
Part 11
Almost genetic
That was enough. I could no longer pretend that I was not eager or
happy.
April 14, 2002
The Iranian
I went downstairs to breakfast. My mother was sitting at the table with her tea.
We talked about Mehri joon's party. This post party conversation was so familiar
that it rolled without effort, like a dance preformed by two long time partners who
read each other's move before it actually happens. We sipped tea and chatted about
every detail of the party: who was there, what they were wearing and who was with
whom. I told her that I was impressed by Mehri joon's taste and attentiveness as
a hostess. My mother agreed. After a few minutes of talking she got to the real question
she had for me.
"You spent some time with Ardeshir last night. He seems nice. No?" She
said with a smile that I had seen appear before whenever she approached the subject
of possible prospects for marriage.
"Oh yes. He seems very nice indeed. He has certainly lost his boyish awkwardness."
I smiled back teasingly, knowing I was giving her hope -- a sparkle of an interest
on my part in anyone "suitable" and my mother saw baby carriages and future
grandchildren. This was so automatic on her part that she seemed physically incapable
of reacting otherwise. As much as she tried, poor thing, to show the same enthusiasm
when I talked about an achievement in school or work, she could never summon the
same sparkle in her eyes as when I spoke of meeting or getting to know someone she
considered a prospective suitor.
I had come to accept this and even find it endearing. In her language happiness without
children is impossible. Also, children without a husband are impossible. Therefore
happiness has to include both children and husband if it wishes to retain its essence.
That was the way my mother reasoned about marriage. It was her logic, deduced from
ancient concepts rather than actual experience, that marriage was necessary to happiness.
It came from nowhere but her love for me as well as her total inability to reconstruct
her reasoning in a new language. She simply did not have the vocabulary for such
a big leap. Such is the power of a logic that is so imbued in the self that it is
almost genetic -- divinely or biologically predetermined -- passed from mother to
daughter ad infinitum.
"He is supposed to be very accomplished. He takes care of that entire family,"
Said my mother trying not to be blatant about what she, no doubt, saw as Ardeshir's
best quality.
"He is also very much into books, Mehri tells me." My mom threw that one
in, no doubt, for my benefit.
"Well he certainly knows how to kiss," I said smiling, knowing that my
mother's pleasure at hearing this was probably, at least, equal to mine when I was
receiving the kiss itself!
"He kissed you?"
"Baale," I kept my smile wide.
"Well. Do you like him?"
"I think so. He is so sweet."
"Well that is great. He is better than all these guys. A real aaghaa as far
as everyone is concerned." Then as if stopping herself from too much optimism,
"do you think he likes you?"
"I have no idea. But it sure seemed like he liked my company." I remembered
his tongue and felt a pang of yearning in my koss.
"Well, he is going to be around for a couple of weeks. I was going to throw
a party. We definitely must reciprocate their hospitality. I tell you Mehri joon
would love you as a daughter in law."
"Wait a minute please, don't go too fast, we just kissed." I said, thinking
if my mother only knew that Ardeshir had so expertly eaten me out in Mehri Joon's
Gazebo, she may not be so sure of my chances of becoming his wife. Iranian men no
matter how liberal they genuinely try to be, seldom, marry women who engage in sex
with them at parties after a few drinks! I wondered if he would call.
Just then the phone rang. My mother answered and blushed and I knew it was Ardeshir.
I gestured that I would pick it up upstairs. She was so overly nice to him in her
highest notch singsong voice that it was embarrassing.
I went to my room and picked up the phone and said hello.
He said, "How is my dokhtar khoshgeleh? Slept well last night?"
"Yes." I usually became monosyllabic in the face of compliments for which
I yearn.
"Did you wake up with this great urge to be with me?"
"No." I lied.
"I am so disappointed. I thought that if I feel it then you must too."
"Like ET felt everything the boy felt?"
"Exactly. ET my favorite tragic hero."
"Kind of looks like you." I teased.
"Pedar sookhteh!"
I laughed.
"Okay be ready in forty minutes I am going to pick you up and take you somewhere
very special."
"Where?"
"It is a surprise."
"Oh, come on. Any way how do you know I have no other plans?"
"I don't. I just know that even if you did have them you would change them for
me."
"My, are we arrogant."
"No. Just confident -- about this."
"Okay. I will be ready. Any dress code where we are going?"
"No as long as you wear nothing under the roopoosh."
"I never do in the summer anyway!"
"I will be there in forty minutes."
"Yes, Master."
He laughed, "I can't wait to see you."
"Then let me get ready. Bye."
He picked me up and we drove up into the mountains. Our conversation followed the
same ease of the night before. I told him the story of what I had seen at Goli's
house. I knew it would be safe with him. I also wanted to flirt with him and I knew
this was a sexy story. He pulled up the driveway of a small stone house that was
off of a dirt road on the side of a stream. He opened the door and let me in. It
was a beautiful mountain shack decorated with what looked like cowboy furniture.
Big leather coaches and a chunky wooden coffee table. Pictures of fish caught by
himself and his friends covered one of the walls.
He went to the refrigerator and gave me a cold beer. I drank one big sip before
he grabbed me and kissed me. I melted in his arms in much the same way as the night
before. He really knew how to kiss. He led me to the bedroom. He undressed me gently.
Laid me on the bed and showered my body with little kisses. He came up to me and
put his mouth to mine. His kiss was a prefect combination of passionate and sexy.
Not too vulgar. Not too dry not too wet. Just right. Prefect.
I kissed back with equal eagerness. Holding his head in my hands like it was a precious
object.
He took off his clothes and revealed an erection. I smiled. He smiled back, "Some
times, it does cooperate. Especially with the help of the little blue pills."
He pulled me to the edge of the bed, which was the perfect height -- had he had it
built for this purpose?
He started playing with my koss. Then he placed his penis on it and pushed in ever
so gently.
I gasped as he started penetrating me gently while his forefinger caressed my clitoris.
His rhythm was perfect. His thrusts were deep but gentle and caring.
He cupped my breasts and started licking them. Then he came up to me and looked me
in the eye as he kept his rhythm going. I knew there and then that I was in love
with him.
He kissed me as if telling me that he knew what my eyes were saying. I wanted him
to stay inside me forever. I did not care about my own pleasure. I wanted him to
love me. I wanted him to enjoy the inside of my koss. To make it his home. I knew
from experience that when I forgot my own pleasure and only sought to satisfy my
partner -- that it was a sure sign of love. Very seldom did I give up the pursuit
of my own orgasm in lovemaking. When it happened it shocked and moved me.
But Ardeshir was not going to let that happen. He too wanted my pleasure more than
his. He pulled out his penis and started playing with my koss again. His fingers
were so sure of what to do that they were like a woman's. Before I knew it I was
coming. I gasped. Unable to say a word. He entered me again and started penetrating
to what seemed to be the circular rhythm of my orgasm. He said through heavy breathing,
"doostet daaram Sarvenaz. Maale mani" and he came.
I wanted to tell him that I loved him. I loved verbalizing my feelings. But I held
back. Every woman knows that sometimes the less said the better. "Wait Sarvenaz,"
I told myself, give him a chance to feel it for himself. So I held him and waited.
"I love you Sarvenaz." Ardeshir said.
Still I did not respond knowing that I was being a tease. I just stared back into
his eyes. He kissed me again and again.
"Do you love me?"
"Yes." The monosyllabic me responded.
"Marry me?"
I gulped and swallowed. And could not believe that it had happened so easily. But
I did try to be as cool as possible.
"Are you joking?"
"No. I mean it. I know what I want. I know you are the one who can make me happy
and make me feel complete. I love you. I want to wake up with you and go to sleep
with you. I want to spend my days and nights with you. I want you with me. Always."
That was enough. I could no longer pretend that I was not eager or happy.
"I will. I will marry you my darling Ardeshir." I felt his mouth on my
koss as I finished saying this.
THE END
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