Fatima grabs her gym bag and makes a beeline for the front door, hoping if she passed by the kitchen quickly enough, her mother might not see her. She's almost made it to the door when she hears her mother's voice calling her name. She halts, drops her gym bag, groans inwardly and replies irritably, "Coming mummy!"
"Where do you think you're going young lady? Have you forgotten about your chores? I need help making the Roti's for tonight's dinner. Your father has invited his business partner over and we were hoping to introduce you to him because his son is recently divorced and would be perfect for you. Your father says he's a handsome, well mannered boy who helps his dad in the business."
Fatima rolls her eyes, and grits her teeth to stop herself from the nasty retort she's about to make.
Fatima Amir, a South African Muslim woman lives on the outskirts of Johannesburg in a small town called Duncanville. She was raised in a staunch Muslim home and was an only child to Yunus and Ayesha Amir. Fatima wore the Islamic hijab which consisted of a long cloak, and her hair was always covered with a headscarf. This was the Muslim dress for women, and was considered a sign of a good upbringing.
Fatima, was considered to be a disgrace to the community in which she grew up, because she was 32years old and had gotten divorced four years ago. She had to move back in with her parents until a suitable husband could be found. In her case, her parents were willing to accept any man who wanted her. To be a divorced woman in her culture was a disgrace on her parents name and it tainted her reputation as a respectable, decent woman.
Fatima was a pre school teacher at the local school and had to always be home straight after. The only other bit of freedom she had was her two hours at the gym she'd joined recently. Her father only allowed this extra curricular activity because he wanted his daughter staying in good shape until she could find a suitable husband.
Fatima smiled sweetly at her mother and nodded,
"Yes mummy, I haven't forgotten about that. It's only 2:00pm now and I promise to back here by 4:00pm. Besides, I might come home early today as I don't feel like a full two hour workout. I'll see how I feel."
Her mother looks her up and down and smirks, "Well, I think you should stick to your full 2hours. You're getting chubby in all the wrong places, and if you don't watch yourself, which man will want you, especially at your age! You're almost past your expiry date child!"
Fatima rolls her eyes in exasperation, mumbles a goodbye and practically runs to the front door, grabbing her gym bag and heading to her car.
Fatima was attractive, with an hour glass figure, long, black hair which cascaded in beautiful locks to the middle of her back, and she had bangs which framed her face beautifully. Her skin was the color of golden honey and her eyes a beautiful Hazel, with flecks of yellow gold which seemed to sparkle whenever she laughed.
Fatima had always been a confident woman, until she'd married Waseem. Waseem had emotionally abused Fatima and she'd been subjected to a life that both shocked and repulsed her. Waseem loved to watch pornography and spending time in strip clubs. He would take Fatima with him sometimes and force her to choose a stripper for a private dance. Even though Fatima hated this, she was also strangely intrigued and fascinated by this other world. Until Waseem, she had been completely sheltered and was a virgin in every sense of the word. She would watch the porn with Waseem and would be mesmerized by the scenes. She was fascinated by the way the women dressed and the boldness with which they conducted themselves.
She began to resent Waseem for introducing her to this world. The final straw came when he suggested they have an 'open' relationship. Fatima had no idea what that even meant and felt stupid for asking him to elaborate. When she realized that he basically wanted her to sleep with other men and him with other women, she packed her bags and left. Her parents didn't believe her and claimed she was weak and didn't know the first thing about being a woman. Either way, she asked Waseem for a divorce and he gladly obliged, saying that he couldn't live with a boring prude for the rest of his life.
Four years later, and she was still living at home with her parents, doing her best to move on from the heartache and pain. She parked outside the gym, and sat in her car for a little while, just thinking. She had worn a cloak with absolutely nothing underneath because she would change into her gym gear in the change rooms. The cold air from the aircon made her nipples hard and rub against her cloak. She liked the feeling and slowly touched them through the fabric of her cloak and moaned quietly. She was suddenly horny and could feel the moistness between her thighs. She parted her legs and lifted her cloak to touch her moist, swollen clit. She closed her eyes as she lost herself in the moment.
Suddenly, she shrieked as she heard a knock on her window. She opened her eyes to find an Indian man staring intently at her. She couldn't believe she'd just been caught touching herself. The man's eyes had darkened with lust and he made a motion for her to roll down her window. She was mortified as she rolled down her window. He looked at her, and asked, "Would you like to follow me somewhere and I could help you finish what you started?"