hear the creaking sound of the door that must have been dad and then the class started.

For the next couple of hours, I was on Facebook posting and replying. I was curious to know how Jamal fared in his studies after the little teasing session. When the class got over I slowly came out of my room, dad was intensely reading some notes. I walked up to him to enquire. He was surprised and couldn't believe his eyes: Jamal had excelled in all the subjects. He was able to memorize some difficult answers in economics and reproduce them point by point in his notebook. His performance was exceptional by all accounts.

Dad was still skeptical and I couldn't blame him, these temporary good results could again be a flash in the pan. His concern was genuine; Jamal had shown the tendency to backslide.

This incident re-ignited my exhibitionist side which had remained dormant since I left the airline job. I was thrilled to be in control of the situation. Jamal never crossed his limits, which could've been due to the age difference or maybe he was a true voyeur. Not looking for sex, but wanting to look and feast his eyes. I loved being an exhibitionist woman; using my power to excite or maybe enslave him. I loved his clumsy antics when he saw me in a miniskirt. I wanted everything to remain spontaneous, and it would be more exciting if everything seemed accidental.

The next day was a weekend and I woke up late around 11am. I took my own sweet time to shower and get dressed and had a sumptuous brunch. I watched TV, read the newspaper and some fashion magazine, meandered around doing nothing. It was around 3:00 in the afternoon when I heard the creaking sound of the door while I was in my room watching some funny video on YouTube. I could hear dad speaking to someone. I didn't bother to go out and find out who. They left in the next few minutes; Dad hardly stayed at home on weekends, he would be busy attending some freethinkers or Atheist meetings.

Around 4:00 I received a call from Tina, we decided to meet at a pub for drinks. She would pick me up at around 5:00. Giving me one hour to get ready. Most importantly, I had to complete the tedious task of ironing my jeans and T-shirt, and I went to dad's room to do it. I visited his room only when I needed a book, some hangers or the iron. While I was ironing there was a loud deafening noise of drums outside - due to the celebration of Ganesha festival.

Once I finished ironing, I removed my blue color maxi, which I'd been wearing all day, and stood stark naked in front of the mirror. The door was slightly open, and since I was alone I didn't bother to close it. While the deafening noise continued outside, I was in dad's room alone and naked, standing in front of the mirror. I looked directly at myself in the mirror and started observing my naked body. At 30 I was satisfied with my body, there was nothing to be alarmed about and I was in perfect shape: womanly and curvy, with a well defined waist line, fuller hips and bust and generous thighs.

My boobs were perfectly normal and attractive, although some stretch marks still remained due to the sudden growth when I was a teenager. Nevertheless, I had received plenty of attention from the opposite sex due to my boobs. My pubic hair was growing, as I'd been too lazy of late to wax, though my underarms were clean.

At last the noise stopped. Suddenly someone opened the bedroom door, I came out of my reveries with a sudden jolt, startled to see Jamal standing tall, watching my naked body. He stayed there embarrassed for ten seconds, then gave a melting look then moved towards the hall. I was horrified; those ten seconds seemed like eternity. I felt like a victim about to be raped. I never imagined in my wildest dream that Jamal would barge in a room and find me fully naked. Everything was quick and sudden.

The door was still partially open. My cell phone was ringing. It was a message tune. There were a few missed calls and a message from dad. I couldn't hear the phone ring due to the outside noise. I ignored the message and quickly gave a call-back. Dad wanted his room and study table to be properly arranged for Jamal; class would be held in his room.

I was perplexed for some time. Dad would arrive in the next thirty minutes. It was 4:20pm already. And I had to get ready by 5:00. I quickly grabbed my black colored high-cut panty, and a black strapless bra. And within no time I was in two piece cloth. I could now understand things in hindsight. Dad must have left the door unlocked when he was on a short visit at 3:00 in the afternoon. He must have informed Jamal about class. As usual dad was late, and Jamal bumped into the room.

Even though I was shocked to see Jamal, I felt a strong urge to tease him, and was thrilled about it. My censored regions were now covered. I quickly brushed my hair and finished my make-up, and called him in. Poor fellow must be thinking that I must be fully dressed. He stood at the entrance starring at me, fully confused, and embarrassed.