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Satire

Part 3
It starts with a caress and ends in bliss.
Our eyes meet as I graze your lips.

 

April 14, 2005
iranian.com

As Asgar ran his hand through his thick greasy hair, his gold platted diamond encrusted Rolex caught his eye. Suddenly he realised that he was running late for an important meeting...

"Azizam, I have to go to a meeting vid a big client, very important!" Asgar said self importantly.

"Ok azizam, have a good meeting, I vill see you dis evening," Maryam whispered lovingly...

He kissed Maryam goodbye and then turned to Asal to give her a peck on the cheek. He felt her hand brush against his thigh. He quickly withdrew from her embrace and walked to his BMW...

He shook his head wearily and wondered why every woman wanted him? He climbed into his car and sped off. He only had 30 minutes to go and meet Olga. He really needed a massage...

Asgar raced towards his cousin's restaurant -- it served a delicious combination of Iranian, Italian and Spanish cuisine -- cruising at a hundred miles an hour. He loved the feel of speed and racing other cars. Suddenly he saw the car in front of him breaking as the traffic lights turned red, Asgar slammed on the brakes and just managed to avoid smashing into the car in front of him. In the car next to him he saw an Arab sitting in a Porsche Boxster. Asgar glared at him as his blood started to boil. The sight of an Arab sitting in a Porsche brought back painful memories of when his last girlfriend Leila had cheated on him with Malik because of his Porsche. Asgar would teach this Arab a lesson and prove that he had a larger penis than him. He grasped the gear stick with his handmade leather driving glove, thrust it into fourth gear and revved the engine. The smell of burning rubber filled the air as the traffic lights turned amber and he disappeared in a cloud of smoke...

Back in the kitchen Asal turned to Maryam.

"Maryam joon, you are very lucky to have a man like Asgar. He's a successful business man."

"I know Khaleh... he has a big mobile phone, import/export business and the British government give him flat for free. I tink because his father used work for the Shah... "

Maryam went back to her bedroom to rest. The smell of sex and Old Spice still hung in the air. She closed her eyes and breathed in the heady scent, as she closed her eyes she teetered between consciousness and dreams but it wasn't Asgar's face that filled her mind it was her ex-boyfriend Valentino, the Italian. He had written her such beautiful poetry that she could not forget how it felt when he whispered in her ears...

"It starts with a caress and ends in bliss.
Our eyes meet as I graze your lips.
I close my eyes,
Searching for you in the darkness,
Guided by your hands,
I slip my arms around your waist,
I draw you close to me,
And with my tongue trace the outline of your lips.
While my hands wander slowly down towards your hips,
As we touch, I feel your soft young virgin flesh,
Brushing imperceptibly against mine,
Anticipating what is still to come,
Feeling the warmth of your mouth,
As your tongue searches for mine,
I take your lips,
Soft and full between my teeth,
I bite them hard,
Tasting my own blood as you start to bleed,
Your pulse quickens,
And heart beats faster to the rhythm of my kiss.
You feel light-headed and confused.
As I press against you,
You struggle beneath my weight.
As I enter you and your legs grow weak.
I fill you and you fall to your knees,
Gasping for air,
Struggling to breathe,
We kiss with our eyes closed,
Tasting each other for the very first time..."

Inside a steamed up glass window of a restaurant an over-worked waitress with a plain face and piercing blue eyes was apathetically cleaning tables. She sat down for a moment to catch her breath.

Olga was exhausted, it had been a busy night at the restaurant and she felt physically drained. She was getting tired of fending off her bosses advances. But Ali was Asgar's cousin, she had to put up with it. The money wasn't great but she got to practice her English, eat for free.

And Asgar looked after her. He bought her lovely leopard-skin print boots, sexy Victoria Secrets underwear. He made love to her, passionately, sometimes for as long as ten minutes. She loved him almost as much as the Sheik from Dubai she had met at Paparazzi Lounge last summer. But he had gone back to his wife. Asgar hadn't gotten married yet, so there was still a chance that she could have him for herself. She needed to keep him but he said he had to marry an Iranian woman.

She had been watching a lot of TV to improve her English. The BBC was her favourite channel, as it provided quality impartial programming. Her favourite programme was EastEnders, a weekly documentary about traditional English culture. In a few weeks she had learnt that, according to English tradition, if you wanted to keep the man you were with, you should get pregnant with his child. The only problem was that Asgar was very careful when he made love and it would be hard to get pregnant. Fortunately the BBC documentary also explained that getting pregnant by one of the man's relatives was also acceptable providing he did not find out. Ali had kindly offered to help but she was unsure whether she should accept.

But Asgar was on his way. She put those thoughts out of her mind and prepared for Asgar's visit >>> Part 4

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