Chapter 6: Used

“Hi,” Mohammad greeted Paul as he arrived in the car park, at just before four o’clock the next day - Tuesday. Mia had texted the plan, after Grace had finally replied “OK” to his fifth apology late last night. The gang would ride out to the junction, then Grace and Paul would go left while Mo and Mia went right, and wait at the first and third junctions each way.

Mo knew Mia was keeping him away from Grace. Grace was just bound to have told Mother Hen all about it! Anyway he’d got his new road bike so the big bitch wouldn’t be able to humiliate him today, even though she probably hated him more than ever. It was a Specialized and looked more expensive than it was, he thought, and had pedal cleats, and a phone mount of course.

He’d had to beg hard from his father to get it, and his brothers had quizzed him and then mocked him for making a big deal over a white girl. He’d had to lie and say she’d asked about Islam and he was trying to convert her. Well perhaps that was an idea? The whole thing had got out of hand, from the original concept. He couldn’t believe the effect Grace’s blank, tearstained face had had on him. His brothers clearly couldn’t believe it either, and had told him to just get on with it.

In fact he was super nervous about seeing Grace again, and Mia too. He wasn’t sure if he could apologise in front of Paul either. Paul was being quite friendly, so he probably didn’t know about the kiss screwup, though he was the kind of person who was friendly to everybody. But no he couldn’t know - Mo was pretty sure Paul would stick with his own kind and have been all against Mo, if he’d found out.

Oh. Here they were. Together inevitably.

“Hi,” he smiled at Grace. She gave a half-smile back and said ‘Hi’, then looked away. Shit. Though it wasn’t total rejection.

“Hi Mo,” Mia smiled at him fully, catching him by surprise. She was half-dressed again. Or a quarter dressed would be more like it. Those shorts seemed shorter than ever, and thinner than ever too. Stuck to her almost like they’d been painted on. Dull kind of golden orange today, with a matching tiny top, and they didn’t really stand out against her tan, so out of the corner of your eye it could almost look like she wasn’t wearing anything at all, with her hair all over her back too.

Oh, she’d caught him looking! Though what could she expect, dressed like a tart. Or as though she was on a beach. An unbeliever tart’s beach!

“Hi, Mia.” He’d sounded a bit too eager - Mia smiling at him was such a surprise. Well if the Italian bitch was smiling at him presumably Grace couldn’t have felt TOO bad about what had happened? Maybe Mia was trying to say Grace had overreacted and not to worry she’d come round?

But Mia looking like freaking that. Fucking hell. He didn’t know where to look: at her or away from her or what! She obviously had no morals at all.

They set off and pretty soon came to the T-junction and he turned right with Mia. She didn’t seem to be trying to pass him, just ride alongside. Perhaps she’d realised it was how things had to be, now the bikes were equal and she was up against his naturally superior physique.

“I haven’t asked, Mo,” she said, “but I suppose I’ve just assumed you’re a Muslim?”

“Yes,” he told her, “mine is a very sincere Islamic family.”

She seemed to want to talk about his family and beliefs, being interested and even respectful. It was quite pleasant to tell her about his father and mother, his brothers and sister.

They came to a big crossroads. People in cars were looking at Mia but she didn’t seem to care. Or perhaps she liked being stared at nearly naked, the slut! Mo supposed they’d be thinking she was his girlfriend, and wishing like crazy she was their girlfriend. Well she wouldn’t be his wife, that WAS for sure!

“Do you want to do this one or the next one?” Mia asked him, just before he’d been going to tell her she should stay and he’d go on.

“I’ll go on,” he told her. There were two options, North or South. “I’ll take this one,” pointing North.

“Okay I’ll give you a call if I see him or hear from the others,” she agreed, “let’s hope we get lucky.” She really was being quite friendly today.

An hour later his phone went. Mia of course: “He went Grace and Paul’s way. He went past Grace but not Paul so it’s the second turning on their side. Anyway I’ll wait for you and we can ride back together.”

Mo couldn’t help thinking of Mia’s body as he rode back to her junction at a good pace. Those legs. Her ass. Her breasts had to be a C. She pretty much had a four-pack on that flat abdomen!

She was being nice to him. Well he was in shape ... maybe knowing he’d wanted to kiss Grace had changed her view of him? Made her think of him as a man? Ah, there she was, smiling at him. Really she could easily be a model, of the athletic, swimsuit type.

“So with Grace,” Mia began as they cycled side by side along the quiet, leafy road; more slowly than before, though he was happy to keep pace with her, “presumably you wouldn’t be allowed to marry her?”

“Only if she converted,” he answered. Actually - was that completely impossible?

“Oh of course. You do seem to really like her though.”

“Well I do, that’s true.” He really did, now she’d said it.

“What’s your sister like? How old is she?”

“Raeesa, she is seventeen, just over a year older than me.”

“I bet she’s very pretty. And popular.”

Mo savoured the implied compliment. “Well she is quite pretty, I guess.”

“Does she date? What kind of guys does she like?”

“Oh, well there aren’t a lot of guys for her round here, unfortunately. Though she goes out with my brothers sometimes, and father knows someone, that she’ll be meeting soon, who’ll make a good husband I think.”

“Ah, she could only date a Muslim boy, of course.”

“Oh yes. That’s the rule. Well she can talk to a Muslim guy, but actual dating isn’t allowed even then, strictly speaking. She has to be accompanied.”

“Oh of course. But you guys ARE allowed ... luckily.” She was smiling at him in a way that was almost suggestive. In fact, was it suggestive?

“Oh yes, there are different roles for men and women in Islam.” Mo told her definitely. He was starting to wonder if Mia fancied him, and if so he certainly didn’t want her getting the idea he wasn’t available!

“That’s good. Actually I’m feeling a bit tired,” Mia sighed, “would you mind if we stop for a minute? The sun and this countryside are lovely anyway, don’t you think? We don’t need to rush back, while it’s still so warm.”

“Oh sure,” Mo gave his permission. If this girl was going to sit around with him, dressed like that, he wasn’t going to say no! He wondered briefly if he could sneak a picture, but realised she’d hear the noise his phone made.

“Oh, look,” she pointed, a couple of minutes later, “that track looks nice. If there’s a little clearing somewhere up there I wouldn’t mind catching a few rays.”

Mo slowed and followed her up the track, speechless. What did she mean? She was catching a lot of rays already! He even forgot he ought to be leading.

They went round a bend, and there was a clearing. The grass was long but Mia was undoing her little saddlebag...

Mia unpacked her saddlebag and pulled out the space blanket, pleased to find this clearing was exactly where Google Maps had shown it. X marks the spot! How far was she going to take this, if he didn’t run? She didn’t even know. Well he was good-looking, physically, and it had been a while...

Mo was desperate to talk to someone about it, but he didn’t know who! He was so confused. And hurt. Nothing had been how it was supposed to be.

Eventually he called his imam. It was a bit late but he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he’d talked about it and there wasn’t anyone else. His brothers would crucify him if they found out...

Their imam was quite young, luckily, and from Germany but with perfect English.

“So,” the imam smiled kindly, sitting opposite in the other big leather armchair in his front room, which he used as an office, “Allah is most merciful. He is understanding. Tell me what has happened.” He waved his hands invitingly.

“It’s this girl,” Mo made himself start. His imam wouldn’t tell anyone, and there was no point coming here if he wasn’t going to tell him everything, however humiliating it was. “Well ... two girls really. There’s this one I thought was thirteen or fourteen, and she seemed quite insecure, so I thought it would be a good way to get started ... with girls, you know. My brothers said if I was friendly to her she’d think of me as her boyfriend and then she’d do whatever I wanted.

“But it turned out she’s fifteen, and she has these friends, and one of them is a girl ... she’s really confident and bossy. So ... the first girl, the small one, wasn’t doing what she was supposed to, and then when I kissed her she started crying and went all, like, dead. It was awful. She told me to leave her alone and just hated me. So she must’ve told the other girl about it, the bigger one, and she ... she...” He dried up.

“These girls, they are not Muslim girls?” enquired the imam gently.

“Oh no. They’re white, unbelievers.”

“Alright. What happened with this bigger girl?”