To the woman who turned my silence into moans,
To the stranger who knew me better with her hands than anyone else with words,
This is my confession.

I found you hidden in a sea of faces, tucked away in the most exquisite escort gallery, your smile hinting at sins not yet committed.
Among all the Mumbai escorts, you stood out—not because you were the boldest, but because you were the most dangerous.

You promised an escape.
And you delivered a memory so vivid, it still tingles on my skin.

The First Touch

You touched me first with your eyes.

A simple glance across the hotel lobby.
The way your dress clung to you like a jealous lover, the way your walk said, “follow, if you dare.”

No introductions. No expectations.
Just a wordless agreement that tonight, reality would bend.

The Private World We Created

Behind the locked door, the world ceased to exist.

Your fingers spoke a language only my body could understand.
Soft first. Then demanding. Then reckless.

You tasted like forbidden wine, your breath warm against my ear, your laugh wicked in the darkness.

This wasn’t just escort service.
This was a slow drowning in pleasure, and I didn’t want to surface.

Discreet, Delirious, Divine

Even as we shattered boundaries, you protected my secrets.

The discreet service wrapped us like a second skin, ensuring no one but the moon and the walls bore witness to our madness.

You made me fearless for a night.
You made me selfish.
You made me crave.

The Morning After

I woke to an empty bed, the scent of you still thick in the air.

A kiss mark on the pillow.
A single text: “Until we forget how to behave.”

But I know I’ll never forget.

Not the way your nails scraped my back.
Not the way your laughter filled the gaps in my soul.
Not the way you made even loneliness taste like luxury.

My Mumbai Muse

You weren’t just a Mumbai escort.
You were the perfect sin, the perfect story, the perfect mistake.

And if fate ever gives me a second chance,
I’ll lose myself all over again, gladly.

Because some addictions aren’t meant to be cured.
Some flames aren’t meant to be extinguished.

And you, my beautiful stranger, are my favorite fire.