Chapter 7

If I were certain of one fact, it was that my newly arrived colleague, Mrs. Mahmoud was sent here for the primary purpose of spying on me and reporting back to Islamabad about my sinful ways. Jesse was no help at all because she was all fixated on some new rock band that was in town for a concert. She had begged me numerous times to attend the silly thing and I had finally broken down and given her permission and a ticket I had procured from P.C. Anderson that had, no doubt, been gotten as some sort of bribe for an official favor.

Mrs. Mahmoud was a cold fish.

She wore a severely tailored business suit and huge black rimmed glasses that made her plain unpainted face look even more depressing than if she had been wearing traditional attire. Her waist was a bit thick and her hips were at a disadvantage in the tight skirt. Her upper body was generously proportioned and the slight droop due to gravity was not particularly unappealing. In all honesty, he would have to admit she looked like a better than average candidate for a good mattress pounding if one could get past her sarcastic communication skills.

Jesse left for the concert telling me she would be staying overnight at her friend’s house in walking distance of the hall. P.C. Anderson told me she would look out for her as she was working security duty to make sure the young virgins were well protected whilst on the government hall grounds. That meant I would be alone for the weekend with Mrs. Mahmoud and that sent a shudder up my spine fearing that she might want to use my body to relieve her tension of a foreign assignment. In desperation, I decided to call in my old friend China from the betting establishment to take up the slack of being alone in the house with the woman. I told her that I had invited him over for dinner because he had already invited me to his house for the exact same thing shortly before she arrived. It was a white lie but it seemed to be accepted at face value without question.

My friend China was a scruffy sort of chap with the look of a downtrodden union worker never sure of his next meal. Actually, he was a sort of mathematical genius who could figure the odds on any horse, dog or unknown boxer. He had helped me to win a nice chunk of change with his unusual tips that seemed dubious right up to the very end. His long-suffering wife had run off with a jockey who spent most of his time in front of a mirror combing his hair. She was sitting pretty because the tiny man doted on her and was more than happy to make her his official unmarried wife in charge of his estate in the country. He was an accomplished drinker and was able to put away a great quantity of the stuff without any evidence of impairment. The first thing Mrs. Mahmoud commented on was his lack of temperance and use of foul language. She was absolutely spot-on in both cases but it seemed China took no offense and I saw him eyeing her generous boobs more than once during dinner.

I looked carefully at Mrs. Mahmoud after dinner and saw all the telltale signs of a female with her belly satisfied and now with her inner core of desire seeking male flesh as dessert for her itchy needs. Thank Allah I had secured the services of China to meet that overwhelming demand that could only end one way.

The call on my cell phone gave me the excuse to vacate the premises for whatever carnal display they fell into in my absence. It was only a reminder from the pharmacy to pick up my tablets but I pretended it was an emergency situation at my place of work that needed immediate attention. Of course, I headed to the nearest pub and sat on the wooden bench in the furthest corner. A couple of the heavily painted female regulars smiled at me but I wasn’t having any of it after the close call at home. My Jesse was MIA at a silly rock concert and I was totally and undeniably out of sorts.

A group of noisy young people came in disturbing the serious business of ale drinking and dart-throwing with their self-absorbed chatter about film stars and the usual decadent tripe that managed to increase my already unhealthy blood pressure. One particularly shrill brat with a tight skirt stretched over her backside complained that there was no decent wine in England leaving me to surmise she was not British in origin. Her accent placed her as most likely an American and a most irritating one at that. She had two blokes hanging on her like some sort of symbiotic decoration complete with ardent cocks. I did my best to totally ignore the entire chaotic mess of them but they were obnoxiously determined to ruffle my feathers by sitting down almost in my lap in the darkened corner. Now I was completely surrounded by the very people I had sworn to destroy albeit I was not quite sincere in following that line of fanaticism after seeing people close to me mowed down by efficient security services. In point of fact, I was in a neutral status at present just hoping to see another sunrise without fear of ever seeing another sunset.

The giggling blond with the terrible voice was almost in my lap with her tight skirt and the probable tighter girdle underneath holding in her corpulent female flesh that threatened to burst free and find new victims to devour with her decadent ways and her loose tongue. I didn’t even know the girl and I was convinced that I hated her. I hated her soft blond hair and her bouncy big breasts flaunted about like road building machinery clearing everything out of the way.

Her friends were all paired up like mating pigeons making insipid sounds of courtship disguised as casual conversation. Her hand accidently fell onto my leg and she looked at me for the first time as if I were some sort of pervert placing my leg into her grasp to see her reaction. Then she smiled for the first time and I found my groin stirring with the familiar arousal preceding my unwanted erection. I unfolded quickly brushing the side of her palm with my unmistakable hardness. She broke her locked eyes from my face and glanced down to confirm her hard was undeniably in possession of my unexpected cock.

“So sorry, sir, I thought you were my Ronald, but he is still at the bar getting the drinks. Besides, you are much larger than poor Ronald and you must put a lot of stress on your spouse.”

I smiled at the girl and I don’t know why because I hated her beyond belief.

“I am unmarried, dear, but I assure you it would never be considered stress in my case. It would only the bestowing of friendly gifts on delightful and obedient cunts that need special attention.”