The Yacht: 7

Midterm 2012 Volume 4

Kħātūn-e-Jannat Volume 3

Ved Nagar Volume 2

The Yacht

Durgesh

Previous Chapters

Chapter 7

Durgesh Al Taufīq Al Zāhid
Durgesh Al Saåīdah Al Wājid

Al Nādir Al Haibat asked,
“There’s a motel?”
“Yes. Muħammad Ůsmān and Muħammad bin Qāsim own two whole city blocks in the names of their extremely beautiful Musalmān houseladies. They know how to acquire and keep properties here at Ved Nagar, perfectly. They have a motel there with a swimming pool, a trout pool, a night club and bar, and a sort of casino.
“The entire construction is ultra-modern. The night club started out originally as an old barn. Muħammad bin Qāsim modernized it after he married Al Taufīq Al Fātimah, put on an addition, kept the barnlike atmosphere and called the place ‘The Great Barn.’”
“This Al Sādiyah Arraħmān,” Al Nādir Al Haibat asked, “heard Muħammad Ůsmān call you a thief?”
“Yes.” Al Taufīq Al Zāhid said confidently.
She wasn’t anymore frightened now.
She was herself immensely surprised where the hell her fear had vanished.
Only because Durgesh had sympathized with her, Al Taufīq Al Zāhid immediately recognized the opportunity she had.
They called Durgesh the ever incurable Hindu fucker of tremendously attractive Musalmān Beauties.
Well, she was also tremendously beautiful.
Wasn’t she?
Then why the hell shouldn’t she grab the once in the lifetime opportunity?
She deliberately started to seduce Durgesh herself.
Muħammad Ůsmān was a Muslim, wasn’t he?
Yet, what the hell he did to her, and still trying to do?
Didn’t Muħammad Ůsmān deliberately frame the entirely feigned shortage on her to destroy her credibility forever?
And they want her to be loyal to such crooks only because they are Musalmīn.
Are they really Musalmīn?
The gamblers, the crooks, the cheaters, Musalmīn?
Nonsense.
Ħuzūr sallallāhu ålayhi wa sallam never wanted his followers to be Muħammad Ůsmāns and Muħammad bin Qāsims.
All the Muħammad Ůsmāns and Muħammad bin Qāsims are tremendous liabilities to entire Ummat-e-Muslimah, instead of being any assets ever.
They aren’t Musalmīn.
They are Pseudo Musalmīn instead.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is right.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is right.

Al Nādir Al Haibat was asking,
“Would Al Sādiyah Arraħmān be a witness?”
There was some victory now in his voice even.
Was Al Nādir Al Haibat a Musalmān?
If he were, why the hell was he helping Muħammad Ůsmān against an innocent Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān young woman?
“I don’t know.” Al Taufīq Al Zāhid said, contemptuously now, “Her bread and butter might be at stake.”

Al Nādir Al Haibat smiled, now almost more triumphant.
“What happened after Muħammad Ůsmān called you a thief and told you to get out of his Entertainment Yacht?”
“Entertainment Yacht? Hell, who says it’s an Entertainment Yacht? It’s a Gambling Yacht. I wanted to go to my locker to get my street clothes, and Muħammad Ůsmān told me whatever was in the locker might be evidence, that he thought I had money secreted there. Muħammad Ůsmān handed me my coat and told me to get started.”
“I see. A rather spectacular way of discharging help,” Al Nādir Al Haibat feigned sympathy, “Isn’t it?”
Al Taufīq Al Zāhid grimaced scornfully.
She glanced at Muħammad Ůsmān and turned to Al Nādir Al Haibat, his attorney, once more.
“Your client, Mr. Muħammad Ůsmān, did it deliberately, with a definite purpose in his mind.”
“You read his mind however? To get even with you, I think.”
“You are underestimating your client, Mr. Al Nādir Al Haibat, that was only part of it.” Al Taufīq Al Zāhid said contemptuously.”
Durgesh’s everdirty Uncut Hindu Lund definitely puts a lot of confidence in otherwise quite helpless Musalmān Beauties, no doubt, Al Nādir Al Haibat thought.
Durgesh is deliberately fucking Al Taufīq Al Zāhid now even here on the Paradise Floats.
He could have fucking Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī even.
But it would have generated confidence in Al Hudā Al Qāsim Al Hāshmī herself, not in Al Taufīq Al Zāhid.
Consequently, Durgesh has deliberately decided to fuck Al Taufīq Al Zāhid while defending her.
Durgesh’s everdirty Uncut Hindu Lund is coming out of Al Taufīq Al Zāhid’s extremely beautiful Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt, till its head only there, and vanishing entirely again into the same with a tremendous thrust, not from Durgesh, but from Al Taufīq Al Zāhid herself instead.
Al Nādir Al Haibat knew Durgesh was not fucking Al Taufīq Al Zāhid to enjoy her tremendously attractive Panjvaqtah Namāzī ardent Musalmān female body, as the ever communal foolish Pseudo Musalmīn think.
Durgesh has a more pragmatic purpose in doing it so openly.
It declared her holy war, her Al Jihad fī sabīlillah, against the ever anti human Pseudo Musalmīn.
Al Taufīq Al Zāhid is openly fucking Durgesh.
Durgesh isn’t fucking her.
It crushes the already crushed confidence of Pseudo Musalmīn.
Moreover, it declared the new powerful status of the former cigarette girl that she isn’t a helpless cigarette girl anymore.
She is a powerful girlfriend now, of an almost almighty Hindu multi zillionaire, media king, legal wizard and master cross examiner.
Wasn’t it more than enough to terrify Al Nādir Al Haibat and his alikes too?

Al Taufīq Al Zāhid was saying,
“They’d been playing poker for the last few weeks with this man, Al Wājid.”
“And I take this Al Wājid was the man they wanted you to signal about.” Al Nādir Al Haibat urged Al Taufīq Al Zāhid affably, cunningly.
“That’s right.” Al Taufīq Al Zāhid pushed her gorgeous glamorous nude ardent Musalmān buttocks into my nude male Hindu lap and once again swallowed my entire Uncut Hindu Lund into her extremely lovely Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, with tremendous pride, “Last night they were ready to take him really to cleaners. Muħammad Ůsmān was afraid that if I told what he had asked me to do, it might make trouble. Consequently he chose this method of getting me discredited, firing me under a cloud, giving me just enough money to get out of here. He said he’d have my things packed up, put in a suitcase and sent to me at Ved Nagar. They’d be there in my name. I could call for them there.”
“And when he cleans out your locker?”
Al Taufīq Al Zāhid smiled ironically, squeezed my Uncut Hindu Lund entirely vanished into her extremely attractive Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Choot, contracting her vaginal muscles around it,
“You know your client, Muħammad Ůsmān, even better than me yourself, Mr. Al Nādir Al Haibat. When he cleans out my locker, he’ll have some witnesses with him and they’ll find a wad of bills.”
Al Nādir Al Haibat looked at Muħammad Ůsmān.
Muħammad Ůsmān looked at Al Taufīq Al Zāhid with burning red eyes.
He could not understand how to win the ex-cigarette girl.
She was humiliating her tremendously on his own Entertainment Yacht.
It wasn’t beneficial to his business.
He was unable to get any brilliant idea how to get rid of this immensely unpleasant and tremendously harmful humiliation.
He hadn’t even imagined ever she could get me inside her.
A cigarette girl?
Allah Allah!*

I entered the 482nd Century.
I found it unrecognizable.
It had not changed however.
I was changing nonstop.
I was already habitual of learning a new language always, get used to new styles of clothing and new ways of life with every new Observation.
I looked affably at the Communications girl behind the entry desk of the 482nd.
“Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is here?”
“Sure, sir.” The Communications girl smiled at me seductively.
“What the hell Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan is doing here?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, sir,” The Communications girl said mischievously, “The Everfirst Umm Al åālmīn herself brought her here.”
“She must be crazy.”
“I beg your pardon, sir.”
“I don’t want to disturb this Century even a bit, the slightest. They don’t understand the freedom of the people of this Century too should not be disturbed in the least.”
“Even to the extent that they are against Family?”

Instead of answering her, I looked at the shoulder emblem of the Communications girl.
It was not the yellow of the Computer, the green of the Life-Plotter, the blue of the Sociologist, or the white of the Observer.
It was not the Specialist’s solid color at all.
It was simply a blue bar on white.
The girl was Communications, a subbranch of Maintenance, not a Specialist at all.
She gave me the Technician glance, however.
“Well?” I smiled at her affably.
Communications smiled seductively once more,
“I’m ringing Computer Åāyeshah Siddīqah, sir.”
I remembered the 482nd as solid and massive, but now it seemed almost squalid, filthy, dirty, foul, nasty, unclean, neglected.
I was used to the glass and porcelain of the 575th Century, to its charm of cleanliness.
I was quite accustomed to a world of whiteness and clarity, broken by spares patches of light pastel.*

Al Nādir Al Haibat looked at me.
He was unable to understand why I was allowing him to cross examine my client in detail so much.
Yet, he was determined to take advantage of it.
“This was the first time you’d ever been in charge of cash register?”
“No, I’d charge before too.” Al Taufīq Al Zāhid said enjoying my unique miraculous Uncut Hindu Lund into her until virgin Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān Cunt.
“Were there other shortages?”
“I think there were,” Al Taufīq Al Zāhid said, not in the least ashamed of herself that she was fucking me there in public.
She was feeling immense pride in it, instead.
It was a great achievement for a cigarette girl.
Every woman that was beautiful today was dreaming of without any exception to have sex with me.
She got a lifetime opportunity and she wasn’t imprudent enough not to take advantage of it.
“But not in the cash register.” she continued, “I had heard Muħammad Ůsmān complaining that some nights the receipts dropped way down although business was good. Muħammad Ůsmān intimated that someone had been knocking down―only ringing up a part of the sales. Muħammad Ůsmān threatened to get private detectives on the job and said everybody was going to have a lie detector test.”
“That’s the reason you are not popular with your staff.” Al Nādir Al Haibat smiled at Muħammad Ůsmān.
Muħammad Ůsmān watched him scornfully.
“I’m doing business, not politics, Mr. Attorney.”
“And somebody has been knocking down on you?”
“I think so.” Muħammad Ůsmān said curtly.
“I would assume he probably is right.” Al Taufīq Al Zāhid said.
“Thank you.” Muħammad Ůsmān said sarcastically.
“Could that person or those persons have tampered with your cash register?” Al Nādir Al Haibat enquired.
Al Taufīq Al Zāhid shook her head.
“Most of the knocking down that is done, is done at the bar. People who buy drinks at the bar pay cash, and if the bar is very busy and the bartender takes in four or five payments at once, he can ring up varying amounts in the cash register and there is no one to check on him. For instance, let us suppose one man has a cocktail that’s seventy five cents or a dollar. Another man has a drink that is sixty cents. Another person has bought drinks for three or four, and his bill is two dollars and eighty five cents.
“By timing things just right a good bartender can be preoccupied at just the right moment so that every glass gets empty at about the same time. That makes for a rush of business and a lot of payments being made all at once.
“So then the bartender picks up all the money, goes over to the cash register and starts ringing up sales of varying amounts.
“If the bartender is good at mental arithmetic, he can add up the figures in his mind and ring up an amount that is exactly two dollars short of the real amount. Then he gives each customer his exact change. Various amounts have been leaping, jumping, into sight on the cash register, staying there for just a moment only to be superseded by another amount. Nobody can tell for certain what check is being rung up. If the bartender sees someone paying attention to the cash register, he is scrupulously, painstakingly, accurate in ringing up the amounts, but if people are talking and not paying too much attention, he’ll knock down a couple of dollars and no one is any the wiser. He’ll do that perhaps ten to twenty times in an evening.”
Al Nādir Al Haibat was either really listening carefully to what Al Taufīq Al Zāhid was telling him, or at least he was pretending to do that,
“Were you doing any of this work at the bar, ma’am?” he asked respectfully.
Al Taufīq Al Zāhid smiled ironically.
She was a ‘ma’am’ now, not a cigarette girl anymore.
Why?
Only because she’s with Durgesh now fucking him bravely.
They may hate her immensely for it, because she’s a Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān woman, yet she isn’t obeying the broadly accepted and thoroughly expected lifestyle for a Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān woman.
Nevertheless, they can’t humiliate her for it now.
They are afraid of her now.
Because Durgesh can destroy them if they dared it ever.
“Not last night.” She grinned triumphantly, “I was handling the main cash register. I had the only key to it while I was on duty ―at least, it was supposed to be the only key. I would sit there on the stool, the people would come to me with their checks, or the waitresses would come to check out the amounts due at their tables. I’d take in the money and give out the change.”
“Was there any reason why you couldn’t have knocked down if you had wanted to?” Al Nādir Al Haibat asked feigning impartiality and respect both simultaneously.
After all he was an attorney.
He was habitual to meet the situations such as this one already.
It was the reason he was called there.
“There’s more of a check on the main cash register.” Al Taufīq Al Zāhid said somewhat curtly, “The waitresses issue dinner checks and keep a carbon copy which has to be filed when they go off shift. Theoretically the cash register should show a total income equal to the exact total amount of checks issued by the waitresses. But there are lots of ways of beating that game.”
“How?” Al Nādir Al Haibat asked, feigning impartial interest.*

The heavy plaster swirls of the 482nd Century, its splashy pigments, its areas of painted metals, were almost repulsive.
Yet, Computer Åāyeshah Siddīqah was still as powerful there as she ever was.
I watched her as she leafed through a sheaf of foils and got ready to look up, with the air of someone who is beginning to think she’s made me wait the duly required amount of time.
Computer Åāyeshah Siddīqah was afraid of me that I might not wait even a moment.
But to her utter surprise, Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan proved absolutely correct in her psychological perusal of mine.
I had waited to Computer Åāyeshah Siddīqah’s immense surprise.
Computer Åāyeshah Siddīqah had come here after being trained a long time in an energy centered Century in 600’s.
Naåīmah Muħammad Ħasan had informed me.
Computer Åāyeshah Siddīqah was not now as raw as she was when she first met me and proposed Durgesh Åāyeshah Siddīqah Social Service.
Despite the natural insecurity of an ever young woman used to the firmness of field forces and dealing with nothing more than flimsy matter, Computer Åāyeshah Siddīqah had never developed any ill temper.
Neither, she ever felt insecure as the others did.
Her confident walk was quite different from others’ tiptoeing walk.
Even I was used to the cat like tread well of others.
Often I look up fucking someone, see someone else standing there staring at us, her/his approach having been unheard.
It was no longer something sly and sneaking, but rather the fearful and reluctant tread of one who lives in the constant, though unconscious, fear that the flooring would break under his/her weight.
It was nothing else, but almost ever pervading negativity.
Most of the persons everywhere were even never aware of it.
They could be excused, however, for their profound unawareness due to their utter ignorance of it.
They could be educated and cured.
But what about the persons who had surrendered to their inherent inertia against the conscious and deliberate efforts to remove it and getting positive ever?
It was a tragedy that there wasn’t any Century that didn’t have such ever irrationally adamant persons.
Actually, almost everyone there was too full of his/her prejudices.
Moreover, most of them were immensely obsessed to their prejudices even.
While every Century had its own particular prejudices, negativity and obsessions, there were some of them common in the entire Centuries too.
HVSI, the Allwhen Council, was ever untiredly doing its best nonstop efforts to remove negativity from everywhere, despite howsoever much resistance it had to face.
No resistance, no adamance, no negativity and even no obsession could stop HVSI, the Allwhen Council, ever from its ever sacred duty.

I smiled at Computer Åāyeshah Siddīqah with a pleasant condescension, with a pleasant arrogance, the ever young Panjvaqtah Namāzī Saåūdī Årab Wahābī Musalmān woman was never influenced by the negativity, prejudices and obsessions of the Century, as even some of the other time travelers poorly adjusted to the section.
Reassignment was probably the only thing that could help them.
“Greetings, Durgesh.” Computer Åāyeshah Siddīqah smiled.
“Greetings, Computer Åāyeshah Siddīqah.” I smiled too.

Chapter 8
—————————————————————————————

1. More Creative Adult Sex in English from Durgesh

2.Durgesh in Hindi/Urdu

3. Science Fiction

4. On History

5. Commentary on Ved

6. On Hinduism

7. On Islam