"What you've done is transgress on another man's possessions," the partially dressed woman said, "and the punishment must fit the crime."
Waheed had visions of being dragged off to the nearby Malaz jail and begged for forgiveness, "Madam it truly was an honest mistake, I am an honorable person, please do not consider me a criminal."
"Stay right there," she ordered, "and I will think what should next be done to you?"
Waheed almost pissed his pants with the tension as the lady went into a bedroom and appeared to be dialing a number on her cell phone. The police in Riyadh were not particularly known for their kindness, notably to foreigners from South Asia.
I
It had been a typically searing Riyadh afternoon, temperatures in the high 40's and hot winds blowing. Waheed had suffered a flat just after leaving the office and was first drenched in sweat while changing it. Then he was dried out immediately by the total lack of humidity. His head hurt as he negotiated the final few turns before the parking lot of the furnished hotel apartments he had been living in for a while. Walking through the central lobby and inside garden, he reached the three storey section which housed his unit. It was tough to climb the stairs as he was carrying a load of items that had been sitting and steaming in his vehicle. Thankfully the door opened in a second when he inserted the key into its slot. A welcome coolness hit his face. He wondered if he had left the air conditioning running prior to leaving for work and then put the thought out of his head. Putting the load down just inside the doorway, he made a beeline for the washroom to splash some welcome cold water on his face.
"Who are you? What are you doing here? How dare you enter this place?" the screeching in Arabic instantly broke him out of his funk.
In less than a second he realized he was not in his own apartment, number 320, but in number 220, the one directly below. Yelling at him non-stop was an attractive thirtyish woman, who was also fighting hard to cover herself with a much too small towel, having just stepped out of the bathtub.
II
For the fifteenth time in the past twenty five days, Waheed had to slog over to the reception desk to have his key card reactivated. Regardless of where it was placed, or how far it was from any electronic device, the damn card would stop working after a day or two, even though he was registered for a month and had advised of long term plans for the next year.
This time around, he had come back from a long business trip, and the bellman had carried his suitcases over to the apartment. Waheed nearly blew a fuse when he was unable to open the door. At well past midnight, he had no intention of going to the reception desk and back.
"It's okay Sir, why don't you take this pass key," the bellman offered his own, "it will not expire for months."
The large tip he got put a real smile on the bellman's face. After all, Waheed had a reputation for being kind to the staff and tipping well for small jobs. He had come from humble beginnings and appreciated the work down by the junior staff.
"Thanks, this should really ease the troubles the damn key card has been causing!"
III
Waheed cursed the bellman who had been so helpful so many weeks back. In all the days in between, there had been no need to go back to reception and get an activated card. He was aware that his pass key would open all doors on the property. What he did not expect was to have a downside as the one he was now facing. He could see a visit to the nearby jail, followed by a sentence for some months, and then deportation without having any of his work dues paid or any money retrieved from the local bank account.
In an instant, he was on his knees imploring the lady to understand that his actions were accidental and that she should have a heart.
"Madame, please, I will do whatever you want," he begged, "just please do not report me to the authorities!"
The lady stopped yelling at him. That was a good sign that apparently she spoke English and understood his intentions were not bad.
Despite the cool interior of the apartment, Waheed felt sweat going down from his neck to his waist. He mouthed every prayer he could as the lady walked into the adjacent bedroom and appeared to be making a call while he waited.
"Okay, I will forgive you," the lady returned and said in accented English, "but you will have to obey me on whatever I ask you to do!"
"Thank you," was all he could say as he staggered back up off the floor.
"Go drop your things in the apartment, drink some water and change," she directed, "and then come back to me here in exactly one hour!"
Waheed rushed out and reached the safety of his apartment in less than a minute. He wondered if it was just a dream, but quickly realized that a bullet had been dodged.
Safe inside his familiar environment, Waheed quickly forgot the lady's directions. The feeling of relief did not last long, however.
"You are to come down in twenty minutes," the female voice on the phone put the fear of God back into him, "or you will be visiting Malaz prison tonight!"
IV
Waheed could not stop shaking as he went downstairs and rang the bell to the apartment below. A buzzing on his cellphone told him to use his pass key again. With trepidation, he did so and entered the place for the second time that afternoon. No one was in the main lounge, but he got the aroma of fresh baked goods from the adjacent kitchenette. There were four small cups on the tray, indicating that more than one person awaited him. He ventured in to through the little hallway to the bedrooms. Just before he entered the main bedroom, a voice ordered him to halt.
"Take your clothes all off and leave them in the lounge," the lady was firm in her command, "and come in here within two minutes or else!"
Waheed wondered what was going to happen next. He had visions of a couple of Arab guys behind the door waiting to beat him up or buttfuck him in the worst possible manner. However, his options were very limited as he would be headed to jail should the lady complain to the police, regardless of whether he was guilty or innocent. The laws in the country were not particularly in favour of women's rights, but in the matter of a foreigner being involved, the Saudi ladies were one step away from Godhood as far as Saudi men were concerned. Threadbare he made his way to the bedroom from where the lady's voice had emanated.
"Don't bother knocking," he heard her, "just come on inside."
Waheed steeled himself and walked into the bedroom. There were no two hulking Arab guys ready to penetrate his back side. There weren't even two other people in the room. Sitting on the large bed at the other end was the lady who he had walked in upon. His eyes could not help fix themselves on her as she was dressed in the slightest of lingerie, exposing a great deal of her body. Unlike most of the Arab females that he had seen on TV or chanced to come by on odd occasion, this one was not excessively fat, bottom heavy or overly made-up.
"Hello Waheed," she surprised him, "it is time to pay for your indiscretion and if you are wondering I asked the reception about the guy living above us and they gave me your name, by the way you can call me Reem!"
Reem stretched out on the bed, spread her legs and pulled off her panties. Her pussy was clean shaven and glistening with moisture seeping already from her insides. She motioned with her finger for him to come atop and do the needful. He indicated that he did not have a condom but she indicated he should proceed without protection. Within a moment, his cock was imbedded into her welcoming interior.
"That's nice," she cooed into his ear, "my husband does not have a big cock and it is never hard like yours is now!"
Worried about performing below her expectations, yet delighted at the way circumstances had turned out, Waheed plowed into Reem with gusto. He had been quite a cocksman during his studies and work life in the US, Pakistan and many other countries. Reem was one of the better looking and willingest females he was fortunate to have taken. Within a couple of minutes, she was screaming at the top of her voice. Luckily it was mid-afternoon so no one was around in the garden just outside the building. Secondly the full blasting air-conditioning helped drown out her voice.