A word of explanation: This story was written at the request of a Pakistani girl living in England who had fantasies of being taken against her will and sexually and
ethnically
insulted. I had never before and have never since heard of this particular taste for ethnic degradation, but I gave her what she wanted.
I am not one for political correctness, but racial & ethic slurs seem to be a very taboo area these days. So let me go on record as saying these characterizations are for erotic effect only and in no way reflect the author's sentiments or sensibilities towards any group.
She liked the story very much.
---dr.M.
The Debt
She stood outside the door to the flat knowing she was being watched but reluctant to ring the bell. Her trench coat was belted tight, her head covered in a rain scarf against the thin drizzle that was falling, and she was cold. She had only to put down the valise that held her things and ring the bell, then she could go inside where it would be warm and dry. Warm and dry in another man's flat, and in another man's bed.
"Go on, Dhipa! Go on! What's wrong?" her brother Nazir yelled from the car behind her. Looking back, she could see Bhazir's fat face leering at her through a rain-spattered car window. He was the eldest. He should be the man of the family. He should have kept her from going. But as usual, he did nothing but stare at her with his flat, ;lecherous gaze, making her feel more ashamed than she already felt
But she couldn't back out now, could she? Not after she'd agreed. They were all counting on her now. If she did not ring the bell what would happen to them? They would all be maimed or dead. The Doctor did not fool around, Sheraz had told them. He would not hesitate to make examples of them all. How could she let that happen to them?
And her husband? What would happen to him when he got back? Would he find out what she'd done? She would hardly admit it to herself, but she had no regrets on leaving him. An arranged marriage, there was little affection between them, and even less love. He could find himself another wife.
Sheraz got out of the car impatiently and came over to her. Of the five men in the car, only he was not her brother. Rather he was a "friend" of the family. An advisor. "What is wrong, stupid woman? Ring the bell. Do you want to stand out here all night?"
She shook her head. "I cannot."
"You must." he said angrily.
It was Sheraz who had set this all up. But it was Sheraz who had gotten her into this trouble in the first place. Sheraz and his private bookmakers who had encouraged her reckless brothers in their stupid gambling. Bets on football matches and horse races insane wagers which they never seemed to win. And it was Sheraz who had arranged for the loans with which to keep them gambling and losing as they sank deeper and deeper into debt. And the more they lost, the more they borrowed, until one day the loans suddenly stopped.
The debts were called in, but of course her family could not pay. Large, evil looking men came by to collect, and to harass her brothers. The way these men looked at her made her skin crawl, but what they threatened to do to her brothers was far worse.
Then one evening as she walked home, lost in worry about what to do, she became of a large black limousine creeping along the street beside her, the windows blacked out so she could not see inside. She quickened her pace, trying not to look at it because she was afraid of what she would see, but the limousine kept pace with her.
As she hurried across the street, the limousine suddenly shot in front of her, cutting her off and stopping right in her path. The door opened, and out came a man she recognized as one of the hoodlums harassing her family, the one who went by the name of Roddy.
He smiled menacingly at her. "Hello, Dhipa. On the way home are you?"
She stopped cold. Roddy was big, with a prizefighter's nose, dressed in a gangster's suit, blue and slightly shiny and cheap. She thought for a moment that they were going to kidnap her then and there, but Roddy just gestured for her to come closer.
"C'mere, love. I won't hurt you. A gentleman here wants to meet you is all. Just have a look at you. No harm in that, is there? Pretty little girl like yourself must get looked at plenty, eh? He wants to help you. Help your brother, know what I mean?"
She shook her head. But she did know what he meant.
"Come on." Roddy said. "You don't want your brothers messed up, do you love? Well this is the Doctor. He can help. He won't bite."
Cautiously she approached the car. She could not see through the smoked glass windows, but through the open passenger door she could see a man in the back seat of the limo. He wore a dark suit, dark glasses, and had a neatly trimmed beard flecked with gray, as was the thick hair at his temples. The inside of the limo was dark and cool and looked very inviting.
The bearded man took off his dark glasses and smiled at her. He seemed friendly. She liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He said, "How do you do, Dhipa. I hope we haven't upset you. My driver likes to play dramatic tricks like this. But allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Mabeuse. I am a friend of your family's. I'd like to be your friend as well."
She stared at him as if transfixed. He was obviously wealthy. Very wealthy. He was also involved with these men who had threatened to do serious harm to her brothers. He was evidently their boss. He was no friend of hers.
She suddenly turned and ran, full out, away from the limousine.
She heard Roddy swear behind her "Fucking Paki cunt! C'mere bitch!"
The voice of the Doctor cut him off. "Let her go, Roddy! I've seen enough. She'll do. I'll arrange things."
It was only days later that she found out what the Doctor had meant. Again Sheraz brought the news. The Doctor wished them no harm, he only wanted them pay their debt. However, he was a reasonable man.
If they didn't have the money he was willing to take Dhipa instead.
He was losing money on the deal, Sheraz told them, but he had no desire to hurt them, only to collect what was his.
On the other hand, if they did not accept his offer, very bad things would happen to them. The Doctor's men had told Sheraz this themselves, and the Doctor was a man of his word, Sheraz assured them. He would hurt them badly. Possibly kill them to set an example of what happened to debtors who refused to honor their loans. And he would get away with it. The Doctor had that kind of power and influence.
Sheraz, very much afraid himself that, as his clients, some of their guilt would rub off on him, urged them to make the deal.
What could she do. There was no choice.
She had sat silent in her own home while her brothers sat in the front room and made a big show of debating this offer. Even so, the debate didn't last long. All her life her brothers had treated her as their property, ordering her this way and that, choosing her friends, deciding what she could and couldn't do. Even now, with her life and her honor at stake, she had little doubt as to what her fate would be. The discussion was just to ease their consciences. They had decided long ago that she was their property and they would not hesitate now to sell her cheap to save their own miserable skins. Their concern, the arguments, were all for show.
Dhipa was not foolish. She was no longer a girl but a well developed woman with long black hair, dark eyes, and a body that caused men to stop and stare at her as she walked down the street, tall and proud despite the racial slurs and epithets she had hurled at her. She knew what would happen to her at the Doctor's, even if her brothers would not speak of it openly. But she supposed she had no choice. What was worth more: her self respect or her brothers lives?
There were some uncomfortable details, such as the fact that she had a husband, a very jealous husband who would not countenance the shame and disgrace this would bring to him. Luckily he was abroad right now, in Germany on business. It would not be difficult to convince him that Dhipa had been sent away after they had caught her with another man. They'd sent her back to Pakistan to be punished by her family and to avoid bringing any further shame on her husband. He would be shocked, angry, but he would accept it. Wives were often treated this way in their community, and brothers would naturally send an adulterous sister away to avoid a worse fate at her husband's hands.
In any case, it had to work. There was no other choice. If the husband protested too much, Sheraz assured them, the Doctor would shut his mouth.
So it was decided just like that. There was not much time, Sheraz told them. The Doctor was showing extraordinary mercy; they must take advantage of it immediately. Hasan, her youngest brother, wanted to take her over immediately. Kamil wanted to go to the police, but Nazir, the hot head, the second eldest called him a fool, and they began to shout. She hated these shouting matches. Bhazir sat by placidly, looking at her with his obscene eyes. There was no doubt in her mind what Bhazir would like to do with her if he ever got the chance.
Suddenly she was sick of the whole argument, sick of her brothers pretending to be concerned about her when all they had ever cared about was their own ass and their stupid family "honor". She was sick of this charade and of the grim prison that was her life. It was obvious to everyone that they had decided she was going. All her brothers were doing now was scrambling to make themselves look blameless in their own eyes.
She stood up, unnoticed in the quarrel, and went to her room. Her pride was up, and she decided that if she were going to be a whore, she would show the world what a whore she could be.
In her bedroom she gathered her things and showered, taking time to shave her entire body clean. She dried and powdered herself, and calmly arranged her hair atop her head to show off her graceful neck. She kept some special clothes hidden beneath her mattress, and she retrieved them now. She put on the expensive black silky knickers she had bought but never worn, and a black half-cup bra that left her nipples daringly exposed. She covered herself with her best blouse of a lovely lavender silk, and noticed with approval how her nipples were visible through the sheer fabric. She pulled on a pair of black stockings with elastic tops, and then a black miniskirt of kidskin leather, as soft as a baby's bottom. Then she sat down and did her face, wanting to look beautiful, but not cheap.
She put on her rings, the one for luck, the one for happiness, and the one for love. This one she looked at ruefully for a moment before sliding it down her finger. It hadn't done her much good up to this point in her life. She selected her black Italian pumps, the ones her brothers never allowed her to wear because they said they made her look like a whore. Well they couldn't object now, could they?
She looked at herself in the mirror and felt a thrill in the pit of her stomach. The woman who looked back at her was beautiful, proud and very sexy. In the mini skirt and soft blouse she felt more naked than dressed. She had never appeared like this in front of any man's eyes, not even her husband's. He no doubt would have been outraged and beaten her then and there. Now the thought that she would soon be showing herself like this to a stranger's eyes made her nervous and strangely excited.
Taking a small suitcase, she threw in her jewelry and makeup and a few of her best things. She looked at the picture on her dressing table showing her and her brothers standing together outside the flat. She looked at the girl standing between them in the photograph, with no chest, no shape, her body and hair covered in a heavy robe despite the springtime blossoms in the picture. She was the only one smiling.
She turned the picture face down on the dresser and turned to the closet.
