Chapter 6

By the time Omar arrived, Annette had, of course, changed clothes. She put on one of her dresses that, in her eyes, was pure and innocent, simply beautiful - though for any man it was first and foremost insanely sexy, not to say downright slutty. The whole thing was in the wide neckline in front, giving far too generous a view of her breasts and her stomach.

When he saw her, Omar thought he must be hallucinating from his fever. In reality his temperature was barely above 99 F; he just loved everyone feeling sorry for him. And when Yuri invited him to move into their place - well, the cunning old man decided he should play the sick role to the hilt. Opportunities like this don’t come every day.

Allah, thank you for this idiot, he thought, all the while putting on his performance. In truth, even without Yuri, the old man would have stood in the wind trembling like a leaf and convincing himself he was terribly ill. How could anyone on the outside know that he was so steeped in lies that he lied ALWAYS, even to himself, and believed his own lies. Deceit is far more dangerous than it looks at first glance. You really ought to be careful with it and certainly not abuse it. The old man knew no measure in his sins.

“Come in, Omar,” Annette said. “I’ll make you something to eat, but first you’re going to take your pills. Then, if you can, a shower and bed.”

The old man had no idea how not to stare at her breasts while she spoke to him with that kind, encouraging smile - a smile that by itself would have been the best medicine in the world, if only Omar was looking at it and not lower.

She wore a dress of soft, sky-blue stretch knit, the pieces held together with a loose overlock seam. It looked as if, with one little tug on one of those white threads, you could easily bare even more of her hot body. Though what more was there to bare? A thin tie barely contained the breasts straining for freedom and ... the areola of one nipple was clearly visible. Yes, clearly: it simply didn’t fit entirely inside the dress. It was a sight that would have knocked a healthy man off his feet - and an old immigrant janitor who’d convinced himself he was “seriously ill,” all the more. As he took off his shoes, he toppled heavily backward onto the little cabinet beside him.

Annette ran to him, anxiously feeling his forehead and asking how he was, while Omar had no idea how to hide his erection. He almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of it. Is this bitch upstairs completely stupid, doesn’t she realize she’s flashing her tits? Or is it normal now for sluts around here to greet guests in slutty dresses?

In fact, Yuri was thinking more or less the same thing. Why had his wife chosen that dress in particular? Did she really not realize it was an inappropriate outfit for a respectable woman? Watching her stand there practically beaming her breasts at their guest...

... Yuri decided they were going to have to talk about it.

Omar took his pills, checked his temperature (after warming the thermometer on the radiator), and expressed a strong desire to go straight to the shower “before it gets worse.” Annette sent Yuri out to buy some extra meds their family doctor had recommended over the phone.

The old man was thrilled to be in their shower. After feasting his eyes on Annette’s breasts, he was counting the seconds until he could relieve the tension with his hand. To be fair, he really did start washing. He just washed one particular part of his body very selectively.

He brought himself to the edge of orgasm several times ... and stopped.

It felt too good to jerk off in the shower where Annette bathed.

Inspired by a sudden insight, he rummaged through the shelves in the cabinet under the sink and ... bingo. Allah smiled on him again. There he found Annette’s used panties.

Like some wild animal, Omar shoved one pair into his mouth, soaking his taste buds in the flavor of the beauty, and pulled another pair over his head so they came down over his nose and he could breathe her intimate scent. The old man felt no shame at all. What is shame?

There is only pleasure.

Again and again, almost to orgasm ... stopping a step before the explosion, and then continuing...