From the narrow lane leading into the main square, Mohini appeared.

Every step she took was unhurried, as if she knew the world would stop to wait for her. The gulabi and safed silk clung to her curves like it had been woven only for her body. The deep-cut blouse left little to the imagination—her breasts, full and soft, pushed forward with each breath, the silk molding perfectly to their shape. Her pallu trailed behind her, hanging from one shoulder like an afterthought, swaying slightly to reveal the smooth, warm skin of her upper chest and the tantalizing hint of the swell beneath.