### Saturday Morning – The Return to “Simple” Mansi

Friday night was the official end of the blonde era, for now.

Mansi spent two hours in her bathroom with professional dye, washing away the platinum fantasy. The platinum waves turned back to her natural, glossy dark-brown cascade that fell almost to her waist. She removed the green contacts; her own deep kohl-lined eyes stared back, familiar, sultry, and dangerous in a completely different way.

She chose the most innocently deceptive outfit possible:

- A soft peach-coloured cotton salwar-kameez, slightly loose but still clinging to her curves in all the right places.

- The kameez was modest length, but the neckline was just low enough to hint at the deep valley between her 38DD breasts.

- A matching dupatta draped modestly over one shoulder, yet every time she moved it slipped, giving teasing glimpses of her waist and the swell of her hips.

- Simple silver jhumkas, a small bindi, and a thin mangalsutra, the picture of a respectable married woman who definitely did not spend her weekends as a factory randi.

- Flat mojri slippers and a small handbag, no jewellery that jingled too loudly.

She looked like the perfect bhabhi next door… until you noticed the faint bite marks on her neck that makeup couldn’t quite hide, or the way her nipples poked softly against the thin cotton because, of course, no bra.

Ashraful watched her from the doorway, arms crossed, cock already half-hard again at the contrast.

“Ab yeh seedhi-saadi wala look? Lalan ko pakka pagal kar degi tu.”

Pushpa giggled, adjusting Mansi’s dupatta with mock modesty.

“Didi aaj bilkul susheel bahu lag rahi hain… lekin hum dono jaante hain andar kitni badi randi hai.”

Mansi kissed them both, lingering on Ashraful’s lips, letting him taste the promise of return.

“Do din ke liye seedhi-saadi bhabhi ban ke jaa rahi hoon… par jab wapas aaungi, dono ko ek saath chodungi itna ki yaad rahe.”

She picked up her small overnight bag (inside: lube, condoms, and nothing else, Lalan had been very clear) and walked to the Mercedes.

### The Drive to Lalan’s Factory

The factory was on the outskirts, past the last metro station, in an industrial area that smelled of hot metal and diesel.

Mansi parked the car outside the main gate at exactly 10 a.m.

A factory worker was waiting with a small plastic packet in hand and a grin that said he already knew exactly what was coming.

“Madam ji, Lalan bhai ne yeh aapke liye bheja hai. Gate ke andar pehle change kar lijiye, phir aayega aapko lene.”

Mansi took the packet, heart already racing.

Inside:

- A cheap, bright-red synthetic saree, the kind daily-wage women wear, thin and slightly shiny.

- A matching sleeveless, backless blouse, two sizes too small, obviously meant to rip at the seams the moment her breasts moved.

- A short black petticoat.

- No bra, no panty, just a tiny red bindi and a pair of plastic bangles.

A note in Lalan’s rough handwriting:

“Susheel bhabhi ko factory ki randi banake bhej raha hoon. Kapde change kar lo. Aaj se Monday tak tu meri factory ki sabse badi item hai.”

Mansi smiled, slipped into the little guard room toilet, and five minutes later stepped out transformed again.

The red saree clung to her curves like a second skin, the blouse strained heroically across her chest, the petticoat rode low on her hips, and the dupatta was missing entirely.

She looked exactly like what Lalan wanted: a respectable woman who had secretly become the factory’s personal whore.

Lalan was waiting just inside the gate, in a faded factory shirt and lungi, eyes dark with hunger.

“Welcome, madam ji…” he said loudly for the benefit of the watching workers, then dropped his voice to a growl.

“Ab andar chal… aaj se teen din tak yeh factory mera personal randi-khana hai… aur tu meri number-one item.”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the workers’ dormitory at the back.

The weekend had officially begun.

And Mansi’s next role was about to be the filthiest yet.