From Maga to Mashallah

Author's note: This story contains themes of crude humor, racial prejudice, and bigotry. The intention is not to incite, but to entertain. If you are sensitive to these themes, skip this one. If you can handle these themes with tolerance, by all means, enjoy.

--

"Aw fuck." Randy cried as the TV illuminated his face in the dark living room. "Catch the fucking ball! That's the third time in the last three innings!" He yelled at the screen.

"Shh..." His wife poked her head out after a few minutes from the hallway. "Could you keep it down? You'll wake them!" She whispered and pointed up the stairs.

"Ah fu- sorry." Randy replied and exhaled. "Stupid ass Johnson here can't catch worth a damn. He's gonna lose us the whole series." He shook his head. "I'll be up in a minute."

His wife noticed the throbbing vein in his forehead and tip-toed over. "Oh come on now." She wanted to say it was just a game, but she knew it would only make it worse. "Isn't there anything I can do?" She sidled up next to him, her fingers rubbed on his chest.

"Not now Lynn." Randy slid her hand away, too angry to be patronized. "These knuckle heads got me riled up."

Lynn studied her husband's frustration and slid her hand down his beer belly. "Riled up huh? Let me see about that." She took a knee down between the coffee table and couch, slipping between his legs. Randy looked down and didn't bother which had given her the begrudging all-clear.

He felt his pants unbutton and watched Lynn's blonde head disappear behind his stomach. The sensation of her thin fingers on his dick gave some relief. He settled in on the couch and felt her do her work. "Aw yea... that's it right there." He took his camo-MAGA hat off and rested his head back.

Lynn took her husband's dick between her forefingers and gave it the lollipop treatment. She saw it get stiff and red, even in the TV's limelight. A few jostles at his balls would be enough. She tickled the hairy marbles and planted her lips right on the tip.

On cue, Randy groaned and shook. "Phew... that's a home-run baby." He tried to reach for her head to pat it in approval but couldn't reach. She stood up and Randy took in the sight. Lynn's thin silhouette blocked the view, a buxom blonde mom of two. Randy was truly batting out of his league. "I'll be up there for round two." He called out to her as she started up the stairs.

"Mmhmm." Lynn waved him off, knowing full well he'd fall asleep right there on the couch, as she left. By the time she had reached the top stair, she could hear his snore echo up to the second floor.

—

Randy fumbled around as he opened his eyes to a dark room. His phone called out from the coffee table. The daily alarm set for 5:00 am. The ache and pull in his back shook through his sides as he reached for the snooze.

6:00 am. Randy came to again and attempted to hit the snooze once more but inertia got the best of him. This time he reached and nearly fell off the couch. The wake up call from gravity was enough and he made his way to the bedroom.

The bed beckoned him but on closer review, Randy noticed that Lynn had already got up. The light and steam from the bathroom door made him pull the covers over his head. Just as he was ready to doze off again, the door opened and flood the room with residual light.

"Hey don't forget to get cleaned up for tonight." Lynn zipped around in her towel, unsure if Randy had heard her or not. She didn't care either way, as long as she had said it. If he didn't hear it, it was on him.

Luckily, Randy did hear it just before falling sleep. When the sun shone in, he got up and began his day. The same day as usual. Get up, go to work, get home, shower, beer, eat, beer, TV, and sleep. It wasn't always in that order, especially if Lynn had any say in it.

After work, Randy remembered his wife's instructions. He pulled his red pick-up into a side parking lot off the two-lane country highway. The barbershop pole was spinning and he could see the guys inside.

"There he is." said an older gentleman with his cap on his lap. The rest of the room looked up to acknowledge him.

"Whadda-ya say there Randy?" said a guy in the rocking chair waiting his turn.

"Not a damn thing, Mike." Randy replied as he took his hat off, taking a seat and revealing the business he had came for. They sat there in a short silence for the moment, as to welcome Randy.

"Like I was saying," started the man in the chair, "I never seen anything like it. Looked like I was seeing a black ghost!" He lifted his chin up so that the barber could get his beard clipped. "Reckon I won't be going back any time soon."

"Black ghost ya say? I don't believe it." said the rocking guy next to Randy. "Ghost's gotta be see-through. Can't see through black now."

"Well I saw what I seen." resolved the man in the barber's chair.

"What are y'all going on about now?" Randy was intrigued.

"Ol' Bill up there said he seen a black ghost up at that new... ethnic... store up there on 35." The man with the cap clarified.

"Yessir, up on 35 just down the road from the Dollar Shop." Bill affirmed. "Plain as day."

"Ethnic?" Randy's face contorted in confusion.

"Ethnic as in foreign." The barber finally spoke up. "Y'all need to quick being so hill-billy up in here. It says right up there on the store-front of the shop: ARAB Mart."

"What the fu-." Randy started and stopped. "A-rab Mart? What they selling there? Goats and sand?" He smirked and registered a few snickers from the other patrons.

"Pastor Bob told me he went in there last week," said the man with the cap, "He said they had all kinds of foods and spices. Said the folk were nice, kind."

"Well I heard the owner got a beard longer than Osama. And that he got five wives. Word around town is they're trying to make a compound." Bill projected. "Ain't that right Mike?"

"I don't know about all that." Mike broke his silence. "All I heard was that his wife's working at the hospital and he's running the mart."

"Well then what about the black ghost?" Bill persisted as he got up from the barber's chair. The others waved Randy to take it.

"Ain't no black ghost ya dummy." The barber set him straight. "That's just what some of that culture they got. Do you right to get some culture yourself."

Bill held his hands up. "I'm quite fine without that culture thank you very much." He nodded to the others and showed himself out.

Randy continued to listen to the others but his thoughts wandered here and there. He tried to make sense of it. In his town, words and images that he had seen in the news. Arab. Muslim. Terror. Hate.

-

Shortly after noon was the slowest part of the day. Hamid recognized the fact quickly given the desolate strip of road where his shop was located. Add insult to injury, no-one would expect to find an Arab convenience store in the middle of a rural county.

But stragglers did appear from time to time since he had been open. He didn't even have to invest in security cameras since there was hardly ever more than one customer in the store. Hamid always kept a close eye, having learned from previous experience. It served him well this afternoon.

The front door signaled open and in bounded a slender, blonde beauty. Clad in a light blue set of scrubs, Lynn hesitantly walked in. She looked at Hamid and gave a short smile and allowed herself to look around at the wares. She only caught him stand as she disappeared into an aisle.

"If need help, let me know." Hamid said loudly, gruffly.

"Thank you!" Lynn called out. She looked at the shelves. Everything stocked with some Arabic writing on the label. Grape leaves. Cans of chickpeas. Every other shelf held a new thing for her to see. After a few minutes, the wonder wore off and she became restless with the novelty.

Hamid watched the blond pony-tail weave through his shop's aisles through the convex mirrors on the walls. When she got closer to the mirrors, he instinctively adjusted at his groin under his dishdasha. She was like what he had seen in the magazines behind the counter.

Lynn gave up and wandered closer to the front of the shop. The man had sat back down and had a far-away look on his face. "Oh excuse me." She spoke up and he registered her approach. A big, hesitant, yellow smile appeared between his beard and Lynn tried to return the sentiment.

"Yes...?" Hamid made eye-contact but let his eyes wander.

"I'm looking for something call...," Lynn pulled her phone out and started scrolling on the screen. She was oblivious to Hamid's ogling until she looked up. "I think it's ta-hinney?"

"Yes. Tahini." Hamid corrected her pronunciation. "This way." He held his hand out to an adjacent aisle and moved out from behind the counter, gesturing her to follow. "Right there." Hamid pointed to the bottom shelf and the jars that were clearly labeled in English.

"Silly me! I didn't even think to look down there!" Lynn laughed awkwardly at herself. "Thank you." She moved swiftly down to an open legged squat and looked over the labels.

"Is no problem." Hamid watched her closely. The scrubs smoothed out in the back, barely restraining her bubble butt. "Is very good." She held up a bottle to him. "Oh yes... very good brand." He tried to shuffle around her and realized the tent he had pitched in his dishdasha robe.

"Thank you again." Lynn looked back as he scooted behind her. She saw the rise near his torso. "My gosh..." She said under her breath and stood up quickly. Picking up the basket, she only nodded to him and approached the counter.

Hamid followed suit and looked at the register. He scanned her items but took glances at her between scanning. "You making something yummy?" He smiled in small talk.

"Well, I'm gonna try." Lynn tried really hard to keep it lite.

"Hmm, you make the kibbeh?" Hamid held up one of the items. The look on the Lynn's face confirmed she had no idea what he was talking about. "No I'm kidding. You make the hummus."

"Oh yes!" Lynn finally made a connection. "I do like hummus. I get those little lunch sized ones all the time at the supermarket."

"Yes, tahini use in hummus." Hamid held up the bottle Lynn had selected. He pointed at himself. "Hamid make best hummus. You try and forget buy hummus from store."

"Is that so? I may have to get that recipe! I'm Lynn." She held her hand out to shake, it lingered while the culture caught up. Hamid's hand reluctantly met hers.

"Yes. I am Hamid." He put the tahini bottle in the bag with the rest of her order. "I use no recipe." Pointing to his head, "All up here. But every time come out thick and creamy."

"Mmm!" Lynn closed her eyes in recollection of that taste pleasure.

"You like thick and creamy eh?" Hamid smiled again, this time indulging in her expression. "Next time you come, I have jar ready for you."

"Yes please, that would be wonderful." Lynn took her bag from the counter. "I work just up the way there at the hospital. This is a much closer stop for me than having to go out of my way for the supermarket." She pushed at the door. "Thank you again!"

Hamid waved and watched her climb into her white SUV and put on her big sunglasses. He pulled at his groin again as she pulled out of the parking lot. She was just like the women in the magazines behind the counter.

—

Randy looked at himself in the rear view mirror of his truck. The hair cut was much needed. The barber was kind enough to throw in a shape up for his goatee. Lynn had always liked it when he was trimmed up and proper. It definitely wasn't the burly look he was readying for hunting season.

The ding from his phone broke the lament. It was a text from Lynn. "Got time to swing by the store today? I forgot an ingredient! :-(." Randy checked the time on the dash and typed back: "Might. What u need?"

The little dots jumbled while she typed. "I'm making something for a potluck at work. Got a new PA and wanna do something to welcome. Think you get pick up some za'atar?"

"Za what now?" Randy quickly replied back.

"Za'atar, it's like a spice." Lynn pinged back.

"I never seen that at the market. U sure they got it?" Randy inquired.

"... I dunno. But I bet they got it at that new mart on 35. I forgot it when I was there. Could you swing by get it?" Lynn clarified.

"Mart on 35?" Randy hit send and thought about the conversation at the barbershop. "I don't know, I'm pretty beat from work. Can u get it tomorrow?"

"Pretty please?" Lynn pleaded and followed up with a lips and eggplant emoji.

Randy adjusted in his seat at the implication. "Alright. I'll try."

The errand was along the way home. It would have been out of the way for Lynn to go back anyway. When Randy walked up to the door, he pulled down on his red hat a little tighter. The foreign smells assaulted his nose immediately.

"Hey boss." The bearded man behind the counter called out to him. "We closing soon." Hamid noticed the unfriendly cap on Randy's head. "You need help, I make it quick."

Randy held his hand up and waved him off. "Thanks, I'll help myself." He wandered into the aisle and out of Hamid's sight. The various bottles and jar, boxes and packages, threw him for a loop. He certainly was not going to find the ingredient like this.

Hamid walked down the adjacent aisle and came upon a hunched black figure in a niqab. "I'm going to the office to do the daily paperwork." He said to her in Arabic. "Keep an eye on this man. If he wants to buy anything, let him have it." He threw a furtive look up at the convex mirror at Randy looking around dumbfounded.

Randy overheard the strange language over the aisle and saw the shop-owner disappear into the back. Now he was regretting not just asking for the spice. He'd have to endure wandering around these aisles and get stung in the nose by the smells. Turning the corner, he almost jumped when he saw the black figure on the floor.

She almost jumped as well at the sight of the rotund man coming up behind her. Her slender fingers went up in fear. She looked up to him with her brown eyes, the only part of her body that was uncovered.

"Uh... I'm looking for something." Randy managed to blurt out, partly relieved he didn't have to talk to the big bearded guy. He fumbled with his phone. "Eh I think it's call zatar. Here have a look." He held the phone up to her face, showing the text between Lynn and him.

The niqabi nodded in understanding and stood up. She recognized, by the look on the man's face, that this was a new experience for him to see a woman covered fully. She pointed to the left and held up three fingers, then pointed to the far side of the shop.

"Can't you just tell me?" Randy grew frustrated with the charades. And yet she persisted. "Oh fuck your Sharia law, just take me there." It seemed to get the point across as she began walking away from him and looked back. He followed her three aisles over to the corner where she had gestured.

The niqabi felt him watch her as she walked ahead of him, and she remembered what Hamid had said. She stooped down and pulled a small jar of za'atar from the shelf.

"This all you got?" Randy took the bottle from her. "Shit, I don't know how much she needs." He said to himself and looked down at the veiled woman. "I guess it'll do. How much is it?"

The niqabi looked at the price on the shelf and turned back to him. She made a gesture of waving it off. She pointed to Randy and tried her best to gesture that he could just have it.

"You want me to just take it?" Randy said with some uncertainty. He looked up and around the shop. "Ain't he gonna be mad?" The niqabi closed her eyes and shook her head no. "He ain't gonna be beat ya is he?" She shook her head and hands this time in reassurance.

She watched him carefully from below. He looked unsteady, his eyes were slightly glazed, and the faint smell of alcohol would've escaped anyone else except for someone who didn't drink it. At eye-contact, he smiled at her.

"He pay you?" Randy asked quietly. She shook her head again. He pulled his wallet out and unfurled a few bills. "Well how about this. You can earn some of this here cash, you just show me what's under all that." Randy waved over the black cover on her.

She hesitated and looked away.

"I'm guessing that's a no." Randy shifted his weight on this legs. "Alright then. Then I'll just have to tell him about the bad service I got." He flipped through several more bills in his wallet in her sight. "Unless, you're willing to make me a happy customer."

The niqabi got a quick count of what he had flashed. She looked down, partly in shame, but felt that if she didn't look at accepting it, it wouldn't be bad. She held her palms out and felt him put the bills in one hand. When she looked up, she saw him rustle at his belt.

Randy undid his buckle and looked around the shop again. Unzipped, he freed his mini-me-wee, as he called it, and bared to her. "Go on now." She only stared it and Randy was impatient. He straddled over to her and lifted up the bottom veil and poked himself at her lips.

The niqabi closed her eyes and felt the fabric of her cover rub on her nose. She took the man into her mouth and sucked the only way she knew. Dutifully as she did for Hamid. However, this experience was more tolerable. The customer's penis was not large. In fact, she sucked it with ease. She employed all the tactics she knew to make him cum quickly.

Randy looked down and gained some clarity for the moment. Unbelievable, he thought. The black cover, head to toe, save for the eyes, and now finding himself parked between the lips. She bobbed and he felt the pleasure of a good blowjob. It made Lynn's performance look pedestrian. But when he looked down, he couldn't help but feel like he was defiling himself.

His teeth clenched and he felt a little angry. He remembered the news. The conversation at the barbershop. His own disdain for the culture. Randy put his palm on the niqabi's head and thrust hard into her mouth. Each push getting significantly harder and faster. He let out all his anger and frustration, mouth-fucking the outsider.

"OH Lord!" Randy pumped her mouth, getting a rise at demeaning. Stiffening with each taunt and thrust. "Jesus... aw yea. Fuck." He pumped again. "...Mary, here it is." Randy's balls rested on her chin and he held her head there. "Oh fuck, Joseph!!"

The niqabi felt the small dribble of cum sputter into her mouth. The man's balls shivered on her face in the muted aftermath. As he pulled out, the lower veil fell back into place. She looked away in deference of the situation while Randy wavered in the afterglow.

He looked up in the daze and came to see that she was still on her knees. He grabbed the bottle and ensure that there hadn't been anyone else watching. Randy pulled out his billfold and leafed through the dollars haphazardly for fear of lingering. He dropped two $20 dollar bills with a thanks under his breath. When he looked outside, he saw his truck and got the inkling that he'd better get moving.

—

The following days weighed heavy on Randy. The guys at work kept up the conversation about the Arab Mart. Randy found himself, absentmindedly, clicking additional links that came up in his news feeds that were influenced by his visit to the store.

When he finally caught on and tried to actively search how to be rid of the Middle-Eastern mindwash, as his friends called it, he only kept seeing the hijabs and turbans on his favorite news channel. It was Sunday morning and he decided to start the week off right. He turned off the TV and the silence was unnerving.

Lynn walked down the stairs in a rush. The yoga pants made no rustle but the creak of each step startled Randy. "Are you ready?" Lynn said with an exhale, in an authoritative pose in her gym attire.

"Ready for what?" Randy scratched at his goatee. "You going to church in that?" They didn't go frequently but whenever there was nothing going on, they did.