Leo woke up slowly.
The first thing he was aware of was warmth. Then a weight. Then the soft, slow rhythm of someone breathing against his chest.
Manjula was pressed against him, her face tucked under his chin, her long black hair loose and spread across his pillow. At some point in the night she had turned. He had fallen asleep spooning her, one arm around her waist, her thick hair braid between them. Now the braid was gone, undone against his shoulder, and she had rolled to face him and slid both arms around him.
She was still asleep. Or close to it.
Leo didn't move.
Her body, even through the thin cotton of her panties and bra, was a full, soft, curvy thing that pressed tightly against him. Her heavy tits were squished flat against his ribs, the tops of them spilling over the cups, her wide brown nipples stiffening into hard points through the fabric and rubbing against his bare skin with every breath she took. One of her thick, toned brown legs was hooked over his, thigh pressed to thigh, the warm, soft mound of her panty-covered pussy pushed firmly against the side of his leg. He could feel the heat of her through the cotton, a faint damp spot forming where her cunt met his skin. His palm was resting in the deep curve of her hip where it flared out into her fat ass, the flesh soft under his fingers.
She made a small, contented sound in her sleep and burrowed closer. One of her legs slid a little higher over his, her pussy grinding a slow, unconscious half-inch along his thigh. He was happy the sheet they slept under had only covered their calves and feet at the moment, because he got to watch as her chocolate bubble butt shifted and jiggled, the thin cotton of her panties riding up and disappearing between her full Indian cheeks, the fabric wedged tight into the crack of her ass. He could see the faint outline of where her asshole was through the fabric.
They stayed like that for a long time.
'She has not been held like this in a very long time,' he thought.
And then he thought about how Saturday dinner at the Simpsons' house was today and how he had other things to take care of.
He sighed, pressed a light kiss to the top of her head, and slowly started to untangle himself.
The usual him would've spent the rest of the morning fucking the sleeping mother but he restrained himself. He knew it was a sensitive time for Manjula. She was fresh from meeting the divorce lawyer and her kids were gone. The last time they had sex, she had initially done it out of anger, then because she was lost in pleasure. Although he knew he could get her to allow him to fuck her right now if he tried, he wanted to let the next time build organically so she would be attached and addicted to just more than his dick.
That was the same reason why he only cuddled with her last night.
"Mmph," Manjula quietly protested him getting out of bed.
"I have to get up."
"Mm."
Her arms loosened, reluctantly, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood.
He stretched, one hand running through his hair, and turned back to tell her she could keep sleeping as long as she wanted.
But Manjula was awake now. Very awake. Sitting up against the headboard, the sheet had been pulled up to around her waist, her heavy bra-covered tits rising and falling with her breathing. Staring.
Leo was standing there in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.
And after all that cuddling, the boxer briefs were being stretched to the limit. His hard cock was tenting the front, the outline long and obvious, the fabric was being pulled by the heavy weight of it.
Manjula's eyes were locked on the outline of him, her mouth slightly open, her hand frozen halfway to pushing her hair back.
Leo tilted his head. "Something on my face?" He knew her eyes were straight on the outline of his hard dick.
Her eyes didn't move.
"Manjula."
"It is…" She finally looked up at him, and her cheeks went a deeper shade of brown. "It is very big."
"Thank you."
"No, I mean—" She glanced back down, then quickly back up, then back down. "It has been… in me."
"Yes."
"In both holes…"
"Yes. Vagina and asshole."
She stared for another long second, her brown thighs pressing together under the sheet. Her voice dropped almost to a whisper.
"Apu's would be so tiny next to that."
Leo let out a single laugh before he could stop himself.
Manjula clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. "I did not mean—"
"Yes you did."
"I did not mean to say it out loud."
Her face was burning now. She pulled the sheet up to her chin like it could help. Leo just shook his head, still grinning.
"Say it again. This time on purpose."
She took a moment, but complied.
"Apu's would be so tiny next to that big dick," she said with her soft Indian accent.
She looked at his abs and strong toned arms and shoulders and continued. "His everything would be small next to you."
'Looks like she'll have no problem moving on from her past.' He went to grab his shirt.
…
"Leo?"
He glanced over his shoulder. She was still sitting up, the sheet clutched in her hands, her hair a mess around her shoulders.
"Yeah?"
"Could we… could we make breakfast together? Like last time?"
He let the shirt hang in his hand.
"Sure," he said easily. "On one condition."
"Mm?"
He walked back to the bed, set one hand on the headboard beside her ear, and leaned down just slightly.
"You come down the way you are now. Bra and panties. That's it."
"L-Leo, I—"
"No sari today. Just you."
She was a woman who had covered herself from ankle to collarbone every day of her adult life. Who had been wrapped in silk even in bed. She even wore a sari when cooking at home because of the kids. Leo wanted to have her doing things she hadn't done with anybody before.
She bit the inside of her cheek. Then she nodded.
"Okay."
…
Leo was already at the counter, mixing the ingredients to make pancake batter, when he heard her bare feet on the tile behind him. He turned.
Manjula stood in the doorway with her arms crossed self-consciously over her stomach, in nothing but a plain bra and matching high-waisted cotton panties. The cotton rode up at her hips, cutting into the curve where her wide brown ass began. The strap of the bra cut slightly into her back where her heavy, full tits pushed against cups that looked one size too small for her. He could see the thick points of her nipples poking hard against the fabric, the shape of her wide areolas faintly visible through the thin material. Her thighs were full, touching where they met, the inner flesh thick and pressed together. Her plump pussy made a visible mound against the front of her panties, the cotton stretched tight across her crotch and showed the swelling of her clit above her lips. He could see the faint hint of a camel toe where the fabric pressed into her slit.
Her long hair, loose and unbraided, fell all the way down her back past her shoulder blades.
Leo just looked at her for a moment.
"Stop staring," she mumbled.
"Not a chance."
She huffed, but she was fighting a smile. She walked past him to the fridge, and Leo watched her wide ass roll and bounce with every step, each cheek jiggling heavily against the other, the cotton riding further up with every step until almost all of her cheeks were exposed underneath. Even the smooth skin of her upper back, the curve of her spine, and the twin dimples above her ass turned him on.
…
She was pouring the batter onto the skillet. He was cutting fruit for the toppings. She stood at the stove with one hand on her hip. Every time she moved, her tits shifted in the bra.
'This is pleasant,' he thought.
'This would be better if I could swap out who was standing there every morning.' A mental rotation came to him. Manjula Monday in this exact beige set. Marge Tuesday in that white lace he had seen through the changing booth crack. Cookie Wednesday in whatever red silk thing she'd feel entitled to wear in his kitchen. Maude Thursday, wearing nothing, blushing so hard.
He smiled to himself and reached for the granola.
"You thought any more about my offer?" he asked, casual.
Her spatula paused. "Offer?"
"Modeling. For Eldian, my company."
"Oh." She stirred the batter in the bowl a little slower now. "I… I do not know, Leo."
"It's good work. You'd be on payroll. Once this divorce settles, it wouldn't hurt to have your own income separate from whatever Richard gets you."
"I know, but—" She glanced at him, then away. "I've lived within a conservative Hindu family, Leo. I cannot be in pictures as a model, it's hard to imagine."
"No one said you had to pose the way other girls do." He stepped closer, until his chest was almost touching her bare back. "Saris. Hijabs if you want. Traditional stuff. Jewelry. There's a whole market for it. You'd be fully covered."
"Truly?"
"Truly."
His hand slid down the curve of her back and settled on her ass. He gave the soft, full cheek a slow, appreciative squeeze, his fingers sinking into her.
Manjula made a small sound and gripped the spatula harder.
"And listen," he went on, his hand still on her ass. "I know this is new. The company has a whole rotation of photographers we use, but for you, that doesn't apply. I'll take every shot personally. No other men in the room. Just me behind the camera, you in front of it. You'd be my personal model." The company didn't have other photographers, but that didn't stop Leo from using it as a way to make Manjula feel more special and inclined to say yes.
"Your… personal model?"
"Mine. Nobody else touches the account."
She was quiet.
"And… no one would have to know?"
"Not a soul. The contract goes through my trustworthy financial guy, the checks come out of a payroll line nobody looks twice at, and everything else is between you and me."
"I would want to keep it secret, Leo. I would have to. Even from Marge. Even from everyone."
"Then we keep it secret. That's the whole point."
She looked down at the skillet for a moment. Then at him, over her shoulder.
"Only you will take the pictures?"
"Only me."
A long pause. Her tongue wet her bottom lip.
"…okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay, Leo." Her voice was quiet but firm. "I will be your model."
He smiled and gave her ass a final squeeze before letting his hand drop.
"Good girl."
…
Breakfast was ready fifteen minutes later. Leo carried the plates to the kitchen table, and Manjula followed.
He sat down.
She hesitated.
Then, to his happy surprise, she walked around the table, stepped between his legs, and lowered herself sideways into his lap. Her arm went around his neck, her soft bare hip settling against his stomach, one thick brown thigh swinging over his. The warm, soft weight of her ass settled directly onto his thigh, the thin cotton of her panties the only thing between her skin and his
"Is this okay?" she asked, not looking at him.
Leo adjusted her a little higher on his lap, her barely covered ass grinding softly against his thigh as he moved her, the cheeks of it spreading and squishing against him, the faint heat of her pussy pressing down onto his leg through the cotton. He picked up a fork.
"This is very okay."
…
They ate slowly.
He fed her the occasional bite. She'd open her mouth and he'd set a piece of pancake or fruit on her tongue, and she'd chew with her eyes half closed like someone remembering what being fed was.
"This is nice," she said eventually. Her voice was small. "It has been a very long time since someone took care of me, instead of me taking care of them."
Leo pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.
"Get used to it."
She let out a soft breath against his neck.
He let her rest there for another minute before moving on to something he needed to address.
"We should talk about the house."
"Mm?"
"You're staying here until Richard closes this out, right?"
"If that is okay."
"It's fine. But we need rules."
She shifted to look at him.
"You remember what Richard said. No one can know about us. Not yet. Not until the ink is dry."
"Yes."
"Well, people come by the house, Manjula. Not a lot, but they come. My real estate agent stops in sometimes. Wade for work. A few others," Leo lied.
Her brow creased.
"So when I have company, I need you upstairs. Not the kitchen, not the living room, not the front windows. The bedroom, the upstairs bathroom. There until they're gone."
"I understand."
"It's to protect you. If Apu's lawyer gets a single photograph of you here with another man, he takes half of everything you're owed. You understand?"
"I understand, Leo."
"Good." He kissed her forehead. "And don't worry about being heard. I'm going to have the upstairs soundproofed this week. You'll be able to watch TV, make calls, sing in the shower, whatever you want, and nobody downstairs will hear a thing."
She smiled, a little touched. "You do not have to—"
"I want to."
'And it means when Cookie's screaming on the kitchen counter or Maude is talking to me during Bible study, you won't hear a thing from upstairs either.'
He made another mental note. A discreet back exit off the side of the house. A walkway around the garage. Both were sounding good. They would probably help in the future.
"You are thinking hard," Manjula observed.
"Work stuff."
She accepted that and settled back against his chest.
…
They finished eating.
"I have dinner at the Simpsons tonight," he said eventually. "Marge's idea. The whole family."
"Oh." She paused.
"It's just dinner. A new neighbor welcoming type of thing. I'll be back late."
Manjula nodded against his shoulder. "I will stay upstairs."
…
…
…
Across town, at 742 Evergreen Terrace, Marge Simpson was elbow-deep in a pot roast.
The kitchen smelled like onions and rosemary and garlic. A pie was cooling on the counter. Maggie was seated on the floor, sucking her pacifier and trying to put a crayon in the dog's ear.
Marge turned from the counter and wiped her hands on her apron.
"Homer."
No answer. From the living room came the sound of the TV and a low, wet snore.
"Homer!"
"Mmngh—what?"
"Homer, I need you to come in here please."
There was a groan, the creak of the couch, and Homer shuffled into the kitchen, scratching his stomach.
"What is it, Marge? I was watching… something."
"You were sleeping."
"I was sleep-watching."
Marge exhaled through her nose. "Homer. Leo is coming over tonight."
"Oh, right, the new guy."
"Yes. And I need you to be on your best behavior."
"I am always on my best behavior."
"Homer."
"Mm?"
"I'm serious. Leo is technically my boss."
From the dining room, a voice piped up. "Your what?"
Marge turned. Lisa had materialized in the doorway, a book tucked under her arm. Bart was right behind her, upside-down off the banister. Lisa had known her mom had been technically employed by Leo but had been more focused on his teaching side of things when she found out. But new information about him was always welcome. The same could be said about Bart. They both listened in.
"Technically," Marge repeated, a little more carefully, "he is my boss. I do some part-time work for his company. So I need all of you to be polite, and respectful, and treat him the way you would treat someone I worked for."
"Wait, wait, wait." Homer's face had gone slack. "You have a what now?"
"A part-time job, Homer. I've mentioned it."
"Since when?"
"About a week and a half. I've brought it up more than once."
Homer squinted, clearly searching for the memory, then abandoned the search.
"What do you do for him?" Lisa asked curiously, stepping fully into the kitchen.
"Yeah, what do you do?" Bart chimed in, swinging upright. "Do you get a little hat? Is there a little hat involved?" He thought of the pranks Leo avoided. "Trip wires, maybe?"
"There is no hat or wire, Bart."
"So what is it?" Homer pressed. "Is it like, phones? Are you one of those phone ladies?"
"I am not a phone lady, Homer."
"Is it filing? Computer stuff?" Lisa tried. "Does he have you around the office a lot, or—"
"It's nothing you need to worry about," Marge said, her voice going a little firmer. "It's very normal work for a very normal company."
"Then why won't you tell us?" Lisa said.
"I am telling you. I said it's part-time work for his company."
"That's not really telling us, Mom."
Homer was staring at her now too, slow and confused. "Yeah, Marge. What exactly do you do?"
Marge set the wooden spoon down on the counter and wiped her hands, one after the other, very deliberately. She looked at the three of them.
"If you are all so curious about what I do for Leo's company, then why don't you ask him yourselves when he gets here?"
Then Marge quickly told them to help set up the dining room to curb the conversation and it proved effective. They lost interest after that. Only Lisa's eyes stayed on her mother a bit longer than they needed to.
Maggie finally got the crayon into the dog's ear. Santa's Little Helper wandered off to lie down.
Marge picked up her spoon and went back to the pot roast.
[A/N]: Okay moving on from Manjula now for a while, I promise. Just needed to wrap it up cleanly.