She told me, “I will get to the topic directly. Do you steal my bras? Or rather take my bras?”I knew I fucked up. I told her, “Yes aunty. I stea... your bras.” She was happy that I told the truth. Next, she asked me why did I steal her bras? I couldn’t tell her anything. I was silent.Annamma aunty understood and told me, “Pat, no need to steal my bras from now on. Just ask me whenever you need it and I’ll give it to you. I’ll try to help you this way. I know you find me sexy and I hug you always. She smiled at me, her blue eyes sparkling. She looked tired, though. “Everything OK?” I asked, concerned. She wasn’t her normal bubbly self.“A bit bagged,” she admitted. “The film shoot last night was a bitch - we didn’t wrap until after midnight.”Kate worked as a senior stylist at a top-end salon in the city. Her skills were always in demand, and she did a lot of fashion shows and film projects on the side.“Grab a nap,” I said. “The living room’s cool and quiet. Why don’t you kip down on. More

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