Chapter 4

As Narisa and I walked the few steps from the living room to what would now become our bedroom, she began to tremble. I gently gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze as I opened the bedroom door.

She gave a sudden start when I opened the door and she saw the bed. I gently led her inside, closed the door and we came to stop next to the bed near the bathroom doorway. She stopped, turned and looked up at me with questioning, tearful eyes when I remembered something I'd forgotten.

I snapped my fingers as one does when they realize they've forgotten something, turned and left my puzzled bride standing alone in the room. When I suddenly reappeared in the hall, Mom asked, "What's wrong?"

"Forgot some towels." and quickly grabbed three out of the closet. "Where are your hair dryer and a brush?" I asked hurriedly.

'On my dresser."

I scrambled to my parents room, grabbed what I needed and quickly scooted back to my perplexed little wife. I startled her when I rushed through the door panting from my hurried search.

She looked at me quizzically then nodded as I held up the towels, hair dryer and brush. I smiled at her and taking her hand led her to the bathroom. I closed the lid on the toilet, motioned for her to sit and set the towels down on the sink.

Narisa sat warily as I began to draw her bath. By the look on her face, I think she was expecting that I might undress and bathe her and she started to look really uncomfortable. I motioned for her to test the water temperature with her hand and as she did, she nodded that it was okay.

I showed her the soap and shampoo, making motions that simulated washing my hair and pointed to the bottle. She nodded her understanding and I showed her the conditioner and made gestures that showed removing tangles from hair and she nodded again. When I thought she had everything she needed, I rose, smiled and touched her cheek with my hand and she looked up with a relieved smile. I walked to the bathroom door and smiled back again as I shut the door to let her bathe in private.

I went back out to the living room and plopped down in the chair. My parents looked at me then each other and then back at me again totally clueless. I felt their eyes on me and looked at them both and asked, "What?"

"Why are you out here?" my dad asked with a raised eyebrow. "Is everything okay?"

"So far I guess. I'm just letting the little woman take a bath. Why?"

They both looked at each other as if to say, "That sounds logical."

"You usually bathe after the big event." Dad quipped with a smirk.

"Steven!" Mom scolded as she slapped his arm.

"Well," I replied, "to be honest, Dad, I haven't thought that far ahead. I was going to dry and brush her hair and after that ... well, I don't have a freakin' clue! I'll just play it by ear and see how she reacts. I think she's really scared: on the verge of terrified and to tell the truth, so am I. You were right, Dad: us guys really don't know what to do with a girl when we get one. I'm scared and I know she's scared so I think I'll just try to be her friend, then her boyfriend in slow easy stages then we can work our way up to the good stuff together when we're both comfortable with each other. She's already been stripped naked and terrorized in the past couple of days and I really want her to know I won't hurt or take advantage of her: that I'll protect her. Isn't that what a husband's supposed to do?"

Mom eyes welled up and nodded while Dad nodded saying, "You make us proud, Son. That sounds like an excellent plan to me."

"By the way," I asked contemplatively, "what does the name Narisa mean?"

Mom smiled and answered, "It means exquisite. A fitting name don't you think?"

"She's so beautiful she takes my breath away, but she's so darn tiny! Every time I look at her I forget she's thirteen: she looks ten or eleven."

At this point, some may think I'm acting like an unrealistically náive, stupid teenage-boy when it comes to girls and sex, but I'm not. Most guys talk a lot about girls and sex but that's all it is: just talk. We stammer when talking to a girl we find interesting, and young couples struggle through those first fledgling steps to hold hands, for their first kiss and embrace and finally the awkward fumbling, sometimes hurtful mistakes of our first sexual encounters.

In my situation, I was now married to a girl and she was my responsibility. First of all, all I'd ever done was make out. Attempting to cop a feel driven by raging hormonal moments, not thinking of the responsibility of one's actions, marriage or even the next thirty minutes is totally different when you realize that your wife is someone that is depending on you to treat her above all others in the world for a lifetime. I was terrified of what lay ahead: not just the sex or sleeping together, but what we'd been through and survived. Would she be so terrified by all this that she just can't be a wife right now: just a scarred, terrified little girl?

We heard the water stop running in the shower so I waited a couple of minutes before going to her. As I rose to leave I said, "Well here goes, wish me luck."

Looking back on this moment, I can put it all in perspective, but at the time, I felt so torn with mixed emotions that I was suddenly filled with guilt. Let me explain. Have you ever felt diametrically opposing thoughts and emotions at the same time? Almost like you've got an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other and they're both shouting to you at the same time. Your reasoning brain, the one that feels love, emotion, caring, concern, empathy and all the other emotions related to the higher brain as it expresses all these "higher" emotions while the lower brain, the one that thinks with the "little head" is talking to you at the same time. Here's what I mean...

When I entered the bedroom and closed the door, Narisa was standing by the bed with just a towel wrapped around her. She had a look of sheer fright in her eyes. I stood frozen in the doorway silent, just looking at her for fear of moving and scaring her even more. She, probably thinking that I was expectantly waiting for the unveiling, tentatively turned around with her back to me and slowly dropped her towel to her feet.

She placed her left hand down between her legs to cover her groin and her right hand went across her chest. She then looked back at me over her shoulder and she was literally pleading with me with her eyes and tears pouring down her cheeks.

All of a sudden, I was struck with a shocking jolt of déjà vu as I remembered seeing her in this same exact position just days before encircled by a group of taunting men who had humiliated her right before trying to execute her.

At the same time, the little head was telling my brain, Oh my God! She's the most stunning and beautiful creature I've ever seen! Those huge brilliant blue expressive eyes; her long, black curly hair was wet and hanging over her slender shoulder showing a small shell-like ear and her naked form just caused a hot flash to come over me as my eyes were drawn, riveted to her beautiful firm little butt. Her feet were so tiny and her legs were shapely with nicely tapered slender thighs. She was a miniature goddess! And ... she was my wife!!!!

All these conflicting thoughts scrambled my brain in those five or ten seconds we stood there frozen in time. I was suddenly snapped back to reality when I had a sudden and sick feeling of guilt for having thoughts of her that way when she was so vulnerable and terrified at this same moment in time.

As I stared at her, I could see several cuts where she's been struck with stones and she had a painful looking bruise on her right shoulder and one on her lower back right above her left hip. The memories of that fateful day came suddenly flooding back to me.

I saw her dirty clothes on the floor near the chair and a light bulb went off in my head when it dawned on me that she had no clean clothes to put on. I put my finger to my mouth making the universal sign to be calm. I walked to my dresser and pulled out a Patriots T-shirt and slowly walked towards her. When I'd stopped directly behind her, she hunched over sobbing so that I couldn't look over her shoulder and view her nakedness then looked up at me over her left shoulder in raw fear. I smiled gently and stroked her cheek then kissed her left temple. I bunched up the T-shirt and pulled it over her head then down over her body encasing her arms inside. The T-shirt came down and barely covered her dainty little derriere. Grabbing the sleeves and shaking them gesturing for her to put her arms through the sleeves, she slowly complied one arm at a time. As she pushed her arms through the sleeves I gently bunched up her hair in my hands and pulled it out of the neck hole of the shirt.

I went into the bathroom looking for her panties, returned to the bedroom next to the chair and picked up her soiled abaya to check underneath but there were none: they must have just dressed her in just an abaya and hajib for the trial with nothing underneath. She'd stopped crying and was following my every move with her eyes as she wiped her cheeks with her hands and a slightly calmer look on her face.

Remaining with her back to me still covering her sex with her left hand, she followed me with her eyes as I went to the dresser and retrieved a pair of my boxer shorts. I returned to stand directly behind her and knelt down putting my arms around to the front of her legs and stretched the pair of boxers open for her to step into.

Once again, the little head took over when I realized my face was right next to her naked, gorgeous little hiney and when I momentarily glanced at the sight I saw two smooth, hairless labia peeking at me from between her legs right under her derriere. I shook that lusty thought with a quick, mental slap to the face and nudged her on the leg for her to step into the underwear. She daintily pointed her toes as she put her left foot into the garment followed by her right. When she'd finished stepping into them, I slowly pulled them up her legs and under the T-shirt.

When the waistband reached her tiny waist, I let go and dropped my hands. We both laughed when we both realized that her waist was so tiny, they started to fall to the floor. In an effort to preserve her modesty, I stopped them from falling by inadvertently putting my right hand directly on her left butt cheek. I looked up embarrassed and she smiled down and blushed.

"Mom!!!"

I don't know what Mom thought because when the door flew open and she rushed in like someone was dying. I was still on my knees with my hand on my wife's tiny, shapely derriere looking like the kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"What??? Oh my!"

"It's not what you think, Mom! Narisa doesn't have any panties! Could she possibly fit into a pair of yours for tonight? Oh, and get me a safety pin also," I blurted out.

"Sure." she joked in relief, "anything for the newlyweds." She turned and left to retrieve the items.

Narisa had now taken hold of the shorts and giggled as I sat up on the bed. Mom was having some fun with this because when she returned, she handed me the panties between thumb and forefinger along with the pin and smiled. As she was turning to leave, she winked at Narisa and started for the door when I stopped her saying, "Oh, and her abaya: it's soiled, remember?" She leaned over nodding, picked up the dirty garment and left closing the door gently behind her with a click

Embarrassed and blushing, I just handed Narisa the panties without looking at her and motioned for the bathroom. She giggled and scampered into the bathroom and shut the door. Moments later she returned and handed me the shorts with a shy smile.

I wanted her to feel more comfortable so I knelt and again opened the shorts for her to step into. Knowing her treasure was covered she smiled, put her hand on my shoulder and gracefully stepped into them one foot at a time. When I began to pull them up, she lifted the T-shirt to show me her panty-clad vulva: and a beautiful pink-laced, panty-clad vulva it was!

Of course you dork! Any panty-clad, thirteen-year-old vulva is beautiful! Besides, it's the only one you've ever seen!

I bunched up the waistband enough to hold them up comfortably yet loose enough for her to pull them down and pinned it to fit her waist.

I know a Boston Patriots T-shirt and a pair of alligator boxers isn't what you'd call the perfect wedding trousseau, but she probably thought they were as good as a Victoria Secret's silk negligee.

The little head spoke again when I looked up and saw the tiny sharp points of her puffy little nipples poking straight out of her T-shirt.

God, the Patriots never looked that good!

She saw me looking at her proud, pretty little buds, giggled and blushed. I blushed also as I stood and turned to hide my growing appreciation for my petite bride's charms.

I gentlemanly excused myself and scooted into the bathroom and quickly shut the door with a "Whew!"

I was trying to get my woody under control when Hasan's words came naughtily zipping into my head. Ah, to be between the slender thighs of a dark haired, doe-eyed nubile Iranian girl...

"Stop it!" I scolded myself as I painfully squeezed my erection. I started the water in the sink, grabbed the washcloth and wrung it out in the cold water. I dropped my drawers and wrapped up my "problem" and gasped at the temperature shock. Once my woody had turned to sawdust, I pulled up my shorts and splashed my face with cold water trying to return to my giggling bride looking calm, cool and un-erected. When I'd dried my face, I still looked a little flushed but figured that it was time to face the little woman; otherwise she probably thought I took my problem "in hand". Well I did ... sort of.

I opened the door and entered the bedroom trying to look as cool as the Fonz and she was standing by the bed where I'd left her with her hands at her sides fumbling with the tail of her shirt. I started to get in bed but then realized I was still dressed. She giggled when she realized I was just as scared as she was and was about to get in bed fully clothed.

All right, so I'm not the Fonz.

I went to the chair, unbuttoned my shirt and gingerly removed it. She gasped when I turned to lay it over the chair and she saw the stripes on my back. I kicked off my shoes and leaned against the chair as I took off my socks. I unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my pants and with a sigh, dropped them to the floor. I laid the jeans in the chair and turned to look at her standing only in my boxers. With a hand covered smile she blushed then covered her eyes.

Well, I thought, tonight is the first night of our lives...

I walked towards her side of the bed, bent and pulled back the duvet on her side of the bed and motioned for her to lie down. She sat down and slowly pulled her legs up underneath the covers and lay down on her back looking up at me but now, with a calm, but apprehensive smile. I covered her and walked to the other side and climbed in.

Oops, her hair is still wet, you hormonally charged idiot!

I got out of bed (again) and she quizzically looked at me like "What's this nut gonna do now?"

I grabbed her hand as I pulled the covers back down and motioned for her to get up. I retrieved the brush and hair dryer and held them up and she nodded. She got up, sat on the edge of the bed and turned with one leg under her and the other dangling off the side of the bed.

I turned on the dryer and began to brush her hair as the hot air whipped her hair in a windblown acrobatic dance. After about ten minutes her hair was reasonably dry and I shut off the hair dryer and just began to slowly run the brush through her curly, shimmering tresses. I played with her hair as I ran the brush and my fingers through her soft hair and she relaxed and reveled in the attention.

When I'd finished, I motioned for her to lie back down and she responded slowly but calmly by lying down on her back and followed me with her eyes as I again went to the other side of the bed. I climbed in (for the last time, I hoped) lying on my right side because of my back and we just looked at each other as if to simultaneously ponder what now?

Darn! The light is still on you dufus!

I reached across her body and looked into her eyes as I fumbled for the light switch on the lamp. I don't know why, but I felt a sudden, warm feeling of affection for her and bent down and gave her a soft, closed-mouth kiss on the lips that lasted for several seconds. We looked into each others eyes during this, our first kiss and hers were wide with surprise but she didn't pull away. When I broke the kiss we both blushed and smiled at each other as I turned out the light.

We lay there in deafening silence for several minutes: she on her back with her hands fumbling at her sides and I on my right side with my right hand under the pillow and my left hand resting on my hip. I could feel the softness of her lower leg against mine and the velvety smoothness of her tiny foot.

We suddenly seemed to be of one heart and mind when the terrible events of the past five days came flooding back. Five days ago, we each were living separate lives not knowing the other existed. Because of Fate or perhaps the will of God, we were brought together by a sudden violent act, arrested, jailed and sentenced to death only to now be lying here together, miraculously alive and married to one another. We knew nothing of the other except each others name and now, having made a lifelong commitment to each other to share each others future, we both lay here contemplating the same events!

Having come to the realization that we'd come to death's doorstep only to be drawn back to continue living changes a person's life forever. Everything seems so much more precious, our decisions and actions having more meaning and are more focused and thought out. The impetuousness of youth with which we lived our carefree lives, sometimes oblivious of the dangers around the corner was now a thing of the past. Every step we took from this day forward would have to be together, each knowing that any actions or decisions we made would directly affect our mate.

Narisa started crying and reached up to my hip and taking my hand in hers squeezed it as we sobbed together. I let go of her hand and she laid it down on my hip as I reached up and tenderly stroked her cheek. I gently wiped away her tears with my thumb and whispered, "Shushhhh, it's okay now."

I leaned over and gently kissed her cheek and she nodded she understood and her crying diminished to sniffled weeping. When she was relatively calm, I gently nudged her left shoulder, motioning her to turn onto her right side. Silently she responded and I spooned up against her and she reached for my hand and holding it firmly clutched it to her chest. I gave her a reassuring hug and she relaxed in my arms in response.

I just held her in silence as we struggled to go to sleep. I began to think about how we were ever going to make this work? In her culture and faith, she had committed herself to me of her own volition and simply by allowing me to see her nudity and lying with me constituted consummation of her wedding vows. In her eyes and the eyes of other Muslims she was a married woman in name and deed. If we divorced in the U.S., what would her fate be as a minor in a foreign country, divorced and all alone?

Hell, we couldn't even communicate with each other except through gestures. How would we get to know each other; plan our lives, discuss our desires, feelings and fears? How could we even say the simplest of things like "Good Morning," "Are you hungry" or "Let's take a walk"? How will we ever go about expressing those heartfelt endearments boyfriends and girlfriends express that have even more meaning for spouses like "I missed you," or "I was thinking about you" and the all important "I love you"?

I knew in my heart that I felt something very deep and gentle for this girl in my arms. Is this the beginnings of love? I know for certain it's different ― way different from what I felt for Nicole. It's deeper, more moving and affected me to my core. It's quiet, gentle and protective; this feeling made me want to put her welfare first — no, compelled me to think of her first and it was suddenly like second nature. She's put her life and future in my hands and with a child-like faith hoping that I'd take care of her and fulfill those childhood dreams of finding a man that would love, cherish and protect her for life. Then again, I didn't really know what she actually felt. As I lay thinking, I felt Narisa's grip on my hand relax as she held it to her chest and I felt her breathing slow as her chest began the slow, gentle expansion and contraction as slumber overtook her.

As I lay there awake, I heard the click of the doorknob and the sliver of light widened as the bedroom door slowly opened. I didn't move but glanced to see my parents looking in on us and heard Mom whisper to Dad, "Aw, look they're sleeping. Maybe, just maybe they'll be okay after all."

"God only knows," my father whispered back. "I truly hope so too."

I awoke about six am and we were both in the same position we'd fallen asleep in. Her gently clutching my hand to her chest with me spooned up against her back, but with one "big" difference. My now fully engorged morning woody was neatly wedged between her dainty little butt cheeks. I decided to pretend it wasn't there and feigned being asleep. I think she awoke about the same time and when she felt me against her butt, she perceptively gasped and remained still. She slowly and tentatively pushed her butt back against my erection (giving me a tingle) and squeaked a little giggle confirming she knew what she was feeling.

Gently and quietly she moved my hand and slowly got out of bed. She went to the bathroom and after peeing and washing came in, knelt and quietly began her morning prayers.

She knelt on the floor with her right side facing me as she rocked and whispered her invocations. I rose up and put my head in bent arm's palm just to watch her pray. I felt an affinity to her and rose out of bed and knelt beside her. She momentarily stopped and looked at me with a gentle smile then returned to her prayers. I began to pray with her and after a few minutes rose, got my things and went to the bathroom for my morning shower, leaving her to finish her prayers in peace.

When I came out of the bathroom, she was sitting on the bed just looking at me. Not knowing what she was thinking, I shrugged as if to ask, "What?"

She blushed and grabbed the hem of the T-shirt and jostled it and looked at me through her lashes as if to say, "Is this what I'm wearing today?"

I nodded my understanding and left the bedroom in my boxers. Mom looked at me over her coffee cup from the table and asked, "Lose something?"

"No, just looking for Narisa's dress. Did you wash it for her?"

Nodding, she pointed to the closet where it was hanging from a hook: I'd walked right past it. I snatched it from the hook and turned to leave saying over my shoulder, "Thanks, Ma."

I walked into the bedroom smiling and handed the abaya to her as she stood to take it from my hand. She looked at me deciding whether to change where she stood or go to the bathroom. She glanced at the bathroom door and I nodded as I turned to get my clothes from the dresser. When she came out dressed and barefoot, I wiggled my finger to her with a smile to come sit down on the bed.

I picked up the brush and she got a sparkle in her eye and smiled knowing I was going to brush her hair. I played Vidal Sassoon as I brushed her hair this way and that, first parting it down the middle then at the side with a sweeping wave over her right eye. She giggled, made funny faces and fussed with her hands in her lap as I played with her hair. She started to get embarrassed by my antics and fell back lying on the bed with her legs dangling off the edge of the bed. I dropped the brush and grabbed both her tiny feet in my hands and she rose up on her elbows looking down to see what I was doing. I brought her feet to my nose and sniffed making a sour face and said "Phew!"

She smiled and wiggling her toes pushed them back into my face. I made playful monster-type growls and began licking her feet and toes. She broke out laughing as she squirmed on the bed to free herself from my tickling assault. I stopped my tickling and she rose up again panting from the exertion looking down at me with a smile. I kissed the tops of her feet and released them. I stood up and took her hand lifting her to her feet and we went out to face a new day.

Mom fixed us a breakfast of eggs and toast. Mom told Narisa that her socks weren't worth saving and threw them away. She told us that after we went to the Swiss embassy, we would go shopping and buy her some new clothes. My little bride went bug-eyed with surprise on hearing this.

When we were ready to leave, I knocked on Hasan's door and he opened it with smile and a wink. I jokingly threatened him saying, "Don't even think it."

He chuckled and nodded knowing what I meant. Dad grabbed the folder of papers he'd taken from Nazir and Hasan and Sharif brought the minibus around for us to leave.

We arrived at the Swiss embassy about ten am and after informing them who we were and asked to speak to the Consul for American Affairs, we were directed to Hans Fischer who was expecting us. After the introductions, he informed us that they were aware of some of the events that transpired and both they and the U.S. State Department were eager to expedite the handling of our case.

After Dad retold Mr. Fischer what Nazir had told him regarding the cause of this whole situation, how and why the Special Clerical Council and the Iranian government had become involved along with their unique "solution" of the matter, Mr. Fischer asked to see what documents we were provided with so far.

Narisa and I had to both make taped statements under oath of the events, as we each knew them. After four hours of discussion and testimony, Mr. Fischer told us we still needed to obtain a certified copy of Narisa's birth certificate, her passport with exit permit and a notarized affidavit giving guardianship and power of attorney to one or both of my parents for Narisa from her parents. Even though she was a married adult here in Iran, in the U.S. she was still a minor as was I. Because our marriage was conducted by a court and recognized by the government of Iran, it was a legal marriage in the eyes of the Federal government under INS regulations. He did say that not knowing anything about individual state's laws, it might not be recognized in Virginia without going through the courts because we were both under the age of consent: which Dad said was sixteen. Any marriage granted to minors below that age had to get special permission from the court.

The Iranian court had already furnished a copy of her police record and her conviction on prostitution and Mr. Fischer said that it posed no hindrance because of the publicized circumstances of the case. They also included a statement that included the terms of our conviction commutations with a letter stating that she would be issued a passport and an exit permit under the condition that neither of us returned to Iran. She would receive an INS physical and any shots needed here at the Swiss embassy.

He told us that he was in communication and working in conjunction with Stanley Wiseman, an Assistant Secretary of State to expedite matters. As soon as we had all the required documents, we were to return and have Narisa's passport affixed with an emergency visa granting her political asylum based upon the threat of possible death or imprisonment from a hostile country.

He told us that today after we left, he'd send all our information via encoded Teletype and our recorded testimonies via diplomatic courier to Washington to get things moving. He also informed us that more than likely, we would be met at the airport by members of the State Department because the press will be lying in wait when we arrive. They will help us handle the press and any statements so that nothing is said that could possibly cause any more of an international incident over this issue.

As we were getting ready to leave, Mr. Fischer warned us that this wasn't over yet. If we couldn't get her passport and birth certificate, it could seriously delay things. No one leaves Iran without either an exit permit or an entry/exit stamp. We thanked him for all his help and left, knowing what we needed to do. I asked Dad to give me our marriage license. I wasn't about to have another run-in with the police if they stopped us thinking a young Muslim girl was acting like a prostitute and walking in public with young foreigner.

We went to lunch near a large shopping bazaar and after we ate, we went shopping for Narisa's clothes. Mom and she picked out some underwear, socks and two sets of traditional garb: one in black and one in blue. They then bought some personal toiletries and feminine hygiene items along with a shower cap. She even got a new pair of sneakers. Mom secretly bought her several silk headscarves in case she decided to dress less traditionally in the U.S.