Midterm 2012 Volume 4
Kħātūn-e-Jannat Volume 3
Ved Nagar Volume 2
Al Saåīdah Al Wājid raised her eyebrows.
“There is no real cause for jealousy,” Al Fahmīdah Al Wājid said sarcastically, “but my Abbū should have, in your opinion, become temporarily insane.”
I had to,
“Let’s get certain facts straight. Your Abbū has been playing a lot of poker at the Paradise Floats, and your Abbū has lost rather heavily?”
“Your Ammī didn’t take kindly to the idea?”
“Wives don’t take kindly to the idea of husbands sitting in poker games and losing money.” Al Fahmīdah Al Wājid commented dryly.
“Should they?” I smiled.
Al Fahmīdah Al Wājid hesitated somewhat to reply me.
“And,” I continued, “Al Taufīq Al Zāhid was rather conspicuous around the Paradise Floats?”
“They made her conspicuous.” Al Fahmīdah Al Wājid said looking at her Ammī significantly.
“And your Abbū became interested in her?”
“Mr. Mayor, my Abbū loves her. And why the hell shouldn’t he, when my Ammī loves you entirely unashamed of herself?”*
I watched her gravely.
“How do you know your Ammī loves me?” I glanced at Al Saåīdah Al Wājid for a moment while asking Al Fahmīdah Al Wājid.
Al Saåīdah Al Wājid was red faced due to sheer anger.
“The father and daughter both claim that we are afraid of them. That’s why we are keeping our relationship clandestine.”
“I see, what the hell can they do if we really love each other? They are not as resourceful as we are.” I smiled making the joke of the suggestion.
“Al Fahmīdah Al Wājid is an innocent daughter of an innocent poor father.” Al Saåīdah Al Wājid smiled burning, but still keeping her dignity, “She thinks her gambler father is poor. His wife is cheating him clandestinely. He goes to Paradise Floats to forget his dilemma resorting to gambling. He isn’t responsible for the gambling even. He is a poor innocent cheated husband. What’s wrong there if even he loves Al Taufīq Al Zāhid? His wife is cheating him after all. You know very well, Mr. Mayor, I’m having an affair with you or not. Yet, she herself admits that her Abbū is gambling and loves Al Taufīq Al Zāhid. They blame either us Musalmān houseladies that are beautiful or our Hindu lovers that we are breaking their otherwise excellent homes. I too, with my sisters, believed it. I imagined the Musalmīn were innocent. How mistaken I was! My efficient Musalmān husband is blaming me now of infidelity only because he wants to gamble and have an affair with Al Taufīq Al Zāhid himself.”
Al Saåīdah Al Wājid inadvertently remembered while she visited Paradise Floats to object to her husband’s entirely irresponsible gambling:
The Paradise Floats was a gambling yacht.
I walked with Al Taufīq Al Zāhid and Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī across.
A man’s voice resisted,
“I’m Muħammad Ħabīb Nizāmuddīn, the police chief here on the yacht, Paradise Floats. What are you folks doing here?”
Al Taufīq Al Zāhid gave a little gasp.
“Where’s Muħammad Ůsmān?” I asked the police chief authoritatively.
After all, I was the Mayor of Ved Nagar, the ever richest Multi Zillionaire, the utmost successful Sex Therapist, lifetime chairman of HVSI, an utmost successful writer and human activist.
“Here I am.”
Muħammad Ůsmān pushed his way belligerently forward, his deep set eyes glittering with hostility at me.
My eyes rapidly adjusted to the dim light.
“I’m here representing Al Taufīq Al Zāhid as her attorney. You threw her out of here last night without giving her a chance to get her things. The first thing we want is to get to her locker and get her belongings.”
“All right, all right,” Muħammad Ůsmān said, “you want to go to the locker. The chief of police is here. He’ll search the locker.”*
I watched him contemptuously.
“Not without a warrant, he won’t.”
“That’s what you think, sir,” the chief said politely, yet firmly, “when your extraordinary beautiful client, Al Taufīq Al Zāhid, opens that door, I take a look, certainly. Muħammad Ůsmān owns this place. He’s given me permission to search any part of it I want.”
“You are forgetting the law, chief.” I smiled, “the locker is the property of my client, Al Taufīq Al Zāhid.”
“She got a deed to it?” Muħammad Ůsmān asked sarcastically.
“Tell your under educated friend, Muħammad Ůsmān, chief, the concerned law,” I admonished the chief of police, “before he does something illegal more in the presence of witnesses. He is tremendously undereducated of the law concerning the business he is running. He has already violated so many clauses, due to his sheer ignorance of the concerned law. Advise him not to violate anymore. It was designated as a place where my client, Al Taufīq Al Zāhid, could store her things.”
“While she was working here.” Muħammad Ůsmān reminded curtly, “She isn’t working here anymore. I want to take a look in there. I want to see what’s in there. I’ll bet you I’ll find some of the money that’s been missing from the cash register.”
“You mean, Mr. Muħammad Ůsmān,” I said gravely, “that you are accusing my client, Al Taufīq Al Zāhid, that she would have taken the money from the cash register last night, then gone to her locker, unlocked the locker, opened the door, put the money in there, then closed and locked the door again?”
“Where else would she have put it?” Muħammad Ůsmān asked.
“If she has taken the money,” I said, “have any irrefutable proof that she actually did that?”
“Who else could take the money?”
“The court will tell us, don’t worry. It will find out and you would have to pay for your absolutely unevidenced accusation. You blamed my client, yet you don’t have any proof. It’s a costly misuse of power, Mr. Muħammad Ůsmān. Well, nothing to worry there for you, however, if you are willing to pay the cost.”
Muħammad Ůsmān looked at me scornfully.
Yet, he didn’t say anything orally.
“You don’t have a key to the locker?” I asked.
“Why should I have a key?” Muħammad Ůsmān said.
“You are the owner. You assigned this locker to her, didn’t you?”
“Of course, what’s wrong in it?”
“You had the key in your possession until you gave it to her?”
“You don’t have any duplicate or master key to the locker?”
“Why should have I?”
“Most of the owners do it, don’t they?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t believe even in having somewhat general knowledge of the business you are running?”
“I have perfect knowledge of what I think necessary.”
“You don’t think it necessary?”
“You can’t get in this locker?”
“Of course not. I gave your extremely beautiful client the key. She’s got it in her purse, that little purse she keeps down in the front of her sweater. I saw her put it there.”
I couldn’t believe him that he actually didn’t have a duplicate key or any master key.
I knew Muħammad Ůsmān better, didn’t I?
“You have been unable to open her locker?” I watched Muħammad Ůsmān gravely.
“Naturally. How could I get in? She’s got the only key to the locker. Hadn’t she?”
“Then,” I asked curtly, “how did you expect to get her things out and send them to her, as you told her?”
Muħammad Ůsmān looked at me contemptuously.
“Ever hear of any locksmith? You don’t run any entertainment business. Otherwise you should too have known that we use to have a locksmith’s services whenever we face such circumstances.”
“Your general knowledge about me is too poor, Muħammad Ůsmān. HVSI run every entertainment business except that’s harmful to human society. Gambling, wine, smuggling, prostitution etcetera aren’t actually entertainment businesses. They are extremely harmful to the human society. Only the underevolveds, as you, run such so called entertainment businesses.”
The police chief said,
“Don’t talk with him, Muħammad Ůsmān. He’s just trying to get admissions from you, in the presence of competent witnesses. This man never fights masculine. He always fights feminine. He doesn’t have any masculine empire. He has a feminine empire, Durgesh Muslimahs Sex Empire. Doesn’t he?”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled humiliating the police chief.
“We sympathize with you ever loser folks. I can very well understand your ever desperate jealousy. Nevertheless, you ever loser folks must too understand that it needs a man to establish a feminine empire or sex empire, whatever you want to call it. No bisexual, no gay, can do it ever.”
“And as far as your so called masculine fights are concerned, only the underevolveds, as you, can call them masculine fights. Actually they are Criminal fights, most dangerous ever to human society.” I said curtly.
The police chief and Muħammad Ůsmān only looked at each other, smiling.
“First,” I said, “I’m going to get my client’s things. I’m warning you both, Mr. Muħammad Ůsmān, and the police chief, that any attempt to search her things without a warrant will be considered an illegal invasion of my client’s rights. I’m also demanding an apology from Mr. Muħammad Ůsmān because of remarks he has made suggesting that my client is less than honest. Such an apology will not be accepted as compensation by my client, but we are suggesting that it be made in order to mitigate damages.”
Muħammad Ůsmān started to say something, but the chief of police said,
“Take it easy, Muħammad Ůsmān. Where’s Al Nādir Al Ħaibat?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Muħammad Ůsmān said angrily, “I told my attorney to be here to protect my legal rights as the owner of this yacht, Paradise Floats. An incurable fucker of criminal Musalmān Beauties interprets every law in their favor and my attorney isn’t present here, even though he always boasts to protect every masculine right of every male against the ever insane ever incurable Hindu fucker of criminal Musalmān Beauties.”
The door opened.
For a moment the light from the side walk poured in, silhouetting a bodily strong looking individual, as if he was a trained boxer, instead being an attorney at law.
Both Muħammad Ůsmān and his chief of police friend were imprudent enough to hire a bodily competent attorney instead of a mentally competent one.
They still believed in violence more than in the law and intellectual power.
But they were not alone.
Most of the backwards did it.
There were still too many Pseudo Musalmīn that couldn’t understand the supremacy of intellectual power.
They still believed in the supremacy of military power.
That’s why they lost to comparatively more prudent Hindus ever.
Despite their physical political administration on Hindus in India for a long time, they couldn’t get except a small land called Pakistan that too was divided into two separate autonomous sovereign countries soon.
The door closed and the silhouette resolved itself into a man of around thirty seven with dark rimmed spectacles, a toothy grin and hard, appraising eyes.
“This,” Muħammad Ůsmān announced acidly, “is Al Nādir Al Ħaibat, my attorney.”
He turned to him,
“Al Nādir Al Ħaibat, Mr. Mayor is here representing once more one more criminal Musalmān Beauty. He says…”
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Mayor.” Al Nādir Al Ħaibat stretched his hand, “Sorry, due to traffic problems I couldn’t reach here earlier to welcome you.”
Al Nādir Al Ħaibat’s fingers closed around my hand.
“All right, never mind the diplomacy.” Muħammad Ůsmān said, “Mr. Mayor is not here in his official capacity. He is here as an attorney representing this woman who’s trying to blackmail me and―”
“Easy, Muħammad Ůsmān, easy,” Al Nādir Al Ħaibat warned, “Take it easy, will you?”*
Muħammad Ůsmān said curtly,
“What do you mean, ‘take it easy’? I’m telling you.”
“Your antagonist isn’t an ordinary man.” Al Nādir Al Ħaibat said scornfully, “He is a world famous man for breaking countless Musalmān homes, yet he has miraculously managed most of the persons believe successfully that he isn’t a home breaker. He is a Messiah of Musalmān houseladies instead that’s rescuing Musalmān houseladies from their tyrant husbands and criminal house persons. He is being praised and respected immensely for it, instead of being condemned.”
“So what?” Muħammad Ůsmān said scornfully too, “With the infinite money he has, and still pouring in incredibly, anyone can manage the media praising him despite his tremendous shortcomings and wickedness even. Moreover he hasn’t even to bribe the media even. He himself owns most of the media, law firms etcetera. Most of the governments everywhere are immensely indebted and obliged to him for their own survival. They can’t act against him ever. He is the ever shrewdest person I’ve ever encountered in my life.”
“Thank you, gentlemen,”
“Don’t mention it,” Muħammad Ůsmān said sarcastically.
Al Nādir Al Ħaibat opened his mouth to say something, but Muħammad Ůsmān raised his hand to stop him,
“He’s representing a broad that’s trying to blackmail me. As always happens every criminal Musalmān houselady that’s extraordinary beautiful reaches him, lets him fuck her as much as he wants to, and he comes to rescue her posing himself as a messiah of unjustifiably accused Musalmān houseladies. I would never allow to let them play this dirty game to me even. She claims I accused her of being dishonest.”
“Oh, Muħammad Ůsmān would never do that.” Al Nādir Al Ħaibat smiled dignified.
Then he turned to Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, bowed to her, and swung around to face Al Taufīq Al Zāhid,
“Well, well,” he said, “It’s the cigar and cigarette girl.”
“That’s the one,” Muħammad Ůsmān said contemptuously, “she told me that she’d won a bathing beauty contest that included a trip to Ved Nagar Film Industry, a screen test and a certain amount of resulting publicity.”
“A screen test?” Al Nādir Al Ħaibat acted surprised incredulously.
“That’s what she said to me,” Muħammad Ůsmān acted paternal somewhat, “I never believed her. She was extremely beautiful alright, but it takes more than mere immense beauty to be an actress. I thought she dreamed of becoming an actress without knowing anything worthwhile about it. I got sympathetic, naturally.”
“Naturally,” I smiled sarcastically, “how nice of you,”
“She told me it was part of the publicity.” Muħammad Ůsmān said, “She told me she never heard anything from it again. She even said she even doubted sometimes if there was film in the camera.”
“The trip to Ved Nagar Film Industry?” Al Nādir Al Ħaibat urged Muħammad Ůsmān.
“She said that was real. She had to wait to travel when the plane had some extra seats. It was nice however, she said, while it lasted.”
“When did it quit lasting?” Al Nādir Al Ħaibat smiled sarcastically.
“About six months ago, she said.”
“And she’d been doing?”
“Various things, she said.”
“The last was being employed as a cigarette girl and novelty singer at your Entertainment Yacht?” Al Nādir Al Ħaibat asked.
“That’s right,” Muħammad Ůsmān said, “five months ago she got a job with me. I’ve a little night club here on the yacht with a room in back where there are legalized games, you know.”
“And her employment terminated when?” Al Nādir Al Ħaibat asked.
“Last night, and very abruptly.” Al Taufīq Al Zāhid answered curtly, instead of Muħammad Ůsmān.
“What happened?” Al Nādir Al Ħaibat asked feigning sympathy, dignity and impartiality.
“Muħammad Ůsmān and Muħammad bin Qāsim were―”
“Go ahead,” Muħammad Ůsmān encouraged her sarcastically, “let’s hear your story that either you manufactured to get Mr. Mayor sympathetic with you or he did to fuck you.”*
Al Taufīq Al Zāhid laughed sarcastically.
“Durgesh never needs to manufacture any story to enjoy any Musalmān Beauty or any beautiful Musalmān houselady. Despite your desperate frantic efforts to prove otherwise, none of you bloody liars could ever prove Durgesh wrong, not even a single time. The ever persistent ever unstoppable ever overpowering expansion of Durgesh Muslimahs Sex Empire is itself a proof that Durgesh is always right. He hasn’t broken even a single Musalmān home anywhere. If the concerned Musalmān home was ever broken it was always broken by either the concerned Musalmān houselady because she never wanted to continue her homely responsibilities anymore, or her husband himself wanted to split away for his own hidden reasons. That’s why Durgesh was accused to break Musalmān homes countless times, yet it couldn’t be proven ever.”
“Very commendable opening speech,” Muħammad Ůsmān laughed sarcastically, “I congratulate the script writer. Mr. Mayor is always a successful writer. Let’s hear the rest of it.”
Al Taufīq Al Zāhid watched Muħammad Ůsmān contemptuously and continued, confidently.
“Muħammad Ůsmān and Muħammad bin Qāsim both wanted me to do some crooked work. They wanted me to look at the hands of a sucker and signal what he was holding.”
Muħammad Ůsmān indignantly tried to contradict her, but Al Nādir Al Haibat stopped him raising his hand once again.
“And you did?” Al Nādir Al Haibat asked Al Taufīq Al Zāhid.
“I did not.” Al Taufīq Al Zāhid said irritably.
“So, what happened?” Al Nādir Al Haibat asked feigning courtesy.
“I should have known better. I failed to act prudent enough to protect my own interests. Muħammad Ůsmān was dangerous. I forgot that he has a terrific temper and he was furious. Suddenly, without any ultimatum, Muħammad Ůsmān took a long breath and smiled that oily and suave breath of his. He told me it was all right, he would handle the game without my help.”
“And he did?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t last long enough to find out.”
“Muħammad Ůsmān told me the cashier had become ill and had to leave. I was to take over the cash register and let some of my singing numbers go. Well, there was a hundred and twenty dollar shortage.”
“While you were in charge?” Al Nādir Al Haibat asked gravely.
“A real shortage or―”
“A real shortage. The cash simply didn’t balance.”
“You admit it?”
“Of course, I admit it. I don’t want to blame anyone falsely.”
“What happened to it in your opinion, if you haven’t done it?” Al Nādir Al Haibat asked feigning impartiality.
“Frankly, I don’t know. I think Muħammad Ůsmān did a little sleight of hand on me when he inventoried the cash with me at the time I took over. Muħammad Ůsmān is very swift and very clever with his hands. He can deal from the bottom of the deck or deal seconds, and it’s almost impossible to catch him at it. I think that when he counted the cash in the cash register with me at the time I took over, he used his sleight of hand. All I know is that when I came to balance up, there was the shortage.”
“Who found it?”
“I found it.”
“And what did you do?”
“I communicated immediately with Muħammad Ůsmān. I told one of the waitresses to tell him. He was in this game.”
“And what happened?”
“Muħammad Ůsmān fired me. I had about a hundred dollars coming in back wages. Muħammad Ůsmān handed me forty dollars and told me that was enough to get out of there and if I wasn’t out within twenty four hours, Muħammad Ůsmān would have a warrant issued for me. He called me a thief and everything else in the―”
“Quite a few people in the place could hear Muħammad Ůsmān. He wasn’t particularly quiet about it.”
“Know any of their names?”
“A couple. Al Sādiyah Arraħmān was there.”
“Who is she?”
“One of the girls who does all around work. Sometimes she acts as attendant in the powder room, sometimes she’s a hat check girl. Sometimes she works in the motel office.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Midterm 2012 Volume 4
Kħātūn-e-Jannat Volume 3
Ved Nagar Volume 2
On a quiet road heading out of town I had stopped suddenly as a cat ran across in front of me.
As I did I felt a bump and quickly realized someone had hit me from behind.
Without a thought I pulled over to the side of the road and leapt from the car in something of a rage to inspect the damage.
As I went to the back of the car I noticed the other car had stopped and as the door swung open a rather attractive young woman stepped out in a bit of a panic.
“Allah! Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” Al Quddūs Al Nisār shrieked. “I…I don’t know what happened, one minute you…..”
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā ! What have you done,” said I furiously butting in on her attempted explanation.
Al Quddūs Al Nisār was clearly in a bit of a state.
I quickly realized it had to be because the car Al Quddūs Al Nisār had hit was my car.
I was about to calm her fears and tell her it was alright when my words were suddenly taken away by the sight of her womanly curves.
Standing I found it hard to concentrate on what Al Quddūs Al Nisār was saying.
As I tried to focus on her face rather than her body I couldn’t help but take the occasional quick glance down at her rather impressive chest.
For a moment I pretended to be completely tongue tied and just let her continue with her explanation and apology.
I never felt awkward and uncomfortable around women because they almost always looked down at me with seduction.
I had the undivided attention of a gorgeous young woman and wanted to make the most of it.
Pretending to be concerned about the damage to my car I walked around the back and took a closer look.
I just rubbed my chin and muttered,
“Eīshān Param Brahm Paramātmā. Oh, dear.”
The concerned young woman came to have a look too, her perfume filling the air around me.
Not wanting to miss out on an opportunity like this, I stepped back just behind her to get a crafty look at her glorious rear as she bent over to see how bad it was.
My eyes widened at the glorious sight of her generously proportioned cheeks stretching the tight black leggings.
From the lack of any visible panty line I knew this gorgeous white skinned veiled yet unveiled Musalmān woman had to be wearing some sort of thong and I could instantly feel my Uncut Hindu Cock begin to swell.
Turning back to again explaining how sorry Al Quddūs Al Nisār was, I reached out and touched her arm with my hand in a sort of comforting gesture.
“Oh don’t worry,” I said enjoying the immense feeling of power, “I can just ignore it and forget.”
“Oh thank you, I don’t know what to say, thank you so much!”
In an instant and before I could realize what was happening she threw her arms around me and gave me a huge hug.
It took me completely by surprise, the young glorious Musalmān woman was clearly so happy at my kindness that Al Quddūs Al Nisār was overcome with the urge to demonstrate her immense gratitude.
She had uplifted her naqāb of her veil to keep her immensely beautiful face out.
They did it to beautify themselves more than the non-Muslim Beauties, to highlight their extreme beauty.
It lasted a good 10 seconds or so and all I could feel was her bust squashing against my chest.
My already stirring Uncut Hindu Cock now began to really harden.
I instinctively slipped my hands around her to hug her back.
As Al Quddūs Al Nisār enthusiastically continued to blurt out her thanks I couldn’t resist holding her tightly.
I enjoyed the moment very much.
Then, it was either instinct or more likely just seizing this most exciting of experiences, I couldn’t resist moving my hands downwards to rest just below her waist on the slope at the top of her perfectly formed female Musalmān ass.
The smooth tight feel of her leggings was just incredible for me, to most it would have been nothing more than what it was, a simple friendly hug. But for me it was an opportunity to enjoy more close contact than I had had with an extremely attractive female for longer than I cared to remember.
It was a true sexual experience and one that was turning me on greatly.
As the hug came to an end and Al Quddūs Al Nisār began to step back I had to take the chance, I knew I might never get another, and so as casually as I could make it appear I allowed my hands to fall away and “accidentally” touch those two beautifully rounded Musalmān cheeks.
Luckily Al Quddūs Al Nisār said nothing, either Al Quddūs Al Nisār hadn’t noticed or Al Quddūs Al Nisār didn’t mind.
Then, getting back into her car, I was left in stunned silence as I watched her drive away.
I too got back in my car and as I started the engine I just sat there a few minutes recounting what had just happened.
I couldn’t quite believe it, the whole experience would mean nothing to most people, but to me it was just an incredible moment, one that had left me with a serious bulge in my trousers that was going to require attention sooner rather than later!
Al Quddūs Al Nisār had deliberately seduced me, I knew.
Al Jalāl Al Tayyab had remarked to me that her Bhābhījān, Al Quddūs Al Nisār, watched us ravenously whenever Al Jalāl Al Tayyab and I made love to each other.
“We should be more careful in our love making, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab,” I had said gravely.
“Hey, what do you mean?” Al Jalāl Al Tayyab laughed, “I am not afraid of anyone. You can fuck me anywhere you damn please,”
“Sālī, perverted,” I smiled, “I never knew you are too an exhibitionist.”
“Well,” Al Jalāl Al Tayyab said humming, “I have the most wonderful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān body everyone is obsessed to watch in nude. Your Uncut Hindu Lund is similarly unique they want to watch penetrating every beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Cunt. When they watch us making love to each other, they enjoy double exhibition. Let them get what they are obsessed with to watch. It isn’t harming us, does it?”*
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb watched me scrutinizing.
“I’ve got a right to know, Mr. Durgesh. Al Hilāl Al Tayyab might be your girlfriend of twenty eight years old, but she is my would-be wife. I refuse to let her being blackmailed. I want to know further what your extraordinary unique prudence propose to do about it.”
I digested the information.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab never told me that she was being blackmailed.
It was a new information to me.
I acted as if it wasn’t any news to me.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab had already told me it.
“I see. So, you too know about it? She shared the information with you too.”
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb watched me gravely.
“She is being married to me. What do you think, she’d tell it to her boyfriend of sixty four years, but not to her would be husband even? You can provide her sex and money only. I can provide her respect and honor in the society, if not even as much sex and as much money as you can.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled.
She was lying on her back now.
“You are invited in the yacht?”
“I wasn’t.” Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb said somewhat curtly, “Your Hindu lover, Durgesh, invites our extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies only to fuck them, not their would be husbands.”
“Then how the hell you managed to get on the yacht?”
“Despite the security, you mean?” Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb smiled ironically.
“Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb wasn’t born yesterday, sister.” He said proudly, “I have my own means to approaches.”
“Who else does know Al Hilāl Al Tayyab is being blackmailed?” I asked curtly.
“I don’t know.”
“I see. I asked you to come in because I could not rule out the possibility that you might need my guidance in some legal, political, social, psychological or some another matter. If you don’t, I’m sorry to take your leave, Mr. Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb. I’m too busy to give you any more time. Will you please excuse me now?”
“I want to retain you to protect my would be wife, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab, that’s your girlfriend too for past ten long years, from whoever the person blackmailing her.” Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb exploded his bombshell.*
Over the next few days I couldn’t get what had happened between Al Quddūs Al Nisār and me, out of my mind.
The more I thought about it the more I came to realize I could fairly easily get Al Quddūs Al Nisār.
She was deliberately seducing me.
As the days went by I just kept on coming up with more and more imaginative ways that I could satisfy my growing need for her female contact.
Soon I came to the decision that I would prepare myself in case an opportunity arose again.
I could see that even the loveliest Musalmān houseladies were nervous of me and it was something that I knew I had the courage to exploit even, if I wanted to.
Then an opportunity arose I saw Al Quddūs Al Nisār come out of a shop and hop into her little sports car.
Al Quddūs Al Nisār caught my eye instantly in her tight black business skirt white blouse and black jacket. She must have been as if in her early twenties and with her long dark wavy brown hair and incredibly sexy figure it would have been hard not to notice her.
It was a look I loved, the sexy submissive look, her skirt came to just above the knee giving a good display of her legs sheathed in sheer black nylon and although her jacket was buttoned up I could tell Al Quddūs Al Nisār was hiding an impressive bust.
In rather a cheeky move Al Quddūs Al Nisār pulled out in her car and joined the queue as close to the front as Al Quddūs Al Nisār could. Obviously a cute smile at some sad guy was going to get her in without any bother.
As they all moved off I kept her in my sights. I knew I had some spare time as I was dropping the car off.*
I didn’t tell him I was already retained by Al Hilāl Al Tayyab herself.
Why the hell should have I?
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab, not my twenty eight years old girlfriend for past ten long years now, but Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb’s would be wife instead, had retained me only to help her in getting married with Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb without losing her inheritance.
I had to protect her inheritance rights only from her ever shrewdest youngest Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab.
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb was offering me an absolutely new case.
I had to protect her from someone who was blackmailing her.
It was an entirely different case.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab wasn’t anymore my as loyal a girlfriend as she was until now.
She was more loyal to Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her Cuckold Your Musalmān Husband Movement now instead.
Then why the hell should I offer her my services on charity?
If her would be husband was himself ready to pay me for them, why should I pay the detectives and other incidental expenses from my own pocket?
If Al Hilāl Al Tayyab preferred Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, her Cuckold Your Musalmān Husband Movement and Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb more on me, why could not I too treat her on the same ground?
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī closed the door gently, after Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb left us, quite satisfied that I didn’t refuse to take the case he had come to offer me.
I was fucking Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī now on her nude back gravely.
She was herself enjoying my Uncut Hindu Lund into her lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot.
Her husband could never give her this much pleasure.
Neither could he guide her in her legal problems.
Durgesh was necessary now for Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī more than her own husband even.
After a few moments, I took out the computer printed paper containing the copy of the clause in the will of Al Tayyab Al Muħammad, setting forth the terms of the trust to Al Hilāl Al Tayyab.
I was still fucking Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī on her back, and still studying the computer printed document when Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb opened the door once more.
“Miss Al Hilāl Al Tayyab,” she said.
I looked at Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb speculatively for a moment, then beckoned to her.
Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb interpreted the gesture, and stepped fully into the stateroom, pulling the door close behind her.
I filled Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt with my abundant Hindu semen.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled and kissed her gratitude to me.
I pulled my Uncut Hindu Lund out of her twat.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī descended from the bed and Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb took her place undressing herself.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī vanished into the bathroom.
“Did Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb go out of the office as soon as he left here, Jamīlah?” I asked her.
Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb kissed my Uncut Hindu Lund, licked and said,
“Yes, in his costly Mercedes. He was quite confident now while he was almost in a panic when he came here.”
Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb swallowed my Uncut Hindu Lund into her lovely mouth and started sucking it passionately.
“And Al Hilāl Al Tayyab just came in?”
“Any chances they met in the elevator?”
Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb positioned my Uncut Hindu Lund between her pink Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān labial lips, and pursed her lips thoughtfully.
“They might have, Hindu husband of us Musalmān Beauties,” she said, “but I don’t think they did.”
I smiled triumphantly.
Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb never understood.
It wasn’t because Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb was imprudent.
No imprudent girl could get Durgesh’s respect and love both as Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb was getting.
But I was too deep to understand optimum for Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī understood Durgesh more.
Nevertheless, she too found Durgesh too deep to be understood completely.
Durgesh’s De facto Chief Wife, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, was now the closest one to Durgesh.
Yet, even she could not understand Durgesh was using her deliberately with her Abbū, Imām Muħammad Ħasan, as Imām Muħammad Ħasan disclosed to her in the seminar.
“Tell me, Jamīlah,” I entered Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb, “how does Al Hilāl Al Tayyab seem? Excited?”
Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb put her beautiful nude legs on my shoulders.
“No.” she replied, “cold as a cucumber, and she is trying to look her best when she comes in. She took out her compact and is making her face all pretty. She has got her hair arranged just so.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī came out of bathroom.
“Alright, bring Al Hilāl Al Tayyab in, Al Hudā,” I said.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī opened the door.
“Come in, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab,” she said.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab walked into the room.
Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb was in the room with me.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī knew she had to replace her as a receptionist until Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb isn’t free to resume her duties.
She slipped out of the door, and noiselessly closed it behind her.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab kissed me on my lips.
I returned her kiss cordially.
“Sit down,” I said lovingly.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab walked to a leather chair, sat down, crossed her knees and regarded me from limpid black eyes in wordless interrogation.
“An Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb called on me a few moments ago,” I said fucking Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb vigorously, “and insisted on my telling him whether or not you had been here.”
“Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb is an impulsive nuisance,” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab said gravely. “I’m sorry that he disturbed you.”
“Never mind.” I smiled, “He had come to me to retain me himself professionally on some another matter.”
“Allah, not concerning me?”
I regarded her thoughtfully.
“That is a privileged communication and you know me for past ten years better that as soon as I tell you that, it would end to remain a privileged communication legally.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’d forgotten it.”
“Did you tell him you were going here to consult me professionally?”
“I mentioned something like that to him. Did you tell him I’ve retained you professionally?”
“Certainly not. I advised him to get in touch with you if he wanted to ask any questions about your affairs.”
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab smiled faintly.
“Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb, my would be husband, is submissive to me only. To others he is a very hard boiled man. I bet you he hadn’t appreciated your talking to him like that.”
“He didn’t.” I watched her gravely.
“I’ll see him,” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab said, “and tell him.”
I kept watching her scrutinizing.
“Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb said that you were being blackmailed.”
For just a fraction of a second there was a look of startled terror in the eyes of the twenty eight years old young woman.
Then she regarded me with a placid and impassive face.
“Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb is an impulsive nuisance,” she said once more.
I deliberately waited for Al Hilāl Al Tayyab to tell me more if she wished to take advantage of the opportunity, but Al Hilāl Al Tayyab didn’t do that deliberately.
Instead, she sat calmly placid, waiting for me to provide the information she had retained me professionally to get.
She wasn’t my girlfriend of past ten long years anymore now.
She was acting deliberately as if she was only a client to me.
I wasn’t a man she had enjoyed the ultimate intimacy with for past ten long years.
I was only her attorney now.
I had to accept the relationship between us now she was so deliberately, so determinedly, implying, if I didn’t want to be humiliated.
I accepted the implication.
I hadn’t another option.
I never let anyone to humiliate me.
Why the hell should have I ever?
I turned to the papers I had,
“I have copies of the trust provisions of the will, and the decree of distribution. I also find that there have been annual accounts submitted to the trustees. I’m sorry that I can’t give you much hope, Al Hilāl, as far as the decree of distribution is concerned. The administration of the trust seems to be largely discretionary.
“Even if I should be able to get the provision in regard to marriage set aside, as being in violation of public policy, you would still be confronted with the fact that the distribution of the trust estate remains largely in the discretion of the trustee, your Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab. She may consider your attack upon the will in the light of an interference with the wishes of your Abbū, her brother, and with her authority as trustee.”
“Even if we should win our point in court, your aunt, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab, would have it in her discretion to nullify your victory.”
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab took the blow without flinching.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she sighed overpowered.
I watched her gravely keeping pounding into Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb vehemently,
“There is another peculiar provision in the trust,” I said, “to the effect that the discretion vested in the trustee is a personal discretion, due to the confidence that your Abbū had in his judgment. The will and the decree of distribution provide that in the event the trust should terminate because of the death, inability or refusal on the part of the trustee to continue to act, that then and in such event, the entire trust fund is to be vested in you unconditionally.”
“Yes.” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab smiled sadly, “I know that.”
“There is therefore,” I said, “some possibility that your Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab, might be placed in a position where she could no longer act to advantage. In other words, you might make some legal attack upon her capacity to act as trustee―perhaps show a commingling of trust funds with her own accounts, or something of that sort. It’s rather sketchy, and I am mentioning it to you simply because it seems to be the only possible plan of campaign open to you.”
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab smiled at me,
“You know my aunt, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab, even better than me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you yourself know very well, even more than me that my aunt, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab, is meticulously careful, and is so obstinate that no power on earth can swerve her from anything she wants to do or decides that she doesn’t want to do. You have not only enjoyed her sexually, you have trained her too to protect against anything potential to harm her. Now she is entirely self-sufficient.” Her voice was filled with a certain bitterness that colored her tone, though her eyes remained calm.
Watching Al Hilāl Al Tayyab closely, I kept fucking Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb more and more vigorously,
“Do you yourself have any suggestions?”
“Sure,” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab said, “I think something might be done through my Kħālā, Al Saåīdah Al Wājid.”
“Your Kħālā? Al Saåīdah Al Wājid?”
“Yes, she is surprisingly my Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab’s partner too. They are engaged in business together, buying, selling and mortgaging real estate, and buying and selling stocks and bonds. Surprisingly now my Kħālā, Al Saåīdah Al Wājid, has more influence today, after you, with my Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab, than any other living person.”
“And how does your Kħālā, Al Saåīdah Al Wājid, feel toward you that you are marrying a gay.”
“Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb is not actually a gay. Muħammad is gay, but Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb is only a bisexual.”
“I see, my question was how does your Kħālā, Al Saåīdah Al Wājid, feel toward you that you are marrying a bisexual?” I asked patiently, curtly somewhat.
“Well, Al Saåīdah Al Wājid Kħālā has changed in this matter drastically. Now, she isn’t as orthodox as she was once. She thinks I have perfect right to marry anyone I damn please,”
“Even a bisexual?”
“Even a bisexual. Durgesh, a bisexual isn’t a gay actually.”
4. On History
6. On Hinduism
7. On Islam
Midterm 2012 Volume 4
Kħātūn-e-Jannat Volume 3
Ved Nagar Volume 2
I smiled at Al Hilāl Al Tayyab gravely.
“It’s not as simple as that, my twenty eight years old young Musalmān beloved. I am sixty four―”
She smiled sarcastically.
“You are fucking me, Durgesh. Can’t you be true even to your girlfriend for ten long years? No bloody sixty four can fuck me as wildly as you are. The most I can believe you to be, is thirty four, and it’s ultimate.”
I ignored the infinite times argued argument.
It was of no use ever.
“The point I was making, was that a condition by which a party is prevented from marrying is considered against public policy and void. Nevertheless that’s subject to certain qualifications. Particularly in the case of the trusts of the type that are known as the Spendthrift Trusts. The trust that was created under your Abbū’s will is exactly of one of the exact nature.
“Moreover, you may yourself note that there isn’t exactly any restrictions upon marriage itself. As a matter of fact, your Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab, has been given a wide discretion in the matter. Your Abbū had immense faith on his youngest sister, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab.”
“Nādirshāh Durrānī.” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab chuckled coldly.
“She has a wrong name. Al Jalāl Al Tayyab Buā must have been named Nādirshāh Durrānī.”
“Nonsense, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab,” I protested, “Al Jalāl Al Tayyab loves you even more than herself. You are the only heir to her too, and the only thing Al Jalāl Al Tayyab wants from you is, behave yourself, act your age, be responsible.”
“I am not interested in her money.” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab said furiously, “My Abbū has himself left enough for me.”
“You are getting Al Jalāl Al Tayyab wrong.”
“Stop protecting her. She doesn’t need anyone’s protection anymore. You have already trained her to protect herself from everyone.”
She was really impossible.
Her Abbū, Al Tayyab Al Muħammad, was right.
Her Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab was equally right too.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab needed constant protection from me.
Only I could control her optimum.
My ultimate intimacy with her, for ten long years even, had increased her arrogance instead of making her how to behave sophisticated.
The essential problem was, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab refused to learn anything new she did not know already.
“There are so many persons that say that some lawyers tell people what they can do and what they can’t, but you are always different from those damn fools. You invariably fix things ever so a person can do what s/he wants to do.”
My Uncut Hindu Prick was moving between her extremely beautiful ardent Musalmān labial lips more vigorously.
Her twenty eight years old young Musalmān Cunt was swallowing my sixty four years old Uncut Hindu Prick voraciously.
It was my constant experience that comparatively to my other women, my Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān women were more ravenous to fuck me.
It did not, of course, necessarily mean that the Musalmān womankind was more ravenous than the rest of the entire womankind.
In my original Param Purush body that was synchronized now within my own Antim Ācharañ Nāyak body, of course, I was fucking the entire womankind nonstop in Param Vyom, the Absolute Space.
Yet, it was true that ravenous women were there in every society, not only in Ummat-e-Muslimah.
There were numerous reasons for a woman to be ravenous sexually.
Most of the human societies almost always fought with Hindu Society that Hindus were the most sex oriented men.
Ved/Hinduism expressly, specifically, especially, preaches its men to be utmost sex oriented.
If some of the human societies didn’t fight with Hindu Society ever on this point, they almost ever hated Hindus for it, if not expressly, clandestinely at least.
Yet, even such ever biased anti Hindu societies too can’t deny ever, truthfully, that it was only the Hindu Society that successfully faced always every movement that was against humanity and humankind.
The entire history of entire humankind stands to its evidence whether someone acknowledges it or not.
When Pseudo Isālm was massacring the entire non Musalmīn it was Ved/Hinduism that stopped its ever imperialist ever utmost harmful-to-humankind aggression in India.
Islam had already surrendered to Pseudo Isālm at Karbala to Yazīd malåūn and his Pseudo Musalmīn bandits.
The ever vain boasting Persians surrendered to it, by surrendering their entire homeland herself, to Pseudo Musalmīn of Yazīd malåūn and his Pseudo Musalmīn bandits.
It was India only that’s still practicing True Islam anywhere.
Even Turkey is second to India in this matter.
It was one of the ever greatest in Musalmīn, Mughal-e-Åāzam, Shahanshāh, Samrāŧ Jalāluddīn Muħammad Akbar, that revived True Islam in India, calling it Dīn-e-Ilāhī, separating it from Pseudo Isālm expressly.
And then it started fighting with Pseudo Isālm.*
It was a smile of wisdom garnered from bitter experiences of my past sixty four years, of knowledge amassed, accumulated, from the confidences of thousands of women and men.
If Al Hilāl Al Tayyab could only have even infinitesimal confidence in her aunt, her Buā, Al Jalāl Al Tayyab, of what her own Abbū had on his youngest shrewdest sister, she could easily understand Al Jalāl Al Tayyab loved her not anything less than her brother.
But there was her ever closest friend, Al Shams Al Jisārat.
She thought her aunt Al Jalāl Al Tayyab was after her money.
“That’s somewhat true,” I said, “but not entirely. One can almost always get a way out of any situation. If there’s a will, there’s a way.”
“Well,” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab told me somewhat bitterly, “there’s a will in this case, my dear ever utmost experienced Hindu husband of sixty four years prudence. I want the way.”
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb was never in the good book of Al Jalāl Al Tayyab.
“Al Jalāl Al Tayyab never liked Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb.” I said.
“Are you telling me?” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab asked me inordinately.
“Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb knows of this provision in the will?”
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab watched me with intense scrutinizing eyes.
“I think now Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb knows perhaps. He didn’t until now. Nevertheless, it’s immaterial. It’s neither here nor there. Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb is himself a millionaire. He does not need my money.”
“I see. I think actually you don’t want to marry Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb. You actually want to cuckold him to please my Practical Chief Wife, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan. Isn’t it?”*
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab smiled cunningly.
“What if I really want to do it?”
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is anti-Muslim now, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab.”
“You are quite mistaken, my dear ever utmost experienced Hindu husband of sixty four years prudence. Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is herself Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā reincarnated. And she has proven it as many times as she razī Allāhu tålā ånahā has been challenged to prove it.”
“In front of ever immense superstitious Pseudo Musalmīn only.” I said bitterly, “I never interrupted her in her practical political strategies whenever they produced creative results.”
“And you think Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, your De facto Chief Wife now, isn’t actually Kħātūn-e-Jannat Ħazrat Saiyadah Fātimah razī Allāhu tålā ånahā, reincarnated?” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab asked me ironically, “Only because you are not a Muslim, you are a Hindu instead. You haven’t any faith in Islam whatsoever.”
I kept fucking Al Hilāl Al Tayyab vehemently, patiently.
“Don’t try to make it a religious communal issue, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab.”
“You have no right to call our religious faith communal, Durgesh.” Al Hilāl Al Tayyab said furiously bitterly, “It’s not your faith. It’s not your religion. It’s up to us Musalmīn to define what our religion is and what’s not.”
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab was adamant not to argue rationally without any bias and prejudices.
It was Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan’s immensely thoroughly thought out deliberate strategy.
She worked on ever superstitious Pseudo Musalmīn and immensely biased, immensely selfish, extremely beautiful, Musalmān houseladies that were interested either in abnormal wild sex with me or in my ever infinite money.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab wanted to cuckold Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb.
She wasn’t interested in truth at all.
Let the truth be whatsoever damn it.
She wanted to cuckold Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb because Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan wanted it.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had promised to let her inheritance released to Al Hilāl Al Tayyab from Al Jalāl Al Tayyab.
Moreover, Al Hilāl Al Tayyab would have an immensely capable friend, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, to take care of her, besides me too.
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab looked at me,
“Don’t make any mistake about it,” her voice was vibrant with emotion, “I’m going to marry Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb. It’s final. You have got to find some way so that I can do it. I leave that end of it up to you.”
I kept fucking Al Hilāl Al Tayyab scrutinizing her carefully.
“Well, you are adamant to cuckold Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb, I think.”
“I am,” she said firmly.
“Okay. Let me look up the concerned court records before planning the optimum strategy. Let’s talk about it further, tomorrow morning.”
Al Hilāl Al Tayyab pulled her glorious Panjvaqtah Namāzī nude Musalmān bottom until my Uncut Hindu Prick was out of her Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt only its head remaining inside. Then she thrust it back into my nude male Hindu lap with her entire feminine lust.
It vanished into her Musalmān Cunt absolutely.
“Tomorrow morning is too late.” She shook her head, “The most I can afford is, this afternoon.”
I sighed disguising my exasperation.
“Okay. Give me time to look up the concerned court records in the meantime. Let’s talk further about it at four o’clock.”
“Okay.” She smiled at me ultimately.*
I fucked Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī engrossed in thoughtful appraisal.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī understood my mood absolutely now.
She knew I never wanted to be disturbed when I was thinking.
Ultimately, I jabbed a button on the side of my desk.
A young woman of twenty eight popped her beautiful head through the doorway leading from a law library, watched me fucking Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī gravely, smiled impishly, and entered the room.
“Al Vaqār,” I said, “go up to the court house and find the papers in the Al Tayyab Estate. An Al Hilāl Al Tayyab was given property amounting to more than a hundred million dollars in trust. The name of the trustee is Al Jalāl Al Tayyab. Check the decree of distribution, and also the will. Make copies of the trust provisions, then get back here as soon as you can.”
The gorgeous young Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Beauty blinked her eyes swiftly, twice.
“Al Tayyab?” she asked.
“Yes,” I smiled at her, “Al Tayyab Al Muħammad.”
“And Al Jalāl Al Tayyab?”
“And Al Jalāl Al Tayyab.” I confirmed.
“Okay.” Al Vaqār Al Åbbās smiled at me seductively, turned, crossed the stateroom with confident steps, proudly aware of my ever appreciative Hindu male gaze on her young plump luscious Musalmān buttocks, and plunged into the outer office at my yacht.
I smiled at Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī.
She smiled at me too.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was all alert now.
She knew very well now when to keep quiet and when to speak.
Her manner radiated assurance and efficiency.
“Let’s check our impressions about Al Hilāl Al Tayyab today.” I said.
“She looked me trapped or sulky today.”
“Be specific. What was she? Trapped or sulky?”
“Does it make a lot of difference?” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled impishly somewhat, squeezing her vaginal muscles around my entire Uncut Hindu Prick.
“Sure,” I said, “you had a chance to see her when Al Hilāl Al Tayyab wasn’t posing. You are a woman too. She doesn’t need to impress you. Almost every woman that’s beautiful, poses at least somewhat in masculine presence either knowingly or unknowingly.”
“I think you can’t blame us womankind for it.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled.
“I never do.”
“Did she tell you the truth?”
“None of them tell us the truth the first time usually,” I said, “the womankind don’t especially more than the mankind. That’s why I decided to take your opinion too. Did she look trapped, or did she look sulky?”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī spoke thoughtfully, weighing her words carefully.
“I never saw her so trapped and sulky before. She was both today. I think she got caught in some kind of trap and had turned sulky.”
I smiled and pushed my Uncut Hindu Prick into her Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt entirely with immense sexual lust for her.
“Are you sure Al Hilāl Al Tayyab wasn’t in panic?”
“What do you mean?” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was suddenly all alert.
It was something new for her that a girl that appeared sulky ostensibly, might be actually in panic instead.
She had to learn from Durgesh infinitely even now.
Durgesh is perhaps the ever best psychologist now.
It’s immensely necessary to learn the human psychology as much as one can for not one’s progress only, but his/her survival too.
Durgesh is ever successful immensely in almost every field he is interested ever, because he never stops learning about human psychology.
“Nothing,” I smiled once more, “lots of people try to put a poker face when they are in a panic. It’s human nature. We never like to exhibit our weaknesses on others if we can manage it. Panic is a weakness. If the others know we are in a panic, even somewhat, they may take advantage of us at that time, our guards being down.”
“Wallāh, you are right. I never thought about it, Durgesh darling.” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī kissed me on my lips cheerfully and squeezed her vaginal muscles appreciatively around my Uncut Hindu Penis.
“It’s elementary, my dear Watson.” I winked at her.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī laughed appreciating me.
“When a person in panic tries to put on a poker face, nine times out of ten s/he looks sulky.”
“That’s right. Al Hilāl Al Tayyab is a self-willed little devil who usually always gets her own way due to her parents’ unbalanced parental love for her. Al Tayyab Al Muħammad was a business tycoon. He thought money was everything. His parents taught him this wrong lesson. Money is very important but not everything even then.”
“Al Tayyab Al Muħammad never paid proper attention to his offspring. He thought he is giving immense money to his daughters and that’s all his duty was to them.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was listening to me with absolute attention.
“It made him careless to his daughter that she was developing an ungovernable temper. He realized it, but too late to improve it. I think Al Hilāl Al Tayyab is caught in some sort of a trap. She is trying to get out of it.”
“A hell-cat?” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī smiled.
Suddenly my receptionist there, Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb, pushed open the door.
“Yes, Al Jamīlah,” I addressed her.
“There’s a man in the outer office.”
“Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb.”
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī looked at me.
“I see,” I murmured.
“He wants information about Miss Al Hilāl Al Tayyab.”
“Al Hilāl Al Tayyab?”
“Who has just been here.”
“You told him she has just been here?”
“What does he say?”
“He says that he wants to see you.” Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb smiled, “I asked him about his nature of business with you. He said it’s about a client of yours. I informed him that he would have to give me the name of the client. And tell me something of the nature of the business. He said that it was about Miss Al Hilāl Al Tayyab and he is very anxious to see you about her.”
“I see. What did you tell him?”
“I told him that I wasn’t familiar with the names of your clients, he would have to be more specific concerning his business. He is frightfully excited.”
“About what, the girl or his business?”
“I don’t know that. All I know is that he is excited and nervous.”
I reached a decision.
There was nothing wrong in meeting with the man they were trying to cuckold.
Why not warn him?
Let me see his response to the information.
Moreover, he could tell me something Al Hilāl Al Tayyab was hiding from me.
“Okay,” I said, “send him in,”
Al Jamīlah Al Wahāb nodded and turned, holding the door open.
“You may come in,” she said.
There was a rustle of motion.
A man came into the room.
He radiated restlessness.
He was a man radiating femininity, instead of masculinity.
He needed Stavans to change his mental blue print.
But it was not easy for him.
The communals had attached Stavans, meditation, with Hinduism.
Instead of advising meditation, Stavans, to him, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Hilāl Al Tayyab were planning to cuckold him.
Eīshān Eīshān Shammā shamīshān!
Yet, I knew it was useless to argue with Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Hilāl Al Tayyab on it.
They were irrationally adamant.
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb walked with nervous jerky steps.
He was either in late twenties or earlier thirties.
“Good day, counselor.” He smiled with vibrant manners despite his appearance.
“Good day. Please, sit down.” I offered him a chair.
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb hesitated, then sat down on the edge of one of the straight backed chairs.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb?” I asked him cordially.
“I want to find out whether Al Hilāl Al Tayyab called on you today.”
My face was patiently appraising.
“I’m sorry to tell you that I can’t divulge to you anything that my clients tell me in confidence. You should understand it’s a law office. Even a competent court can’t ask me who came to me to consult me legally and who didn’t. It’s not an information bureau, Mr. Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb.”
I said it politely, not harshly.
Why kill a person who is already being killed?
If I can’t save him from Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Hilāl Al Tayyab, at least I could be polite to him.
Al Bilāl Al Ħabīb jumped nervously to his feet, made some swift strides to the window, stood against the light for a moment, then whirled to stare at me.
His eyes were dark and smoldering.
He seemed to be fighting some overpowering emotion.
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The train had come to a stop.
Doors glided open.
Porters stood helping passengers off the train.
Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd stood looking first to the left, then to the right.
A woman got off the train, stood looking around as though expecting to meet someone, started to walk toward the depot, paused, turned and walked toward Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd.
“Waħīdah!” the woman said.
“Why, Ammījān!” Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd exclaimed with entirely unanticipated extremely pleasant surprise. “Allah! Good heavens, I didn’t recognize you. Even your own daughter couldn’t recognize you! What have you done to yourself? Måshā Allah! Subħān Allah!”
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and I exchanged glances.
“Allah Allah! Good Lord, Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd? Al Nadīm Al Quddūs’s first wife? I’ll be damned.”*
Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd smiled at her daughter.
“Hey, don’t tell me my new Hindu husband, my new Hindu Kħasam, didn’t tell you how miraculously he has transformed me.”
“Well, he told me,” Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd managed to control somewhat her still miraculously extremely pleasant surprise, “but I could never imagine… Ammījān, you look only my elder sister now. None can ever guess you are my real Ammī. It’s just a miracle, Ammī. You’ve really taken off weight.”
“Thirty five pounds.” Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd said, “I’m down to a hundred and twenty one and I’m going to stay that way. I’ve learned the hard way what happens to a woman when she lets her figure go.”
“Let Abbū see you and…”
Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd interrupted her daughter in the middle,
“Allah, Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd, don’t tell me you still care for that bastard. He divorced a Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān immensely faithful wife, for a hostess, for a shill who put on daringly cut evening gowns that were tight and clinging and circulated around the gambling tables here in Las Vegas, Nevada.”
Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd was immensely angry.
Al Waħīdah Al Tawħīd could understand very well what her Ammī was suffering through mentally.
“That’s why I requested you to meet somewhere else. But you insisted.”
“I lost my husband here. I want to celebrate my new private life exactly here to wipe out my memories of nonstop mental torture. You perhaps don’t know the bastard is also coming here to request me not to allow you to live in relationship with Durgesh. Hahaha. A thoroughly immoral husband is impersonating a thoroughly moral father now.”
I entered the room Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and Al Safiyah Al Ghaus were waiting for me in.
It was mellow, rich, with subdued sunlight filtering through pearl gray drapes.
There was wall-to-wall oyster-shell-colored carpeting on the floor.
The chairs were deep and comfortable.
The whole room was esthetically decorated.
It gave the impression that it had been designed for living, rather than to conform, to imitate, to any particular style of interior decoration.
“Beautifully decorated.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus said as I entered there.
“Thank you.” I smiled, “But the credit goes to your friend Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan, not to me.”
“I don’t think Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and you are two different persons.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus cooed.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan laughed.
“Thank you, Al Safiyah.”
“I’m sorry that you two, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim and you, have differences of opinions.”
“Don’t be so modest ever.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said furiously, “Your ‘father in law’ has clearly accused Al Safiyah Al Ghaus that she has murdered her previous husband.”
“It was his opinion, darling, not mine. How can I answer for him?”
“I think I need to talk with Al Zakāt Al Qāsim about it.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan watched me significantly.
“The question is why did your friend break Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd’s home?”
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus watched me suggestively.
“Al Nadīm Al Quddūs went to me in Las Vegas, Nevada. I didn’t go to him.” she said somewhat acidly, “moreover, the life I was living wasn’t a dignified life. It was my compulsion, not my choice. Why the hell I shouldn’t grab an opportunity to lead a respectful life with a millionaire if I could?”
“Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd should herself blame for what happened.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said curtly, “How the hell she thought Al Nadīm Al Quddūs woud not react to as a dazzling Musalmān Beauty as Al Safiyah Al Ghaus? How did Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd forget she was herself a dazzling Musalmān Beauty when Al Nadīm Al Quddūs married her? It’s a world of bitter competition. Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd should have maintained her beauty herself. Why the hell did she forget to watch her married life to be safe if she could?”*
I smiled at Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan ironically.
“You mean every Musalmān Beauty is justified in breaking the other Musalmān Beauty’s home, if she is leading the hard and degrading life as Al Safiyah Al Ghaus did?”
“Al Safiyah Al Ghaus could do it because Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd lost her interest in keeping her Musalmān husband properly.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said curtly, “Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd took her husband for granted to be devoted to her only because he was married to her. Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd stopped watching her own figure despite knowing very well the polygamous nature of a man. It was her own mistake and she paid for it.”
“You haven’t any sympathy for Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd?”
“I have more sympathy for Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan said tersely.
“Because Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was suffering more in Las Vegas, Nevada?”
“Because Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was suffering more in Las Vegas, Nevada.” Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan repeated despite my smirk, “Al Qur’an Al Tawħīd was already a honorable housewife. Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was not. It was natural for Al Safiyah Al Ghaus that she tried to improve her personal life.”
“And Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was the only man available to Al Safiyah Al Ghaus?” I kept smirking.*
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan smiled curtly.
“Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was the immediate man available. Al Safiyah Al Ghaus didn’t love him. He was the only immediate man available to her who could help her for getting rid off that rather undignified life she was compelled to lead.”
I watched Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim suspected I was fucking her.
I didn’t contradict him.
It was useless.
The reputation Dr. Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ, Åāýéshah Siddīqah, Kħadījah Muħammad, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan and her now famous/infamous seven movements: Hindu Lund Muslim Choot International Club, Cuckold Your Musalmān husband, Ashvinātam Gangbang Club, Al Jihād fil Durgesh fī sabīlillāh, Jet Musalmān Beauties Squad, Durgesh Farīdah Jalāl Sheikħ Sex Therapy and Durgesh Åāýéshah Siddīqah Social Service, had built up for me, never allowed anyone to believe ever that, a Musalmān Beauty was available to me and I never fucked her.*
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus awoke in her luxurious Ved Nagar mansion.
She pressed a button to open the electrically controlled drapes.
She was confronted by the side of a young man.
Vikram Bachhalyā was clad in a white T-shirt and exquisite jeans.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus struggled to sit up, buzzing for Musarrat Kħālid, her secretary.
At the same time Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was flinging on a marabou trimmed silk robe and pressing her feet into dusty pink mules.
Vikram Bachhalyā stretched himself and strolled casually out of view.
“Musarrat Kħālid,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus called, “where the hell are you?”
Musarrat Kħālid appeared, inscrutable, calm and anxious to her mistress’s calls.
She appreciated Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
Most of the Ved Nagar film industry wives screamed at their secretaries.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus never did it.
She was always sophisticated.
What a pleasant exception Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was to the other Ved Nagar film industry wives.
The same Hollywood wives were there.
The same Bollywood wives were there.
The same Lollywood wives were there.
The same Tollywood wives were there.
Yet, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus was quite different with them.
“There was Vikram Bachhalyā out by the pool. I wonder what the Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim’s Hindu husband was doing there. A Bachhalyā rarely loves a Musalmān Beauty. All the Bachhalyās are crazily obsessed with the Brāhmañ Beauties. You know that, Musarrat Kħālid, don’t you?”
Musarrat Kħālid smiled patiently,
“Durgesh is also a Bachhalyā, ma’am.”
“There are exceptions too, to every general attitude we notice about others.” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled patiently too, “Don’t you think so?”
“That’s good. Make sure all the doors are locked.”
Musarrat Kħālid nodded,
She began to collect debris of clutter from Al Safiyah Al Ghaus’s bedside table. Dirty Kleenex, a half finished glass of wine, a rifled box of chocolates.
“Musarrat,” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus addressed her again.
“Don’t get excited, Señora.” Musarrat Kħālid said stoically, “Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim ma’am is not feeling good. She requested Vikram Bachhalyā, her husband…”
Musarrat Kħālid even couldn’t complete her sentence.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that before?” Al Safiyah Al Ghaus scolded Musarrat Kħālid and flung herself into her bathroom.
She slammed the door so hard that a framed print sprang off the wall and crashed to the floor.
Dumb ass woman.
It was impossible to get good help anymore.
They came. They went.
They did not give a damn even if you were raped and ravaged in your own home.
And this would have to happen while Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was away on location.
Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim would never have dared to pretend to be sick if Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was here.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus flung off her robe, slipped out of her nightgown, and stepped under the invigorating sharpness of an ice cold shower.
She gritted her teeth.
Cold shower was best for the skin.
It tightened everything up.
Allah målūm, God knows, even with the gym and yoga and the modern dance class it still all needed tightening.
No, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus wasn’t fat even a bit.
She knew very well how incredibly beautiful she was.
People were either jealous or crazy of her incredible Panjvaqtah Namāzī Musalmān Beauty.
She was aware of it.
She knew it was her greatest weapon in this damn male dominated world.
Her brother in law, her dévar, Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, hated the ground Al Safiyah Al Ghaus walked on, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus knew.
But what can the damn fool do?
He is claiming now Al Safiyah Al Ghaus has murdered her former husband.
But can the moron explain why the hell she worked as a hostess before marrying Al Nadīm Al Quddūs?
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled.
She wasn’t born yesterday.
Al Muħammad Al Qāsim still has a long way to understand what Al Safiyah Al Ghaus really was.
The life had taught her more than it taught Al Muħammad Al Qāsim.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus smiled shrewdly.
She lived now in a six bedroomed, seven bathroomed, Ved Nagar Film Industry palace.
On the flats too.
Not stuck up in the hills.
On the flats.
Prime real Estate.
Her extraordinary devastating Musalmān beauty is perfectly being taken care of.
Her hair was a rich brown, cut short and tipped with golden streaks.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus’s Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān skin was alabaster white and smooth.
Thanks to regular facials.
Her teeth were white and even.
She was prudent enough never to stop reading and learning.
Most of the Ved Nagar film industry wives criticize Al Safiyah Al Ghaus that she reads so much.
They didn’t understand its benefits.
Moreover, the proud Musalmān Beauties neither wanted to read and keep on improving themselves as Al Safiyah Al Ghaus did without failure nonstop.
Most of the Ved Nagar film industry wives used to read Hollywood stuff only.
‘Vogue’, ‘People’, ‘Us’.
They skimmed the trades, ‘Variety’ and ‘Hollywood Reporter’.
Wasn’t Ronald Regan elected the President?
If they can do it, why the hell can’t Al Nadīm Al Quddūs even?
Yes, he isn’t a star as Ronald Regan.
But he is a first class screenplay writer.
He can dream wonderfully.
He was one of the best dreamers in Ved Nagar Film Industry, Hollywood, Bollywood, Lollywood and Tollywood.
His screenplays were always stupendous hits.
After Salim Javed Al Nadīm Al Quddūs has also made a writer a star.*
Despite frantic and desperate attempts from Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus knew how obsessed Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was with her.
He deliberately chose to marry a gambling house hostess, a shill, from Las Vegas, Nevada.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus knew it was the only place she could impress the then successful screenplay writer of Ved Nagar Film Industry.
He could be a stepladder for her to fulfill her dreams.
She could easily make it with a dreamer.
The realists were not for her.
They love money/ career/life more than they love anything else.
Durgesh is a realist.
Yes, he is a dreamer too.
But he is a realist dreamer.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs wasn’t a realist at all.
He was only a dreamer.
He could be a stepladder for her.
He has his own mission.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus has her own mission.
Durgesh could help her in her mission, but not as a stepladder.
Durgesh is too prudent, too realistic.
It was a big mansion, Al Lubnā Al Qāsim lived in with her Bachhalyā Hindu husband, Pratāp Bachhalyā.
The house was one of the show places of Ved Nagar.
It had side porches, spacious grounds, shade trees, lawns, summerhouses, terraces, winding walks and swimming pools.
It was a vast exquisite dwelling.
It showed, rather exhibited, the multi millions Pratāp Bachhalyā and his extremely beautiful wife, Al Lubnā Al Qāsim, possessed.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī turned my limousine in at the driveway.
Together with the big garage, the driveway was itself magnificent.
The hard surfaced driveway cut through in a businesslike straight line past the winding walks that followed the contours of the terraced grounds.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, the ambitious sister of Al Muħammad Al Qāsim, now a successful lawyer herself, stopped my limousine.
She rang the bell second time before we heard confident steps, knees, elbows and palms, and then the door was opened by extremely beautiful Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā themselves.
Al Lubnā Al Qāsim smiled at her elder sister.
She was their lawyer despite she was an integral part of HVS Law Internationals now.
The Al Qāsims still had their faith in their own blood?
I didn’t know.
Al Lubnā Al Qāsim was similarly on her knees and elbows as her elder sister, Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, was.
Pratāp Bachhalyā was fucking Al Lubnā Al Qāsim from her gorgeous behind as I was fucking Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī.
It was Ved Nagar.
Nonstop sophisticated fucking was entirely legal and normal here.
It was in India, but it was a largely privileged Global City, rather Inter Universal to be more correct and more specific.
“Welcome,” Pratāp Bachhalyā and Al Lubnā Al Qāsim smiled, “Come in, please.”
“Bhābhījān, Al Safiyah Al Ghaus, Al Nadīm Al Quddūs Bhāījān, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Vikram Bachhalyā…”
Al Lubnā Al Qāsim interrupted Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī in her mid sentence.
“They all have already come. You are rather late.”*
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī and I followed Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā.
The room we entered in, was thoroughly in keeping with the rest of the house.
It was a large spacious library.
Both Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and her husband, Pratāp Bachhalyā, were great believers in reading and keeping themselves update.
So were Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī and I.
Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī was not my live in relationship partner exactly.
She was my friend and sister in law, my Salhaj, actually.
Yet, we fucked now openly.
Even her husband appreciated our exquisite fucking.
The entire Al Qāsim sisters were thoroughly devastating Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān Beauties.
I smiled at Pratāp Bachhalyā.
“You are one of the luckiest men, Pratāp. Your wife is really a devastating Musalmān Beauty. Congratulations.”
Pratāp Bachhalyā smiled graciously.
“Thank you very much.”
In the center of the library, there was a massive mahogany table.
There were three huge table lamps on the table.
The shades were some four feet in diameter at the bottom.
They were composed of heavy leather.
The clustered lamps on the interior poured fourth illumination upon the huge table and sprayed light out through the openings in the tops of the shades.
Six chairs had been drawn up at the table.
Three of them were occupied.
The fourth was evidently occupied by Al Lubnā Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā.
Evidently, they were fucking on the fourth chair, as Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Vikram Bachhalyā were still fucking on the third.
The fifth chair was occupied by Al Safiyah Al Ghaus.
The last sixth chair was occupied by Al Nadīm Al Quddūs.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus and Al Nadīm Al Quddūs were also husband and wife.
Yet they were sitting on separate chairs fully clothed.
“Hey,” Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī laughed at them, “aren’t you too husband and wife?”
“Sure we are.” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said curtly, “But I am neither Vikram Bachhalyā nor Pratāp Bachhalyā. I am Al Nadīm Al Quddūs. Remember?”
Vikram Bachhalyā fucking Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Pratāp Bachhalyā fucking Al Lubnā Al Qāsim laughed.
Both the younger sisters of Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī, Al Zakiyah Al Qāsim and Al Lubnā Al Qāsim laughed too.
Al Nadīm Al Quddūs was shamelessly not embarrassed.
Al Safiyah Al Ghaus looked shameful of herself.
“Sorry, Al Hudā , your cousin is a finicky. He doesn’t care ever even a bit how embarrassed and shameful I am feeling myself, as if my husband has died or divorced me already. His backward morals…”
“Backward morals hell,” Al Nadīm Al Quddūs said curtly, “I am not an ever sexy Hindu. And you knew it very well before you married me. Didn’t you?”
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