The waiting area of Dr. Rahul’s private fertility clinic is buzzing with low murmurs and hungry stares. Neha sits alone on the cold plastic chair, her pink net saree clinging to her curves like a second skin. She has nothing underneath – no blouse, no petticoat, no bra, no panties. Her heavy, milk-filled boobs strain against the thin, transparent fabric, her dark nipples hard and pierced with silver rings that glint under the fluorescent lights. The matching navel piercing sparkles just above the low drape of her saree. Thick white drops of milk are already leaking from her nipples, soaking two wet patches on the saree and making the material stick obscenely to her areolas. Every man in the waiting hall is staring. Some whisper dirty things loud enough for her to hear.

“Arre bhai, dekho us randi ko… doodh tapak raha hai chuchiyon se. Kitni badi gaand hai, aur woh saree bina kuch pehne pehni hai.”