The Bollywood Bride by Sonali Dev Page B

her, but she couldn’t care less. She wrapped the sari around herself with quick, sure movements. Jen gaped at her as though she were performing robotic surgery.
    “Really, Jen, there’s nothing to it. It’s just a matter of getting used to it. Just follow along and do as I do.” She pulled the flowing end of the sari across her hips and showed Jen how to hold herself in it. How to wrap it around her waist while standing, how to drape it across her shoulders while sitting, how to pinch the fan of pleats between her fingers and lift it just an inch while walking.
    With a little bit of prodding, Jen started to move. Slowly at first, then more surely. Ria broke everything down into baby steps. Finally, Jen realized that moving didn’t make the sari fall off. She relaxed and started to follow along, the sparkle returning to her eyes. Ria’s relief had to be completely disproportional to the situation, but still she let it fill her up.
    Soon they were both sashaying up and down the room, with Jen mirroring Ria’s every move. They flicked their heads back and threw siren looks at the mirror and then burst into giggles. Jen had specifically asked for blouses that were more modest than the current style. Even so, most of her midriff and waist remained exposed between the blouse and the petticoat. “Why does it have to be so short?” She tugged at the blouse, crinkling her nose and trying to cover her exposed belly.
    “The sari pallu,” Ria said, running her hand over the flowing end of the sari that draped across the front of her body and fell over her shoulder, “is supposed to cover your tummy, not the blouse. When you wear a sari, the pallu is your best friend. You can control how much you show or hide with it. Let it slide off your shoulder a fraction, and there you have some cleavage. Wrap it tight around yourself and there you have every curve outlined. It’s really quite handy.”
    “It’s ingenious!” Jen let the pallu drop over her shoulder the way Ria had done, her eyes shining with mischief, then lifted it up and twirled it around herself.
    Jen’s spirit was infectious. It made Ria want to draw aside the curtain she pulled between herself and the world. Before she knew it, she was playing the blushing bride for Jen and then the sexy siren. She wrapped the pallu around herself, stretching her neck long and graceful as a queen, then pleated it into a narrow strip between her breasts, suggestive as a nymphet. “You can be whatever you want in a sari, prim and dignified or a real femme fatale,” she said, smiling away.
    Jen loved that. She pulled the pallu up to her lips, caught it between her teeth, and batted her eyelids. She pulled it in a veil across her face, letting only her eyes show and arched her brows, giving Ria a smoking hot look so over the top, Ria doubled over. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes.
    The doorbell rang and Ria ran out to let Nikhil in. He had to see this.
    “You’re getting really good at this. The wedding guests are going to be sweating,” she called over her shoulder, wiping the tears from her eyes, and reached for the door. “Can you imagine a hall full of people turned on by the br—”
    Vikram stood across the doorway. Ria’s smile slid off her face. Jen’s too-loose blouse followed suit and slid off her shoulder. Vikram’s gaze hitched on her exposed shoulder, lingered on the blouse that ended just below her breasts and traveled downward, tracing her bare midriff down the curve of her waist to the swell of her hips.
    Mira walked up behind him.
    “Hi!” she said chirpily.
    Vikram blinked and released his breath.
    Ria pulled the pallu around her shoulders, wrapping it around herself as tightly as she could. Under the sheer fabric, every inch of skin was on fire.
    “Wow! I love your sari. It’s beautiful.” Mira beamed at her.
    Ria stepped aside to let them in.
    Mira sauntered into the apartment with the