Fatima looked in the mirror to check her appearance once last time and smiled satisfactorily. She was wearing a three quarter sleeve blue and pink chiffon dress which had a slightly fitted bodice, with buttons that stopped at her waist. A blue and pink sash was tied like a belt around her waist and the fitted bodice gave way to an ankle length flowing skirt. The dress was light and summery, yet it wasn’t in anyway see through. Fatima wore a matching pink and blue push up bra which allowed her breasts to nicely define the front of the blouse but it still remained modest and decent for a Muslim woman her age. To feel a little bit naughty and somewhat sexy, she had donned a G-string that was the same color as her bra. Even if she was the only one who knew it existed, it didn’t matter, because to her, it felt like a tiny sort of rebellion to the strict rules of her religion and culture. And for now, for Fatima, this was enough. She finished off her outfit with a full blue headscarf and had minimal makeup on. Some black eye pencil, a dash of bronze blush and some lip gloss. She looked pretty, but decent, pretty, but modest.

She had charmed her dad’s business partner two evenings ago at dinner and he had liked Fatima so much, he’d called yesterday and asked if he could bring over his divorced son to meet her. Ofcourse her parents had readily agreed and had gone to great lengths to prepare the best for tonight’s dinner. Fatima sighed, wondering how bad this guy was going to be. If he looked anything like his father, it’d be a sad disappointment, because Ahmed Patel had just turned sixty and was short, with a huge pot belly, and was semi bald with round, red, puffy cheeks that glistened with constant perspiration.

Her mind wandered back to the events of two days ago where she had met that gorgeous stranger at the park and had scandously gone down on him. She wished now she’d gotten his name because she couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d made her feel. She’d felt alive for the first time in her entire life, and the rush was amazing. She’d never given her ex husband a blow job, but somehow with this stranger it had felt so right, so natural. And when he exploded in her mouth, she completely shocked herself by allowing it all to go down her throat. She had loved the taste of his salty cum in her mouth and had realized that she loved being dominated by him in this way. Fatima was always an independent woman who firmly believed she was equal to men and always opted to be in control of every situation. This was her way of keeping her feminist side active and alive. Yet somehow, two days ago, she had to be fully dominated by this nameless man, to be at his total mercy. She had wanted him to control her in every way possible and this realization completely repulsed and exhilarated her. She was beginning to discover aspects of herself that were unimaginable, but somehow it was slowly liberating her. She wished she’d gotten that strangers name or atleast his phone number, because she really would like to feel him inside her, if only just once. The craving had increased tremendously over the last two days and the amount of times Fatima had played with herself to this notion was staggering.

She heard her mother calling her from the kitchen and quickly snapped back to reality, chastised herself for where her thoughts had gone and vowed to forget about the park incident and move on. Besides, she was possibly meeting her future husband in an hour, so she needed to be on her best behavior and forget about all the scandalous endeavors she’d embarked on recently. It was time to be real, to be Muslim and to be Fatima! She got up with a determined look and marched out of her bedroom to help her mother in the kitchen.

She was still helping her mother in the kitchen when their guests arrived. Fatima’s mother told her to finish up with the tea while she went out to welcome the guests, and to also have a look at Ahmed Patels son. Fatima rolled her eyes and groaned inwardly at the amount of excitedness her mother portrayed. Her mother took off her apron, and practically raced out of the kitchen to join her husband in welcoming their guests.

Fatima couldn’t help but overhear all the pleasantries and greetings between everyone.