With the special assistance of a reader.
Asma froze where she sat. She had come into the cubicle in the quiet for a moment before she began her afternoon shift. All had been silence and calm for a minute and then that had been shattered by their arrival.
The outside door had crashed open and through her cubicle door she had heard them come in.
“You can’t wait can you? You gorgeous big fucking bastard.” The words broke off and were followed by a high-pitched giggle. It sounded like a white woman – the sort that unkind people called chavs. Her harsh ‘estuary accent’ seeming to bounce off the walls.
Asma heard another cubicle door open and the rustle of clothing. She felt frozen, riveted to the spot. Unsure of what to do.
“You know what I need don’t ya? I need that fucking big Black cock. You going to give me it you horny bastard?”
There was more rustling and another noise or two followed by the creak of pressure against a cubicle wall. Then a pause and then the noise repeated again and again and again…
Asma was mortified, horrified by what was happening so near-by. She just wanted to get out of there. She finished up and adjusted her clothing but as she picked it up she heard her bag clink against the porcelain of the toilet bowl.
She froze as the noises from the other cubicle halted.
“I heard somefink – there’s someone out there. Who is it?”
Asma tried to control her breathing, tried to keep as quiet as she possibly could. She was so embarrassed, so horrified. These two were behaving like animals. It was terrible. She could not bear to be caught by them.
“Oh fuck it,” the female voice resumed, “I couldn’t give a fuck anyway. You gonna wait all day or you gonna fuck me.”
There was a low deep laugh and then the noises started again. The creak of the cubicle wall, the gasps of the woman, the noises of frantic vigorous sex.
Asma could not believe it. A few minutes ago everything had been so calm. Now she was trapped here having to listen to these two beasts, these two rutting animals. She felt humiliated and frightened that they would catch her. She should have just left as quickly as possible as soon as they had come in. Now it seemed too late – if they caught her they would think she had been spying on them or worse…
“Oh fucking hell you’re good. You big fucking Black stud. Fuck me – c’mon, fuck me harder.”
Asma tried to wipe away the images flashing into her brain. It wasn’t hard to visualise them. She had lived in this city long enough since Afsar and brought her over from Hyderabad. She had not wanted to come but her husband had family over here, a place in their business concern waiting for him. Back home everything had been so familiar. Here there were so many different types of people and cultures.
She had heard enough to know that two of them were meeting in that cubicle over there. She could imagine what the woman liked that – what Afsar would call a ‘Kuffar whore.’ Fake blonde hair, provocative make-up, painted nails, clothing that showed off her body. She saw so many of them here.
“C’mon you big Black bastard – show me what I’m missing. Show me how much better you are than my husband.” Her voice was strident, loud, you could hear the excitement in every word.
Asma felt another wave of almost panic go through her. She had hoped that they were just an over-excited couple but this was so much worse. The woman was committing adultery. That was unthinkable, unacceptable. It went against everything she had ever been taught. A wife had to be loyal to her husband, had to stand by him whatever his faults and failings. If that was not true then didn’t everything start to collapse?
There was a deep voice across in the other cubicle. The walls between them deadened it so that she couldn’t make out the individual words. That must have been the man. The response from his slut was louder and much more audible.
“I don’t care what he thinks, he’s fucking useless. It’s because of him I’m here. You should fucking advertise you gorgeous big stud. Special services for neglected wives! Now stop talking and fuck me.”
There was a muffled response and then the sex sounds came louder and faster.
“Yes, Yes, that’s it, YES!!!” The woman sounded ecstatic, fuelled on adrenaline and excitement.
Asma struggled to control the thoughts in her head. Her shame and embarrassment at being there. Her outrage at what the man and the woman were doing in so public a place. Her resentment and… She didn’t want to acknowledge it but she knew it was there. The realisation that she had never quite felt what that white slut over there was feeling right now. Her husband was a decent man, an honourable man, the proud and dutiful father of their children. However, he was not an exciting man.
She felt guilt at even thinking such things. It was disgraceful, outrageous, it should be literally unthinkable!!!
There was a grunt and another squeal of delight from the other cubicle. The noises of sex ceased and there was some rustling.
“Oh fuck yeah – that’s just what I needed.” There was a cheeky giggle. “Look what a mess you made you horny Black fucker. It’s already dripping out of me. I’d better get cleaned up or even that thick-as-shit old twat might figure out what’s going on!” The two laughed together and the other door opened
Asma suddenly realised her danger. She sat down again and picked her feet up off the floor while, oh so gently, easing the lock open while holding the door shut.
The voices were clearer now – only the thin wood of her own cubicle’s door between her and them.
“See, I told you. All the doors are showing vacant. There was no-one here.” The man’s voice was a gorgeous rich baritone and for a moment she thought she recognised it.
“Shame – she missed out,” the woman laughed stridently again. “Who knows she might have joined us. Found out what getting fucked is really all about. Cieron is at his meeting on Friday so we’ll have a bit more time if you want.”
Asma couldn’t help it. In the moment before she had vigorously suppressed it her mind had an instant to dwell on what the white woman had said. She felt it – the momentary thrill that seemed to send the blood pumping through her veins. That little reminder that for all that she was a good Muslim and a good wife that was not all that she was. She was also a woman and yes that sometimes meant she could have sexual thoughts and desires and needs. She felt shame and guilt.
“…oh I know what you’d like. I’ve seen you lookin’ at ‘er. You’d like to make it a United Nations of fucking wouldn’t you. Go for the full set. One Black, one White and one Asian. Sure you could handle us both?”
“Got any doubts?” The man’s tones left Asma herself in no doubt that he was confident of his ability to meet any sexual challenge. But she wasn’t really thinking about that. She was trying to understand what the woman had been saying.
“Nah, I know what you’re like. Besides, she’d probably faint as soon as she saw that big fucking cock of yours. Have you seen what she wears? You can tell she’s a frigid bitch. Probably never had a real fuck in her life.”
The man laughed again. “Surprise you to know she’s got three kids? So someone laid some fucking pipe at some point. Anyway, go easy on her. She wears that kit ‘cos of her religion.”
“So you wouldn’t want to see her out of it? You haven’t been thinking about fucking that tight little ass ever since she got the job here? C’mon now, Tony I know you.”
Asma heard a slight slapping sound followed by a feminine giggle. She was in shock. Every sentance seemed to bring new revelations, startling and potentially life-changing.
“Don’t see it happening but that sweet little Indian bitch ever gives me the nod then I’ll happily fuck her like she ain’t never been fucked before. Call it instinct but I’m knowing she got a sweet little body under them damned drapes. Now don’t look at me like that – no need to be jealous. You know there’s a whole lot of me to go around. Now go check the door – make sure no-one’s watching.
The sound of the door rang through the room. There was a sudden silence. Asma let her feet back down to the floor and then very slowly opened the cubicle door. The staff toilets were empty. She breathed out and then went across to the wash hand basin. She splashed some water onto her face and looked into the mirror. She saw her light-brown complexion and the little lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She also saw something else. She saw the fear in her eyes and the way her mouth was held tightly shut. How she wished that she had never heard that conversation.
She was not the only Asian person working at the store of course. However, she knew the other Asian women working there and she was the only one with three children. That couple had been talking about her. She looked again at her reflection as it stared back. She was 42 years old and while the years had been kind to her she did not expect to suddenly be the object of such attention. She had three children almost all grown up. It was ridiculous. Worse, it was sinful.
She hadn’t recognised the female voice. She thought it was probably a customer – but obviously one well used to coming back here to fornicate. How disgraceful.
Asma was in no doubt as to how the woman knew to come back here because she had no trouble recognising the male voice. That use of a ‘Tony’ had just confirmed it.
He had been on the panel interviewing her for the job and he was the manager of the fresh produce department. Not her direct superior but they often met in the cause of a day’s work at the supermarket.
Tony Turner was of Jamaican descent, a tall well-built dark-skinned man in his late thirties. Perhaps five years younger than her and yet…
Asma felt that tingle rushing through her blood-stream again. Like a jolt of adrenaline. The idea that a man like him would look at her in such a way. It was ridiculous. She looked again into the mirror. No, that was not correct. Afsar had always said she was beautiful. She felt a stab of guilt even thinking about her husband while having such thoughts. However, she recognised that the person looking back at her from the mirror was an attractive if maturing South Asian woman. It was not ridiculous that a man, even a man like Tony, would find her attractive, would want to…
She again stubbornly crushed that thought. Such things were wrong even to think about. It was a betrayal of Afsar and of her family and of everything that she held sacred.
She tried to think back through the months she had been working at the supermarket, tried to remember how Tony had looked at her. She had never noticed anything. Had she been blind or, the thought struck her hard, perhaps she was being foolish. Perhaps they had not been talking about her, perhaps they had been talking about someone else after all.
She felt it like a blow in her stomach. The crushing weight of disappointment and almost despair. It was crazy. Even had it been so she could never have done anything about it. She could never have… So why did it suddenly seem to matter so much that he SHOULD have been talking about her.
She felt confused, bewildered by all the feelings and emotions running through her. Suddenly felt shame that she also seemed so ill-equipped to deal with something like this. She was a mature woman, a mother of two grown-up daughters, how could she suddenly be thrown into such confusion.
Concentration and work. They were the answer. She suddenly realised how long she had been here – she would be late for her shift. It was as well she was on re-provisioning rather than the check-out. She checked her dress and then hurried out onto the floor.
“Hi Asma.” That was her direct boss, Ellie, a very nice person.
“I’m sorry I am late Ellie – I, um…”
Ellie was looking at her with a concerned expression. “Are you OK? You look like you’ve had a shock. Do you need to take five minutes?”
Asma mustered up a smile. “No, no, I’m well. I’m ready to work. Should I start with the milk as usual?”
Ellie nodded and then watched Asma go to work. Her colleague was normally so quiet and placid. It had been a shock to see her apparently so worked up. Well, if Asma needed to talk then she hoped that she knew that she could come to her.
***
Asma Hashmihad been born into a Hyderabadi family. Her family had been loving but strict. Her life as a young woman had been planned out and organised for her from an early age. Her father has been a school teacher and had very much believed in educating all of his children, not just the boys. She had not gone to college but very few of the girls in her class had. That was just not the way of things then. At the age of eighteen her family had organised a match for her from a family that they knew well.
She had met Afsar twice before her wedding. She knew that her family meant the best for her and that they would not have forced her to marry him. However, she also knew what was expected of her. In truth she had been lucky. Afsar was a kind and generous man and she had grown to love him. He had done his best to provide for her and, in time, for their son and two daughters. He had been a caring and thoughtful father. She really could have very few complaints. She knew others who had been much less fortunate – married to old men as part of a business deal for instance. Afsar was a good man and she was lucky to have him.
Soon after their marriage Afsar’s family had sent him to London to help manage a branch of their family business there. It had been something of a shock leaving home and coming to so foreign a place but at least she had good English. Others sent over to marry were not so fortunate. It meant her life was not restricted to her family circle though for the first few years it had made little difference.
Afsar knew his duty. He had to work in the family business and he had to father a son. He had achieved the latter but only after the birth of two daughters. It meant Asma had been pregnant for most of their first five years of marriage and then had been busy raising three small children. It had come as a relief that once young Ashraf had been born her husband had seemed to lose interest in sex. Her husband was a good man, a religious man, he understood that copulation was to produce children. He was ten years her senior and slightly-built, his love-making had always been hesitant, restrained, almost dutiful. His duty done he did not trouble Asma with such things.
She had not been unhappy about that. Afsar had gone to work and had become manager of the whole British end of the family firm. Asma had raised her two beautiful daughters, Rubina and Samreen. Ashraf had grown into a handsome young man, slightly-built like his father but with the sensitive deep brown eyes of his mother. She loved them all very much and she missed them very much.
Ashraf had done very well at school and now was at a very fine University on a scholarship. Rubina was a good girl despite her tendencies towards independence. Perhaps she and her husband had not been strict enough with their eldest daughter. Anyway Rubina had done very well and now had started a job in the City. Samreen had been more dutiful and happy to accept the very good marriage that Afsar had been able to make for her.
They had been lucky there.
Their charmed existence as the family of a prosperous businessman had barely survived the children moving out by six months.
Asma still did not quite understand what had happened. Money had been lost, a LOT of money, and it had apparently been the responsibility of her husband. The Police had come to their house! Afsar had been taken away for two days and questioned!!
She had felt confused, bewildered, had not known what to tell any of her friends or her children. It had been very apparent from the Police’s attitude that they had regarded her husband as either a fool or a thief. When they let him go it was clear that they had decided he was the former.
The huge loss had broken the firm or at least its British side. Afsar’s family had been furious. He had not only lost his job; none of them had communicated with him since the truth had come out. It was as if he was dead to them.
Her husband had been proud of his job, his position in the Hyderabadi community in London. Making such a catastrophic mistake had brought him great shame. It was worse that their community was not large and soon everyone had seemed to know about it. She knew that many did not believe Afsar was entirely innocent. They had said that no-one could be so stupid as to make such mistakes.
Their children were so lucky. Rubina’s husband had been loyal to her though he had broken off contact with Afsar. The other two were well along the path to making their own way in England. Had the collapse happened ten years earlier then…
She had to thank God for sparing them that. Now she and Afsar were left isolated and relying on what savings they had been left by the legal problems. Afsar had been so proud of his business acumen and skill. Now it was clear much of his success had been courtesy of his family’s assistance. Now the only job he could get was at a corner shop run by a man he had used to laugh about!
It was not enough. Asma had soon realised that to avoid disaster she would have to work too. Her husband had not been happy about it and she had wanted to accord to his wishes. However, his wishes did not put food on the table or keep a roof over their heads. His wishes did not prevent them from shaming their son and daughters. Afsar had made investments but as part of his family’s firm – something to do with taxes? Now the returns were being kept by the family as the first, small, part of paying off the losses he had caused.
Which is how Asma had found herself at the supermarket being interviewed by Tony Turner…
***
Asma had always been told that the West was decadent. What else would one expect of those who had not heard or did not heed the words of the Prophet? That was as obvious as the sky being blue!
It was something else to actually hear it and see it. She had known that such things happened in drinking dens and sordid night-clubs. Asma, of course, had never gone near to such places and she did not watch lewd Western films or television. So for years she had been able to isolate herself from such goings on.
Now, her eyes and ears had been opened by Tony Turner and his ‘Kuffar whore.’ Only a couple of days after that startling experience a woman come to the supermarket. She was a logistical organiser who Asma had seen several times before, who Asma had spoken to. She was very attractive for an English woman, had seemed very nice and well-spoken and had wore a wedding ring on her finger.
This time she had come in and soon she had been talking to Tony. Then he had led her into the back-rooms.
Asma found that she could not help it. When they had gone she could not get the image out of her mind. Of Tony and the woman going back there and… She dared not put her thoughts into words. The two of them back there like Tony and the other woman two days earlier.
How could a woman do such a thing? What about her husband, perhaps her children? How could she betray them like that? Even for a non-believer to behave so was disgraceful, alarming, enough to turn Asma’s nice orderly world all topsy-turvy. It made her feel something deep in her soul.
“Asma… Asma… Asma – are you alright honey? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Aren’t you feeling well?”
It was Ellie – her supervisor. Ellie was a very good person, she had made Asma’s transition into working here so much easier. Now she was looking at Asma with evident concern.
“I – I think I’m alright.” Again the images of Tony and the woman surged into her head, unbidden and unwanted. Asma felt herself sway a little.
Ellie’s hand caught Asma’s arm, her grip strong and warm even through the fabric of the latter’s kameez tunic.
“You really don’t look well. Take your break early – I can cover for a while.”
Asma gave Ellie a weak smile. Her supervisor was generous and kind, a very good friend as well as her boss. Then the smile faded. Taking a break meant going back there. She made an effort and reasserted her reason. It was all such nonsense, she had got herself upset over nothing at all. She would go back there and Tony would not be there or he would be discussing deliveries. She was getting herself all upset and worked up over nothing.
“No hesitating. Get yourself back there and I’ll see you in half an hour.” Ellie’s pale-blue eyes were intent on her and she obeyed.
***
There was no-one in the little break-area. There was no-one in the office. There was no-one save the usual staff in the storage space or the delivery dock. That left…
Asma looked up and saw one of the warehouse men watching her. His glance was casual and probably meant nothing. It was not as if he had not seen her there before. She wore her head-scarf and shalwar kameez as usual, not too strange for Western eyes but perfectly respectable in her own tradition. It was still a little unnerving to attract male attention however innocent. She had been taught from a very early age that to attract the eyes of any man but your husband was a sin Not that Afsar, her husband, had paid her much attention in that way for years.
A thought suddenly burrowed its way into her brain. She loved Afsar, at least she was very fond of Afsar, but had her husband ever felt about her as she had overheard Tony saying that he felt about her? Had her husband ever desired her in that visceral, full-blooded, way?
Asma felt the blood pumping through her body, the tingle of feelings that she had not felt in many years. Perhaps not since she was a young woman watching the film stars on the big screens of the cinemas back home. Her eyes darted around, hoping that no-one had noticed her excitement, then she carefully adjusted her breathing. Breath in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out…
Slowly she seemed to feel her racing heart slow down, felt her brain regain control of her emotions and senses. She knew that she should go back to the counter, she knew what she would likely find if she completed her search. She knew what she should do. What she SHOULD do.
Asma carefully pushed open the door leading to the staff facilities. Immediately she heard it – the rhythmical noise like last time. Her question had been answered. She now knew for sure what Tony and the woman were doing.
“That white-bread husband of yours give it to you like this, eh? Answer me you horny little slut.”
“No… no…. never… He’s nothing compared… to this.”
The woman was panting out the words, gasping for breath between his thrusts. Even so Asma could detect the traces of her accent, Home Counties and private school. Definitely NOT the same woman Tony had been pleasuring here two days ago.
Pleasuring. Asma suddenly realised that was the word that had sprung into her head. She was in little doubt that both women were indeed taking pleasure from Tony’s attentions. But did not Iblis always bait his traps with the sweetest of honeys?
“Oh God… that’s good… so so good.. How can you… make it so good? Oh GOoddd.” The last word began as a half-scream before it was muffled.
“Don’t matter how – you just know I can. That’s what keeps you coming back. You gonna be back ain’t you girl. You gonna need more. Tell me.”
“Yes, Yessss.” It was more a growl than a scream now.
The noise was coming from the men’s toilets. Asma had her ear against the door to catch every word spoken.
The noise paused. “Tell me proper – tell me in that rich-girl voice of yours. Tell me what you need to say and I want to hear.”
“I’ll be here tomorrow, meet you after work. Then we can have the whole night together. Just like you want.”
The noise started again and she heard a short deep bass laugh. “Yeaaaahhhh. That’s what I’m liking to hear. We’ll go for a drink, then hit a club and then back to my place. What we gonna do there sweetness?”
“We’re going to fuck. You’re going to fuck me like I need. Like the white boys can’t.”
There was another low laugh of triumph and then the rhythmical noise resumed, louder and faster.
“Oooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh……”
A long building female moan again suddenly cut off. Asma leaned into the door and felt it give a little, the door ease open a crack.
The noise came a little louder through the gap. Now Asma heard the shallow excited breathing of the woman with clarity. She could only imagine how the woman felt – she knew that she had never experienced anything like that herself. The woman seemed to have lost her self-control, swept away by passion. Degrading herself here and offering herself to Tony for tomorrow. How many times had they done this, how many more times would they? The woman certainly didn’t seem willing to stop any time soon.
The temptations of carnality had proved too much for her. Asma knew that she would never betray herself so. However, temptations come in many packages and at many stages. Asma herself was being tempted at that very moment. Its scale and magnitude was different but Asma could resist it no more that the woman with Tony could.
She eased the door open a little more. She was not sure what drove her but she knew that she could not resist. What would it hurt – if she was careful. The couple would be in a cubicle and would never know she was there.
Carefully and slowly she peeped her head around the door and then suddenly froze in place. Every logical part of her was screaming to retreat and carefully close the door after her. However, logic would never win out this time. The surprise was too great.
Tony and the woman were not in a cubicle.
She was standing and holding onto a wash-hand basin, her skirt hitched up over her hips to bare her bottom. Tony was behind her, making love to her from behind. No – not ‘making love’ – the couple were fucking. Asma had never felt comfortable using the word but it was the only possible one for what she was seeing in front of her. Tony had one hand clamped on a white buttock while the other fiercely grasped the woman’s blonde pony-tail. He was fucking with long, deep strokes, powerful strokes that only ended when their hips met.
Asma’s mouth opened a little and then she saw the woman’s face in the mirror above the basin. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks were flushed and her mouth was open. Asma knew that there was an English word for what the woman was feeling, the word was ‘ecstasy’. She also knew that she had never felt it.
“Don’t stop… never stop… my pussy’s yours. Fuck me, cum in me, claim me….”
The woman ‘s voice had risen until it was cut off again as Tony moved his hand up to cover her mouth. He looked up as he did it and Asma suddenly saw his eyes in the mirror. Deep, dark, intense and seeming to look straight into her soul!
Again she knew what she should do. Get out of there and report Tony for such lewd behaviour! Again she found that sometimes you didn’t do what you were supposed to do. Her tongue flicked out and moistened lips that suddenly seemed very dry.
Tony kept up a steady deep rhythmn of thrusts into the blonde woman but now he spoke.
“Yeah, now you know what Tony can do. Now you know where to come when you need it. That’s right ain’t it.”
The woman moaned her agreement but had Tony been speaking to her? Asma only knew that, via the mirror, his eyes had been locked onto her own.
Tony tightened his grip on the woman’s pony-tail. “So Imogen, what you say to any other girls whose husbands been neglecting them? You recommend the Tony treatment eh?”
“Oh God yes,” said Imogen “Every woman needs this… at least once.”
“Never known one to settle for just once,” said Tony. “Now see what I can do for you.”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than Tony suddenly accelerated his thrusts, transitioning to fucking Imogen hard. She grunted and struggled to keep herself upright on her heels, grasping desperately onto the basin with both hands. Each thrust drew a gasp from her until those gasps became a long shuddering moan.
“Where you want it?” Tony’s voice barked out, urgent and strong.
“In me… In me…In me…” There was a desperation in that short repeated phrase, a need, a desperate desire.
Tony grunted and Asma suddenly knew that Tony was meeting Imogen’s desire. Filling her with his seed, his baby-making seed. For a moment she was startled but then realised that Imogen must be on birth-control.
“Oh my God but you are magnificent,” said Imogen with a bubbly laugh. She bent down and pulled up her underwear. “Got to pull these on or I’ll be dripping all over the place for hours!”
Tony moved in and kissed her. “That’s like it should be. Keep my seed nice and deep in you, in that sweet tight white-bread pussy. Just one thing’d make it better. When you gonna do that for me?”
Imogen giggled and returned his kiss. “I don’t think Rufus would approve of that. Well perhaps he might – but not for HIS wife. Because I don’t think you’d just settle for me coming off birth control would you?”
Tony chuckled and his hands found her belly. “Damn right. Soon as you dump them pills I’m gonna be fucking that fine pussy every chance I get until I’ve got this sweet flat little belly nice and full and round. Turn white-bread into Black bred.”
Imogen gave him a smile of wicked naughtiness. “Bet you’ve used that line a few times. It ever work?”
Tony didn’t smile. He just nodded. “Not just once or twice either. You be thinking about it – about being my focus of attention for a while…”
Imogen’s teeth showed as she bit her lower lip. Then she playfully swatted at him with one hand. “I’ve got to be going. Back to work and away from naughty temptations like that. You could get a girl into trouble!”
“When they looking like you – every fucking chance I get,” said Tony. The two shared another kiss before leaving.
***
Tony hadn’t noticed at what point the pretty little Asian woman had started watching them. He also hadn’t seen when she had sneaked away. However, he had seen her there for long enough and knew that she had got his message. He’d had his eye on her since the first time he’d seen her, at her interview. She had a cute face and was slim but that was about all you could tell under all those fucking clothes of hers. He knew her age but she looked damn good on it, had that attraction that some mature women displayed for a man with a connoisseur’s taste in fine female flesh.
He’d imagined finding out just what she was hiding under all those drapes, showing her what a man could do for a fine woman like her. He hadn’t thought about it long though. He knew her background – might as well have had ‘unattainable’ stamped on her file and her forehead!
Now though…
First, he’d been sure it was her the other day listening in while he was fucking Dannii. Now she’s popping her head into the men’s room to watch him and Imogen. It wasn’t like she’d caught fright and run away. That cute little face had been watching them for at least a couple of minutes. Also, he’d seen the signs. Her eyes had been intent, fixed on them, her mouth a little open. Little Asma might be all prim and proper but she’d been excited by watching them.
Didn’t necessarily mean she’d be down for some fun any time soon but it did raise her potential a whole heap of levels. He’d be keeping his eye on Asma.
***
“Feeling better?” Ellie prepared to relinquish her post at the counter.
Asma paused. She knew what was required of her. Even in the decadent West such behaviour could not be condoned. They did not call it immorality but rather ‘sexual misconduct.’ Anyway it was her duty to report what had happened.
“Er, Ellie, while I was back there I heard, er saw, er there was, er…”
Ellie’s eyes focused sharply on her. “I can guess. Tony Turner? Tell me – did he act inappropriately towards you? Did he upset you? If he did I’ll…”
“NO, no, he has not upset me. But it is perhaps not appropriate that such things happen. It might upset someone else.” Asma wasn’t sure what she was saying until she had said it. She only then realised that she did not want to get Tony into trouble. She only wanted to be seen to do the right thing. The realisation came as a shock to her.
“You are sure? We all know Tony. He is amazingly good at his job or he’d have been fired years ago. I can say one thing. He will NOT make a move on you. He understands that won’t fly any more. But if a woman shows her interest in him then…” Ellie raised a plucked eyebrow. Her hand patted Asma’s. “Anyway don’t worry about Tony. He is no threat – in fact there have been times when customers cut up rough that we’ve been VERY pleased to have him around. I will back you up if you really want to report him but…”
Asma shook her head. “No, I will not report him. It is just very strange for me. I suppose I should just avoid him. At least when his, er, ‘friends’ are so loud that will be easy to do.”
Ellie nodded and patted Asma’s hand again. “You can always talk to me. You know that don’t you?”
***
That night Asma lay in bed next to her husband. The events of the day, especially certain events, just kept replaying themselves over and over again in her mind. She felt guilty even thinking about such things next to Afsar. He had been a good husband to her, at least he had tried to be. She did not blame him for their recent troubles. It also was not his fault that he was not very exciting, especially not when it came to the bedroom.
She felt guilty again. Afsar was a good man and had he not done his duty as a husband in that way, had they not got three wonderful children? Were they not the pride of her life?
She knew that was the correct feeling to have but it was suddenly ringing very hollow. Was it wrong to feel that there was more to such things than merely the making of children? She had always believed that it was – but then she had not known…
Tony had shown her. Tony could show her a whole lot more.
Ellie had said that Tony Turner was no threat to her. Well, maybe that was true from Ellie’s perspective.
Asma hesitated and then reached out to her husband. Her hand found the warmth of his upper thigh. Afsra grunted and then, still asleep, turned his back on her.
She knew that such things were not to be found here with Afsal. Such passion, such energy, such excitement. Apart from anything else she had seen Tony as he had pulled out of Imogen. She had seen his…
Afsal was slightly-built and he was not large down there. That did not mean that he was not a man, their three children proved that he was! But compared to Tony he seemed small and weak. He could never…
Asma struggled to get to sleep but finally did so. That night she dreamed and her dreams told her what she had already realised in her heart.
For everything that Asma had been for her 42 years Mr Tony Turner was very dangerous indeed…