They say if you write you should base it on personal experiences and so I shall.
Aged 38 my wife had left teaching to have a baby before it was too late, and he was now 4 months old. Jude was bored at being at home, bored of breast feeding, dirty nappies, sleepless nights, and a vastly restricted social life. To cheer her up I decided to take her out to our favourite Indian restaurant, the El Amir in London’s docklands.
The owner Hassam greeted us as always ushering us into the sort of empty establishment you get on a wet, Monday night in December. He sat with us at the end of the meal and commiserated with her, treating us to free alcohol and his own problems. He was in his late fifties and his wife had died some eight years before leaving him celibate, and with two sons aged eighteen and sixteen. They worked in the restaurant which by all accounts was not currently doing well. Jude commented at this point that they looked more like twelve and fourteen in fact so young she could wet nurse them. I must admit I wondered whether their ages were inflated so they could work legally in the place and not attend school.
The evening wore on and the conversation got quite racy as it always did with Hassim who as always complimented my wife on her appearance, particularly her ample breast size and elegant legs. He also dropped into the conversation that his youngest son Shazad [ who was always the one to serve us ] was also appreciative of her looks, had she noticed? Jude laughed, agreed she had and commented on how flattering she’d found it. Changing the conversation to the slow business at night she suggested he have a cabaret at the weekend to bring back in the lunch time trade, which consisted mainly of lone Asian business men.
At this point I nipped out to buy some cigarettes and was gone some thirty minutes as that part of the city is deserted at night. Having found a store and returned I was in time to hear that he had taken up her suggestion and was going to start the coming weekend. I took out my wallet to pay the bill but Hassim refused laughing and said he’d probably being paying me money.
Once home and the baby sitter departed, I asked what his comment was all about. In reply she disappeared into the bedroom and about five minutes later reappeared as a Sally Bowles and putting on the Cabaret mimed to Liza Minelli’s rendition of the same. I have to say the hat, stockings, suspenders, and black underwear was electrifying, as was the sex that followed! During the rest of the week she carried out continual arrangements by phone with the restaurant, arranged for our son to go to her mothers for the weekend, and purchased several sets of sexy underwear.
On the Friday night we arrived at nine and saw straight away Hassam has put together a small, tented stage by the bar with a backcloth plus a chair. The tables had been rearranged so that a part of ten quite elderly Asian business men could eat together facing it. Shazad immediately brought us a two bottles of champagne which Jude who had been nervous all day didn’t really need as she had been fortifying her courage at home. It was about ten when Shazad came and got her and Hassam sat down with me to watch the show.