The conclusion

Conclusion

I stayed in the chair because he had not told me I could move.

Anuhya stood between his knees with the phone already recording on the nightstand. The red light blinked. She had signed the page. Her signature was small and careful under the line that said the videos were his, that she gave him the rights to keep them, to show them, to use them however he wanted. She had read it once. She had not asked me anything.

“I regret it,” she said. She was looking at him, not at me. “Being your friend. All those messages. Sitting with you after the critiques. Telling you I was still waiting. You kept it and you brought me here anyway.”

I did not answer. My hands stayed on my knees.

She hesitated, then added, quieter, “I have friends. From studio. One of them keeps asking who I’ve been seeing. And… your sister. She messaged me last week about the portfolio review. She said she might come to the city. If you want them, I can introduce them. I know how you like it when he brings someone new.”

Rajesh’s hand rested on the back of her neck. A slow smile moved across his face. He glanced at me, then back at her.

“You’d do that,” he said. It was not quite a question.

“Yes.” Her voice stayed even. “If you want. He can arrange it the same way he arranged this. I’ll tell them it’s only lunch. Or coffee. Whatever you say.”

He exhaled once, pleased. “I like that. I like it a lot.” His thumb stroked the side of her throat. “We’ll start with the studio friend. Then the sister, when she comes. He’ll call them. He’ll sit where I put him. Same rules.”

She nodded. She did not look at me.

“Say the rest,” he told her.

She took a breath. “The videos are yours. I give you the rights. You can keep them. You can show them. You can use them. I understand.”

He turned her gently so she faced the bed. “On your knees.”

She went down. The camera caught the side of her face and the way her hair fell forward when she leaned in. He was already hard. She took him in her mouth without being told again. I watched her lips stretch around him, watched the slow movement of her head, watched the way her hands rested on his thighs instead of pushing him away.

He looked at me. “Come here.”

I stood. I walked the few steps to the bed. He did not tell me to touch her. He only tilted his head toward her hair.

“Hold it,” he said. “So it stays out of her face.”

I reached down. My fingers slid into her hair the way I had never been allowed to before. It was soft. It was warm. I gathered it at the back of her head and held it loosely so it would not fall across her eyes or her mouth. She did not pull away. She kept moving, slow and careful. Her eyes stayed closed. A small sound left her throat when he guided her deeper. I felt the vibration of it against my fingers where they rested against her scalp.

Rajesh’s hand covered mine for a moment, pressing it more firmly into her hair, then let go. “Like that. Don’t pull. Just keep it clear.”

I held it. I watched her mouth work around him. I watched the way her shoulders moved when she breathed through her nose. She was not looking at me. She had not looked at me since she said she regretted the friendship and offered him the others. She only looked at him when she pulled back to breathe, and even then her eyes stayed on his face.

“Good girl,” he said. His voice was low. “You like this more than you liked being his friend. And you’ll like bringing the next ones even better.”

She made a small sound around him that might have been agreement. Her hips shifted. I kept her hair gathered in my hand. My thumb rested against the warm skin behind her ear. She did not shake me off.

He came with his hand over mine, holding both of us still while he finished in her mouth. She swallowed. She stayed on her knees a moment longer, breathing hard, my fingers still in her hair. Then she lifted her head. A thin line of it clung to her lower lip. She wiped it with the back of her hand and looked at the floor.

Rajesh turned the phone off. He stroked her cheek once. “Tuesday after studio. He’ll message you the time. You come. You don’t answer him anything else. And you think about which friend you want to bring first.”

She nodded. She stood. She dressed without looking at either of us. The blouse was the same one from last night. She tied her hair back the way she did for studio. At the door she stopped. She still did not look at me.

“Take her down,” Rajesh said to me. “Get her a taxi. Don’t talk unless she talks.”

I nodded. She opened the door and stepped into the corridor. I followed. We walked to the lift without speaking. The doors opened. We stepped inside. The doors closed. The lift began to descend.

For a moment neither of us moved. Then she turned. She looked at me for the first time since the restaurant. Her mouth was still slightly swollen. She reached for my belt without asking. I did not stop her. She undid it, freed me, and sank to her knees on the lift floor the same way she had knelt for him. Her hand closed around me. She took me into her mouth without ceremony.

The lift kept moving. I put my hand in her hair again, the way I had just done upstairs, and held it clear of her face. She did not pull away. She worked me the way she had worked him—slow, careful, thorough—while the floors ticked past. I watched the numbers change above her head. I watched her eyes stay closed. When the lift slowed near the ground floor she pulled off, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and stood. She adjusted her blouse. I fastened my belt. The doors opened. Neither of us spoke.

Outside I hailed a taxi. She got in. She looked at me once through the open window.

“Don’t message me unless he tells you to,” she said. “Don’t ask how I am. Don’t tell me you’re sorry. You already chose. And when he wants your sister, you’ll call her the same way you called me.”

I nodded. The taxi pulled away. I stood on the pavement until it turned the corner. Then I walked back inside, took the lift alone, and returned to the room.

Rajesh was still on the bed. The phone and the signed page were on the desk.

“She’ll come on Tuesday,” he said. “And she’ll bring the next one when I tell her to. You’ll arrange the room. You’ll sit where I put you. You’ll hold her hair when I tell you to. That is what you are for now.”

I stayed standing. My phone was in my pocket. The message I would send on Tuesday was already clear in my head. Later there would be another message, to someone else. I would type exactly what he told me. I would not add anything else. She would read it. She would come. And the next time she offered him someone new, he would smile the same way he had just smiled, and I would do what I was told.

The friendship was finished. What remained was the chair, the recordings, the next names she would give him, the lift, and the next time he would tell me to hold her hair out of her face while she chose him again. I put my hands back in my pockets and waited for the instruction. I knew it would come.