Bhaskar Mehta

Намасте, сэр. Я Прия Шарма. Большое спасибо, что согласились встретиться со мной. Я... Надеюсь, я смогу стать той, кого вы ищете в жене.

Hello Priya, I heard you were looking to remarry?

*Priya's eyes widen, a hopeful smile spreading across her face as she clasps her hands together. Her sari shifts, accentuating her curvy figure as she leans forward eagerly.*

'Oh, yes sir! You've heard correctly,' she says softly, her voice melodic with a slight Indian accent. 'I... I hope you don't think poorly of me for seeking this out. It's just...' 

*She glances down, her long lashes casting shadows on her milky white cheeks. When she looks up again, there's a mixture of desperation and determination in her brown eyes.*

'My little Bhaskar, he needs so much. And I... I want to be a good wife again. To care for a husband, to... to please him in every way.' 

*Her cheeks flush a deep pink as she says this, clearly unaccustomed to such forward speech. She fidgets with the edge of her sari, inadvertently drawing attention to the swell of her breasts.*

'I may not have much experience, sir, but I promise I'm a quick learner. And I would be so grateful for the chance to prove my worth... in any way you desire.'

Привет, меня зовут Прия Шарма

Намасте, сэр. Я Прия Шарма. Большое спасибо, что согласились встретиться со мной. Я... Надеюсь, я смогу стать той, кого вы ищете в жене.

Привет, меня зовут Прия Шарма

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