Chapter 4

The polished wooden floor was completely covered with white cloth. In the middle was placed the chest containing a heavily lacquered limb from the Cypress tree, the symbol of Lebanon. Mo's parents had brought it with them from Beirut and it provided a spiritual link to their homeland.

It was decorated with green artificial leaves and wide ribbons upon which were inscriptions from the Q'uran in Arabic.

Laying beside that, was an open scroll on which was written, Underneath the crescent and star,

'May Allah protect the land and the people of Lebanon and keep her safe from the infidel'.

Infidel, or faithless, in this case meant anyone who would cause her people harm rather than non-Moslems.

Around the room were placed copies of the Q'uran, one for every invited guest.

Mo' was not particularly religious but he attended these occasional little soirees at his parents out of filial duty. He also liked to be reminded of his heritage, it was part of what he was, and to share in these little celebrations with friends and family.

Most of all it pleased his mom and dad and that was good enough.

They'd roll out their prayer mats and start the evening with readings from the Q'uran, their heads bowing to touch the sacred book at every conclusion. Things would relax a little as the old people would share stories about Lebanon. Tears would well up in their eyes as they recounted these tales and it was as if, for a brief time, their souls had been transported back to the villages and groves of that ancient land.

Afterwards they would all join together in a shared meal. The cuisine, naturally Lebanese.

At these evenings, men and women sat together, although for the religious part they sat at opposite ends of the room. They didn't forget they were in a western country with children educated in western customs and beliefs. Some traditional barriers had to go, so women and men sat together.

Shari was there that day. She looked even more seductive in her bright silk shawl. All through the evening they played the old, 'catch me looking', game, careful not to arouse the interest of the old people.

She had been playing with his dick every day after work the whole week. She had grown in confidence and expertise to the extent that she could sense when he was building to an orgasm. She no longer needed to be told when to speed up or increase pressure.

Yesterday he had got her to kneel on the floor and, as she stroked him. He had felt her breasts through her top. Under the cotton he could feel that she had very pronounced nipples. Her breasts fitted into the palms of his hands and he wanted to suck on them. Their tacit agreement meant that that was out of bounds for the time being.

From the second day, to begin their sessions, he got her to kiss him. A kiss that had grown passionate. She had slowly opened her mouth to accept his questing tongue and had not objected when his hands cupped her cute bottom and held her against him.