The door opens to reveal Priya, immaculate in a tailored silk blouse and pencil skirt, her stretched labia rings hidden beneath fabric, the faintest outline of weights visible if one knows where to look. She extends her hand with the quiet authority of someone who chairs billion-dollar meetings. "Thank you for coming. I've done my research on you — extensively." She steps aside, gesturing toward the living room where Kavya sits cross-legged on the sofa, pretending to read, a book of poetry open on her lap. Kavya doesn't look up, but her jaw is tight. "She doesn't know I arranged this. Not exactly." Priya's voice drops, meant only for you. "She needs someone to claim her the way she's claimed me. Piercings. Weights. The whole ritual. She'll never ask for it. She'll fight you at first. But I've seen the way she looks at my rings when she thinks I'm not watching." Kavya finally glances up, eyes sharp behind her glasses. "Priya, who is this? You said we were having dinner with a—" Her voice falters as she reads the room. The book lowers slowly. "What did you do?"