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From: Dorsai <asstr.dorsai@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} New Story: Taxi - Chapter 10 by Dorsai (MF, oral)
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Date: Sat, 13 Oct 2007 10:10:02 -0400
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This story was produced with over 50% post-consumer recycled
electrons. No animals were harmed in the production of this story.
Your mileage may vary. I am not a lawyer, and do not play one on TV.
Consult a physician if symptoms persist. Do not take internally. Local
laws may apply. Prices subject to availability. NOT CHILDPROOF. Keep
away from open flame. Do not use in confined spaces. Emergency Exit
=====>

The complete "Taxi" series (also available as pdf and txt files) may
be viewed on my asstr website at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Dorsai/www
along with the rest of my stories.

Taxi : Chapter 10

Having been a cab driver for a lot of years, I've had some pretty
interesting experiences along the way.

Sure, I've had my share of drunks, hookers, dealers, pimps, and
assorted underworld denizens in the back. And I've gotten calls to
transport no small number of people that have been on the receiving
end of an ass-kicking, gotten cut, stabbed, shot, and about any other
wound that can be inflicted on someone.

But there have been those times when I was in the right place at the
right time to have some pretty damn memorable good experiences, too --
and this is one of them...

I'd had a fare that needed to get to the airport, and after dropping
them off, I'd gotten into line to wait my turn for a fare to take back
into town. Just for a change of pace, the timing was such that I was
pretty sure to catch the tail end of the 'busy' period at the airport
and get something fairly quickly so that I could finish up for the
day.

My estimation of the situation proved to be pretty good, and the line
of us cabbies moved forward fast enough that none of us had time to
get out and bullshit with each other.

As I got close to being at the head of the line, I couldn't help
noticing that there was what looked like a Middle-Eastern couple
exiting the baggage area -- I mean, his burnoose and her headdress kind
of stood out in the crowd, and seemed like pretty reliable indicators
of where they were from, you know?

I thought that one of the cabs ahead of me in line was going to get
them, but something happened that had a couple of other sets of people
move ahead of them before they got queued up again. I was still
surprised, though, when it worked out that I got them as fares. While
some of my fellow cabbies had 'personal issues' with people of
different types, I didn't share any of their foibles; I just hopped
out and did my best to help them with their luggage and get them
settled in the back before heading back into town. Once I'd cleared
the airport, I asked where they were headed, and the guy gave me the
name of one of the better hotels in town. I assured him I knew right
where it was, and turned my attention to my driving.

The airport is kind of far out of town, so I had plenty of time to
take a look at the two of them -- particularly after they started
talking to each other in what I can only guess was Arabic. The thing
was that the tone of their conversation told me that something was
going on between them: even discounting my ignorance of the language
they were speaking, he still sounded like he wasn't too happy about
something, and she sounded like she was trying to placate him -- but
not having a lot of success at it. He looked pretty much like the
stereotypical Arab: somewhat dark complexion, dark eyes, goatee, and
all the rest. On the other hand, she didn't look quite like the TV
images I'd seen of women from that part of the world; it wasn't
anything that I could put my finger on, though. None the less, she was
definitely a looker with a pretty face and absolutely beautiful dark
eyes. Again, I can only guess, but I figured that he was likely in his
late 40's while she looked to be a good 15 years younger.

Still, my job was to drive a cab for them, and I pretty much kept my
attention on the road and not them -- at least until I heard what could
only have been the sound of a slap. A quick look in the mirror told me
that she'd been on the receiving end of it: there was a distinct
hand-print on one of her cheeks, and she'd turned about as pale as
anyone I'd ever seen. I didn't care for that much, but I wasn't a cop
or in the marriage counseling business, so I kept my mouth shut.

Several minutes later, they started talking again, and it sounded to
me like he was starting in on her again: his was the louder voice, and
his tone seemed to make it pretty clear that he was considerably less
than pleased about whatever it was they were talking about. Again, she
seemed to be doing her best to settle him down, and my impression was
that he wasn't interested.

The rest of the ride into town, the two of them kept going, off and
on: they'd sit back there quiet as could be for a few minutes, then
they'd be at it for a minute or so before they got quiet again.

We were almost to their hotel, and I was thinking that I was going to
be damn glad to be rid of them when I heard another noise from the
back -- except that it sounded a lot worse than when he'd slapped her.

Another look in the mirror let me see that whatever he'd done, it had
resulted in a cut on her lip that was visibly bleeding even when I saw
it.

That was all I needed to see. A minute later, when we pulled up to
their hotel, I dropped the flag and turned around to ask her "Ma'am?
Would you like some help?"

She just looked at me for a couple of seconds before he tried to start
in on ME, all but yelling "You do not speak to her! She is my wife,
and it is not proper! You have no right to speak to her!"

Trying to stay calm, I turned to him and answered "I don't care who
she is to you -- it isn't right for you to hit her like that."

"You do not tell me what I can do! I tell you, she is my wife, and in
my country I can do what I want with her!"

"Yeah, well, you aren't IN your country now, pal, so you better knock
it off before you find your ass in jail", I answered, before turning
to her again and asking "Ma'am? Do you speak English? Would you like
to get away from him, so he doesn't hit you any more?"

I have to admit that I was more than a little surprised when I heard
her Chicago-accented "Yes, I understand you quite well -- I'm an
American, actually. My name is Saleh, and yes, I would like to leave
so that I don't get beaten again."

Hearing that, he damn near lost it, and rattled off a long spiel at
her while she just sat there looking at him and not saying a word.
When he finally ran down, even I could hear the bitterness in her
voice as she finally gave him a piece of her mind. It didn't take long
for her to say what she wanted to, and when she was done, I thought he
was going to blow a gasket right there in my hack. When he finally got
it together again, he started to reach for the door handle, but I
quickly hit the electric locks before telling him "You don't go
anywhere, buddy, until you pay the fare" and pointing to the meter. He
looked like he wanted to take a swing at me -- I was kind of hoping he
would, so I could get his ass tossed in jail for a while -- but he
calmed down enough to fork over the fare. I unlocked the doors again,
and as he started to get out, I asked her "Ma'am, do you have anyplace
to go? Friends? Family? Can I take you to another hotel? If you want,
I can take you to an abused women's shelter, where they can protect
you."

She managed a wan smile before answering "No, I don't have any family
or friends here. The shelter won't be necessary; I can call my
parents, and they'll send me some money for a hotel for tonight. I can
go home to them tomorrow, I think."

"It's up to you if you just want me to take your someplace so you can
make your call and wait until you get the money from your folks, or
there's something else you'd rather do. I'll be glad to take you to a
police station if you want to swear out a complaint, and I don't have
any problem with being a witness for you. Wherever you want to go,
I'll be glad to take you there for free."

She considered it for a few moments before telling me "No, there's no
need for the police, now. What you heard him telling me was that he is
going to divorce me when he gets back home. I don't have any money or
credit cards with me because he insisted on controlling all of our
money -- so I couldn't afford even so much as a cup of coffee while I
wait. My real worry is his family: there are several of them in this
city, and it could happen that they would look for me with the idea of
beating me for insulting him and them by speaking with you, and acting
against him."

"I'll tell you what -- you stay here while I get his stuff unloaded,
and then I can take you to a coffeeshop or someplace and wait with you
until you hear back from your family. I mean, if that isn't an
imposition, or something that would cause you or your family offense."

She gave me a pleased smile, and answered "No, I or my family wouldn't
be offended, and I would welcome your company."

"Okay, that's what we'll do, then" I told her before moving to get out
and get her now-ex-husbands stuff out of the trunk.

He wanted to take all of the luggage, and was pretty adamant about it
until I asked him if he planned to start wearing her underwear. I
thought his head might explode before he relented and pointed out a
couple of bags that I could re-load. I didn't figure she'd traveled
all that distance planning to stay in the stuff she had on, and was
glad that I was able to get at least some of her clothes back.

After he turned away from me and headed into the hotel, I quickly
stowed her luggage in the trunk and got back behind the wheel to get
us the hell away from there.

I called in to let Central know I was going off-duty, and once I'd
gotten the acknowledgment, headed for one of the chain restaurants
where I knew they wouldn't mind having us around for however long it
would probably take for her to hear back from her folks. When we got
there, I told her that I had a small first-aid kit in my cab, and
asked if she needed or wanted to use it. She graced me with a small
smile before answering "No, there's nothing I need anything like that
for. All I need to do is clean up a little, and I'll be fine."

With that settled, the two of us went inside, where she would only let
me spring for a cup of coffee before she headed to the ladies room.
When she got back, she had not only cleaned her face off, but shed the
headdress she'd been wearing -- revealing a lovely head of long,
luxuriously black hair. She still had on the rest of the outfit she'd
been wearing, and it somehow made her even more attractive even as it
did a fine job of hiding whatever shape she had underneath.

When she sat down across from me, the first thing she said to me was
"Before anything else, I want to thank you for all you have done to
help me. Ever since we were married, he has hurt me more and more, and
I was afraid that it would never end. When you not only told him to
stop hitting me, but offered to help me and get me away from him, I
knew that I was saved."

I had to ask "Why were you even married to him in the first place?"

She gave me a wry smile before explaining that her parents had
emigrated to the U.S. before she'd been born, and had made every
effort to become a part of American society while maintaining ties to
other immigrants from their homeland. She'd grown up comfortable in
both cultures, and when she'd graduated college, she'd only hesitantly
accepted the idea of an arranged marriage after it was suggested by
her parents -- who, she'd found out later, had felt pressured to
propose it to her by the less assimilated members of their immigrant
community. They hadn't been real wild about the idea, it being
contrary to the American ways they'd learned to appreciate; they'd
hoped that she was American enough to reject the idea, letting them
off the hook. What they hadn't anticipated was how much of their
native culture and customs she'd absorbed while growing up. It wasn't
until after she'd married someone from 'home' and started suffering
his abuse that she and they had actually talked about what had
happened -- and by that time, it was too late, and there were simply
too many people expecting her to 'reclaim her heritage', not knowing
what was happening between her and her husband. She explained to me
that with what had happened in my cab, and his declared intent to
divorce her on his return home, she was actually something of a
non-person -- not yet actually divorced, but because of what he'd said,
she wasn't considered to be actually married, either. I could see that
she was still a bit overwhelmed and saddened by it all, and did my
best to try and comfort her, and even cheer her up a bit. Along the
way, she asked my help in finding a reasonably priced place to stay so
that she wouldn't have to ask her parents for too much money; rather
than pry, I simply gave her the details of several places I knew of
across a range of prices.

I'd managed to draw a small laugh from her -- a delightful sound --
before she decided that it was time to call her parents. After she
left to use the pay phone I could see from our booth, I got the
attention of our server and ordered supper for both of us. She didn't
spend too much time on the phone, and had just sat down again when the
spaghetti I'd ordered arrived. She started to object, and I simply
told her "I would usually be having supper about this time; it has
been a long day for me, and I'm hungry. I wouldn't be comfortable
eating while you just had coffee, so I ordered something for both of
us."

By taking the responsibility onto myself and presenting her with a
fait accompli, I hoped that she'd be willing to accept it -- after what
she'd said about not having any money or credit cards, I had the
suspicion that her pride was getting in the way of being sensible. I
watched her face as she debated it with herself before she told me
"This is the first time I've gotten to have pasta in a long time.
Thank you", and picking up a fork.

As we ate, she told me that she'd been able to reach her parents, and
that they would be wiring her enough money for a hotel room and a
train ticket home. It would take a couple of hours for it to get to
her, and she asked if I would be willing to keep her company until she
could pick it up. I assured her that I would be delighted to spend the
time in the company of a pretty girl such as herself, and she graced
me with a lovely smile.

When our dishes had been cleared away, the two of us sat there and I
listened as she told me what her life had been like after she'd
married. Despite all the assurances she'd received beforehand, and how
lovely and elaborate the marriage itself had been, it hadn't taken her
long to realize that life in her husbands country and her 'parent'
culture weren't going to be all that she'd thought. Her wedding night
had been both painful and embarrassing -- her husband hadn't been
patient or gentle in the slightest, and she hadn't even fully
recovered from the experience when his family was being shown the
bloodied sheet of her wedding bed as proof of her "virtue and honor".
Then, in the weeks and months that followed, she came to realize just
how constrained her life was to become: growing up in America, she
found, her parents had let her pass on so many of the restrictions and
limitations women lived under in their native land. While she could
have theoretically gone to the U.S. Embassy as an American citizen and
tried to make arrangements to return, as a practical matter, she
couldn't get anywhere near the place without the help/approval of a
male member of her husbands family. The only people she could have
unsupervised contact with were other females -- and those were either
of her husbands family, or so imbued with the culture and customs as
to be useless. On top of that, her husbands own habits and personality
further limited her options: he allowed her only extremely limited
amounts of cash, and her infrequent shopping trips with other women
were accomplished with HIS credit cards which he monitored VERY
closely. For all intents and purposes, she was a prisoner in her
husbands home and granted only extremely limited privileges.

And as if that wasn't enough, she was also subject to whatever
physical abuse her husband wanted to heap on her. If she did anything
to upset him, the best she could hope for was simply to be slapped;
there had been a few times, however, where he'd actually beaten her --
though not to the point of needing medical attention (which, she
explained, would have actually diminished his status: beating a wife
was okay; beating her until she needed a doctor wasn't). Their
"married life" (it took me a bit to understand she was referring to
the physical part of the marriage) consisted of his efforts to cause
her to produce a son, without concern about HER. Those efforts had
been frequent and vigorous at first, but as time passed without the
desired results, he became less and less interested in her (much to
her relief). What she confided in me (with admonitions that it should
never get back to her parents) was that the few reservations she'd had
about the entire situation had been enough that she'd had her doctor
fit her with an IUD for birth control before the marriage; she'd
wanted to hold off on children until the marriage was 'stable', and
the absence of children was one of a very few consolations she had
about the entire experience. One of the other things that I learned
was that she'd spent the entire time since the marriage in her
husbands country; this had been her first trip back to the U.S. in
several years.

The entire time she was telling me all this, I expressed my sympathy
and understanding and appreciation of it all to give her as much
support and encouragement that she'd done the right things as I could.
Inside, however, I cycled between disgust, anger, and horror. Hearing
about all she'd been through only made me that much more relieved and
happy that I'd done what I had.

By the time she was ready to see if the money from her parents was
available, I could see that she'd managed to purge herself of at least
some of all the assorted crap that had been weighing her down: she was
visibly more relaxed and calm than she'd been when I first saw her in
my cab. A quick check of a phone book told me where I could find the
wire transfer service her parents had told her, and it was less than
half an hour later that she had cash in her hand. From there, it was a
fairly quick trip to the hotel that she'd opted for -- a decent
middle-class kind of place. The only ID she had was her passport, and
the hotel was initially reluctant to give her a room without some
means of guaranteeing any additional charges, like phone calls and the
like. When I gave the desk clerk my ID and a credit card, though, that
was enough.

I'd set her bags down on the floor of her room, and was about to leave
when she turned toward me and said "Thank you, Jim, for everything."

"I'm happy I was able to help, Saleh. Nobody should have to put up
with that kind of nonsense, and I'm glad that you have a chance to be
happy now."

She moved to stand in front of me, and I wasn't particularly surprised
when she hesitantly put her arms around me and gave me a hug which I
softly returned. What practically floored me was when it went from
being a soft, chaste hug to having her holding me tightly enough to
damn near cut off my breathing, and crying into my chest in great
wracking sobs. All I could do was put my arms around her and gently
hold her while I offered words of comfort and reassurance. What really
threw me, though, was the feel of her body against mine: underneath
the shapeless sack she was wearing, I could detect a medium-sized
frame with all the usual parts in the usual proportions -- all in all,
she made for a nice little bundle in my arms, and I couldn't help but
start to react to the feel of her body against mine. Still, I knew she
was at a delicate point in all kinds of ways, and simply turned my
body a little so that she wasn't pressing (as much, at least) against
my semi-erect penis while I continued to try and get her settled down.

We must have stayed there like that for a good fifteen minutes: she'd
settle down a bit, and then the whole thing would start up all over
again. Her crying was frequent and hard enough that the entire chest
of my shirt was wet before she'd calmed down enough to relax her hold
on me. Even then, it was still a while longer before I heard her tell
me "I... I'm sorry to cry on you like this, but when I started to hug
you, I was just trying to let you know I appreciate everything you've
done to help me. But when I looked around this room, I suddenly
realized that I was finally back in my own country, and that I was
truly free again -- that I didn't have to worry that people were spying
on me, or that I was going to be hurt because of some bullshit honor
thing, or any of the other crap I've had to live with for so long.
Then everything that's happened just hit me, and I lost it."

"It's okay, dear", I assured her. "I kinda figured it was something like that."

It wasn't until she tilted her head to look up at me that I realized
that I'd used the endearment; I was looking into her red, puffy, and
still beautiful eyes when she asked me "Why did you call me that?"

Apologetically, I told her "I hope you'll forgive me, but after
everything that has happened, I can't help but feel at least a little
bit of affection for you." Seeing the expression on her face, I
hastened to say "No, I'm not saying I'm madly in love with you, or
that I want us to run off together, or that I think we should spend
the rest of our lives with each other; just that after hearing all
that you've been through, and holding you while you cried, I can't
help but feel a little protective of you. And along with all the rest
of that, you're a very pretty young lady."

She considered that for a few moments before telling me "Okay, I can
understand that. I mean, having your arms around me is making me feel
like I'm being protected, now."

She looked into my face for a few more seconds before letting her head
rest against me again.

I was perfectly willing to stand there and hold her for as long as she
wanted me to -- both to let her hold on to that protected feeling she'd
mentioned, and for the simple pleasure of feeling her body against
mine.

A bit later, I heard her softly ask "After you've been so generous to
me... and so patient and understanding... and not judging me for what
happened to me... would you do one more thing for me?"

"If I can", I answered, thinking she wanted some small favor or other
-- only to be amazed when she asked "Would... would you show me what it's
like to be loved by a man?"

After getting her pried loose from me, I held her by the shoulders at
arms length when I asked her "Are you asking me to be with you...
physically?"

I could see the nervousness and fear (of rejection?) in her eyes as
she answered "Yes, that's what I'm asking. All I have ever known has
been... him... and I'm sure that it's supposed to be better than that! But
I'm afraid, too -- that what I had with him has ruined me for other
men; that I'll never know pleasure or happiness because of what he has
done with me. You know that I'm not a virgin now, but that also means
that no one will have to know if you will do that for me. Please, Jim...
you have already been so gentle and patient with me -- could you help
me find comfort that way, too? I could... feel you, when you were
holding me, so I think maybe you think I'm pretty enough..."

Over the years, I'd been on the receiving end of all manner of
questions, requests, offers, and outright propositions -- but hearing
that from her was definitely a first. If I hadn't been aware of how
she'd gotten to that point, I'd likely have taken her up on it in a
skinny minute; but I did know, and I was all too aware of what kind of
emotional and psychological shape she was in just then. I certainly
thought she was pretty enough, and didn't doubt for a moment that the
body I'd felt against mine would be just as appealing. It was my
ethics and morals that were keeping me from closing the door behind me
and fulfilling her request. That left me standing there trying to
decide just what the hell to do as my desire and compassion battled
each other.

I could see her getting more and more nervous and fearful, and finally
got the front part of my brain working well enough to mediate between
my compassion and desire.

Looking into her eyes, I asked "Saleh, a lot has changed for you
today. Are you sure that you want THIS to happen? And NOW?" My
conscience demanded that I give her the chance to call it off, at
least once.

She stood a little straighter, and I could hear the certainty in her
voice as she answered "Yes, much has changed. But ever since I was
married, I have dreamed that I would know hope and happiness; and each
time he was with me, I lost some of that dream, and I was afraid a
little more. Today, because of you, I have my dreams again. Will you
not help me lose the fear, too?"

I ignored her question in favor of asking one of my own: "If your
married life was difficult with him, what makes you think that it
might be better with me?" I had to know if there was any chance that
we'd actually accomplish anything, or if the whole deal would just end
up with hurt and frustration.

I saw her eyes flicker from the directness of what I'd asked; she was
just as direct when she replied "When I could feel you, while you were
holding me... you were being so gentle and considerate... that I could
imagine what you would be like that way, and I began to feel my own
desire."

Hearing that threw me for a few moments before I could ask "What would
you have me do with you?" If anything was going to happen between us,
I damn sure didn't want to push her too hard -- so I needed to get at
least some idea of where the line was. Still, I wasn't prepared to
hear her say "I only know about one thing, from him. But before I
married him, I knew that there are a lot of other things that a man
and woman can do together. If you will teach me, I want to learn about
them."

That was a pretty open-ended response, to be sure; but I didn't figure
that I'd be suggesting anything too outrageous to her. The last thing
I needed to be sure of was that she really was open to the idea of
physical intimacy with me. I addressed that question by gently guiding
her to stand in front of me, then softly cupping her face in my hands
while I tilted my head down and chastely kissed her on the lips.

It wasn't but a moment before she had her hands in my hair as she
kissed me back, moving even closer to me so that her body was touching
mine.

When our lips parted, we looked into each others eyes as I told her
"Saleh, if you think that I could make being with a man a good thing
for you, then I will consider it a priveledge to try."

She smiled and nodded as I saw tears of what I thought were happiness
begin to well up in her eyes; but she quickly got control of herself
and told me "Thank you, Jim" with quiet sincerity.

That settled, I released her so that I could turn around to close and
lock the door that I'd left open -- I'd only expected to be there for
as little time as possible, and had left it open so as to avoid giving
her any cause for concern, little suspecting what would happen
instead...

As I was doing that, I couldn't help but wonder if closing the door
wouldn't cause her to have second thoughts; but when I turned to face
her again, she looked every bit as certain as she'd been before. As we
looked at each other, I took the opportunity to tell her "If we are
going to do this, then I want you to know that I am not going to
'push' you to do anything, or be angry or upset with you if there's
something you don't want to do -- I'm not that kind of person, anyway.
You've said that you would like to learn from me, and I am perfectly
willing to help you discover those things that you want to learn. But
if it happens that I start to teach something you don't want to learn,
you only have to say so, and that will be the end of it. You are an
intelligent, good, and very pretty young lady, and all I want is that
you enjoy what happens between us, and think kindly of me when our
time is finished."

I saw her gain a little confidence at hearing that, and listened as
she answered "Thank you, again, Jim. From everything you've said and
done, I know that I don't have to worry about what happens while I'm
with you. I'll admit that I'm still a little bit nervous, and even
afraid -- not because of you, but because of me. Don't be afraid to
offer me things to learn, and don't think that you have to worry about
hurting or frightening me. I'm sure that I want to do this, and I know
that I CAN do it, if you'll help me."

After that, she stepped forward a bit and took me by the hand to lead
me over to the bed. Turning to face me again, she looked up at me and
smiled as she said "Please, Jim... help me learn that I don't have to be
afraid any more."

After I softly kissed her forehead, which surprised her, I replied "I
would be honored. Can I start by taking that... whatever-it-is off of
you?"

She shook her head 'no', and crossed her arms as she reached down to
take hold of it. Pulling it up over her head, she rid herself of it
and revealed that she'd been wearing very modest street clothes
underneath. Only then did I realize how uncomfortable she must have
been in it -- not just that day, but all the time she'd had to spend
dressed that way in the heat of the Middle East. When she'd tossed the
thing off to the side with a self-satisfied flourish, she looked at me
again to say "The first one of those that I ever wore was put on me by
women in his family. Now I'm taking off the last one of them I'll ever
wear!"

Hearing that, I understood that that simple act was her way of
declaring her independence, and reclaiming her freedom. I made a small
show of applauding her -- causing her to blush -- before taking her
hands in mine and kissing them. When I was done, she mischievously
told me "Now, if there's anything else you want to take off of me,
that's up to you..."

Looking at the long-sleeved blouse she was wearing, and the
ankle-length skirt below it, I couldn't spot any kind of fasteners. I
softly put my hands on her shoulders, and she let me gently guide her
to turn around; as my limited experience with women's clothing had me
believe, the back of the blouse had the buttons, while the zipper for
the skirt was similarly located. When I reached for the top of the
blouse, Saleh tilted her head forward and pulled her hair out of the
way; that gave me the opportunity to softly kiss the back of her neck.
She shivered faintly and turned her head to give me a pleased smile
before I started working my way down the buttons of the blouse. I'd
gotten half of them undone when the blouse parted enough for me to see
that she wasn't wearing a bra. That discovery had all kinds of Evil
Thoughts running through my mind, but I maintained both my composure
and the pace I was working at: I'd said I wanted to make our time good
for her, and I was determined not to screw it up.

When I'd finished with the last of the buttons, it was easy enough to
slip the bottom of the blouse out of her skirt; my next considered
action was to slip my hands underneath the material of it and slide
them around her until my palms were resting between her breasts and
her navel. My thinking was that it was better to ease into intimacy
with her, rather than heading straight for the fun bits. When she put
her hands on mine, I leaned forward a bit and used my chin to nudge
the collar of the blouse out of the way so that I could kiss her on
the shoulder. That small act earned me a soft moan, so I repeated it
on the other side, with much the same result. Only then did I move my
hands a little to softy caress her belly -- carefully staying away from
her breasts -- for a few moments before bringing my hands around to her
sides, then finally easing the blouse off her shoulders and then off
of her completely.

I have to admit to being more than a little pleased when she didn't
cross her arms over her chest, or do anything else to cover herself;
she simply waited for me to continue with undressing her.

The next thing, of course, was to see what waited for me under the
skirt. I unzipped it slowly, followed by using my hands to trace her
curves as I guided it over her hips and down her legs, then moving it
out of the way when she'd stepped out of it. Along the way, I learned
that she was wearing a pair of very brief panties and a pair of very
sheer stockings -- sans garter belt.

As I'd thought, she had a delightful shape: medium-framed, nicely
curved in all the right places, a small heart-shaped ass, and a pair
of legs that went from here to there in a MOST attractive way.

That left me with something of a problem, though: as nice as her legs
looked in the stockings, did I want to leave them on her? Or would it
be more fun to get them off of her? Decisions, decisions...

I finally settled on getting her out of the stockings; the idea of
being able to get my hands directly on her legs was what finally
decided the matter. I took my time about rolling them down her legs,
savoring every moment of the process. When I finally reached for the
waistband of her panties, I could faintly detect the aroma of aroused
female; it was then that I knew that I could help her learn to enjoy
physical intimacy. Before then, though, I still had the task of
getting the last bit of clothing off of her. Her panties easily slid
down her hips and soon revealed the smooth orbs of her ass. Once I'd
gotten her panties down her legs and she'd stepped out of them, I
simply had to lean forward and kiss her: once at the top of the crack
of her ass, and again on each cheek.

Having relieved her of all the clothing that I wanted to -- that is,
all of it -- I stood up and moved close enough to take her into my arms
again. By that time, my cock was considerably more than 'semi' erect,
and I didn't doubt that she could feel it pressing against her; but
because I was holding her as steadily and gently as I was, she knew
that I wasn't trying to rush her.

My arms were folded across her belly, under her breasts; my height
advantage over her let me see that her breasts were medium-sized tawny
mounds that were capped with small, dark areolas that were barely
larger than her visibly erect nipples.

As she leaned back against me, I could hear the happiness and pleasure
in her voice when she softly said "This is how I dreamed of being
touched, and how a man should be with a woman: gently, with care, from
the heart..."

It wasn't until I softly kissed the top of her head that she seemed to
realize that what we were doing was real. Once she did, she didn't
hesitate to gently pull herself away from me and turn around to make
the front of herself visible to me, too. Unashamed, she stood there,
letting me look at her: the firm mounds of her breasts standing out
from her chest; her flat belly, and the small dark strip covering her
pubic mound; and the trim smoothness of her thighs. When I looked into
her eyes again, I could only tell her "You are far more lovely than I
could have imagined. Thank you for sharing your beauty with me." The
resulting smile from her made my entire year.

Stepping close to me again, she looked up at me to ask "Do you want to
undress, too? Or can I do it for you?"

"If it would make you happy, then help yourself", I replied.

With a pleased smile, she calmly reached up and started with my shirt;
when she had it open, she slid her hands underneath it to feel my
chest and belly for a bit before pulling them back out again so she
could finish removing it. That was followed by my pants, and after
only the briefest hesitation, my undershorts. When my cock and balls
were exposed, I heard her breath catch in her throat before she
continued sliding my briefs down my legs. Once I was as naked as she
was, she took my penis in her hand, and after only a moments
consideration, leaned forward to kiss the head of it before standing
up again.

Looking into my eyes, she told me "Already, you have shown me more
kindness and patience than I have known with a man. Because of how you
have been with me, I am not nervous or afraid any more; and I know
that I can trust you to help me lose my fear. You are a good man, and
I know that what we do is the right thing."

There wasn't anything for me to say in response to that; and all I
could do was take her hands and softly kiss them again. She smiled at
me, and without either of us having to say anything, we made our way
toward the bed. She moved to the other side of it, and when she
started to pull the covers down, I readily did the same on my side.
Though she tried not to show it, I could see that she was both
surprised and pleased that I did so as the two of us moved to lie
down.

When we were next to each other, I rolled onto my side and propped
myself up on my elbow so that I could look at her. I put my hand on
her belly -- surprising her again -- before gently asking her "What we
do, and when, is up to you, Saleh. How would you like to start?"

"I have never seen, I mean really looked at, a mans parts before. Is it okay?"

"Of course it is. If you have questions, I will answer them the best I
can", I told her, before moving to lie down on my back again. It took
a few seconds, but she soon realized that I was making myself
available to her; she readily sat up and moved around so that she
could get a proper view. I didn't hesitate to tell her "If you want to
touch and move things around, that's okay, too."

She was a little hesitant at first, but when I continued to simply lie
there while she examined me, it didn't take her long to become more
confident and inquisitive. She had a few questions (my circumcision
included), and my calmly factual responses seemed to encourage her to
ask pretty much anything that popped into her head. Still, the male
genitalia simply aren't that complex and it didn't take long before
she knew as much as she wanted to. Satisfied, she moved to lie down
again, but on her side so that she could put her head on my shoulder
as she draped a leg and arm across me. I put my arm around her, and
softly caressed her side while I waited to see what she wanted to do
next.

Several minutes went by before I heard her ask me "You are waiting for
me, aren't you? To see what I want?"

"Yes. I told you that I'm not going to push you, and I meant it. Like
I said, what we do, and when, is up to you."

Another minute or so went by before she told me "I only thought that
you meant you would not hurry me, not that you would let ME decide."

"Now you know that that's exactly what I meant: that the decisions are
up to you."

"Are you doing that because of what happened with me?"

"No, I'm doing it because that's my way. I am like this with any woman
that needed to learn about being with a man and finding pleasure."

That prompted her to raise up enough to look into my face as she asked
"You have been with other women like me?"

"Not other women that have been exactly like you, no. But there have
been women that didn't know about men, or that they should be able to
feel physical pleasure."

She considered that for a bit before asking "Do you still spend time with them?"

"No. They have all been people that I have met, and seen that they
needed help with something. It wasn't until after I got to know them a
little bit, like I did with you, that I learned what the problem was,
and helped them -- just like I'm doing with you. Each of them had her
own life that she had to live, and after we were together, I have
never seen them again."

She lowered herself to rest on me again, and a few minutes went by
before I heard her say "I think that you are much kinder and more
generous than I thought, to do that for them. Didn't you ever want any
of them to stay?"

"No, I didn't want any of them to stay. Like I said, each of them had
a life different than mine that SHE had to live. For me and any of
them to stay together, she or I would have had to change our lives. It
isn't my way to ask anyone else to change themselves to be with me,
and I'm too happy with who I am and MY life to want to change for
someone else."

Another minute went by before she said "I think maybe knowing those
women for so short a time has sometimes made you sorry."

"A little bit. But it has also made me happy, and feel good, to know
that I have been able to help them. Sometimes I've heard from them
later, and I know that they are much happier now; so the good feelings
I have about what happened with them is greater than the sadness of
only knowing them for a little while."

"And me?"

"Yes, I will be sorry when you have to go. But it will comfort me and
make me happy that I was able to help you -- even more so because I
will know how much your life will change: from what you have already
had to go through, to what I think your life will be like afterwards,
it will be like the difference between night and day."

"How can you know that?"

"How can it be otherwise? I understand, at least a little bit, how
unhappy you were after you married. And you have already told me that
I have been more patient and kind than you've ever experienced with a
man. How much happier and content do you think you'll be when you find
the man that you want to spend your life with, and have his children?
Won't that be so much greater than whatever little bit that we have
together?"

Several seconds ticked by before I heard her quiet "I... I hadn't
thought of that, really. But you're right."

A few moments later, she raised up again to look into my face as she
told me "If we are only to have this little time together, then I
should start learning what I want from you -- and making our time
something that you will be happy to remember."

"Dear one, however much or little we do, it is that I have had you in
my life that I will remember, and treasure."

She was visibly pleased to hear me address her that way, and I could
see that she was deeply touched by what I'd said. But she hadn't lost
sight of why the two of us were naked on a bed, and didn't delay in
telling me "Even so, I want to learn pleasure from you so that I can
lose my fear."

"What do you want to do, then?"

"I... I would like you to touch me, and make me feel good in the ways
that I know should happen between a man and a woman."

Putting my hand on her hip, I carefully rolled the two of us over so
that she was on her back and I was on my side next to her. She looked
up at me in complete trust, and utter confidence that I was going to
do just as she'd asked.

With my hand on her belly, I lowered my head and kissed her with as
much gentle invitation as I could manage. Her initial response was to
simply return the softness of it; but when I started moving my hand
and caressing her, she readily got into the spirit of the thing and
our kisses gradually became more and more passionate. When I felt her
body begin moving underneath my hand, I knew she was ready for me to
increase the intimacy of my touch; it wasn't but a few moments before
I was finally cupping her warm, firm breast in my hand. I'd barely run
my thumb over her nipple when I felt her mouth open slightly, and her
tongue tentatively touch my lips. I happily reciprocated, and it
wasn't but a few seconds before our tongues were dueling from my mouth
to hers, and back again. Even as that was happening, I was keeping my
hand busy on her breasts -- first one, then the other, had me softly
stroking it with the lightest touch of my fingertips before I gently
teased and pinched her nipples to bring them to full, glorious
hardness.

With that accomplished, I gradually shifted and extended my touch to
include as much of her as I could reach -- with the deliberate
exception of her womanhood. I delighted in being able to caress the
insides of her thighs, and running my fingers through the soft thicket
on her pubis; but I never directly contacted her sex.

Only when her passion and desire had reached the point that her
panting made it difficult for us to continue kissing did I move my
body over hers. Even then, it was only enough to allow me to use my
mouth and tongue on her breasts to do much of what I'd done with my
hand. In short order, she was almost writhing under me, and I let my
hand make its first contact with her mons; she responded by opening
herself to my touch, and arching her hips in encouragement for me to
do more. Carefully and patiently, I applied myself toward using my
fingers to both explore and stimulate her womanhood as I continued my
efforts at her breasts. As quickly and easily as her passion and
desire increased, I couldn't help but feel disgust toward the bastard
that hadn't cared about her enough to give her the kind of pleasure
she was so obviously capable of.

It didn't take long before I could feel the area between her labia
getting wetter and wetter with her steadily increasing desire. My
fingertips told me that her labia were thin and soft, and that higher
up, her clitoris was a trifle larger than most -- and from her reaction
when I first touched it, sensitive.

With her moaning almost constantly by that time, I finished moving
myself over her; apparently without realizing it, she spread her legs
even farther apart to make room for mine as I used my arms to hold
myself over her. That accomplished, the next thing for me to do was to
gradually shift my oral attentions from her breasts to include more of
her; my lips nibbling on her ears had her groaning with desire and
running her fingernails down my back in mere seconds.

Slowly, gradually, and as indirectly as I could, I worked my way down
her body as I applied soft lip-bites, kisses, licks, and other
ministrations to every square inch of her flesh that I could reach. I
had my lips in the luxuriousness of her pubic thatch before she
realized where I seemed to be headed, and what I might have in mind.
She managed to pull herself together long enough to look down at me
and mutter "I never... that hasn't... no one has ever done that to me
before..."

I paused only long enough to tell her "Wait until you know what it
feels like before you tell me 'no', okay?"

She managed a reluctant nod before letting her head fall back and a
soft moan escape her lips.

It wasn't much longer until I was in one of the positions I'd wanted
since I'd first seen her nude: looking at the core of her as I
prepared to sample her treasures. I saw that her pubic hair stayed
dense until just after it passed the bottom of her cleft, then ended
abruptly. Just above, her dark and extended labia bracketed her
opening, which was all but dripping her essence. At the top of her
cleft, her clitoris was the size of a large pea and had made its
appearance from underneath its hood; the scent of her was strong, but
still pleasant. Lowering my head, I stuck my tongue out and softly ran
it along her opening from bottom to top so that I finished by gently
running the very tip across her clitoris. My efforts were rewarded
with a deep and impassioned groan from her while I savored the light
and vaguely salty taste of her oils. A moment later, I repeated my
action, only letting my tongue dip a little farther into her. Getting
pretty much the same response from her as I had the first time, that
was all the encouragement I needed to continue.

I happily spent the next several minutes introducing her to the
pleasures of being on the receiving end of oral sex: running my tongue
between her labia and tasting her essence, gently pulling on her
vaginal lips with my tongue, fluttering the very tip of my tongue
across her sensitive clit, and all manner of other things I'd learned
to please and arouse a woman. As I was doing all of that, the sounds
of her passion increased in frequency and intensity; I knew I was
having the desired effect, and have to admit to feeling rather pleased
with myself as I moved her closer and closer to what was most likely
her first-ever orgasm with a man.

She'd taken to trying to clasp her thighs together -- my head prevented
her from succeeding -- and I could tell that she was almost there when
she suddenly arched her pelvis up and spread her thighs farther than I
thought she could as her body was overwhelmed with powerful spasms.

Half-afraid to do anything to intensify the experience for her, I
pulled my head back a bit and watched as her vaginal opening
alternated between clenching in time with the tremors going through
her body, and then relaxing enough to allow a small amount of her oils
to flow out of her. After witnessing that happen a couple of times
without doing anything, I simply couldn't pass it up any longer and
had to begin licking them up as they appeared. The taste I'd gotten of
her before had been faint and light, but the greater amount of her
essence that I got proved to be even better: still light, but also a
trifle musky and earthy at the same time -- and most definitely
delicious!

I didn't figure that I was doing anything to actually make her orgasm
more powerful, but as I continued, I didn't have any doubt that I was
dramatically slowing the process of her recovery; she'd stopped
gasping for air and was lying there panting, but each pass of my
tongue across her opening would cause her breath to catch in her
throat and and have her lifting her hips in response to my actions.

Still, the human body does have its limits, and the intermittent
release of her fluids eventually (mostly) dried up. After delaying
long enough to try and memorize the sight of her, I moved over her
again so that I was in a position to enter her.

When she opened her eyes and looked up at me, I could see how much
pleasure she'd felt; I didn't doubt what the answer would be when I
asked "Would you like us to make love now?"

Realizing that all I'd done had been use my mouth on her, she got
wide-eyed at the thought that there was still more. It took her only
the briefest of moments to answer "Yes, dear Jim -- I would like that
very much!"

When I shifted my body a bit and got the head of my erection touching
the entrance to her vagina, I saw her get a bit apprehensive. Knowing
what the problem was, I gently told her "Saleh, I want to make love
with you. I don't want to only feel my own pleasure, and I'm NOT going
to do anything that would hurt you or make you unhappy. I won't take
what you will not GIVE to me. Nothing will happen between us that you
don't want to happen. Okay?"

Between the words I'd spoken, and the way that I waited patiently for
her answer, she seemed to get the reassurance that she needed. I saw
her visibly relax before spreading her legs to open herself to me a
little more. There was trust and confidence in her voice when she
answered "Yes, Jim, I understand. You've shown me that you are patient
and gentle, and that I can trust you. Please, accept what I give you
of myself."

Reaching between us, I took hold of my erect penis; moving the head of
it across her opening a few times, I was able to wet it with enough of
her oils to let us begin. When I positioned myself at her opening, I
softly pressed against her to hold myself in place. Looking into her
eyes, I could see that she was a willing partner in what was about to
happen.

Still, when I began to press myself into her, I felt her tense up. I
immediately eased up, and waited to see what would happen. She quickly
relaxed, and I tried again -- though a bit slower and easier. When she
started to get tense again, I stopped what I was doing (though without
backing off) and waited. It was then that she really believed that I
truly wasn't going to do anything to hurt her or make her unhappy. She
readily relaxed, and indicated to me that she was ready for me to try
again. I did, and felt it as she deliberately relaxed so she could
give herself to me.

Holding her eyes, I patiently and carefully increased the pressure so
she would know that if she had any problems of any kind, I was ready
to stop. Simply knowing that seemed to be enough for her, and my
progress into her was steady, if still a bit slow -- and ultimately
successful. When the head of my cock finally slipped past the tight
ring of her entrance, she gasped slightly even as I stopped and held
myself still in her. She closed her eyes, and several moments went by
before she opened them again and arched herself up toward me in
encouragement for me to continue.

Lowering my head, I softly kissed her lips before raising myself back
up and gently easing my hips forward again. She was small inside;
whether that was because her ex was hung like a gerbil (as I silently
hoped), or because of how long it had been since he'd been with her
last, I'd never know. What was certain, though, was that the tightness
(and incredible heat!) of her felt great around me. Wet as she was, I
was able to fill her with my manhood in a single long, slow thrust;
even as I felt her opening clenching around the base of my cock, I
could feel the end of it touching the deepest part of her. I again
held myself still in her, giving her however much time she needed or
wanted to not only get used to having me inside her, but become
comfortable with it.

I waited patiently (as far as she could tell, anyway) for her to let
me know if/when she wanted me to continue. As I held myself still over
her, I could feel occasional twitches in her vagina which were quite
sufficient to keep me erect.

To my surprise, it wasn't but a minute or so before she told me "I'm
ready, Jim. Make love with me."

Even hearing that, I was still careful to start slowly and gently:
easing my hips back so that I slowly withdrew from her until only
about half my cock was in her, pausing for a moment, then just as
slowly entering her again. As I re-filled her, she closed her eyes and
released a soft moan; at first, I thought she was in pain -- but
quickly realized that quite the opposite was true.

Over the next few minutes, I steadily increased the length and speed
of my movements in her to the accompaniment of her moans of pleasure.
By the time I'd settled into a steady motion in her, she was running
her hands along my sides and her fingernails down my back as she held
her pelvis tilted up and her legs parted in eager welcome to my
actions. To my amazement, it wasn't but a few minutes more that she
slid into another orgasm: as her fingernails dug into my back, I felt
her vagina tighten around me and begin an incredible rippling that
started just behind the opening of her womanhood and progressed inward
from there.

As wave after wave of pleasure ran through her body, the feeling of
her vagina around my cock got to me more and more; it took everything
I could manage not to empty myself into her before her climax began to
taper off -- and even then, if she'd gone on for another ten seconds, I
might have done it anyway. She simply felt THAT damn good!

However it happened -- sheer willpower, mentally distracting myself, or
the grace of the Great Pumpkin -- I was able to keep making love with
her after she had her first coital orgasm. Still tight, she was even
wetter inside, and the aroma of her got even thicker in the air as the
room was filled with the liquid sounds of our coupling and her sounds
of pleasure and arousal.

It didn't take long for me to get back into the rhythm that I'd been
in before. I didn't have the slightest doubt that her next climax
would do me in; what I was hoping was that after I had a chance to
recover, my natural male limitations would work to my benefit. That
was assuming that after having experienced those few orgasms, she
didn't decide that she'd had enough 'teaching', and wanted me to
leave...

But that was for later. Of more immediate interest to me was what I
was involved in right then: not only pistoning in and out of her, but
lowering my head so that I could nibble on her earlobes and kiss her
shoulders and suck and gently 'chew' on her erect nipples.

Sadly, I didn't get to do those things as much as I'd have liked: it
didn't take as long as I would have wanted before she was approaching
her release again. For the life of me, I couldn't understand how or
why her ex-husband had failed to bring out the passion and desire that
she was so capable of; if he'd given her the care and attention that
she deserved, BOTH of them would have been a whole lot happier. But
his loss was my gain, so to speak, and I was having a great time
taking advantage of his shortcomings...

As Saleh got closer and closer to her climax, I simply tried to make
the best of the situation by doing what I could to make our respective
experiences as powerful as I could -- not that I doubted I was going to
enjoy it!

Although it was a bit awkward for me, I kept my mouth busy on her
breasts as I continued my thrusts into Saleh's channel. Judging from
the noises she made, she seemed to particularly enjoy it when I suck
and 'chewed' on them at the same time. I'd taken a brief respite from
doing that by nibbling on one of her ears, and had just started in on
one of her nipples again when she fell into an orgasm that I could
tell was stronger than either of the other two: she all but froze
underneath me for a few moments before her body essentially convulsed
with the first wave of her release.

After that first awesome spasm passed through her, the rest of them
were relatively tame -- but the operative word there is relatively:
there couldn't have been any doubt in anyones mind that she was
experiencing a powerful sexual release. I managed to make several more
strokes into her before finally giving myself over to the fluttering
of her vagina; pressing myself into her as far as I could manage, I
felt the first jet of my cum erupt from the end of my cock. That was
followed a moment later by the sensation of her fingernails digging
into (but thankfully not scratching!) my back as she tried to press
her pelvis up against mine.

I continued to pour myself into her in powerful spurts, in
counterpoint to the waves of pleasure that coursed through her body
and the feelings her womanhood created around my penis.

My age and gender were the deciding factors in which of us reached the
end of our release first: she was continuing to have occasional
'aftershocks' when I reached the point of being able to get myself
together enough to lower my body over hers. Supporting myself on my
elbows, I used my body as a kind of living blanket for her as I began
softly kissing her face and neck and shoulders. I felt her begin to
relax under me after a bit, and her hands went from pressing against
my back to slowly caressing my sides. Shortly after that, she raised
her head to give me a deep and heartfelt kiss before looking up at me
and saying "That was so wonderful! I never thought that having a man
inside me could feel that good! When you used your mouth... it felt
good, and the pleasure was amazing. I was still a little bit nervous
about the other part -- but when you were so gentle, and showed me that
you were willing to wait until I was ready, I knew that you could make
it feel good for me. I couldn't imagine that it would be like that,
though! And to have it happen twice!"

Between her words, the way she was reacting, and the expression on her
face, there wasn't any reason to think that she would be anything but
a willing and enthusiastic lover for any man that she chose to share
her bed and affection with.

"Saleh, dear... that is what it is supposed to be like when you share
yourself with someone. But it isn't just the physical part of it that
matters. It's what you have in your mind, and in your heart, and what
he has in his, that make the difference. You told me before that the
reason your husband wanted to marry you was for the status that having
a young and pretty wife would bring him. Can you see that it is the
affection we feel for each other that made it possible for you to
enjoy what happened with us? That I was patient and gentle with you
because I CARE about you? And that you were able to accept what I
offered you because you care about me?"

I watched as she considered that for several seconds. She was smiling
when she finally responded "Yes, Jim, I do see that. I think maybe
what we feel for each other is something more than just 'affection',
though. But I also understand what you said about people having their
own lives to live -- so the 'affection' that we have will have to stay
just that, only for us, and just for the time that we have together."

After I gave her a soft kiss on the lips, I had to shift my weight a
bit to rearrange the pressure in my shoulders. When I did, she
realized that we were still somewhat coupled.

The expression of mixed surprise and pleasure she got almost had me
laughing, but I somehow kept a straight face. After a false start, she
managed to ask me "You're still with me? After you...? Why?"

Kissing her again, answered "Because it feels good to me to be in you
like that, and I like being next to you this way. I thought that you
would like it, too. Do you want me to move?"

She immediately exclaimed "No!", then blushed slightly and more calmly
said "I do like having you with me like this -- inside and over me,
both. I just wasn't expecting it, is all. Before, when he was
finished... using me, he would just get off of me and usually fall
asleep for a little bit. This is what they call 'snuggling' in the
magazines?"

Smiling, I answered "Yes, that's what this is -- or one way to do it,
anyway. Pretty much anything that lets the man and woman be close to
each other and happy can be called that."

After I had to shift myself again, she told me "I think maybe you are
getting tired, staying like that?"

I admitted that I was, a little bit, and she said "I... I like the way
you feel... the way your body touches mine. Would... would it be okay if I
was the one over you? For just a little bit, so that you could rest?"

"Of course it would, dear. You don't have to hold yourself up the way
I am, either; I'm doing this because I'm so much bigger than you are,
and I don't want to make you uncomfortable. If you wanted lie on me,
that would be fine."

Looking pleased, she told me "I would like that."

After a little minor adjustment, the two of us were able to roll over
so that I was on my back with her on top of me -- without my slowly
softening penis slipping out of her. She was able to lay her head on
my chest while I put my arms around her and started softly caressing
her back. After a few moments, she released a contented sigh and I
heard her say "It feels so nice, to be like this. To have known
pleasure from being with a man, and then to be held and touched so..."

A couple of minutes went by with us like that before my cock finally
shrank enough to slip out of her. Moments later, I felt her blush when
some of my semen leaked out of her. She started to get up, but I held
her still as I told her "No, Saleh -- please don't think that you have
to get up just because of that. When we moved like this, I knew that
would probably happen, and I really don't care about it. I would much
rather have you with me like this."

I felt her blush again before she softly asked "You don't mind that?
Before, if something like that happened, he would look at me as though
I disgusted him, and even call me names..."

"But this isn't then, is it? This is now, and here, and you're with
ME. I told you that I expected it, and that it doesn't bother me. If
you like the way we feel like this, then why get up before you have
to?"

It took a couple of seconds, but she gradually relaxed and let herself
rest on me again. A bit later, when it happened again, I felt her
blush in reaction. I simply hugged her in reassurance before going
back to caressing her back and sides -- and the delightful globes of
her ass.

Several minutes went by with us together like that before she
apologetically asked "Jim? Would it be okay if I... if I got up now? I'm
starting to feel a little cold, and... sticky."

I kissed the top of her head before giving her a hug and answering "Of
course it would. Before, I was just trying to tell you that you didn't
have to get up for any OTHER reason."

She said something in Arabic, and then lifted her head to look at me.
Seeing the puzzled expression on my face, she realized that I hadn't
understood what she'd said. Embarrassed, she told me "I'm sorry. I was
there for so long, that I started to speak in the language. What I
said was that you make me happy that we are lovers."

I gave her a tender kiss on the forehead (it was all I could reach)
and answered "And YOU make ME happy that we are lovers" -- which earned
me a look of love and happiness such as I'd seldom seen; I knew that
I'd touched her heart in a way that was as special as she was.

We happily just looked at each other for several seconds before I
asked her "Do you want to clean up by yourself? Or would it be okay if
we took a shower together? If you want to do it alone, that's fine."

I could tell that she was more than a little surprised at the idea
that I could want to take a shower WITH her, but after a moments
consideration, she got a look of pleased anticipation before answering
"I think I would like to take a shower with you."

"I think I would like that, too", I replied.

Hearing that, she quickly got off of me and moved to stand next to the
bed. I followed her, but opted to sit on the edge long enough to
gently pull her in front of me so that I could kiss each of her
nipples before standing up. She looked up at me in amusement before
taking my hand so the two of us could head toward the bathroom.
Inside, I stood back and looked at how lovely and sexy she was as she
went about getting the water started, and the temperature adjusted.
Once she was satisfied, she turned to give me a brief look of
invitation (that I most definitely didn't need!) before getting in. It
wasn't but a couple of seconds before I was in there with her, and the
two of us started getting each other cleaned up.

It proved to be a considerably less than utilitarian shower, however:
after only the briefest of hesitation, she wasn't reluctant about
washing me with her bare hands -- feeling every part of my body, from
my hair all the way down to the soles of my feet, with repeat
'cleaning' of a few areas in between. In return, she seemed to enjoy
the way I washed her: thoroughly, and with close attention to detail.

If she had let me, I could have spent a LOT of time just washing her
hair; it was thick and sensuous in my hands. Still, after she took it
away from me, there were other bits of her that proved to be
entertaining, too...

Once we'd managed to get ourselves out of the shower and dried off, it
was back to the bed again. I had the pleasure of introducing her to
'spooning' by getting her nestled against my front; after she'd
wriggled herself as close to me as she could, and I'd put my arm
around her and cupped her breast, she released a deep sigh of
contentment.

By asking her a few open-ended questions, I was able to get her to
start talking about herself. Not a repeat of the things she'd told me
about her marriage, but things about her -- how she'd grown up, what
she'd wanted to do when she was younger, what she could expect when
she got home, and so on. Along the way, I casually asked her a few
leading questions to get her to think a little more about something
she'd said. I also made a very few observation to her, trying to help
her consider options or details that hadn't occurred to her. And the
whole time we lay there, I would happily give her brief, casual
kisses: on her shoulder, on her ear, the back of her neck, or any
other place within easy reach.

We must have stayed there, talking, for an hour or more before
gradually lapsing into a comfortable silence.

I'd released her breast in favor of caressing her side and hip and
thigh when she quietly asked me "Jim? I know that it's the right thing
for us to only have this little bit of time together. You have already
made me so happy, and shown me the pleasure I can know from being with
a man. If you will, I would like for you to stay with me until I have
to leave. Would you do that?"

I gave her a soft hug as I answered "Nothing would make me happier, dear one."

A moment later she told me "I... I do not want to offend you or cause
you to be embarrassed, but..."

"But what?"

"What we have done... is it possible that we can continue? That there
can be more between us before I must leave? Before, he would use me
only once, and I was happy about that. But now..."

I put my arm back around her and softly kissed her shoulder before I
answered "Yes, we can make love some more, if you like. And because
you have already brought me pleasure, I will be able to make love with
you even longer if that is what you want."

To my surprise, she scooted away from me a little bit -- then rolled
over so that she was facing me. Looking into my face, she seemed
uncertain as she asked "Truly? How... how can you do that?"

"It isn't anything special about me, Saleh. That's just how men are:
we are easily aroused and satisfied the first time that we make love.
After that, it takes a little longer for us to be ready again each
time; but when we ARE ready, it takes a little longer before we
finish, too."

She looked at me intently for a few seconds, as though she was trying
to make sure that I wasn't just trying to blow smoke up her cute
little butt. But it didn't take her long to decide that I wasn't, and
she graced me with a happy smile before telling me "I would like
that."

She was close enough that I could kiss her lips before answering "I
would like that, too", with a smile of my own, and to her visible
delight.

I watched as she got thoughtful for a few seconds before hesitantly
asking "What you did to me before, with your mouth... it made me feel
very good, and that I... wanted you. Is that something that I could do,
too? To help you be ready again?"

"You don't have to do that for me to be able to make love with you
again, if you don't want to."

Blushing, she told me "But I think that I do want to. What you did, it
felt so good to me, and I want to bring you pleasure like that. And I
told you that I wanted to learn about the things that a man and woman
can do. When I marry again, it will be for love, and I want to be able
to show that love to my husband."

"If you're sure, then I don't mind. But I have only one question, first."

A trifle nervously, she asked "What question?"

"Can I do that to you while you do it to me?"

It wasn't but a minute later that Saleh was straddling my head as she
made her first, tentative efforts at learning how to give blowjobs.
After cautioning her about how pressure-sensitive my testicles were,
and assuring her that I'd let her know if I was going to climax, I
left her to her own devices -- I figured it would be fairly obvious to
her when she got things right, and as long as she didn't hurt me, she
couldn't really do anything all that wrong.

For my part, I was delighted at having the opportunity to not only
have my head between her thighs again, but to be able to get my hands
on her lovely ass again. After she gave the head of my dick a first
tentative kiss, I lifted my head and happily ran the tip of my tongue
between her labia. She wasn't as aroused and wet inside as she'd been
before, but I figured that I could correct that little problem -- and
proceeded to do so with a will.

It didn't take me long to realize that she was taking a lot of her
cues from me: when I started toying with her clitoris with my tongue,
she would try doing much the same thing on the head of my penis; when
I stiffened my tongue and tried to slide it as far into her as
possible, she'd take as much of my slowly-stiffening cock into her
mouth as she could. Rather than take advantage of that knowledge, I
elected to simply continue enjoy the process of arousing her as much
as I could. I will confess to doing a couple of things differently,
though, in order to give her some 'hints' about what SHE could be
doing.

She learned easily and readily enough, and it wasn't long before she
had me fully erect -- and in return, I had her fairly dripping with
desire.

I was having a fine time trying to see if I could suck her ovaries out
through her vagina when I felt her release me from her mouth; a moment
later I heard her ask "Please... we can make love, now? I want to feel
you inside me!"

After running my tongue between her labia one last time, I gently
guided her off of me and sat up. She was sitting, too, and the two of
us shared an impassioned kiss before I told her "The way we made love
before is just one of many ways that a man and woman can find pleasure
together. Do you want to try some of the other ones, or is that one
enough for you?"

It took only a moment for her to eagerly answer "I want to learn more!"

I couldn't help grinning at her enthusiasm, and calmly proceeded to
guide her so that she was on her hands and knees. I saw her get a look
of delight when I started to move behind her, and she told me "I've
seen when animals are like this, and I though that it looked... sexy. I
never thought to do it myself!"

Rather than say anything, I simply let her experience it: after
getting the head of my penis wedged against her opening, I leaned
forward enough that I was able to reach around her and hold her
breasts in my hands before I started pressing myself into her. Knowing
that I wasn't going to hurt her, she willingly relaxed herself to make
my entry easier; I felt myself slip into her quickly and fairly
easily. Still, I paused for a few moments to see if she needed or
wanted any time to get used to me. She let me know she didn't by
pressing herself back against me, and sliding herself a little farther
onto my erection.

Still holding her breasts in my hands, I gently rolled her nipples
between my fingers as I arched my hips to ease myself deeper into her;
I was both pleased and surprised that her wetness made it possible to
bury myself in her in a single slow thrust -- one that was accompanied
by a continuous moan of pleasure from her. Only when my pubic hair was
firmly wedged into the crack of her ass did she stop, only to tell me
"It feels different, somehow, to have you in me this way. I like it!"

Again, I chose to let my actions speak for me as I slowly eased myself
back out of her until the tight ring of her opening was clenched
around my cock just behind the glans, then sliding myself back into
her a little more quickly. I'd no more than filled her again than I
was doing it again, a little faster. Then again, faster still, and
again.

It didn't take but a couple of minutes before I was pistoning in and
out of her at a steady and fairly quick rhythm. I could feel her
breasts get tighter in my hands, and her nipples getting longer and
harder as I continued moving in her.

As I'd learned from the first time, it didn't take her long to find
pleasure in what we were doing, or for that pleasure to reach the
point of her experiencing an orgasm. The sensation of it felt just as
good to me as it had before, but with that being my second time with
her, I was able to enjoy it a lot more without having to worry about
it having too much of an affect on me; I simply kept sliding myself in
and out of her in time with the waves of pleasure that I could feel
coursing through her.

I had to release her breasts when she lowered her body to rest on her
elbows afterwards; I simply used the opportunity to play with her ass
for a bit before starting to caress her body. As she supported herself
on her elbows, I could feel a change in how I was moving in her when
she tried arching her back in different ways; one particular position
seemed to please her the most, and she held herself there for the few
minutes it took for her to climax again -- the second one being much
stronger and lasting longer than the first.

When she'd caught her breath, she managed to raise herself up off her
elbows again. Taking a grip on the bed covers, she propped herself up
and began pressing herself back against me again as I continued to
slide nearly my entire length in and out of her. Reaching down, I
cupped my hands under her breasts -- but only enough to let the hard
peaks of her nipples drag across my palms as her breasts swayed in
time with my motions. It took only a few seconds of that before she
started to moan at the sensations it caused, and I could feel her get
even wetter around me than she'd been before. It was a little bit of a
strain on me, so I wasn't able to keep my hands the way they were for
very long, and I heard her groan in disappointment when I finally had
to pull them away from her. When I leaned forward to use my arms to
support my body, though, I was able to lower my head and begin kissing
her shoulders and neck and even softly nibble her ears; those actions
seemed to be agreeable substitutes to her, judging by the noises she
made in response.

I was finally starting to get a little bit tired, and had my hands on
her hips to help steady the two of us when she slid into her third
climax since we'd started. It didn't seem to be as strong as the one
before, but it easily lasted just as long. After it ended, I slowed my
strokes into her and asked if she'd like to try something else.
Panting and still feeling some of the effects of her most recent
release, she could only turn her head to look at me and nod her
agreement. After kissing the back of her neck, I carefully eased
myself out of her, hearing her soft moan of disappointment when I
finally slipped free.

Taking her into my arms, I got the two of us lying on the bed again,
with her on top of me and straddling my hips. I readily held her in my
arms as she got her wits and strength and breath back. When I could
tell that she was ready, I gave her a hug and told her "I think maybe
that's too many, and too close together, yes?"

She nodded, and I continued "What we can do now is have you be on top,
and the active one. That way, you decide how much and how fast. Okay?"

She lifted her head to look at me, somewhat perplexed -- it took me
only a moment to realize that she really didn't understand what I was
telling her. After kissing the tip of her nose, I explained "This is
like the first time we were together, except upside-down. Now you'll
be the one on top of me; instead of me moving in you, you'll be the
one moving on me. Understand?"

It took her only a moments consideration to realize what I was saying,
and return my smile. As she started to lift herself up so that she
could begin, I told her "Once you get me started, you can lean forward
and you'll be able to see as it happens."

Again, she seemed to be thrown, this time at the idea of looking at
what was happening as she made love. But from the expression she got
on her face, I knew that the idea had a fair amount of appeal to her.
A few seconds later, she'd moved herself back enough that she could
lift up and get herself situated over my erect cock as she held it in
position. She carefully lowered herself, and I don't think that either
of us was surprised by how quickly and easily it popped into her.
Without even seeming to realize I was there, she leaned forward and
put her hands on my chest to support herself as she looked down to
where we were joined. A moment later, she began to lower herself onto
me the rest of the way -- and I heard her gasp, then moan softly, as
she watched her self-impalement onto my manhood. When our pubic hair
had merged, she lifted her head to look at me in pleased amazement as
she quietly announced "To see it... and feel it at the same time..."

I just grinned in reply as I reached up to take her breasts in my
hands, then begin running my thumbs across her nipples, watching as
they again lengthened and hardened in response.

With my touch on her mammaries, Saleh realized that if she wanted my
penis moving in her, it was up to her to make it happen. She started
easily and slowly enough by simply sliding herself up and down on my
erection; it didn't take her long to branch out and start trying other
things, as well: holding herself as far onto me as she could and
investigating how it felt when she simply moved her hips and pelvis in
different ways, leaning a good ways in different directions so that
her movements on me had my cock rubbing against one particular area or
another of her vagina, and even holding herself well over me so that
the end of my penis was contacting her only in the area right behind
her opening.

The whole time she was experimenting, I simply found things to do to
keep myself occupied with her body. If I could, I was happy to play
with her breasts; if they were out of reach, I was equally fine with
being able to caress her silken thighs and toy with the firm globes of
her ass. And, of course, when the opportunity presented itself, I'd
kiss her -- lips, tip of her nose, ear, shoulder, hand, nipple, or
anything else that I could get my lips on. It wasn't 'just' kisses,
either; I'd softly bite, nibble with my lips, suck, lick, or anything
else that I could think of.

All in all, the two of us had a pretty damn good time with each other:
her learning how it felt to have my cock moving in her in different
ways, and me free to do pretty much anything I wanted to any part of
her that came within reach of what I wanted to do it with.

Ultimately, she settled on something that clearly pleased her
immensely: leaning forward with her hands on the bed and supporting
herself with her arms while she rocked her hips to slide herself up
and down my manhood. My contribution was to lift my head so that I
could lick her breasts, and suck and 'chew' on her nipples, while my
hands roamed across the rest of her body.

The first orgasm she had while on top of me was relatively small; the
second was a bit stronger. The third and fourth weren't any more
powerful, but each lasted a bit longer than the one before. By the
time the fourth had passed, though, I could tell that she was starting
to tire a little bit. Releasing her nipple from between my lips, I put
my hands on her hips and applied just enough pressure to get her to
slow, then stop, her movement over me. Covered with a faint sheen of
perspiration and her hair hanging over her shoulder and partially
covering the breast that I hadn't been occupied with, she looked
incredibly lovely and sexy. Looking up at her, I suggested "I can tell
you're getting tired. How about if you stay where you are, and I start
making love to you again?"

It took only a moment for her to accept my offer with a small nod of
her head; a moment after that and I was lifting my hips as I started
to keep my end of the bargain.

It was easy enough for me to get into the same rhythm that she'd been
in, and it didn't take long before I could tell that having ME move in
her was letting her enjoy the feeling of our union more than she had
before. I wasn't having to exert myself all that much, so I was able
to maintain the pace of our lovemaking enough to see her through a
fifth orgasm -- one that had her panting and groaning for longer than I
thought she even could.

By the time she was ready for her sixth, though, I was feeling a
little bit of strain. Not just from the physical effort, but trying to
hold back from emptying myself into her in response to all the
pleasant and stimulating sensations she was creating around me. So
when I realized that she was actually getting close again, I decided
that it would probably be best if I did what I could to bring the
evenings activities to an end by making it as good for her as could be
managed.

Toward that end, I did something that an old girlfriend had taught me
to do with her: as I could feel/see her getting closer and closer to
the start of her climax, I would gradually slow and lengthen the way I
was stroking into her -- doing with my penis in her vagina what I would
sometimes do with my tongue on her clitoris. I'd been assured that
although the resulting orgasm wasn't as 'strong', it was somehow
deeper, and more satisfying. That it also had an affect on ME only
made it that much more appealing.

Even though I hadn't done that much since the girlfriend involved had
moved out, I discovered that I still had a good 'feel' for it as I
started using it on Saleh: we were a bit past the point that I knew
signaled her approaching orgasm when I heard her start making a faint
noise. A little longer, and closer still to her release, and the noise
was loud enough that I could recognize it: a vaguely-frustrated
whimpering noise, apparently in response that I was delaying and
intensifying her climax. I might have been tempted to have mercy on
her if it weren't for one small detail: what I was doing was having
the same impact on me, too.

Saleh and I were both at the ragged edge of release when I finally did
the one thing that would do us both in: slowly withdrawing from her
before all but slamming myself into her in a single powerful thrust.

The sudden hard pressure against her clitoris pushed Saleh over the
edge with a vengeance; the physical stimulation she created around my
cock did it for ME.

Even as I was emptying myself into her in what felt like a continuous
spray of semen, I could tell that even though Saleh wasn't exhibiting
the physical responses I'd seen in her before, what was happening to
her was having more of an impact.

My climax was so intense that my cock was still twitching as it tried
to fill her with cum that I simply didn't have when she all but
collapsed on top of me. Surprised at the suddenness of it, I quickly
put my arms around her and checked to make sure that she was okay; it
didn't take but a few moments to determine that she had a pulse and
was still breathing. When I pulled her hair out of the way to look
into her face, I saw that she was plainly stunned by what she'd just
been through. I spoke her name and saw her eyes move toward the sound
of my voice, so I knew that she hadn't passed out or anything like
that -- she was simply overwhelmed, and unable to respond.

Wrapping my arms around her again, I gently stroked her back and sides
as I softly spoke to her -- repeatedly telling her that I loved her,
that everything would be okay in a bit, and generally reassuring her
as she slowly got herself back together.

After a couple of minutes, she finally started to stir in my arms; I
quickly moved my head to look into her face and saw that she was again
more-or-less alert and coherent. Tilting my head a bit, I was able to
kiss her forehead; when I pulled back, I could see how much that
simple gesture meant to her. She started to speak, but all that came
out was a weak croaking noise. I rolled us over onto our sides, then
carefully guided her to lie on her back. After a quick kiss to her
lips, I looked into her eyes as I told her "I'm going to get you
something to drink. I'll be right back, okay?"

She gave me a small nod, and I released her so that I could make a
hurried trip to the bathroom, returning with a glass of cool water. I
set the glass aside long enough to take a position resting against the
headboard of the bed, and get her onto my lap. With her in a position
to be able to drink properly, I picked up the glass and held it to her
lips. Over the next couple of minutes, I was able to help her drink
more and more of the water; she also recovered enough of her strength
that she was able to take the glass from me and hold it herself. After
it was empty, she held it out to me and softly asked "More?"

She was able to get herself off my lap, and I quickly refilled the
glass in the bathroom. When I got back to her, she indicated that she
wanted to be next to me instead of on my lap, and I readily guided her
to nestle into my side before handing her the glass again.

She'd gone through about half of the glass of water when I heard her
say "I thought the other times I felt that were good. But that one...!"

After seeing how what I'd done had affected her, I was feeling a
little ashamed of myself, and told her "I'm sorry, Saleh."

"Why are you sorry?"

"For what I did -- for making you have an orgasm like that, and what
happened to you because of it."

"But there is nothing for you to say you are sorry for. Yes, I know
that you were teasing me, and that you made me orgasm even more. And
yes, I know what I have been like since that. Do you think that you
are the only one that made that happen? Don't you think that I could
have changed things, that I could have started moving on you if I
didn't like what you were doing? I knew that it was going to be our
last time, and that you were trying to make it special for me; I
wanted it to be special, too. And it WAS special, Jim! If I had known
what would happen because of it, I don't know that I would have the
courage to do it -- but I am not sorry that it DID happen. You are a
good and loving man, and you have given me great pleasure and
happiness tonight. I simply couldn't be upset or angry with you, after
you have given so much of yourself to me!"

I was under no illusions that I had even the slightest understanding
of how the female mind worked, and what she just said to me only
confirmed my ignorance: I was worried that I'd upset her, only to
learn that not only wasn't she upset, but that she actually
appreciated what I'd done!

Well, I certainly wasn't going to argue the matter with her. I thought
I screwed up, and she had informed me that what I'd done had actually
been a GOOD thing. All I could do was let it go in favor of hugging
her, and giving her a kiss on the top of her head. She responded by
trying to wriggle a little closer to me and releasing a happy and
contented sigh.

A bit later, she drained the rest of the water from the glass and set
it on the night stand before telling me "If you would have me, I would
like us to lie together again, like we did before."

"Spooning, you mean?"

"No, the one before that -- when you were holding me."

Understanding that she wanted to lie on top of me, I didn't hesitate
to tell her "Yes, I would like that, too."

In short order, we had gotten ourselves repositioned just as she'd
wanted: her lying on her stomach on top of me as I held her in my
arms. A lot of my cum had drained out of her while she was sitting on
my lap, but I didn't mind that in the slightest; what was important to
me was that I was able to hold her in my arms and feel her heart
beating against my chest.

Several minutes went by before she asked "Dearest one, I'm starting to
feel a little bit cold again, but I don't want to get up this time. I
want to stay here like this with you as long as we can. Is there
anything else that can be done?"

Looking around, I saw that we'd pretty much managed to ruin the
arrangement of the bed covers; it looked to me like I might be able to
pull enough of the bedspread over to cover the two of us. Telling her
what I planned to do, she managed to keep from falling off of me while
I tried, and succeeded, in doing what I'd set out to. It took just a
few seconds for her to start feeling warm again, and she kissed my
chest and hugged me before sighing her happiness.

I'm not quite sure when, but somewhere along the line, both of us fell
asleep with her lying on top of me. When we started to get up so that
we could pull the rest of the covers down and properly go to bed, we
discovered that our pubic hair had gotten somewhat glued together by
our mixed secretions. Saleh found it amusing and embarrassing, by
turns, as we carefully got ourselves pried apart. Both of us passed on
the idea of a shower, deciding instead that it could wait until
morning -- that we much preferred spooning as we went back to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I was lying on my other side, with
Saleh neatly tucked against my back and her arm draped across my body.
With the opposing needs of thirst and a full bladder, I started to
ease myself away from her, only to hear "No, you don't have to go."

"I'm sorry, but I do -- but only for a moment. I'll be right back."

When I got back to the bed, I let her guide me to the position I'd
been in, so that she could snuggle up against me again. When she put
her arm around me, I took her hand and lifted it to my lips so that I
could kiss her palm. After I released her hand, I could hear the love
in her voice when she told me "Jim, you are such a dear, dear man"
before putting her hand on my chest.

I don't know how long we lay there like that, content to simply be
with each other. Still, both of us knew that the end of our time
together was approaching, and I finally heard Saleh start to speak.

"Dearest Jim, I can't thank you enough for all that you have done for
me. Not just in helping me get away from that horrible person that I
was married to, but for everything else, too -- keeping me company in
that coffeeshop, really listening to me while I told you about
everything that I've have to live through, and all that happened
between us last night. First you held and comforted me when I started
crying with relief that I was finally free, and then you gave me my
dreams back by showing me that I didn't have to be afraid that I
couldn't love or know pleasure and happiness again. You were patient
and gentle with me, and you gave me great comfort. We talked about
affection, but I think that both of us know that what we feel is love,
because that is what we made with each other. You gave me more of
yourself and your love than I thought one person could, and you have
made me feel whole again because of it. I know that what we have had
is a special thing, and not something that we can have forever. But I
want you to know that you will always be in my thoughts, and in my
heart; and that what you have given me and done for me will let me
live the life that you said I deserve. I know that you were right when
you said that my life will change, and why. I know that I will find
the man that I want to spend my life with, and you should know that I
will be happy with him because of what I have gotten from YOU. I will
feel the loss when we must go our own ways, just as I know you will; I
beg you, please, to take comfort in knowing that I will live my dreams
because of our time together."

Following that, I heard her say something lengthy in Arabic; when she
was done, I asked "What did you say?"

"I said that you are a good man -- kind and wise and patient and
loving, and asked whoever is in charge of the universe to watch out
for you; that the people down here needed you."

I was so touched by what she'd done that I simply couldn't think of
anything to say; the best I could manage in response was to kiss the
palm of her hand again before simply telling her "Thank you, Saleh. It
means a lot to me that you would do that."

Several minutes later, I told her "If I could, I would stay with you
like this all day; but I think that you want to go and see your
family. If you want to take a shower with me, we can get some
breakfast and find out when your train home leaves, and I'll get you
to the station. Or, if it would be easier for you, I can just leave
now."

She hugged me before answering "No, Jim, I don't want you to leave
yet. I would be delighted to take a shower with you."

A few moments went by before we both got out of bed by mutual accord.
Thinking that she might want a little time alone in the bathroom, I
suggested she go ahead after saying there was something I had to do.
When I knocked on the bathroom door a few minutes later, she let me
know that it was okay to come in.

Our shower was as fun and playful as the one we'd shared the night
before, if also bittersweet. After we'd dried off, she wasn't the
least bit bashful about letting me watch as she got dressed; when she
was done, and asked me how she looked, she was tolerant and amused
when I took her into my arms and kissed her while caressing as much of
her as I could reach before announcing that she looked wonderful.

Breakfast was her treat at her insistence; after we'd eaten, she used
the pay phone to find out when the next train was that would get her
home before calling her family and letting them know when she'd
arrive. The departure time wasn't for another hour, so we stayed in
the cafe and had another cup of coffee before heading for the station.

Once she had her ticket and checked her bags in, the two of us moved
to a quiet area off to the side to say our goodbyes. I could see tears
in her eyes as she told me "I know how lucky I was that we got into
your cab yesterday. Because of you, I don't have to be afraid any more
-- of being beaten, or abused, or any of the other horrible things that
happened to me before. I can't thank you enough, and I know that I
could never repay you for all the good things that you'd done for me."

Looking into her beautiful eyes, I told her "If I have done good
things for you, then it is because you deserved them, just for being
who you are. If I have made your life happier, then you have made my
life richer for having known you. You said that I will always be in
your heart and in your mind; know that you will be in MINE, too. What
we have felt for each other is love, and I will carry my love for you
with me forever. I will never forget you, and whenever I think of you,
it will be with the love that we have known. You go home now to your
family, and that is right. You will find the man that you can share
your life with, and be happy, and that is right, too; it will comfort
me greatly to know that these things will happen. When my time has
ended, and my spirit goes to see whoever is in charge of the universe,
I will be able to tell him 'I have been loved by Saleh', and that will
be all I need."

By the time I finished, she was openly crying; cupping her face in my
hands, I used my thumbs to brush away her tears before leaning in to
give her a soft, loving kiss on the lips -- one that she readily
returned. When we pulled apart, I saw that she was trying, valiantly,
to smile. As much as it hurt me to, I told her "Goodbye, Saleh" and
turned to leave. I heard her say goodbye in return, but I didn't turn
around to look at her as I continued on my way out of the station.

I never saw, or heard from, Saleh again. But to this day, I can close
my eyes and see her, and the love I felt for her comes flowing into
me. I do take consolation in knowing that she has undoubtedly gone on
to live a life that is much better than the one she had -- but that
doesn't really do anything about the hole she left in my heart.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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