For Kamran Mujahid the sense of loneliness had grown significantly less ever since Ghazala had entered his life. For half a dozen years prior to that meeting, he had been oddly guilt-ridden that his wife of twenty years, Ufra, had left the earthy abode on account of an incurable degenerative disease, while he himself had remained physically healthy. Just over forty years old, when his wife had passed away, Kamran was still quite a while from turning fifty and would have looked even younger had the death not affected him so badly.
His son, Azam, had mourned his mother also, but had learned to accept that such loss was part of life. Now twenty five, he had realized that life had to move on, notably for his father who appeared to be aging very fast. He thanked the day that his father crossed paths with Ghazala, herself a young widow, not yet forty.
Not everything, however, was turning out to plan. Added factors coming into play were threatening to disturb just created relationships, establish completely new ones, and breach societal taboos. For Kamran, Azam, Ghazala, and her daughter Naheed the way forward was both straightforward and yet incredibly complicated.
II
"Hi, my name is Ghazala Hanif, and I am the office manager for the company," the very attractive thirty-something lady addressed Kamran, "I am at your disposal for any information you need on personnel and office matters."
Kamran, who had been down in the dumps for years, was resuming a full workload at the appliance making factory, which had been established decades ago by his grandfather and had been run lately by Azam. His son's insistence to come back and meet his new employee was a key factor. Ghazala had been hired a few months earlier as the business had grown significantly since the son had taken charge and there was need for professional management, rather than the family owner approach so common in the country. While Azam had been impressed by the experience and educational certificates she had presented, his interest had been piqued by the fact that she was young enough to be a classy face in the office, but also old enough to potentially be worth introducing to his dad.
Ghazala had a fantastic sense of clothing and often alternated smart Pakistani dresses with sharp Western wear. One day, while she had dressed casually in jeans, jacket and a fashionable top, the two had gone to visit a client and then stopped to have lunch at a fancy restaurant. He was surprised that the manager, who had known him for years, asked the waiters to prepare a special table for Mr. and Mrs. Mujahid, given that she looked no more than twenty-five. Azam sensed that Ghazala was pleased at being considered a mid-twenties person. She had playfully acted the part of new wife by frequently placing her hand on his, whispering sweet nothings, and pulling his arm around her waist as they left the place. He played along happy with having a babe on his arm, even though she was a dozen years older.
Azam had raved on about Ghazala to his father, who finally figured that going back to work was the best option. Kamran moved back into the main office, the one right next to Ghazala's. Azam relocated himself to the Sales division, where he had hired three rather attractive interns from the nearby university's electrical engineering program. One he had already fucked a few times, another had let him go to second base and kiss her mouth and tits on their last date, while the third had maintained a distance. She was getting close to the end of the program and he wondered if the offer of a permanent job would help in lowering her pants or if he was better off cutting his losses and letting her be for the remaining few weeks. A new set of interns would be available soon in any case.
"Mrs. Hanif, I am Kamran Mujahid. It is indeed a pleasure meeting you, my son has said so many positive things about you that I felt I should see how you do everything," he had gladly taken the hand she had offered. Shaking hands was not common among opposite sexes and particularly for people around their age. He really appreciated her next comment that she preferred to be called Ghazala, and immediately gave her permit to address him as Kamran rather than boss, sir, Kamran Sahib, or even Mr. Mujahid.
Ghazala had impressed him even more than what his son had said. She had really tightened processes at the business; absenteeism, time wasting and other bad habits had all but vanished. Perhaps this was because most of the male staff, constituting 90% of the total employee pool, definitely wanted to take a daily look at the very attractive office manager, even if they could not get within three feet of her. Noting her superb sense of dress and open manner he hesitatingly asked one day if she would join him for lunch at his golf club. After the usual half-no's, she had agreed to go along. In the few months since then, they had accompanied each other to numerous lunches, dinners and events outside the office.
Now Kamran was marrying Ghazala. After a not-so-subtle set of hints from Azam, not to mention tugs on his own heart strings, and surprisingly even the apparition of his dead wife, Ufra, urging him to remarry in a very vivid dream, Kamran had popped the question. Ghazala had asked for a week off work to consider. Then she had shown up on the eighth day with her resignation in her left hand which deflated him immediately. He was cheered to no end, however, when the right hand displayed a box with an engagement ring for him. A full on kiss on Kamran's mouth, with Azam still in the room, sealed the deal in a magnificent manner. Kamran and Azam could see that Ghazala was going to change their lives for the better, but a lot more lay ahead then they could ever imagine.
III
"May I present the light of my life," Ghazala was bubbling with excitement, "this is my daughter Naheed, but we all call her Cookie, she has just finished her sophomore year at Scripps College in California and is here for the wedding." The Mujahids were visiting just prior to the wedding ceremonies.
If Ghazala represented elegance just as the Empire State Building decorates the New York skyline, then Cookie was startlingly striking and could be considered the Burj Dubai, putting all the rest in a poorer shade. She was just past twenty, but with facility to look much older or younger as needed by the moment. Mother and daughter had often been mistaken for sisters by those who did not know the family. From the picture of her father in their living room, Azam surmised that he had been very handsome. His life had been cut short in a traffic accident. Her father had been a senior financial consultant and had ensured that the family did not want for money. It was apparent that the parents had married quite early since both came from feudal landowner backgrounds. Ghazala had taken the job because Cookie was concerned that her being alone at home was counter-productive. In fact she had routinely given away most of her salary to various charities since joining the company.
"It's okay, brother dearest," Cookie sweetly addressed Azam as she embraced him tightly and whispered into his ear, "I tend to have this effect on many guys!" Azam had been dumbstruck by her beauty and had been unable to greet her with any proper coherence, barely managing a weak "hi" when the initial introduction was made. She was so different than anything he could have imagined. Instead of the expected shalwar kameez, Cookie was wearing a studded tight black jacket over a sheer blouse, jeans and high black boots, the total effect of which was stupefying. The proximity of her body sent electrical impulses to his nether regions and he had to fight hard to will his cock from delivering a full on salute. In his life he had not seen a prettier young lady and here was his sister to be, a babe by any definition.
"And dad, I am so happy that you are making mom's life full again," she had broken off from Azam, put her arms around Kamran and kissed him on the cheek.
"C'mon let me show you the house and my room," Cookie grabbed Azam by the hand and led him all over the place. Kamran and Ghazala shooed them off and he went willingly.
The rest of the house was done in less than five minutes, but she then invited Azam up to her room for the better part of an hour discussing their likes and dislikes. He sat on her sofa-bed, while she simply plopped on the floor and leaned on a wall across from him. Azam was impressed by the extensive range of books on shelves in every corner, but his focus was on the babe in front of him.
Cookie jumped up after a while, joining him on the sofa-bed with a bunch of photo albums detailing her entire life. Their legs came into direct contact and her predilection of taking his hand often to place on a particular picture meant they were constantly touching. She had started from her early years and he noticed how attractive she had become over time. The pictures from Scripps were amazing, since she was often dressed in the local way, with shorts, skirts, tight jeans and so on. His eyes riveted on one set from her recent holiday in Palm Springs, where she was wearing a very sexy bikini and appeared to be part of a large spring break crowd. Azam recalled his own time at Duke and appreciated that she was not a "hijabi" type. There were already too many of those appearing on Western campuses and elsewhere.
"Oh you like those pictures, don't you, naughty, naughty!" Cookie acted miffed, "you are not supposed to have suggestive thoughts about your "sister" and get turned on young Mr. Mujahid!"
"I am sorry, that is not the case Cookie, I mean sis," Azam stammered, having found some of his voice and now able to respond properly, "but you do look amazingly attractive in the picture and I was recalling my own days in college.
"Thanks and in that case, can I have your opinion on something," she said and ran off to the washroom holding a package she had retrieved from the cabinet. A few minutes later she stepped out wearing a stunningly suggestive one-piece swimsuit that covered less than half her boobs due to its deep cleavage, exposed her belly button, and was nearly backless.
"Do I look fat in this thing?" she asked Azam as his jaw dropped because of the incredible sight, "my cousin Sidra thinks I do." He noted that there was not an extra ounce of extra flesh on her anywhere as she twirled about a couple of times, letting him see her slightly covered form from every side.
"Absolutely not, you look stunningly pretty and superbly fit," he stammered, his eyes fixed on her more than half-bared body.
"Your assessment is true I guess since there seems to be a vote of confidence from the rise I can so clearly see," she suddenly swatted at his midsection, causing Azam's nearly erect cock to sting mightily.
