The Story that i fell in love with "The Arab-Israeli Affair"

{Note : Here i loved the story so i have changed the girls name with my name as i wanted to be her}

The Arab-Israeli Affair
by israeli_gal©

This story is fiction, but the premise under which it happens is true. In the hot sands of
Israel's South, life is harsh, for Jew and Arab alike. Poverty and unemployment are the
lot of all. The alienated youth of that region feels it has no place, no part in its already
uncertain future.
The young knows nothing of the boundaries society creates for them, and they find each
other.
This is the story of a Romance that should have happened.
***
Ah, it was hot that day.
It was always hot in the South of Israel, where I chose to live.
How did I get here? Nevermind how.
I had just got the notice. I did not do well in my matriculation exams, so there would be
no university for me. My mother did not know it just then, and I expected her to be
pretty mad when she did. My mother has an advanced degree in Musicology, a quality
education is very important to her. I learnt music too, back in our hometown, but we did
not have the money for that anymore. The money that was available went to the
apartment, to the Hebrew lessons. So that I might speak and write like "everyone else",
my mother scrubbed the university floors.
The university I would not be attending, that was.
My mother did not know it just then.
So that was about it. I am an immigrant to Israel. At the ripe age of eighteen, I already
knew I had no future.
The heat was always oppressive in our little apartment, it was like living on a furnace. I
thought to go hang out at the mall and stare at the shop windows, my favorite pastime.
The mall was pretty and clean, a gem in a city that is forever covered in yellow dust; and
... it was air conditioned too.
I expected to be all alone though, all my friends have gone to the army. They would not
have me, the army, because of a heart problem I did not even know I had.
"Only people from the third world get it," my doctor explained.
Humiliating. So I get the short end of the stick wherever I go. Such luck.
Ok, not on everything. I had finally taken to thinking of myself as pretty. Guys were
noticing me. The features that seemed weird in my teenage years, the pale skin, the leaf
green eyes, almost too large for my round little face; somehow had combined to form an
agreeable image. A late developer, one would say, bursting out of the clothes I could not
replace. Well, better late than never!
I dressed my best, putting on my favorite green top that covered so little, skinny jeans,
some lipstick. I sighed at the image of myself in the mirror; it wasn't getting any better
than that.
It was so hot on the way to the bus stop; I almost gave up. The sidewalk reflected the
heat, the blinding sunlight, and I could hardly keep my eyes open. 'Would do me no
good, to faint on the bus again. No wonder the army won't have me, the fainting girl. So
I closed my eyes and I longed for a little rain. Like that is going to happen.
In my bag was the letter, that fateful letter announcing my doom. I will be very lucky if I
have where to live tomorrow. My mother was going to be so mad. Who wouldn't?
In my way to the bus stop it did start raining! Only a bit, the drops barely hitting the
sidewalk, drying almost immediately ... still it was rain, the very smell of it was a
blessing. I took it as a sign; it lightened the hurts in my heart.
At least the bus was mostly empty. Look at that nice looking red haired soldier, sitting
with his buddies, eyeing me. They are so hot, those red-beret soldiers, down to those
polished red boots. They are always laughing when together, their faces kissed by the
sun, sitting there together like they own the bus. Well, I was not falling for that again.
My last soldier boyfriend, Shahar, wanted to be my husband, but very fast we discovered
that we could not marry each other. You see, I am Jewish, but not enough. We don't
have the documents to prove it, me and my mother. To make a long painful story short,
his family wanted me to convert to Judaism, and even though it felt ridiculous to convert
to my own religion, I went along. Before I knew it, they were telling me how to dress,
what to eat and what else; they also wanted me to move to a nice Jewish family's home,
so they could watch me, make sure I followed the endless rules.
My mother put a stop to it at once! There was nothing she feared more than I turning
into a zealot, her words. In truth, I agree with her.
Shahar has married a nice girl since, one that was born into a religious family and was
good enough for him. I thought my life would end when that happened, but I was wrong.
My life was ending just then, and the letter in my purse seemed to be getting heavier and
heavier, even as I sat in the moving bus.
So I could not marry Shahar, any more than I could marry the pretty soldier in the bus. I
am an outcast in my own country. Since I am a girl, and the Jewish religion passes
through the mother, my children will be outcasts like me too.
Does it matter what I do, really?
I wandered aimlessly between the stores, stopping by the bridal shop. Shahar would
never have approved of this dress anyway. Too revealing.
"Kavod bat-hamelech penima," he would have said. The honor of the king's daughter is
within.
Well, I wish he could see the top I am wearing now! Almost everything is without. The
window reflected my maniacal smile. How very flushed I was! Damn all this sun. I was
born in the mountains, where I was always cursing the cold. Ever heard of be careful of
what thy ask?
The boys usually hung out on the food court, but I was hungry and had not a coin to
spare. Besides, I was not so sure I wanted to hang there anyway, in display, like meat on
a spit. So I lingered in the upper floors, looking at the pretty things. The decoration was
so over the top: there were hearts and cupids and pink everywhere.
It should be Valentine's day soon.
That was when I saw him.
Tall and dark, older than me. It seemed that he had been there for a while, across the
corridor, watching me watch the stores. I smiled back, so I could get a better look.
Nothing like anyone I ever met! An Arab man from the surrounding towns, sun-kissed
and handsome, maybe even from the Bedouin. Beautiful, right out of my unspoken
fantasies. Well, he looks like he can afford to be here. It is not like I can say the same.
The dashing man was approaching, and I was looking at ... lingerie!
Good going. Now he thinks I am a slut.
He approached, confident, crossing his arms. "Getting married?"
"Not really." I shook my head. I would have been blushing, but since I never had the
chance to cool down after being outside, he probably could not have told the difference.
"Of course you are, I have been watching you. Make-up, a dress, and now lingerie ...a
bride."
"A bride with no groom." I think that was when I let him see how true that was, my
sadness.
He did not fail to notice it. "What is your name, little girl."
Little girl? I laughed. "Shalu ... Shalini."
He had almost no accent; that was rather remarkable. My own accent was terrible, the
expensive lessons apparently not worth the trouble.
"It is one or the other," he sounded suspicious.
"My mother still calls me Shalu. But it is Shalini here."
"I like Shalu."
"So do I."
"Why did you change then?"
"They did it, in the Registrar's ministry ...never mind. What are you called?"
"Hakeem."
"Like the singer?"
He was amused, skeptical. "You know who Hakeem is."
"A friend of mine gave us lessons ... " Wait a minute! Am I telling a guy I don't know I
had belly dancing lessons! That should go down well.
"And you know how to dance."
I was not that good, but he would never see it, so I told him. "Yes, I can dance. Do you
like the singer?"
"Everybody likes him, but ... we were talking about you dancing."
I smiled, blushing. "Oh, I am a disaster."
"I doubt it. You are too beautiful anyway, so nobody would give a damn."
That hit home. I was not called beautiful all that often. "You are just saying that."
"I have never seen anyone quite like you! I'd love to see you dance. Do you want to sit
down for a coffee?"
I was pretty embarrassed by then. "No, thank you."
"Come on, my treat. It is a holiday!"
Does Valentine's day even count as a holiday? I should have said no. I should have, but
... he called me beautiful. I followed him, and we sat on the pretty coffee shop. The
waiter gave us a funny look, like Hakeem should not be here, and I wanted to die of
shame. Is this my country? He did not seem to mind. I had half expected him to order
mint tea, but my Arab guy seemed to favor cappuccinos.
"So, what other singers do you like?"
"I don't know that many. I got some CD's from a friend. Farid al-atras?" My stereo was
broken, but I did not tell him that, it would have been too whiny.
"Farid al-Atrash." He was gentle.
Well, my knowledge of Arab music was mostly spent with these two mentions.
"I'd love to see you dance," he insisted, his eyes meeting mine. He was not hiding what
he wanted.
"I don't think so." I was getting very uncomfortable.
"I will get you anything you want from this place, if afterwards you dance for me."
I almost spilled my coffee. Was my desperation that obvious? Too bad I was going to
have to leave before my cake arrived. It would have been nice. "Thank you for the
coffee."
"Oh, don't go, hamudah. I did not mean to offend. Your beauty confuses me."
I was almost crying in shame, but the corny line actually had me laughing. "Oh, please."
The waiter placed our order before us, such wicked timing. I stared at the three layer
chocolate cake and I stayed - a whore in the making. For hours we talked, of the news,
of the weather, of music. It felt nice to talk to him, easy. But it was getting late. I am
here gorging myself on the mall, and my mother is at home, waiting for the news.
For the truth.
Hakeem wanted to know more. "So, why are you not in the army?"
I avoided that question. "I got out."
"Of course, what could they possibly do with a little girl like you?" He winked.
Sporting the most dramatic face, I announced. "I can make great coffee."
"Ah, that strategic skill, along with that cute little ass you are sitting on ... surely would
get you right to the top."
I was appalled. "Are you suggesting my ass is cute?"
"I think you are all cute. That ass is what everyone would notice," he pointed.
I laughed some more, putting my hand up. "Oh, stop it!"
"No army for you. Can't say I am sorry. Are you learning then?"
"Not that either. They just told me I did not make it top of my class. I depended on a
scholarship, and my mother won't pay for anything that does not translate into gainful
employment, so, I guess I will be folding clothes in a store before you know it."
"That would be a pity."
"I would not be the first."
"You might be trying to play this little airhead girl act with me, but it is not working."
I went completely serious. "And your pervert guy act; cruising for girls in the mall is not
fooling me either."
That shut him up.
"Well, we are both not what we seem, Shalu ... andra, Shalini."
I must have looked so wise. "But we can keep playing the fiction."
"Are you liking it?"
I could only smile. "Yes."
^^^*^^^
Hakeem did not seem the type that gives up too easily.
"Except for buying you that marriage dress, I'd do pretty much anything for you to come
back with me. I have a nice hotel room in the Paradise."
Nice hotel you say? I decide right then. I am not going back home tonight. My mother
can hate me tomorrow morning.
"Anything?"
Hakeem smiled, and it looked all too much as if he had made his catch. I disliked that.
"Is that shopping spree still on?"
He nodded, so pleased.
A nicer waiter came back with the check, two little hearts lying on the tray. Ah, is it really
today?
Hakeem looked into my eyes, and said. "Happy Valentine's day."
That sent a shiver down my spine. It would be nice, not to be alone this year.
So I got everything I ever wanted. Ok, not everything, but more than I could carry. He
just kept buying, with a smile on his face. He made me buy a teddy, in the lingerie store,
along with a nice long silken scarf; it even had those fake little coins in it.
"You could of course just dance naked ... " he looked at me, hopeful.
I laughed. "That is not part of the deal!"
The clerk in the store went away, shaking her head.
Our last stop was the CD store. "I have no Hakeem with me," he explained.
He shook his head; Arabic music was only found on the "world music" section of the
store. Finally we managed to select a CD I could dance to. The store carried no Hakeem,
unfortunately. Well, I had to live up to my part of the bargain, so we got the soundtrack
for the movie Vanity Fair.
The dashing man allowed himself to look at me, so hopeful. I allowed myself to see him
in the same manner, like someone I could have. His green eyes were so bright, they
could startle. That I could kiss those lips, that I could be in his arms, that I could get lost
in that smile.
Why not?
What was the worst that could happen? I had already sold myself, and by the weight of
the bags, I did not come out cheap.
Hakeem gave me a small kiss when I got into his car, as if testing my reaction. I only
smiled, for it felt so nice. I was walking on clouds as he parked beside the hotel, and he
helped me with all my "stuff".
So we made to go up to his rooms, but not before being stopped at the reception, the
clerk demanding to see my ID card, and his. Hakeem was seething, but he said not a
word. When I moved to say something, his eyes signaled for me to remain quiet, so I did,
when I should just have told the nosy woman off.
We climbed to his room in silence, his mood spoiled, though I was smiling when I entered
the spacious suite; I had never been to a hotel! He sat on his bed, and I knew not what
to say, so I proceeded to arrange my bags in a corner. He did smile as I pulled out the
CD he chose for me, an "Oriental café" collection, which I put to play quietly on my new
mini-stereo.
Hakeem motioned for me to come closer, his mood still unreadable. I sat beside him, he
took my hand.
"You don't need to stay. You made me very happy this afternoon, I was lonely and I
needed to talk to someone, to laugh. I can take you home now if you like."
"They made you upset, right, in the reception?"
Hakeem avoided my questions. "Does your mother know where you are?"
I shook my head no, and right there it dawned on me. He could go to jail for this, or
worse. "Well, you saw I am eighteen."
"It does not matter."
I knew it did not! It was enough that some helpful soul on the hotel called the police --
an Arab man just took a little girl to his rooms - and all hell would break loose. "Do you
wish me to call her?"
Hakeem seemed puzzled that I insisted. "If you stay, I might want more than seeing you
dance." He pressed his lips together, letting me see it, what he wanted. "Actually, I am
sure of it."
I replied bravely. "That is good, because my dancing skills will not make for a very long
performance."
A dark smile lit up his face. "I can't say the same of mine."
I did not get it at first. I picked up the phone to dial my mother, and while I was trying to
think of an excuse, I finally understood what he had meant.
Oh boy.
The way to get my mother to agree to my outings was not to ask her. If asked, she could
refuse. What I had to do was assertively tell her what I wanted, no qualms.
"Mom, I am staying out with some friends."
"Uh, are you coming home late?"
God, does she sound tired. "I might sleep at Moran's tonight."
"Very well Shalu, be careful."
"I will, Mom, yalla bye."
I sighed in relief. Hakeem was beside me when I put down the phone; his face was so
close to my hair, it almost touched it. "Oh, you are quite the little liar, aren't you?"
"Well, not usually, but you would not believe that now."
"Of course I would."
Gently he kissed my hair, my neck. I turned to him and let him embrace me, shivers
running down my arms, coursing through my spine. No man had ever kissed me with
that confidence. He knew he was good at it, and he expected me to enjoy it. I did.
I lost the notion of time. It seemed that hours had passed, and there I was, in his arms,
his mouth on my breasts, teasing me. My nipples peeked out the top he pulled up, my
bra was already nowhere to be seen. His hand was between my legs, and if he had
wished to take me right now, I would have let him.
There was something I needed to say before we got there.
"Hakeem?"
His eyes, misted, looked into mine. "Yes, Shalu?"
"Shalu?" I giggle. "It is not so important ... but ... I haven't done this before."
He shook his head fast, incredulous. "Are you telling me I am your first?"
I smiled sheepishly. "I am hoping you will be."
Hakeem distanced himself a bit, and thought for a while. "I am very happy you told me.
Now you should go home, Shalu."
Now I was shaking my head. "No! I want this to happen."
"With a man you just met?"
I knelt on the bed, nodding yes, and we were both distracted for a second as the velvet
voice of Fairouz filled the room. Hakeem suddenly pushed me down on the bed, his
mouth hot on my ear.
"I am going to make it worthwhile then."
Again he was upon me, filling my mouth with his tongue, undressing me as I moaned,
completely helpless. Nothing had prepared me for this, this ache, this need to be filled,
this thirst for ... something.
Slowly he exposed me, kissing my body, tasting my skin. Now I had only my underwear
on, and he played with it, pulling it here and there, kissing under, lingering over the place
where no one had ever touched me. Before I noticed really, he hooked my panties on his
thumb, pulling them just aside, and kissed me there where I wanted him to.
I had not known it until he did though.
Still I tried to fight, my shame taking over, still more powerful than all my intoxicating
desires. Hakeem pulled my panties down to my ankles, and placed his face squarely on
the spot. Now his hands were free, and he held mine, apart, so I would stop interfering. I
wanted to fight him still, but my hands were held, and his tongue now worked further
and further, splitting my folds, accessing my hidden secrets. I was so wet!
I moaned sweetly, surprised, defeated.
Hakeem came to lie beside me, pulling his shirt off, and I felt his body, hot against mine,
maddening. He kissed me, his hands exploring my body, and I felt ready. I want him to
...
His finger pressed my virgin passage, gripped so tight, I almost lost heart. I could feel
Hakeem's pulsing erection against my thigh, a lot thicker than that finger, and it worried
me all of a sudden. How would that work out? Patiently he waited for me to yield, playing
with me, kissing me, now moving his finger into my body while I threatened to pass out
from the pleasure.
Hakeem pulled his pants down, and I could not look, the shame returning, the
embarrassment, the fear of the unknown. It made him chuckle, my newfound reluctance.
"There is nothing to it, you will see."
Hakeem placed a condom over himself, and I could hardly look, though I did, just a little.
It made him laugh again, apparently he enjoyed my struggle just as much as I did.
Kissing me deeper, his tongue already in possession of what would soon he his forever,
he moved to cover me, his body feverish, as I let out a little desperate moan. He kissed
my breasts more intensely, holding my nipples between his lips, which sent shivers
straight down to my sex.
Fingers searched for my secrets, spreading, exposing, such exquisite pleasure, and then I
felt -- it -- hot and hard against my pink virgin lips. He looked into my eyes, smiling, and
in one hard push, he made me a woman.
The Arab-Israeli Affair
by israeli_gal©
I screamed, unsure why I felt it so strongly, his hardness, and I was sobbing and crying
as he moved, crazed, was this what pleasure was like? My belly hardened, my vision
dimmed and I was gone. I was completely gone.
I watched his face, as he concentrated, his eyes closing, as he thrust further and further,
stretching me so much, an angry ball of need forming in my depths. Witnessing his
pleasure made me even readier; suddenly he groaned, moving faster until suddenly
stopping, pulling me to himself, so close.
I could not do anything but hold him, gasping for air.
We lingered against each other for a while, and dozed off together. When I woke up next,
he was bathing, and I boldly decided to join. I made it for the bathroom naked as I was,
and he smiled when he saw me, motioning that I should join him. I lingered a little,
admiring his beautiful lithe body, the wet dark skin inviting my gaze; he took my breath
away.
"I see it was not so bad, if you are looking for more."
I pouted. "Oh, it was plain suffering."
"Yes, I can see. You are so beautiful, Shalu, and you know how to enjoy yourself. No
reason to be ashamed of it."
Hakeem watched me sweetly as I washed, blushing, and soon he was helping. He
lathered my body with the nice soap, smelling like green tea and herbs, and he kissed me
so deeply. I let him embrace me once more, feeling his body, his hard erection, which he
pressed hungrily against my belly. He held me close, brushing my cheek with his thumb.
"Suck my tongue when you kiss me."
I did, and he was pleased by my attempts, as was I at the result. He nibbled my ear,
licked the water of my neck, while his hands pressed my breasts, so gently. He played
with my nipples, which sent shivers right down there. I was so surprised at my reactions,
and not that I could think about them, for he was licking my whole breast, sucking my
nipple, grazing it with his teeth.
I thought I was going to die.
His kisses followed a path down my belly, and now he knelt before me, kissing my thighs,
prying them apart. Easily he lifted my leg, proceeding to lick me right there where it felt
best. He kept it up, his hot tongue delving further and further, and I could not keep
standing while he teased me this way. I eyed his hardening cock, displaying openly my
newborn hunger, and he smiled, doubting my resolve.
"Are you sure?"
I nodded wantonly, and made a show of kneeling. "Oh, yeah!"
But I wanted to say was: Ok, what now?
I took him in my hands, licking his head, unsure of what to do next. I remembered just
then a talk I had with one of my friends, on the many ways of getting men off, and she
had said, what was it, ah ... think of the tastiest thing in the world, then lick him like
that.
So I did, I licked him all over, then I took him hot and hard in my mouth, even gagging
when I enthusiastically pressed his head much too further. He liked it, it was obvious, all
the while whispering in his own language. He held my head gently, burying his fingers in
my hair, groaning, sighing, and enjoying it all so much. He jumped when I gripped his
head with my lips a little too eagerly, and he pushed my head back by the hair, making
my scalp tingle.
"There, easy on the head."
I sucked him strongly, feeling my cheeks hollow, appalled at the sounds I made, though
he honestly was not minding it too much. I was surprised that this act was turning me
on, I could feel the hotness, the wetness running down my thighs as I immersed myself
in the due worship of his cock. Soon I was building a nice rhythm, as if it was natural to
me, taking more and more of him in my little mouth, moving like I meant it.
Hakeem was still with me, despite all my suspicions to the contrary. "Ah, your husband,
you will make him so happy."
I looked up at him, my face indignant, all the while thinking. Husband? Can't you see I
am a little slut?
Hakeem smiled.
I kept at it, my new favorite fruit in my lips, and sucked at it with a hunger I did not
know I had, until suddenly he got harder in my hands, bent forward, and my mouth filled
with his cock, his seed. I was not expecting it, and unsure what to do, I swallowed it all.
Hakeem seemed completely taken aback, by that simple act.
Quickly he recovered, taking me to the bed silently, arranging me so carefully. With
confidence he parted my legs, so widely I blushed, the blood hot in my cheeks. He was
having none of that, my shyness, and this night proved to be the culmination of my
desires, all my unspoken dreams fulfilled in act after act of pure sensuality.
Hakeem made me a woman in one night.
Now I felt it, his tongue, and when he added his fingers, spreading me open, I felt my
pleasure again, so acute I fought him, wanting so much to close my legs which he held.
My back arched as I moaned, my hands searching for something to hold on to.
"I bet you are ready now."
I was sore when he took me a second time, and I did not mind the burning in the least. I
wanted it, the hot hardness invading me, the pleasure I had known only in my dreams
suddenly realized. I came as soon as he entered me, as if my earlier orgasm had flipped
a switch in my belly that would not go off. The things I said, the things I did at his
prompting, would have made a porn star blush, or so I thought then.
I was screaming incoherently by the time he was ready for his own pleasure, and he
made me look at his face for the finish, smiling, relishing the fact that for those precious
moments, I was completely his.
We remained this way for a while, hearing each other's breath, and he smiled, chastising
me.
"You owe me a dance."
I shook my head, laughing; I didn't think I could have risen at that moment without
falling, let alone dance.
Soon I found that I was exhausted in a way I did not believe possible, and I fell asleep
heavily beside him, as he played with my hair.
The next morning, after he left, I lingered a little longer, enjoying the sheets that now
smelt like us. I knew that something wondrous had happened, and that I would never
quite be the same girl.
Sobered I went back to the mall, and returned all the purchases that could be returned. I
stuffed the money in an envelope which I hid, a testimony to my wantonness, to my sin.
I could only dream of that night. We lived worlds apart. Perhaps, one day, I would see
him again.
***
I hope you enjoyed my entry for this contest. Please vote for it if you can.
Mht20070122
The Arab-Israeli Affair Ch. 02
by israeli_gal©
This story is fiction, but the premise under which it happens is true. In the hot sands of
Israel's South, life is harsh, for Jew and Arab alike. Poverty and unemployment are the
lot of all. The alienated youth of that region feels it has no place, no part in its already
uncertain future.
The young knows nothing of the boundaries society creates for them, and they find each
other.
This is the second installment of a Romance that should have happened.
***
Life was passing me by. It was high time for me to make myself useful, earn my keep.
During the day I worked at a clothing store, it paid very little and the work was
sometimes hard. In the weekends I waitressed at a nightclub, a lively and full venue,
where fights broke out often, and most nights I left with my pocket full of money. I was
considered an "innocent" and a "newcomer", so the girls helped me out.
Most of the girls were hoping to find dates, even husbands among the customers. As
soon as they found out that was not my plan, that I wanted nothing to do with the guys
that flocked here with the same purpose, I was adopted as the "little one". I got from the
girls all the hints I needed to earn my living, without leading the guys on too much.
We respected one another, looked out for one another. I liked that job.
***
In the winter following my mother fell ill. Her doctor kept saying it was nothing, but she
got worse each day that passed and I was fast becoming worried. Friends insisted she
see a private physician, we put a lot pressure on her and in the end she relented.
The kind man not only found what was wrong with her, in about two visits, he also had
bad news to give: my mother was very weak, she had some sort of rare heart ailment,
and it would cost a lot of money to treat her privately. Mom could always wait for the
treatment from the HMO but, she would get worse in the meanwhile, and the vitality she
was losing before my eyes, would not necessarily be recovered.
Well, we did not have the money, did we? I did. In my mind always, was the envelope I
hid in my drawers, with the money from Hakeem. It would cover the start of her
treatment. I could work harder, we would make it!
The problem was telling my mother what had happened, how that money had come to be
in my hands.
"Imah, I think that I can get to pay for your sessions."
"How come, Shalu? I don't want to waste all your money. You need to save your money
for yourself, you won't be a pretty waitress forever!"
"Imah, I have some more money on the side."
She was instantly suspicious. "And where did all this money come from?"
I told her, in a nutshell, what I had done to earn it. Mother took it even worse than I had
thought, she flipped.
"Whore! Accepting gifts from a man, selling yourself! I knew that night club was a bad
idea."
"No, imah, it was before ..."
Mom's eyes had turned blood red. "Show me this money, Shalu."
I had no choice but to go get it.
Mom turned pale again when she saw the amount, her life and her will leaving her as she
collapsed on her chair. "You must return it."
"I can't imah. I don't know who he is."
My mother eyed me in renewed anger, and I could see it in her eyes - whore. I was the
damaged daughter, used, useless for a life of honesty.
"Leave my house. I don't know who you are. My wish is to never see you again."
"Imah, no!" I pleaded, too shocked to comprehend the enormity of what was happening.
My mother rose from the chair, pulled me by the arm, dragging me to my little room. She
threw me violently inside, my body slamming hard against the wall, and I was instantly
afraid. She was so angry, she was practically foaming at the mouth.
"Get your things and leave now, whore, or I will throw you out with the clothes on your
back."
***
Just like that, I was on the street.
It was afternoon, and I had to think fast. I gathered what I thought I would need, leaving
all the pretty things I had scrimped for behind. I was too numb to form a plan, so when
my bus left me at the bus station I stayed there, in the cold. When the night fell, I knew
not where to go.
I repeated the words, still too numb to process what had happened. "A whore."
No, that was not right. That word was not me, no matter what I had done.
I saw that others were falling asleep on the benches, homeless like me, so I did the
same. I don't know what came over me, I could have just called someone, a friend.
Between watching my bag and freezing, I slept very little that night.
The next day I went to work in the store, as if nothing had happened. I had to keep my
job. I hid my bag behind the counter, leaving briefly to buy a newspaper, try to put
together a semblance of a life. It had not been easy to make a living even together;
alone it seemed insurmountable. I looked for an apartment to rent, something cheap and
not too far away from where I worked.
Apparently, the newspaper was not the way to do it: my boss explained they would all
want guarantees and other things I could not offer at the moment, if ever.
So I asked around; making my urgency obvious to all my acquaintances. Once again, the
girls from the club came to my aid, and by the afternoon I had already found a partner,
she had mentioned this to me in the past. If I could pay upfront, I could move in tonight.
Jeena was desperate to pay the rent herself, and I could not be picky.
Before I went to check the apartment out, I put the envelope money in my bank account,
for something could happen to it. It was obvious that now I was going to need it.
I was no whore, and that money was mine.
***
A couple of months passed and my life turned into a tired routine. Tonight was no
different; it had been another successful blend of serving and flirting. The music was
pounding in my ears, my back was killing me, and my jaw was actually hurting from
smiling so much. Still, the customers were happy, my pouch was full of money, and the
rent would be paid. My priorities had never been so straight.
As I took a dreamy break by the bar counter, ready to leave, I saw him again. Hakeem.
Just as beautiful as I remembered, dressed all in black. His head was resting on his hand,
watching me. He seemed to be drinking alone, and he smiled when I recognized him,
motioning that I come near. Despite my shift being already over, I took my tray with me.
It would be bad if the girls thought I was breaking my own rules.
Hakeem acted as if I had met him just yesterday. "When do you get out, Shalu?"
I spoke as loud as I could without seeming to scream. "I already did."
"I would like to speak with you. Would you like another coffee?"
I smiled. This man was the only good thing happening to me in years and years. "Sure."
Hakeem took me back to that same hotel, which was the best thing our small town had
to offer. It was obvious he stayed there often, and it meant he came from far away.
I allowed myself to question. "Where do you actually live?"
His answer was not that informative. "Upper Galilee."
"That is far."
He smiled. "Depends on your perspective."
I had been in a school trip to the Jordan river once. The green hills and the cool breeze
had reminded me of my own home, back in South America. "How is the weather up
there, in the Galilee?"
His eyes became distant, as if remembering. "A dream."
Well, here it was as hot as the pit of hell, and it was past ten pm by my watch. "Would
you mind if I took a shower?"
I don't know what came over me. I just had to be clean. I wanted to be with him anyway,
I did not care if he knew it.
"Go ahead."
There was something very special about Israeli hotel showers; water actually came out of
them. In my own apartment, one had to find inventive ways to manage the meager flow;
hair washing, for example, presented a real challenge. I scrubbed myself repeatedly; as if
that symbolic act could remove all my cares, make me again the young girl that had
yielded to this man; in a room very much like this one.
When I came out, as clean as I could possibly get, I smelt good food. Hakeem was
waiting for me, still smiling, like he could not believe his luck. I was feeling quite at ease
wearing only the hotel bathrobe, with a towel wrapped around my head.
Hakeem pointed at the food, smiling, unfazed by my attire. "I did not know what you
wanted, so I ordered quite a few things."
I laughed. "You could have asked."
He shrugged. "Nah, if I had gone into that shower, none of us would eat."
I lowered my eyes, still smiling. "That is also true."
"How are you doing, Shalu?"
"Working, as you see. I am not sure what else I can do with my life, so I let the time
pass."
That had surprised him greatly, though I did not know why.
"Funny that I should meet you; I was thinking of you just today. I read a piece on the
newspaper, about some grades that got mixed up."
"What did it say?"
"I don't know, some computer glitch, big scandal. Isn't that what you wanted to study,
computers?"
I nodded. I did not read the paper, so I would not have heard of anything like that.
"Really? In the University?"
"Yup. They seem to be reviewing the entire thing."
I could have missed this. The University would have called my mother; the mail would
also have arrived to her house. "May I use your phone?"
Hakeem nodded, smiling.
I called a friend of mine, my heart racing. "Moran, did you see something in the
newspaper about the scholarship?"
"Shalu, where have you been! That professor lady keeps calling your mother, who insists
she does not know where you are."
"She doesn't. Do you have the lady's phone?"
"Yeah, she said you can even call her at home. She said she would have to pass you up!
Call her like, yesterday!"
I hung up and called the professor woman. At first she was angry, and I was calling so
late, but when I explained the delicate situation, she seemed very sympathetic. As the
error had been publicized for a while, she was not sure about the scholarship anymore.
Due to my special circumstances, she was willing to recheck.
"Go change your address in the Registrar's office. This way people can find you! I was
worried sick about you; your mother is evading my calls."
I gave the woman my address and I hung up, hopeful.
Hakeem had heard I was alone, and he was very concerned. "Did your mother put you
out of the house? When was that?"
"A few months ago. I am doing ok."
He was not buying it, and the smiling face was gone. "Was it because of me?"
I lied. "No, it is all this. Many disagreements."
Hakeem shook his head. "Are you sharing an apartment with someone then?"
"Yes, I am actually enjoying my new freedom." Another lie. I missed my mother terribly,
and I was worried sick about her. I went to see her at work in the University, often, I
stood just a few paces from her, watching her waste away. I am sure she knew it.
The man seemed to sense that my mind had wandered, and tried to cheer me up. "With
that phone call, who knows, you might be actually studying now. Perhaps the stars are
on your side."
It worked. "Yes! I met you tonight, and you read newspapers. It must be fate!" I made a
comical face.
It made him smile, though I could tell he blamed himself. He took me into his arms, then
kissed me with a longing that made me shudder. It was as if he was waiting for me too.
Hakeem moved too fast for me, perhaps he assumed I had taken other lovers during the
few months that had passed, which was not true. When I hesitated, he backed down.
"Ah, little virgin, do I have to teach you everything?"
I smiled. "Only if you want to."
Hakeem turned serious. "Shalu, I am not sure what I am doing here. I don't think this is
good for you."
"Why would you say that?"
"You are away from your mother. You haven't been with anyone in months. I fell I am
standing between you and your life. It is not fair."
I was astonished. What he was suggesting was a bit far fetched. "Why complicate
everything? I met you then, I met you now. We are free. I like you, you are nothing like
the men I know. I am not asking you for anything."
Hakeem seemed about to argue, but seemed to decide to just kiss me instead. Hakeem
knew that he was right in his assumptions; he also knew I would not admit to any of it.
That was the way it started between us, an awkward affair if there was ever one, two
disparate people in a warring world, who somehow felt very alike.
That was the way it started. In freedom.
***
We exchanged phones this time. I became obsessed with checking it for messages, a
million times over, not knowing when he would decide to travel South, when he would
just pick me up from work and make me feel alive. I could not just keep calling and
whining. I accepted what I was given, and I kept my loneliness inside.
In one such night, after he picked me up from the club, he had an unusual request. I
knew he would ask for it eventually and that I should have offered it first.
"Perhaps we go back to your place this time."
I was a little embarrassed. Jeena and I did what we could to make the shabby rental
apartment livable, but it was hardly what one would call a home. I could tell he was a bit
shocked at the conditions, though he did not let it show for long. Nobody would have
expected a waitress to live in a palace.
That the neighborhood was unsafe was a lot harder for him to handle; the boys in the
corner jeered when I passed, as they did so often.
Hakeem was very upset at the things they shouted. "We need to find you a better place!"
I shrugged as I climbed the dark staircase. There were no better places I could afford; I
had tried it more than once. We found my roommate when she was just leaving;
apparently to meet her own boyfriend. She eyed Hakeem in a very obvious manner as we
passed through the door.
"Ah, so you are the mystery man. That figures! I knew she was hiding you from me." The
outgoing girl put out her hand, unfazed. "Jeena."
"Hakeem. It is wonderful to meet you."
Jeena eyed the man again, head to toe. "I should say that! Well, let me go, before Yakov
catches me ogling my roommate's boyfriend."
I smiled. "We might be staying, Jeena."
"That is ok." She turned to Hakeem. "If you are still here in the morning, I will see you."
Jeena made Hakeem her accomplice. "Take good care of her. She is weird."
Hakeem smiled, already conspiring. "I will."
***
Hakeem's expression was a mystery to me. "Come here, weird girl."
I pouted. "Why should you say that?"
"I don't know. Right now I can't keep my eyes from your breasts. Why do you have to
wear such slutty blouses?" I felt his mouth hot on my ear, though he still kept his
distance. He was teasing me even more.
I answered rather impudently. "I need to keep your imagination going ..."
He let his erection brush my back as he circled me. "That you certainly did. Now,
however, you will have to submit to the whims of my imagination; which you so
carelessly have set free."
I played along. "Sounds like a wonderful plan."
"Ha, we will see."
***
Hakeem was very careful with me that night, as if something had changed. He was so
loving and attentive, he made me dream that I was his, that this was our place, that he
would not leave in the morning. He made sure I could see his face before he spoke next.
"Shalu, I was thinking to rent an apartment here, so when I came on business, I would not
have to stay at the hotel."
Sounded reasonable to me. "That would be a nice idea. It might be even cheaper than
staying in the Paradise ..."
"Not the apartment I would rent."
I laughed. "Snob."
"You see, it is hard for me to rent in this city, in any city. But if you did it, then it would
be yours, and there would be no problems."
"You can't rent? Why, because you are an Arab?"
Hakeem nodded affirmatively.
Shalu thought things might be moving too fast. "Ah, I don't know, would I be like your
long distance girlfriend?"
He winked. "Yeah, something like that."
"I'd like it very much, but only if you asked properly."
Hakeem sat forward, put his hands together. "Would you like to care for my apartment,
Shalu?"
I frowned. Caretaker was not the title I was aiming for. Things between us could get very
complicated and I had to know where I stood. "I don't go out with everyone in that bar,
Hakeem."
His face turned serious. "I know, I watched you many a time, more thaan you think, half
hoping you would notice me." Hakeem seemed to hesitate, he sighed. "Shalu, I am wary
of promising more than I can give."
"Try me."
"Would you like to be my girlfriend, Shalu?"
I smiled, beaming. "Yes, I'd love to."
***
Renting an apartment in a good neighborhood was a complete nightmare. It was nothing
for Hakeem to provide guarantees for the contract, just like everyone, but so many
obstacles were put before us, it was obvious something else was going on. Finally a
business associate of his vouched for the deal, and Hakeem bought an apartment.
He consoled himself. "Well, at least no one can harass us now."
Hakeem arrived very infrequently, and did not always call before he did; it was like he
was testing me. I did not mind, except for the fact that I was studying now, and would
have preferred to prepare myself for his arrival. To drown my constant loneliness I had
buried myself in work.
Hakeem had argued incessantly until I gave up on waitressing for the night club. He
worried about me; in truth, there had been problems there. A girl had gotten raped in the
bathroom during her shift, and the once effusive waitresses where now withdrawn and
fearful. No amount of pleading convinced Hakeem that I was safe. So I took a student job
in the University, which paid a lot less, but gave me practical experience. I was on the
path to changing my life for good.
I was too busy anyway to be spending my nights working in a bar: it was Thursday
afternoon, the glorious start of another weekend, and I was closeted at home, studying.
Since the morning I had been breaking my head over this school exercise. It was a
nightmare, an evil sheet of mathematical suffering; devised by the devil for the cruel
torture of all aspiring geeks.
I raised my eyes to heaven and asked for a break. Immediately I regretted it, I had
become more and more superstitious as the months passed, because this sort of thing
seemed to work for me.
Promptly it seemed that heaven answered; I heard Hakeem turning the lock, hopefully on
a weekend visit. Please let it be a weekend visit!
My breath caught when I actually saw him. He noticed it, and he smiled. "How is my book
worm doing?"
I smiled, pointing to my laptop. No books, see?
He reentered the house and tried again. "How are you doing, computer virus?"
I almost fell from my chair, laughing. "I don't think I can do this anymore. I wonder if
this scholarship allows me to forgo all the math. Why do I have to know it? Can't the
computer do all the math by itself?"
Hakeem stared at me, as if he did not understand what the fuss was about. "Come with
me, you sound like you need a break."
We were supposed to go out and have fun. We were, Hakeem had this real problem with
seeing me naked; invariably he had to have me before I got dressed. Just a quickie, I
promise. We missed each other, so things got pretty wild this time around; he had such
energy, I could not always keep up with him.
I pleaded. "Mercy! I can't do it anymore."
He was not so ready to give up. "Oh, be sport. Let's try something else."
Something else, I thought we had gone through all the things we usually did some three
times ... mmmmm ... wait a minute!.
Hakeem embraced me, tightly, pulling my leg over his hip, exposing all the good bits to
his amusement. Relentless, he was circling his finger suggestively around my "other"
entrance, the one he had left well alone until now.
The Arab-Israeli Affair Ch. 02
by israeli_gal©
The entrance I was not so sure I wanted him to be acquainted with. "Hmmm, no, not
there."
His tongue was in my ear, and he whispered hotly as his left hand teased my nipples.
"Why not?"
"Because ... it is ... "
"New?"
"No, it is ... oh ... mmmm ..." So hard to talk with him kissing me like that.
Hakeem's left hand played with my wet folds, as his index finger massaged my puckered
hole. It was not entirely unthinkable, actually it felt kind of nice ...
"Ah ...yes."
He chuckled. "Such a bad girl you are, Shalu."
I am not sure I understood his words anymore, at this point, so great was my need. He
might have been talking Arabic, as it sometimes happened when he forgot himself. I had
yet to shout in Spanish, though the way this was going, today might be the day.
The intruding finger tried me further, and despite the heat that consumed me, I could not
yield to it. Even with all the advances he made, the nipple he held so tightly, the kisses
that threatened my sanity, his finger was still hurting me. Hakeem gave up, helping me
settle against him, a little disappointed. He hugged me close, making sure I was ok, and
not before long, I could tell that his mind was working again.
I kissed his chest. "I can almost hear the wheels turning as you think."
He smiled. "You need help. Come on, make a bag."
Make a bag? I was incredulous. "Where are we going?"
"Tel Aviv."
***
Out to the bus station we went.
The bus trip to Tel Aviv was not long, and the driver must have had some special permit
to be over the speed limit, for he kept overtaking the cars quite a lot. Traffic in Israel is
as raw and violent as the general temperament of the country, and accidents are
common though the roads are reasonably kept. I dreaded the day I should find myself
behind a wheel, the drivers made me nervous even as a pedestrian. That particular night
I did not mind traveling too much, because Hakeem and I were, uh, busy.
Nothing prepared me for the sight of the Tel Aviv bus station. A chaotic, enormous
building full of life, it was found in a very downtrodden part of the city, and I was a bit
scared as I left the bus.
"Don't be put off by the state of the place. Some of the best things in this city can be
found right here."
I was afraid I would lose sight of Hakeem and be lost forever in a sea of people. The
many overlapping levels were full of soldiers, passengers, and people taking all manner
of surveys.
"Which HMO do you belong to?" A boy shouted, appearing before me so suddenly I
almost crashed into him. Hakeem eyed him angrily, before he could get me to answer,
and the boy backed down.
The building had six different levels and they overlapped, effectively forming a dark
maze. I was thankful that Hakeem seemed to know his way. Small stores packed with
CD's, from wall to floor, blasted loud music to attract passersby, right along with bakeries
which displayed inviting wares. I got free food!
"For the pretty girl." A middle-aged seller placed something sweet in my hands.
Hakeem smiled, it was obvious he agreed, thanking the man in his language, to which he
replied something I could not catch.
My head turned in the direction of the CD stores, a catchy tune could heard above all
others, and I had to concentrate to keep myself from dancing to it. Hakeem conversed
rapidly in Arabic with one of the sellers, which promptly produced the newest Hakeem
CD. Not him. His Egyptian namesake.
Such a smile that man had. "Better late than never."
I was endeared. "You remembered."
"Two years, Shalu. How could I forget?" Hakeem pointed at a ridiculous heart shaped
cushion made of pink fur, while making a cynical love struck face as the store owners
cheered.
I could not concentrate among so many disparate sights and sounds. Every time I got
close to a store, someone tried hard to convince me to go in, with hand gestures and all,
some even begged for me to try this or that pretty shoe. I decided to walk keeping a safe
distance away from the sellers; I had always found it hard to refuse when others begged.
We stopped by an eerie lighted store displaying wares from all over Asia. After no more
than a few minutes inside, I asked Hakeem to take me out, before the combination of
incense, world music and purple lighting caused me to faint. I was well and truly
overwhelmed, and at the same time, sorry we would not linger.
Further ahead was a supermarket, beside it a podiatrist, an anthroposophic toy store,
and just a little hidden, was a sex store. There was no rhyme and reason to this place,
and whatever it was, it was a lot.
I was again pulled from my crowd-induced trance when Hakeem touched my shoulder,
then pointed at another store window. It took me a while to understand what he was
aiming at -I am not wearing that top forget it! - then I saw the most beautiful dress I had
ever seen. Made of a velvet-like, clingy, soft material, the empire waist and floor length
made it look straight out of the renaissance. It sat there in the window, along with the
clothes tweens would normally wear, and it begged to be bought by someone, to be freed
from fashion hell.
"Try it Shalu."
I did, and it was a dream. The look on his eyes when I cruised the store, barefoot, I could
not decipher at the time; it was not lust, it was something other. I had no time to protest
his constant spending, by the time I was out of the changing booth, the dress was paid
for.
"For the theater, later on."
Theater? "I thought we were here on a mission to buy rude stuff."
"Ah, that? I had forgotten all about it." His wicked face told me otherwise. "I have many
surprises prepared."
***
In the taxi I saw the transformation from south to center Tel Aviv. From desolation to old
world order.
Well, sort of.
I guess Tel Aviv is not such a large city, even back in South America I had know life in
much larger scale. It is a mini-metropolis, busy, chaotic, and by the standards of the arid
region in which I now called home, very green. I missed the mountains, I missed the
rain, and above all, I missed green, so this visit was making me happier by the minute.
Hakeem's first surprise for me was a big one: our hotel was by the sea. I left his hand
and ran down the sand awkwardly, my feet sinking. I was a crazed little girl, and he just
watched me, always amused.
He approached me as I crouched, holding my shoes, my bare feet in the mud. For the
moment, I was where I wanted to be.
"No sea where you come from?"
I shook my head. "I took the bus to Ashdod a few times, with my friends."
"Where are your friends now?"
"I see them in the weekends. They should be leaving the army soon."
***
The hotel room was very beautiful, tastefully decorated, and we had the obligatory bath
which I went to check as soon as we entered, with glee. Hakeem was by now informed of
my habits and he took me to the bed before I had the chance to put my bags down. I had
a feeling that I was not the only one in abstinence between visits. Due to our special
circumstances, I was not sure what I was in Hakeem's life, at all.
Hakeem lay back on the bed, a satisfied smile in his face, as his eyes followed my naked
body around the room. "Perhaps we can see a play tonight."
"Can we get any tickets?"
"Of course. Let's look at the paper."
I searched. I had gone to more than one play and not liked any of them; the Hebrew was
way above my head, even now. Some had been in what my friends called
"Shakespearean Hebrew", which seemed to be slang for "such a beautiful Hebrew nobody
can understand it." At first I had thought it was my poor language skills, but as they had
improved, I started to suspect the problem lied elsewhere.
I scanned the paper hopefully, a large advert caught my eye: I almost fell back it when I
saw it, a concert I'd have sold the hair on my head to attend.
I held the newspaper, pointing frantically. "Yuri Bashmet!"
Hakeem was puzzled. It happened often. "Who died?"
I made an offended face. "He is a god, a great Russian musician, the best." I was making
such a fuss. "Oh! I can't believe he is like, here."
He smiled, crossing his arms. "And you want to see this Bashmet guy instead of going to
the theater? I hate classical music."
I could hardly disguise my disappointment. "We don't have to."
Hakeem crossed his hands, his mind already working on his next plan. "We can, but is
going to cost you."
I made a cute little face, all charm. "Hmm, what do you have in mind?"
"Oh, you will see."
***
Hakeem said he needed to make a few phone calls, and I did not want to leave the room
without him. I decided to drain half the country's water reserves in the enormous bath,
all the while hearing my mother's voice in my head. One can see the sea of Galilee
recede every time you shower!
What can I say? I am a miracle worker. Soon everybody will be walking in it.
Hakeem came to sit by the bathtub, eyeing my body like he could hardly bother with
leaving the room, imagine leaving for a concert.
He sighed. "I am renting a car for the weekend, so we will be more mobile."
There is no public transport in Israel on Friday evenings and most of the Saturday, and
anyone without a car becomes a virtual prisoner until Saturday night. Hakeem truly
seemed keen on making the most of this weekend, though now I really worried whether
it was gracious of me that he incurred such expenses.
"It is very generous of you."
"It is all part of my plan. Dress warmly, we will be by the sea side and it is windy there."
"Where are we going?"
"Yafo."
***
Yafo is a city adjacent to Tel Aviv, and it used to be very much run down, or so Hakeem
told me. It is being now partially reclaimed, its old stone buildings restored, and the
result was absolutely stunning. It was like having a little piece of Jerusalem in the heart
of Sin City. But no, it was not generous to say that.
Yafo is a beauty in its own right.
Hakeem explained how the regular residents, unable to pay for the reforms needed by
the aging buildings, are being slowly out bought from the city. I knew that already, that it
had happened also in other places in the country after they had been restored. When I
passed one of the condemned buildings, about to topple over, I was unable to decide
what was worse: a city that would die because its buildings threatened to crumble over
its residents, or a city that would die because its soul was sold for profit.
Hakeem seemed to be considering the possibilities. "Are you hungry?"
"I can hold a little longer."
"Let me show you around."
We walked by the sea side, past the restaurants, into narrow streets where artisans had
placed their workshops, in two story buildings made of the obligatory white stone. It was
truly romantic and it looked like a country within a country, a little corner that had
stopped in time.
Hakeem dragged me out before I became the next victim of "Jerusalem syndrome", and
declared we should take a break. We entered the restaurant he had chosen, and the
owner knew him! Many seemed to know him, no matter where we went. As we waited for
our food, Hakeem asked truly personal questions for the first time in two years.
"This boy you almost married, why would he leave someone like you?"
Despite the flattery, my gaze was pasted to the floor. It was still painful to think of it.
"Some crazy thing about papers. You would not believe if I told you."
"Please do."
"Apparently one needs to prove their religion when marrying here. I am not Jewish by the
religious establishment's standards."
"And they did not accept your proof?"
I shook my head.
He sat back, showing impatience. "Unbelievable. So you like, pester each other too?"
Hakeem hardly ever talked to me in "you" and "us" terms, and it was making me
uncomfortable. "I could tell you stories. But this is a nice meal, why spoil it?"
He did not even hear me. "Isn't it enough that you believe? Could you not prove it to
them?"
"Only by adopting a very religious lifestyle, which I was at first willing to do. As the
process progressed, and more hurdles were placed before me, I decided it was a bad
idea." I was making it easy for his ears. I had been utterly and completely humiliated by
those who claimed to guard my soul.
"You don't strike me as the religious type."
I inspected his face, fearful that he mocked me, but he didn't.
"My family believes, but it bears no resemblance to the acceptable forms of worship in
this country."
"How are you getting married then?"
I smiled, uncomfortable. "I will pass that hurdle when a suitable husband is found."
Hakeem seemed to sink in his own thoughts, and the waiter saved us by bringing our
order. The food was delicious, and the waiter insisted that I have wine, which I refused.
"I never drink."
That seemed to struck a chord with Hakeem. "I'd not mind if you did."
"Makes me sleepy and cranky. I tried only once when I was younger, and decided it is not
for me."
"Such a little girl you are, Shalu."
I lowered my eyes, blushing. He was giving me that look again.
We walked by the sea after the meal, and Hakeem's cellular phone rang. Despite taking
lessons in University I had caught no spoken Arabic, and I felt lapse that I had not tried
harder.
After the phone call, we made our way back to the car. Right beside the restaurant,
opposite the street, was a beautiful stone church, an Indian restaurant and a variety of
cafés. In the middle of the beautiful stone plaza, was found the door to a curious
establishment. I read the sign on the door.
The Dungeon
"Oh, I heard about this place, it was in the newspaper. It is one of those Sado-Maso night
clubs."
Hakeem was surprised, crossing his arms. "Newspaper? Are you reading it now? What
progress we have made. What was it that you heard exactly?"
"That the neighbors want so to get rid of them. They keep inventing stories and things."
Hakeem chuckled. "Perhaps they are not inventing."
"Look at those walls, they are a meter thick! I doubt one could hear a jet engine working
inside that place. People enjoy their own conspiracies."
Hakeem agreed with my last statement. "It gives them something to do. Want to check it
out?"
I decided to draw my line on the sand before it became too late. "Not my thing."
Hakeem seemed amused, passing his arm around my back, urging me to continue. "We
have another place to visit."
***
A beautiful promenade had been recently built in the Tel Aviv port, with coffee shops
and restaurants, even a mini-mall. It seemed such a pleasant place to stroll in the
afternoons. Some were fishing by the sea, children played with their bikes, around the
sandbox. The sea breeze was pleasant and the sun warmed my back, painting everything
in golden tones. There was so much of Israel I did not know, I had to get out more often.
We entered the mini-mall, and my questions went unanswered. There are many malls in
Tel Aviv, why did he need this particular one? I had a fear I knew why.
Hakeem stopped before a store that had only large posters in the windows, and a sign.
Sisters Doing It by Themselves
What was that? Nothing could have prepared me for the sight as we entered. It was ... a...
dildo supermarket!
It had nice tiles on the floor, which I was admiring, for I could not meet the gaze of
anyone. My legs itched, they wanted to lead me far away from dildoland. I could feel the
blood reddening my cheeks, my entire face felt hot.
Hakeem approached one of the saleswomen. "We want to look at butt plugs."
No! We don't! We want to leave, leave, leave! I whined. "Must we do this?"
"Shalu, you need to learn a few things about negotiating. I will always collect my deals."
I had to lift my gaze a little bit so it met the counter. They did not look that bad, those
plugs, but they were like, little. How were they supposed to help?
Hakeem apparently also thought so. "Nothing bigger?"
"Of course." The saleswoman actually seemed sympathetic to my plight. "Though your
girl looks like she needs these first."
Bigger abominations were brought up the counter. God was watching! Or was it Satan?
Lucky we have no Satan.
"Are you going to choose, or will I have to?"
In truth, I already had my eyes on my preferences, as if by instinct I could identify which
toys would work. There was the nice smooth silicon thing that would feel a lot better than
his insistent fingers, and a larger, firmer plug made to look like etched glass.
My mind fell to practicalities. "How does one clean these things?"
Hakeem laughed some more. "That was fast. With lots of soap."
The seller put a bottle of "toy cleaning solution" on the counter, and remarked. "You can
always use condoms."
Hakeem had already wandered, he was trying a rainbow-colored instrument of
punishment on his hands, and it made me feel like running away. Right now.
The seller was hopeful. "That flogger is on promotion, 30% off. The designed is a local
girl, she has lots of really nice stuff; it is all there in the corner."
Hakeem's gaze followed her pointing finger, where the most surreal merchandise in the
world stood, dildos with pink feather tails, a transparent "flogger", and who knows what
else.
"Optic fiber", the seller explained, smiling.
Hakeem considered me with a wicked expression on his face, pausing deliberately before
putting the flogger away.
"No, just these for now."
I was relieved when he paid for his purchases and we left. Perhaps one day I would hold
my head high in a place such as this. That day was not today.
***
There was not so much time left when we came back to the hotel. I hastily bathed and put
on my new dress, and when Hakeem came into the room wearing all black, which he
seemed to favor, I almost fainted. The man was hot!
And he knew it. "Don't start. We don't have the time for it."
I laughed, usually I was the one taking cover. I returned to putting put the finishing
touches on my make-up and hair, nothing too fancy, still a great change from my day-today
face. Hakeem's gaze was on me.
"Whaaaat?"
I turned to leave, and my eyes met his, eyes, and they misted over for a second.
"You are so beautiful. Come, we must not be late."
***
Only now I realized we had left the toy bag in the car. As we parked and made it out,
Hakeem remarked, "you don't want to leave that there. People break into rental cars all
the time."
I took the bag with me, though I regretted it immediately. I had forgotten everything
about the security check, when all bags are invariably opened. Hakeem was unfazed by
the extra attention he got, though the woman waiting behind us seemed quite shocked
that there was an "Arab" so close to her. I was so pleased when the security guy pulled
my butt plug out of the bag for inspection, holding it quite high, still in its very
informative packaging.
Now the woman was shocked! She almost passed out from the sight of it.
Hakeem bit his lip not to break out in laughter, as did everyone that saw her face, and
mine. I was as red as a beet, but at the same time, I had developed a new appreciation for
my toys. I might start carrying them around all the time.
***
I was glued to my seat for the entire concert. The soft sound of the viola and oboe against
the small orchestra demanded all of my attention, and I sank heavily into the dreamy
quality of the music by Bruch. I can't tell you whether Bashmet performed perfectly, or
whether he was wearing a suit; all I remember is the music. I only woke up from my
trance when it was time for the intermission. When I tried to rise to allow others to pass,
my legs would not respond; they had fallen asleep!
The Arab-Israeli Affair Ch. 02
by israeli_gal©
The second part of the concert passed slower, and Hakeem seemed to be getting bored.
The distractions in the packed hall became more annoying, and I could tell that he longed
to be alone with me. Every time our eyes met, his gaze fell to the bag at my feet, he
smiled suggestively, in a way that made my thighs to press together involuntarily. After
an hour of that, I was so wet with anticipation, I was soaking my panties through.
The dreamy feeling accompanied me back to the hotel; I was walking on clouds, and he
seemed to notice, simply following me silently, biding his time. We went straight up to
our rooms, the heat of his very first kiss making me melt into his arms.
Hakeem knew all there was to know about me; he took charge, pushing me against the
bed, hooking his finger on my panties, entering me sweetly while I was still wearing
them. I was completely wet and at the same time unready, my walls hugging his hard
cock so close, my breath caught on my throat. Hakeem ran his hands over my buttocks,
his fingers trying my other passage, the acute feeling of it sending me right over the
edge. My orgasm ran over me, leaving me spent and confused, my vision blurred, as I
gasped for air, trying to collect myself. Collect myself? Why? I sank back into a delicious
dreamy state, still feeling him between my legs, aching for ... more.
My notion of time had become skewed, my awareness seemed to be giving way. Hakeem
had now changed into a robe, and approached me silently with something in his hand. I
knew what it was. Again his fingers searched for my secrets, as he sat beside me, one
hand in my breasts, another playing with my clit.
His thumb entered my wet secrets, his index finger melted into my other entrance, trying
it as I mewled helplessly.
"Turn over."
Hakeem uncovered my legs, my ass, the dress was conveniently slit on the back. His
finger now tried my puckered hole more directly, and I felt it, resisted it.
"Accept it, Shalu. Don't fight. You want it."
I did, I dreamt about this, I fantasized about this, and now it was going to happen, and I
was afraid. Hakeem circled his finger around my newly discovered entrance, sensuously,
as I visibly relaxed my entire body on the bed. I started moaning without meaning to,
leading him on, and before I knew it, the smallest plug slid in easily into my tight little
butt.
It was strange, the feeling of it, but my lover soothed me, kissed me, kneading my
buttocks, his own desire growing, unstoppable. Hakeem played with my soaked pussy,
fingering me lewdly, and I was quite surprised when he asked me to raise my hips in the
air, head on the bed. Surprised was not quite the word. I panicked.
"Sweet, it won't be a surprise when it comes. Come on, stick that butt out for me."
I did, despite the embarrassment of it, so exposed, my shoes still on my feet, displaying
my new toy lodged where it was meant. Hakeem bent to lick me just as I was, smiling at
my desperate moans, cheering. He stood, pulling me back to himself, slipping his cock
carefully into my waiting pussy. It felt so crowded, I threatened to come at once.
"Keep your legs well apart."
I moaned in time with his measured movement, feeling so wild, so wanton, such a tight
fit. By the time he was ready to replace the plug, I would have given anything just to
have this end my way.
"Not yet, silly girl."
Slowly he worked the other plug in, a much larger model, and it burnt just a little as he
eased it in. My wincing had him promptly reaching for oil, and when he tried again, it
went almost all the way.
"Oh, please, no, no."
I threatened to come again and he decided to withdraw the plug somewhat.
"Let me place you on your back."
I saw stars when I changed position again, the blood rushing in my ears, and I felt so
dizzy, so helpless. The plug was only half inserted; Hakeem held it, pushed it all the wah
inside now as I squirmed, quite uncomfortable. His cock was now near my mouth and I
seized the opportunity to play with it a little. I was hungry for him, and it showed; I
swirled my tongue around it, sucking it hungrily, pleasing him the way he deserved. As I
put on my best blow job performance ever, my body relaxed around the inserted object.
I was not so uncomfortable anymore ...
Even as he enjoyed my mouth around his cock, Hakeem's hand on my thigh reminded
me to wait with my own pleasure.
My pleasure was to be attained the way he had planned. He moved to remove the buried
plug, my moans suddenly acute as the wide base came out of my body, and I was almost
sorry to be left so empty. Not for long, soon I was feeling his warm cock against my
prepared hole, so delicious it was indescribable. I wanted him inside my body, that way,
and my fear finally gave way to the desire I felt for him, uncompromising. Without
hesitation he pushed in a good bit, and my tight hole yielded easily, though I moaned
aloud just the same, complaining.
"Aaagh."
"Just let it take you."
Hakeem knew what I was feeling! He probably was aware of it even back in the concert
hall, that this haze had taken me over, that I was its prisoner, and that he was the cause
of it. I did feel a little pain as he progressed slowly, but it felt disconnected from my
body. I floated in this warm, golden haze, as he came in further and further, so slowly,
but with such determination. I felt every inch of him as he buried himself deep inside of
me.
As my dreamy eyed Hakeem picked up something of a pace, I started saying
disconcerting things, crazy things, my body folded in an angle so impossible, I would not
have believed it of myself. Hakeem was not affected by what I said, he just smiled,
soothing me, concentrating in taking my body, making me utterly and finally his, trying
his best to keep it nice and easy, for me. It was good that I could trust him to remain in
control, because I had lost it for good.
I came just as I felt him bury himself good and proper, to the hilt inside my body, for the
very first time. That was a complete, definitive orgasm, my whole body closing into itself
and becoming smaller, in a rush of feeling so strong, I saw black for quite a few seconds.
Hakeem had to hold me down, how crazed I must have seemed. Our eyes connected in
that very last moment, when we came together, and I saw the man I loved, in a split
second that meant everything.
When that orgasm left me, I think I was completely satisfied for the first time in my life,
like all the pleasure I had ever felt had only been an introduction to this.
I was shuddering and still talking crazy when he took me in his arms, silent, perhaps a bit
shaken himself. When I recovered I uttered the words I held in my heart so long, for fear
of the consequences they might bring.
"I love you Hakeem."
He said nothing, bringing his hand to cradle my head, soothing me, and we dozed off a
bit.
I was almost asleep for good when I heard it, quite clearly. "I love you too, Shalu."
***
My lover was still sleeping when I awoke next, so I quietly got up and I ran a bath for
myself. I was still much too awed for common speech, and enjoyed that time alone.
Hakeem found me sitting there, staring at the wall aimlessly, my mind at once
completely quiet and very troubled. He had a box of chocolate with him, which he placed
beside me.
"Happy Valentine's day, Shalu. Here, take one."
I did not feel like eating, well, not until I actually tasted the chocolate. It was heavenly.
"I heard the white ones are the best."
I tried the one he appointed, and I almost broke my tooth on something hard that was
within it. I bit my tongue too, feeling the hot blood in my mouth.
"Eager little girl."
I lifted the curious object, a delicate ring I could not have chosen myself, so beautiful it
was. I was speechless.
"Marry me, Shalu." My eyes met his in a plea, and I was about to say something, when he
interrupted. "Don't think. Marry me."
Hakeem was the peace I never knew, he was every smile on my lips from the day I had
met him. I did not think.
I said yes.
***
Thank you for reading my second contest entry. Please vote for it if you can. Your
comments are very much appreciated!
The Arab-Israeli Affair Ch. 03
by israeli_gal©
This story is fiction, but the premise under which it happens is true. In the hot sands of
Israel's South, life is harsh, for Jew and Arab alike. Poverty and unemployment are the
lot of all. The alienated youth of that region feels it has no place, no part in its already
uncertain future.
The young knows nothing of the boundaries society creates for them, and they find each
other.
This is the third installment of a Romance that should have happened.
***
As another Valentine's Day approached and the storefronts once more filled with pink
giddiness, my mind was on Valentines past. I had met the love of my life on what had
seemed at first a disastrous day. A year later, he had asked me to marry him. I said yes.
I knew less how I could marry my Hakeem now as I did then, being, as you know, sort of
an outcast. I felt ashamed that I knew nothing about his way of life, nothing about his
customs, and he knew so much about me. Perhaps the fact that Hakeem was living away
from his own family helped with our isolation.
Thinking what to do, I hit Google, in my laptop. Jewish Arab Israeli marriage.
A flood of hateful results shot back at me and they had very little to do with marriage. I
almost got up from my chair. Everywhere I clicked each side shouted accusations at each
other. Some so fantastic, I had to laugh an uneasy laugh, still, the poison so potent, it
was making me ill.
'I know Hakeem. I know how he lives. This is wrong.'
Did I know?
Slowly we worked up the endless requirements for our marriage including a declaration
from my home country, Peru, that I was never married before.
The document was hard to obtain since I had immigrated here when I was ten years old
and for the Peruvian officials it was obvious I had not been married there. I had been
warned that the requirements would become even more ridiculous when it came to
registering our upcoming marriage with the Population Registry. It boiled down to this:
He could marry me and I could not marry anyone.
I worked slowly and tried not to lose my heart. It had to get better than this.
***
For most immigrants to Israel the use of the Hebrew language in every day life can be
shocking. Until we set foot in the Holy Land, we use the ancient language as our pathway
to God, the language of prayer. It is shocking and sometimes sad for the newcomer. The
holy language seems sullied by common use; cheapened in regular conversation, but we
get used to it.
For me, Hebrew would always have the quality of prayer. As I put my Oriental café CD to
play, I stood frozen in my living room and the singer's soft voice seemed to pray.
Im ninealu daltei nedivim, daltei marom lo ninealu.
Even if the doors of the generous were found locked, the doors of heaven will never be.
I reflected on those words then added a small prayer of my own. I did, indeed, hope that
the doors of heaven would not close to me as the doors of this world had done. Ah, but I
was succumbing to sadness. This was not my way. Besides, by then the tune had become
catchy and the drums rolled. The Oriental café was my favorite belly dancing CD and I
smiled even if I still could not get my accent to sound right.
I would rather have been just me, and whenever asked which "tradition" I belonged to, I
would invariably answer -- Yemenite. Even Hakeem had laughed at me when on one
such occasion I hinted to a man at the post office that I came from Yemen.
Hakeem had looked me up and down then exclaimed, "You are as Yemenite as I am.
Actually, I think I could pull it off better."
I pouted and protested.
"Nobody will ever buy that argument until you get those consonants right," he had said. I
still sounded like a foreigner even if others could not place me by looks or accent.
So I tried and I tried to sound like them.
Im ni-ne- A -- lu, daltei nedivim
I always had the music on when giving the house a once over. It made the tedious work
go faster. Of course it took twice as long since I danced on all the good parts instead of
cleaning.
daltei merom, lo ni-ne-A-lu.
I was just getting very into the music, half pole dancing with my broom, half belly
dancing to the beat, when I turned around and noticed I was no longer alone. Hakeem had
arrived unexpectedly, as was his custom, and he was laughing at me.
"You are getting it."
I was not intimidated. "What? The hip?" I cocked my hip to the side suggestively.
"No, silly, the consonants..."
"Perhaps the Yemenite folk will still have me then."
Hakeem smiled again, shrugging, "And why wouldn't they?" Then he paused and patted
my hair. I knew what he was thinking already. "I got you something."
It was another Oriental Café collection. I started jumping up and down, "Thank you!"
"Go get dressed for me, belly dancer."
I did; shiny stuff and everything. Hakeem had presented me with so much attire from his
travels. I already knew which alternative career to start. The first song on the CD was
Fata Morgana. I had not heard the song in some ten years and I had not known how to
dance then. There had been a great soap opera with this song in it and it always played
when an Arab couple appeared. Actually, it was played during their bedroom scenes...
Hakeem was getting very much into it and he replaced the CD. He moved to sit on the
sofa, made himself a drink, and reclined as he usually did when he thought he would have
a good time. "Girl, I have been around, but I have never fucked a belly dancer before."
I swallowed hard at that. Feeling a stab of pain in my belly, my reaction had me laughing.
When the song started I panicked. One belly dances from the base, depending on the roll
of the drums as a reliable guide from one beat to the next. This song was neatly divided
in compasses and my dance was going to be boring to tears.
I caught the drums with my hips, trying to get lost in my dancing, thinking hard on the
little girl that played odalisque as a child to this very song. Now I was playing to my man
and he had that smile on his face that seemed to mean, 'I am really liking this and you
have no idea what you are doing.'
I took my gaze from his grin fixing it on the enormous mirror behind him. It was put
there so I could perfect my solitary dancing. I only had to keep this up for what? Seven
minutes!
Trust me, it is an eternity.
So I decided to win him with my enthusiasm. I concentrated, channeling the beautiful
woman from the soap opera I saw in my childhood, seemingly so long ago, with her
flowing red costume and her desire to please ... I was half naked anyway, which was to
my advantage. I doubt he would remember the dance. His eyes were on my breasts the
whole time.
When I felt more confident with the rhythm, I decided to display my skills. I was in love
with the image in the mirror, the shameless belly dancer, and Hakeem was no longer
grinning. His face was a mask (no comma) as my belly rolled in time with the music.
"Nice."
Nice indeed. I allowed myself to tease as I never had done, even when alone. I was fully
aware that while this was my territory, the bed was his and I was going to be there with
him soon.
For the rest of the night.
***
"Tell me about your family."
Hakeem smiled, shaking his head. "A bunch of misfits."
"Oh, tell me."
"It all started with my father. He was sent to study in Europe to get a better education. He
hooked up with an Italian beauty instead. He came back with a family in tow and half a
degree."
Shalu laughed. "Your mother is Italian?"
"She was. She passed away when I was little." Hakeem kissed me when it was I who
should console him. "It has been a long while, little girl. I studied abroad as well and
have lived a traveling life since. My father does not approve of it so we are not in
speaking terms."
"I am so sorry it is like this."
"That is life and the price of setting my own path. My older sister is an artist and she lives
in Tel Aviv."
"And her husband?"
"Oh, she remains single, despite the growing desperation of my grandfather."
I understood everything. "He wants more grandkids already!"
Hakeem smiled, "There will be a lot of pressure in that regard. You don't have to listen to
them. My father married a second time and I have a younger half-brother and a little
sister. My brother has had a difficult time finding himself, though now he has opened a
restaurant with his friends and seems to be enjoying his life more, but only when the
tourists are coming."
I nodded in agreement. Tourism can be such a fickle industry in this country.
Hakeem sighed as if the recollections were painful to him. "I haven't been in my house in
a while."
"So sad." I thought of my own mother, who would not see me.
Hakeem was not one to be sad for too long. "My home is where you are, sweet. What
about your family, Shalu?"
"I come from a very large family in South America. My father decided to realize his
dream and moved to live in Israel." Shalu knew she was treading on delicate ground now
and chose her words carefully. "He died soon after we arrived; in a car accident."
"Very sorry to hear that."
I found it hard to go on. "Life was difficult, even then, and became harder after he passed.
I miss him terribly." Shalu was crying. "How will we live, Hakeem? Where will we live?"
"Hush, Shalu, one thing at a time. We can live here if you find a job or move to the center
of the country. We have each other. It will work out."
"Must I convert?"
"Only if you wish to. It has its advantages though you can't expect your friends to tell
them to you." Hakeem seemed suddenly upset. "I am a secular man, Shalu. I don't care.
We can marry as we are; in the Muslim court."
"Then that is what we should do. If it causes problems, we can marry in South America."
"I find it completely absurd to travel all the way to South America to marry you. Shalu,
since marrying within your religion is not possible I'd prefer if we married according the
rites of mine. My family would appreciate this very much."
"I don't think I mind," I said. 'What did it matter really?' "We will just have to wait and
see."
***
Moving to a completely different country brings on great difficulties, big and small. One
cannot know how much until one does it on his own. All the little details of life, all the
intelligence that makes life easier, are lost. I found it very hard to find the balance, to
continue being myself, and adjusting to a society with rules that seemed alien at times. I
knew not how to bargain, how to make friends, how to be assertive without seeming rude,
or how to be sweet without being ignored or belittled for my weakness.
When I was planning to convert for Shahar's sake, I had been only too eager. I wanted to
be someone else. I desperately wanted for his family, for his friends, to accept me. The
good girl in me, perhaps, would have adjusted to life as a religious woman. I would never
know.
What I was planning this time was complete lunacy. At least I knew I'd never fit.
Converting to his religion was out of the question. I did not believe in it. What then?
Jeena had very mixed reactions to my marriage plans. "You don't think your life is hard
enough, Shalu?"
"You have met him, Jeena."
"Yes. He is an impressive man, Shalu, but marriage? What about his family? What will
your children be?"
"Mine."
"Yakov, come here and hear this."
Shalu knew she would have to face opposition. Better to face it soon. At worst, she would
know who her true friends were. True friends help one ask the right questions.
"Shalu is marrying Hakeem." Jeena held my hand with his ring.
"You took a ring from that man? Does it not make you married already?" Yakov was
scratching his head harder and he was holding my hand a little too strongly.
"No, Yakov, she can't marry him like that. It does not work with non-Jewish men. And
Shalu is not able to marry, is she?"
Yakov looked at me very intently. "Do you truly know who he is, Shalu? Who his friends
are? He could be anyone."
I was hurt. "We have been together for a while, Yakov."
Yakov seemed to ponder and then he spoke in a low voice. "Let me talk to my parents
about this."
"Why, Yakov? No interventions! I will be a very nasty guest if you guys betray me this
way."
Jeena was planning to do just that. "You need to consider this carefully."
Yakov asked her to stop for a moment. "Father knows some families from the north.
Perhaps someone can help you. At least give you an idea of what you are entering."
"What are you implying,Yakov?"
"That you owe to yourself to hear what others have to say. Let me at least know you did
this with all the cards in your hand."
***
I agreed with Yakov, and I allowed him to speak with his parents. Though I asked for
discretion, I was not sure I was getting any. That was not his folks' strongest side.
I mentioned this to Hakeem, a little fearfully, the whole time I felt I was walking on eggs
and trying not to hurt anyone. Yet, I got hurt all the time.
He did not seem to mind. "It is great if you wish to talk to others. Though I am not sure
what you friend is warning you against. It is just you and me , as we were before. If you
are concerned about your marriage we can try to do that prenuptial thing you found on
the Internet. I am all for it."
"Do you have any way to check what would be acceptable to write in it?"
"Get what you want organized and we can talk to an appealer. It's not such a big thing,
though I am concerned for you, Shalu."
"Why, Hakeem?"
"Because you went very far to please this Shahar guy. You can be sure that pressure will
be put on you to do the same with me. Let me make it clear to you; you don't have to
convert. You don't have to learn anything. You can't become one of us because you are
yourself. I love who you are, Shalu."
That speech had me mute for more than a minute. Was I still at risk? Would I chase the
good girl dream once more?
"Come here." Hakeem said opening his arms. "You think too much."
***
Yakov's father was a retired judge and a rather reasonable man. He called me a few days
later.
"Shalini ... Shalu?"
"Yes."
"I heard from Yakov you are about to take a very big step."
"So it is, Sir."
"Call me Amos. Would you like to come by for a cup of coffee?"
I agreed and set it up for the weekend.
***
Yakov's mother regarded me uneasily. "But Shalini, you are so pretty, surely you are not
out of Jewish boys to date!"
I hated being called Shalini. It always put me on the defensive.
Amos put his hand up. "Malka, she is not here for this."
"I know his family. They are good and decent people. I also know they aren't speaking,
which is why Hakeem is still unmarried and why I know this marriage is against his
family's wishes. I don't think you can conceive of how important his family is to him. The
way to join them is not behind their backs."
"I think that Hakeem's family is his concern just as my mother is mine."
"Spoken like a true western girl. You are completely wrong. There is not much you can
do anyway, but take my advice with you in your journey. Time will come when they will
be reconciled and you will have to find your place among his people. Everything you do
matters and you must be attentive."
I decided to change the subject. "I heard that though the marriage is possible, I will have
trouble registering it."
"Yes, Shalu, you might have a long road ahead of you."
"We considered marrying in South Americ."
"Can Hakeem do that? Romantic. I'd advise against it. His family might take exception.
Besides, it changes little. You'd still have to register it here."
I just could not understand why it had to be so difficult. Who did they expect me to marry
in the end? For Shahar, I was not good enough. To Hakeem, I was forbidden. "Why won't
they leave me be?"
"Shalu, they make it their business. They might try a great many tricks, but stay the
course. They have no legal right to refuse your registration. Most importantly, do not
renege your religion because of them. If you were converting that would be fine. Since it
is not the case, you should remain what you are. The Ministry doesn't care about you. All
they care for is the statistic you represent. One they are very uncomfortable with."
I was shocked that Amos allowed himself to talk so freely. It seemed that everyone was
unhappy about the situation and no one knew how to change it.
"I think that with a Shari'a marriage there might be less paperwork, though make sure you
know what you are signing."
The mention of Shari'a had Yakov's mother positively shrieking. "No!"
Amos sighed, "Malka, legally, it is the only way for them to get married without leaving
the country."
"But they will convert her!"
"Not if she does not want to."
"Yakov, you heard all the stories."
"Yes, Malka, I heard them. But I got to hear the ones that don't make the news too."
Amos and Malka argued with themselves for the next two hours, forgetting about me.
When I left, I had no more answers than I had when I arrived.
***
I stopped thinking about our marriage. It always brought me a new headache to breach
the subject. Weren't we living fine the way we were? Hakeem sensed the tension and he
too backed down. Besides, his work had him traveling often. We never wasted time
arguing.
A few weeks later, I arrived home and I found a flower in the doorstep. It was a red rose
of exquisite beauty, chosen carefully, as Hakeem did with everything. My heart jumped. I
entered the house only to find a trail of red petals leading to our bedroom. I was so happy.
Hakeem was nowhere to be found. I sat on the bed and ate some of the chocolate he left
there, wondering what he was planning. Then I saw the envelopes.
I was already smiling as I picked them up, wondering what he was up to this time. The
first one contained my passport, which he had casually mentioned I should update weeks
ago. The second contained a plane ticket to Rome and cash.
"Oh my God!" I dropped everything, finding it hard to breathe. Then I opened the third
envelope. It contained a note in his handwriting.
'Take the bath I had prepared for you. You may add hot water as you wish. Then get
dressed, nicely, and go to the airport. Arrive early, but not too early.'
I checked the ticket. I had less than five hours. I did not have time for a bath.
"Take a taxi, don't risk missing the flight. Take only the luggage I left for you by the
door."
I could only imagine the kind of clothing he had chosen.
'I will pick you up at the destination.
Hakeem
PS: don't even dream of cleaning the house. No time.'
I must confess it crossed my mind. All these flowers would surely stain the floor! I
bathed quickly; exhilarated. Then I took the luggage he had prepared completely apart.
Just as I suspected, I had to add some usable underwear to it. Hakeem never learned!
I took the taxi and about an hour later, I was at the airport. Men with semi-automatic
weapons checked each car and its occupants. I felt ill for a second. Was I really traveling
all alone?
I was a bit hungry and planned to eat something at the airport as soon as I got rid of my
bags, which I had not been able to get packed as neatly as he had. As soon as I
approached the check-in counter, I was sent to a different line than the others. I did not
think it odd at the time, and I innocently waited to be called. A stern looking girl, not a lot
older than I was, started asking questions.
"First time traveling?"
I told her yes.
"Are you all alone?"
I nodded yes again.
"Did you pack that yourself?"
Well, I had pulled it all apart, had I not? "Yes," I answered.
"Why did you think about my question?"
I just wasn't too impressed by figures of authority, especially when they were under
twenty-five. "No reason."
The Arab-Israeli Affair Ch. 03
by israeli_gal©
"What are you doing abroad?"
"Having fun."
The questioning went on and on. She wanted to know why my passport was new. What
was I going to do in Italy and with whom. Then another girl, even younger, replaced her
and asked me the very same questions.
Still I did not think anything was up. I was getting weary and tired, cursing myself for
running to the airport without eating.
Then a very insecure boy arrived. He made me open my bags in front of everyone. All the
nice lingerie was visible to passersby. Some men looked up and down from the bag to
me, their faces illuminating. The women shook their heads and passed judgment on their
way to the airline counters. I was getting really upset and embarrassed and so was the
security guy.
A newbie security checker! What kind of luck was that?
As he went through the same questions as I was asked before, I started getting more
and more upset. "Is this absolutely necessary?"
He started apologizing. "I really must do this."
Now I was the one encouraging him! "Well, I guess."
The calmer I got, the more nervous the security guy became. He helped me close my
bag, but he was such a dufus, that he managed to close my fingers in it in the process.
All I was trying to do was not to drag bra straps across half of Europe. For the finish, he
dropped my bag to the floor, which fell over my cell phone.
Now I was pissed. "Who is fixing this?"
The mute cell phone had me feeling truly isolated. I was brought to a separate room. An
Arab man shook his head as his luggage was inspected item by item. An Englishwoman
sat there desolated, as the other security guy opened all her boxes of cookies, gifts for
children no doubt, one by one.
My luggage was taken apart once more and anything resembling electronic equipment
was taken for inspection. I thanked heavens that Hakeem had the sense not to pack my
toys into the luggage.
Time was passing, my flight was surely boarding, and I had still not eaten anything.
I took a side glance at a cabin to the side; a medical looking curtain covering it. I felt
uneasy. I almost fainted. "No way am I going through that."
I tried to tell myself these people were there to help me. They just had a really disgusting
way of going about it. I felt inadequate, a stranger, an outcast in my country all over
again. If this was the check for leaving the country, imagine what I would have to do to
reenter it. I was inches from crying.
As a third person went over my underwear, opened all my bottles of cosmetics, and all
but tried my lipstick on herself, I, for the first time, imagined what it would be like for us
to live somewhere else.
Minutes before my flight was due, I was brought back to the plane by the security people
and escorted inside. The people on the plane eyed me angrily, thinking I was late. I was
so embarrassed. Then, to top it off, I was brought to the wrong seat. I don't know why,
but that really set me off.
The airhostess apologized, "They thought you would not arrive, and people shuffled
around."
I answered coolly, "Well, I would like a seat equivalent to what I paid for."
More commotion ensued as no less than ten people changed places because of me. I sat
on my chair, defeated. In truth, I was ready to forget the whole trip right there.
What a nightmare!
I rested lightly and felt better when the meal was served. I got to see Italy from far
away, the boot shaped country, and it was such a beautiful clear day. Slowly, my mood
lightened.
I was more exhausted when I arrived at Rome than I was when I arrived from South
America and that had been a 24 hour trip. I was drained and sad.
As I passed out of the airport in Rome, unsure of where to go, Hakeem saw me. I could
see in his face that he understood exactly what had happened.
"I am sorry. Where is your phone, did you not bring it? I was worried sick."
I showed him the phone. My fingers were turning blue where the edge of the bag had cut
into them.
He was horrified now, "I did not think they'd do it to you."
"What, you knew of it?"
"Of course! That is why I fly from Jordan every time. I am sorry, Shalu, I did not think."
I let my face sink into his chest, ready to put the day behind me. "I shall be appeased by
a meal."
He laughed heartily, "Oh, you are cheap."
I pasted my nose to the glass the entire way, unable to believe we were in Rome. I guess
the transition was too fast. It was amazing how green the outskirts of the city have
remained throughout the centuries. I had expected a larger, greyer city.
Hakeem stopped before what looked to me like a castle and turned a key to open the
enormous iron gate. I looked at him inquisitively, and he shrugged innocently with his
Hakeem smile seeming to say, "Wait and see."
The place even had a maze garden!
I entered the main building of what was obviously a small hotel and was greeted by the
hosts on arrival. They did not speak much English and neither did I. Hakeem spoke to
them in animated Italian then motioned to the elevator.
The thing closed with a threatening clang.
"Must be careful with that," Hakeem pointed.
He walked behind me to my room and before the door he placed his hands on my hips
and kissed my neck. A delicious shiver of anticipation went over my body and he let the
moment pass before he opened the door.
Perfection! It was an airy room and the bathroom had a tub, which I immediately started
to fill.
Hakeem appeared promptly and registered his protest. "Oh, no you don't."
"Please," I pleaded, sitting at the edge of the tub. "I really need it," I said, embracing him
as he stood.
I pressed my face lightly against his pants, thinking to offer a compromise.
The idea pleased Hakeem so much that he granted me the little respite I had asked for.
"Fine, you can bathe now. I will wait."
I smiled, and he closed the door.
***
When I went out of the bath he was not in the room and I found a small meal in the bed.
I ate some fruit and cheese and lay down wearily, wondering where he had disappeared
to now.
He was back soon enough and he had to point the obvious. "You are not dressed."
"Where are we going?" I said eating another grape.
"To eat. Weren't you complaining you were hungry?"
I just sucked at another grape suggestively.
Hakeem smiled some more, eyeing my legs with growing interest.
I ate another grape then feigned protest. "We are going out," I warned, preparing to flee.
"Restaurants are open very late around here," he said pulling me down the bed again.
"Are they?" I answered, panting under him.
***
Hours later, we were ready to leave again. The streets were completely dark, but
Hakeem seemed to know where he was going. We parked at a residential neighborhood
and the small restaurant was indeed a private house.
"A very special place," Hakeem explained.
Indeed. The candlelit room was full of customers talking quietly. Delicious food was
brought in small portions, plate after plate. There was only wine and water, so we stuck
to the water.
I was a bit weary. As I checked my blue fingers absentmindedly, Hakeem asked, full of
worry. "Do you still want to marry me?"
"Of course," I exclaimed, wondering why he asked.
"I have been thinking." He took my blue hand on his and kissed each bruise.
"What about?"
"Do you know what comes the day after to tomorrow?"
I smiled, guessing what day he meant. "It is Valentine's day again."
"Yes, our third."
I smiled, taking a piece of bread. "Well, if you are trying to overdo it from year to year,
you don't have to."
He just smiled.
"But you said you were thinking," I replied, worried suddenly.
"Yes, I was asking around about the wedding."
My eyes went instinctively to my hurt hand and it made him instantly sad.
"I was told it is not so easy to arrange."
I knew that, what was he going to say? Now I was really worried. "And?"
"But, I found something else. You see, we are both dual citizens. I can marry you here."
"Was that what you were doing here then?"
"Yes. I arrived first to get things ready."
Ah, but this was not what I had in mind! "Hakeem, it is not right, away from everyone."
"Do you prefer the other way? How can you?" Hakeem checked the heat in his voice.
"They don't want it to happen. They will try to make you give me up. You had a taste of it
already, at the airport. Imagine if they knew you were coming to meet me. You might
never have arrived."
"Hakeem, you can't mean that!" It was such a swift simplification of all our troubles,
really. It was almost too easy, except that, what is the use of marrying if no one is to see
it? We certainly did not need this act and if no one was to see it, why were we doing it at
all?
"Shalu, there are things I know that I hope you never do. It will never be easier than this.
If you are not ready to marry me yet, I understand and I will wait, but if it is any other
reason..."
I was more than ready, but I remembered Amos's words keenly. Hakeem was yet to tell
me one small thing about the feud with his family. "They said, on the Internet, that it is
not valid if your family won't approve."
Hakeem was confused. "What is not valid? Who said?"
I realized I was not making a lot of sense. "The Internet said you can't marry without
approval."
"A Muslim woman cannot marry without approval of her guardians. You aren't Muslim,
are you? Besides, who's approval is it you are seeking exactly?"
Touché. I was doing it again, succumbing to good-girl-syndrome.
Hakeem backed down a little. "I did not mean to make you upset."
"You did not. It is just that...I had allowed myself to dream...that we would marry like
everyone else. That someone would get to see it."
"What, a party? We can have that when we come back."
"Promise?"
"I do."
****
I could not know how much time Hakeem had invested in this little endeavor or for how
long he had been planning it. We stayed in for the day, eating breakfast in the garden,
and getting reacquainted. Then Hakeem suggested we leave the amazing Roman hotel
for the road.
I protested fiercely at leaving the eternal city behind, "But we are in...Rome."
Hakeem was impassive. "This city has been here for a while, so I believe it will wait for us
to come back."
I pouted and entered the car through the door he held open. Peering from behind
oversized sunglasses, I imagined we were movie stars on a secret holiday as we sped
through the highways, telling jokes, and feeling giddy. The traffic jam we caught near
Florence was not so romantic, but at least I knew where I was going now.
Or did I? Hakeem took a turn right before the city itself, into a small village. Then he
turned onto another, even smaller road.
When he again turned and started climbing a dirt road, my confidence faltered. "You do
know where it leads, right?"
"Right," he winked and continued.
So the car climbed the hill with some difficulty and Hakeem parked it beside a walled
villa.
"Here?"
He nodded.
We buzzed the door, walking through a small well-kept garden to the house proper.
Hakeem knew the owners who chattered in fast-paced Italian. Hakeem stayed in the
small hallway as the women whisked me away.
Under a window, draped carefully over a mannequin, was a wedding dress. My wedding
dress! I was speechless.
The regal looking woman beamed with pride and said, "I make."
"Thank you."
She pulled the dress down, smiling, "I friend of Hakeem's mother. She born in Antella.
Good woman. Must try dress. It is not ready."
I disrobed as she left then slipped the white dress very carefully on. It was held together
at places only by very small pins.
'It will never be as easy as it is now,'Hakeem had said, so prophetically. I allowed myself
to be as happy as I could today and let the future be the future.
***
Our room was amazing. It had a canopied bed and no less than seven windows giving a
panoramic view of the valley below. Hakeem embraced me from behind, kissing my hair.
He could not possibly want this yet again. Did he want me to fall asleep at the wedding?
Just as I rested my head on his shoulder, yielding, he pointed out something to me on
the hazy horizon. Golden domes, churches, buildings. It was Florence!
Hakeem kissed my ear, whispering, "Happy Valentine's day."
"I can't believe you pulled all of this off."
"Ah, it was not easy, but the rewards are good," he said, pressing against me harder.
Then he checked himself. "Lets go, we don't want to be late." ***
I let the women dress and pretty me up. More and more people were arriving at the
house. It was simply not possible that Hakeem knew all of them. I imagined that, since
we came alone, the town was adopting us for the day.
We drove down to the village so my dress would not become too soiled. Well-wishers
followed us into city hall breaking into cheers every now and then.
There was much speaking in Italian I could not easily understand and soon it was time to
sign. Though I was incredibly happy, there was also a solemn hesitation in my heart.
With this act, I joined my fate with not one, but two troubled people. My children would
be Jewish and Muslim as their parents were. Would we be happy? Would my children be
happy? Would we be strong?
The amazing man who kissed me after we both signed looked more than a bit relieved. I
realized he had taken my refusal as a real possibility and that it had worried him until
now. I smiled and, for now, I was happy.
Even then, I knew that this was the way the best of memories were created.
***
We drove to Florence as we were. The first view of the city astounded me. I was so
happy by the time we parked that I kissed Hakeem unexpectedly. He did not miss the
opportunity for jesting, "If I knew that was what you wanted, we would have stayed in."
My answer was to stick my tongue out and leave the car.
"Later," he whispered to himself.
We attracted not a small amount of attention dressed as we were. We just walked around
at first not bothering to enter any of the amazing buildings for now. I could have walked
around forever.
More than one tourist asked to take pictures with us, which we found odd. We complied a
few times and then started refusing as it happened more and more often.
As we passed beside the Uffizi gallery, Hakeem stopped. I looked hopefully at the lines
forming at the entrance, but Hakeem shook his head exclaimed eloquently, "Pizza di
Forno!"
I held my ground, pointing up. "Botticelli!"
He laughed, "You can drink whatever you want as long as I get my pizza."
I stood my ground and Hakeem went to the counter, coming back with tickets.
"Did you just cut into the line?" I asked, worried.
"Nope, these are timed tickets. Now, to the pizza!"
Apparently, Hakeem was using the Uffizi gallery as a navigating point so he could find a
specific store, a small door on a side alley, which led into a bakery of sorts. I
unceremoniously covered the front of my dress with my woolen wrap so as not to walk
around with pizza stains for the rest of the day.
He soon appeared with two slices for us and I was so hungry, I burned the roof of my
mouth on the most amazing pizza in the world.
"Careful with that tongue!" Hakeem protested already thinking of later. A burned mouth
could present problems...
"Do you think of nothing else?" I asked, feigning irritation. Hakeem shrugged, "Not when
you are around..."
We entered the Uffizi gallery, and Hakeem just waited as I went like a butterfly from one
painting to the other, stared at this or that statue, and was stared back at by people who
pointed. I smiled and kept going. Hakeem started following me closely after a man
approached, staring back and forth from me to the painting behind me. When I looked up
I was a bit shocked. The green-eyed beauty on the painting was naked!
When I thought Hakeem had suffered enough, we left. We walked down the river hand in
hand, from time to time glancing at each other. I could tell that Hakeem wanted to be
alone with me. Silently, we walked to our car.
No one disturbed us as we walked up the stairs to our rooms which we climbed in silence,
I before him, he holding my hand. I stared at the bed for a second too long as he locked
the door and he embraced me from behind, kissing my neck, as hungry as he had ever
been.
Hoping to gain a little time, I knelt before him, freeing his erection from the tailored
pants, hearing him groan as I took it in my lips soothingly. Hakeem undid my hair, as I
tasted him, holding my head gently, urging me along. Soon my desire caught up with his
and my tongue swirled in time with my own need making him groan. He was clutching
my hair, trying in vain to delay the conclusion I was so intent on bringing him to. When
Hakeem started sliding in and out of my mouth it was I who caught fire. I almost came
when he did.
Dazed, and a little unsteady, I let him bring me to the bed and, according to a tradition
that was not mine, I knelt on the bed with my bottom in the air. Hakeem slid my dress
up carefully, admired the view for a second, and lowered his head to taste me through
the lace. He pulled at it strongly, moved it aside, and made me moan as his tongue pried
me open. I wanted so much more...this was hardly enough.
"Oh, look at that," he said as his fingers held the lace away. He placed his erection
against my entrance and he pushed in slowly, making me feel all of it. My attempt to part
my legs further was denied and I felt his hands on my hips as he sank deeper into me. I
cried out at the intensity of it and it built with each careful thrust. Those cries became
louder and higher as he pushed himself in all the way, only to start again, and as soon as
he started bottoming me repeatedly, I came in sobs, a bit surprised.
I think I caught him by surprise as well, but he hid it, taking me into his arms, and
soothing me. Soon he was kissing me again and once more I yielded, drunk on pleasure.
Hakeem helped me out of my dress then parted my legs lewdly as I protested, tasting me
as he liked. My hands covered my mouth as I tried in vain not to make so much noise.
Hovering above me, he again slid inside my body, his gaze distant. I hid my face in his
chest as he start moving slowly, teasing me. He tried me more deeply than he usually did
and when I tried to protest he pressed a finger against my other entrance as well. I
protested fiercely.
I tried to free myself but he would not let me. He held my hands and asked for patience.
The added pressure of his finger in there was more than I could take. I must have looked
like I was suffering but I wasn't and he knew it. We stared at each other even as my
mind gave way to pleasure. I orgasmed once more, right before his eyes, and the
discomfort his finger was causing somehow helped me focus. I think I screamed. I must
have.
I lost my mind after that. He brought my hands behind my head and he held me,
thrusting freely now that I was truly ready for it. We remained still for a long while after
he came, staring at each other as if we had forgotten who we were or why we were here.
Then Hakeem brought the covers above us, warming my body that had instantly become
cold, gathering me to him.
We were alone at last and safe, for now, even if our entire world would be against us
when we returned.
As of now, that was still the future. And the present was good.
***
Thanks for reading. This entry entered the contest very late, it will not qualify unless you
leave your vote! I'd love to hear what you think of it as well. Have a nice one! - Maharat

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