Behind the Green Veil Ch. 02

"What did he yell at you?" Jackson asked.

"He called my mother a whore," I said softly. "I told him to go eat shit." Jackson laughed and squeezed my hands affectionately, breaking the tension. Politely, he didn't ask me to explain any further. He just held my hands and looked deeply at me, his eyes searching into my soul.

When we got to the restaurant I was skeptical. It was a small hole-in-the-wall, but the smells coming out of the kitchen were promising. The owner was behind the small makeshift bar watching the news. They were giving details about Syria. We went over and joined him for a minute to get the latest. When the segment was over, he took us to a small table. There was one other table with patrons seated, a party of five. They looked like locals and talked vigorously in a language I did not understand. Their plates were empty, though. Another good sign, I hoped.

The owner came by and took our order, then we started to discuss the news we had just seen about Syria, Bahrain, Yemen, Libya, Tunisia, and the co-opted revolution in Egypt. It turned into a deeper discussion about the draw of Islamic fundamentalism just as the food came.

"Islamic fundamentalism appeals to middle eastern men who feel powerless and oppressed," I explained. "It provides for them a narrative that tells them that they are righteous, that they are loved in the eyes of God, and lets them believe that even if their life here on earth is lived mostly as a sacrifice to serving the will of God, that their afterlife will be all the sweeter for it."

"Ahh," he said. "There are parallels to the Nation of Islam here in the US. It appeals to many of us who have felt most oppressed by this country, especially to the brothers in prison."

"Did it ever appeal to you?" I asked him, having learned by this point that there was a very strong social consciousness in him.

"I confess at one time it did, when I was first learning to think critically about our experience in this system."

"But?" I interrupted him, sensing a lot more to the story.

"But my interest waned once I realized the intellectual fallacies in their ideology," he explained. "Although I respect the work they do in the prisons, in many ways they're closed off intellectually and can be just as dogmatic as the system they seek to transform."

We talked more about our intellectual journeys. Not about our academic intellectual journeys as we had earlier on the plane, but about our own personal political and intellectual trajectories, and it was one of those moments when we really saw eye to eye. I appreciated how well-read he was about the political struggles for human rights that different people faced all over the world, but I was also impressed by how free he felt to ask questions about things he didn't know. One of those questions was about the "cult of martyrdom" (as he put it) in many Islamic nations.

"If you really want to understand the cult of martyrdom that seems so pervasive in the Muslim world," I explained, "you need to realize that it is fueled by a large number of poor people trapped in miserable lives that they feel powerless to change. For many of them, the promise of the afterlife seems much better than this one. The sad thing," I continued, "is that there are many charlatans who exploit those feelings and try to convince these poor souls that blowing themselves up is a righteous pathway to experience the rapture of the afterlife."

He did not respond, just thought about what I was saying and looked at me intently.

"Let me just add that when you don't have tanks, when you don't have apache helicopter gunships, stealth bombers or attack drones, suicide bombing can easily be seen as the only option you may have for fighting back. I'm not saying I agree with it, just trying to help you understand where it comes from."

I was really scared at that point. I had never voiced such an honest opinion to an American on American soil. Even though I was pretty sure he would understand where I was coming from, American news just doesn't give any nuanced views about why such people do what they do, and that lack of good information had made it extremely difficult for me to have honest conversations about such matters with Americans.

My fears were overblown because he understood me perfectly, which led to a discussion about the wisdom of the non-violent strategy of the American Civil Rights movement. Not that people didn't want to defend themselves, but that letting the world see the government attack you as a peaceful protester is the only way to secure the moral high-ground.

We were so lost in conversation that another two-and-a-half hours had passed. I don't know what I ate but it was delicious. A lamb dish with brown rice, curried vegetables and homemade ginger tea which was potent and spicy on the tongue. Jackson had goat. While we talked we feasted, sharing our dishes with each other family style. I fed him directly off of my own fork and he did the same for me off of his. It was the closest we could get to sharing a kiss which made it all the more intimate every time he brought a forkful of food over and put it between my lips.

He looked at my lips hungrily every time he fed me, like he wanted to suck on them. I closed my mouth around his fork each time and sucked the food off slowly, licking my lips to make sure I had taken all he had to give me. The best part of it all was that I could lie to myself and say it was completely innocent and guilt free. Somewhere in a deep secluded part of my brain, however, I knew it wasn't. Luckily, that part of my brain was being totally shut out of all communications.

There was no alcohol this time – I think we were both too tired and drinking would have pushed us over the edge. We probably would have stayed and talked all night had the restaurant not been about to close. I don't know where we got the energy. It was almost 2 am! Logically we both should have long ago passed out from exhaustion.

I paid the bill and we walked out to hail a cab. The first few wouldn't stop even though they had no passengers in them. Then Jackson stepped away from me, telling me to stay where I was.

"Where are you going?" I asked. He moved to about 20 feet away, looking in the other direction.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "Just try and flag down a cab now with me over here."

I was confused but I followed his instructions. The next cab stopped. I opened the door and Jackson ran over and jumped in with me. I understood then. We didn't have to say anything about it, and he looked like it was no big deal, as if it was just a normal part of life. I told the cabbie to take us to the Hampton Inn at JFK airport and thought about all the lies I told to my teachers and my parents when I was growing up, never thinking twice about it, as if it was just a normal part of life. The cab driver was another man from my part of the world but I felt an ocean of distance between us at that moment. There was no way I that was going to ask where he was from or tell him where I was from.

We were silent for a moment as I pondered what had just happened and wondered if this driver would be ok. He looked like he was about to complain when Jackson first jumped into the car but seemed to be ignoring us once we started going. After a few minutes I was able to relax and went back to my conversation with Jackson.

He asked me about how close I was to being finished with my dissertation and I found out that he was only recently graduated and five years into his first academic job. He also asked me about my dream job, about where I wanted to be, and what impact I wanted to make. He then asked me about what kind of students I wanted to produce. No one had ever asked me that before, and it just gave me further insight into how important teaching must be to him to even think to ask me such a question. It all made me contemplate just how bloody cruel life can be sometimes, that we would met a never have a chance to explore this relationship further. A true wanker!

At about that time we pulled up to my hotel. The airline had put me up at the Hampton Inn at JFK off of Conduit Ave while Jackson was at the Fairfield Inn on Rockaway Boulevard. Jackson asked the cabbie if he would not mind waiting while he retrieved his bags from my room. We walked to my room both dreading saying goodbye. The tension was thick and we could both feel it. I felt a weight on my chest like someone was standing on it. When we got to my room he stopped me before I could put the keycard in the door then turned me around to face him.

"Do you love him?" he asked simply. "Is he good to you?"

I knew exactly what he meant. It was the topic we had avoided all day and all night, but the one that was staring us dead in the face now. If it wasn't for the diamond on my finger, I'd be kissing him deeply right then and asking him to come inside. We both knew it. "Yes and yes," I responded softly.

"Why do you sound so sad about it," he asked stepping closer to me, placing each of his hands on my waist. I watched his nostrils flare and I knew he was smelling me, taking in my scent. The look in his eyes hinted at the bad things he wanted to do to me. I reached for his firm arms again, partly to stop him from coming any closer, and partly to stop him from moving further away.

"I'm not sad for my engagement, I'm sad for us, for our situation. In another time, another place, another world, we could have..." I trailed off. Then I had one last good idea.

"What time is your flight in the morning," I asked as I let go of him and put the keycard into my room door.

"Let me see," he said, going over to retrieve his ticket out of his larger bag. "It's at 6:45" he said finally.

"Mine is at 6:30, but listen. I know we'll only get like an hour's sleep," I said, walking up next to him, "but would you like to have coffee in the morning before our flight? Are you willing to get to the airport a little earlier to give us a little more time to say goodbye?"

"I am," he said, "But how will I find you in the morning?"

"Take my cell number," I said, and he pulled out his phone and entered it in. He pressed talk to make sure he typed the number in correctly. My phone rang and I hit save.

"Good, and now you have my number as well." I wondered if that was a good idea. Up until that point I had purposefully not shared any of my contact information. The day we had spent together was magical but when it ended I felt it needed to be completely over. I did not think that there was any way that we could stay in contact pretending to be just friends. What we felt for each other was much stronger than that but since I was committed to Brian, there was nothing we could do about it. A clean break was best and I had been pretty clear letting him know that we had spent a lovely day together but that at the end of it we would be saying goodbye. Now what had I done but left the door open to future anguish and hurt?

"So I guess this is good night, but not quite goodbye?" he asked while I was lost in thought and possible regret.

"Yes, not goodbye," I replied, but neither of us moved. I looked deeply into his eyes then my own eyes betrayed me and looked down at his lips. They were full, inviting and calling to me. I feared he would see the desire on my face. I quickly tried to compose myself.

"Good night Orkideh," he said.

"Good night, Jackson," I replied, and moved to do the European thing and kiss him on each cheek. After the second kiss he held me close and did not let me go. I instinctively held onto him and pressed my body into his, wanting full body contact. He held me like this for a while, one hand snaking through my hair to hold my face against his chest. He was bent over so he could hold his cheek next to mine, then he started peppering the side of my face with small kisses. I buried my face in his neck and again took in his smell, and tried to resist opening my mouth to fully taste his skin.

I rubbed my face along the stubble on his chin, trying to suppress thoughts of other places where my skin was more sensitive that I would love his face scratching against me. Then I felt the stirring of his erection pressing against my stomach and my body reacted immediately, pressing my pelvis into him to let him know the attraction was mutual. My tongue snuck out just to take the slightest taste of his neck. It was followed by my teeth as I lightly scrapped them against him, my hunger was building fast.

I don't know who turned their head first because it happened so quickly, but suddenly his lips were on mine, giving me gentle chaste kisses, just little pecks. He would give me one then go back to nuzzling his face against my cheek but inevitably he'd move back in to give me one more. It was as if he couldn't stop. I gave as good as I got as my lips greeted his eagerly, aware that I was playing a dangerous game with myself. He was trying so hard to be polite but I could tell from his now raging stiffness digging into my stomach that he wanted to devour me and so help me God I wanted to let him. Just having that thought seemed to open the flood gates. I don't know whose mouth opened first, it just may have been mine, but in a split second his tongue was in my mouth and mine was in his.

I made a deal with myself right there and then. I had crossed a line but this would be it. This kiss was wrong but I would take it, I would take this one kiss and put everything I had into it, and take the memory of it with me for the rest of my life. Then I would send him to his hotel.

We kissed like the world was coming to an end, like our lives depended on it. It was wet, urgent, even sloppy at times and neither of us cared. He reached down to grab my ass and pulled me tighter against his hardness. I was surprised to find myself pressing my body into him forcefully and wrapping one of my legs around him, hoping to get his erection to press into me below my stomach. As if sensing what I wanted, Jackson's hands came under my ass and began lifting me over his hardness.

I tried to fight my other leg from shamelessly coming up to wrap around his waist and lost that particular battle. While mounting him, I pushed my center down onto his hardness. Feeling his strong, unbridled desire for me was such a turn-on as I had been feeling him trying to suppress it all day. He was as hard as a steel rod, seemingly supporting my entire weight on his erection. I felt my sex twitch thinking about how good his hardness would feel inside of me and I tried desperately to rush those thoughts from my mind, afraid of where they might take me.

I snaked my fingers into his hair as our kiss deepened, raking nails across his scalp, trying to pull his tongue deeper into my mouth. I could feel my wetness oozing out of me into my panties and I was afraid that if we kept this up he might soon smell me. A secret part of me wanted him to smell my sex, wanted him to know that the intense desire and arousal was mutual. I was scandalized by my wanton behavior but I couldn't stop myself. I wanted this beautiful man to know how much I cared about him, how much I appreciated him, and how special this day with him had been. We were dry humping by that point, and I knew we had about 45 seconds before we reached the point of no return and wound up naked on the bed behind me. So reluctantly, I broke the kiss and climbed down off of him.

I hoped I hadn't made a fatal mistake. I hoped that one long kiss was enough. I pushed at his chest to let him know he should go and he didn't fight me. His chest was heaving and as I looked him in the eye I saw a fiery look that almost melted me, half scared me. His eyes spoke of unmentionable things he wanted to do to me. I could see that the passion was boiling over in him and for a second I feared that he was about to rip my clothes off and take me by force.

Part of me hoped that he would, just to take the decision out of my hands. It was one of those unspeakable truths that I was appalled to find myself thinking. For so many years so many countless women have been fighting for a woman's right to decide what she does with her body and here I was fantasizing about being fucked against my will. Ever the consummate gentleman, Jackson didn't try to press things. He could have... easily. Even though my mind was still exercising enough control to say no, my body was ready to say yes to him in every way, and he knew it. He needed only touch me down there to learn that my body was his for the taking. But he would never take advantage of me like that, and that was part of his appeal.

"I'll call you in the morning, Orkideh," he said, grabbing his luggage. He rolled it out the door and with that he was gone.

As soon as he left I headed straight for the loo to take a shower, undressing along the way. As soon as my pants were off I could smell myself, the long hours since my last bathing added to the pungency. It had been roughly 24 hours since I left Malaysia, but my flight left so early that I showered the night before. With more than 30 hours since I had a bath, part of me was glad that I had not ended up in bed with Jackson – I would have been far too self conscious. When I took off my panties the smell was even stronger. They were soaked in my musky juices.

It had been a long day and I was by that point both emotionally and physically exhausted, so the bed should have been calling to me much more powerfully than the need to get clean. Then I realized that cleanliness was not what I was after at all. I thought back to my childhood. When I was growing up, we had very little privacy in my house. The shower was the place where girls went to escape into an intimate fantasy. Shower hoses committed the sins that our fingers were not allowed to. I had long since grown out of the taboo of not being able to touch my own body but even now as a 30 year-old woman who has lived on her own for nearly 8 years, I still had to get into the shower to do it. Oh boy did I need a shower at that moment.

I got the water as hot as possible. There was no pretense of soap. My fingers went straight to my folds, dipping into my moisture and bringing the stickiness up over my clitoris which I then rubbed furiously. I was so mentally and emotionally wound up that the buildup was extremely quick. I thought about the heat of our kiss and turgid stiffness between his legs that fought so urgently to get out of his pants and into mine. I imagined that I had not broken the kiss and instead had invited him to stay. In my fantasy he took my body forcefully, lost in his passion as he fucked me senseless. The pleasure was so intense that my legs couldn't hold me. They were trembling as I got close. I sank down into the tub as the waves of pleasure overtook me, my entire body convulsing.

As I came down from my orgasm, I wondered if I could now put the memory of Jackson behind me, or if my desire for him would nag at me for the rest of my life.

--------------- Jackson ---------------

I was surprised to find the cab still waiting for me. I guess a sure fare is worth sticking around for, and he knew it would be a good one from the 7 miles or so we needed to go to get to my hotel. I slumped into the back of the cab and closed my eyes, trying to hold onto the memories of the last 10 minutes Orkideh and I had shared together. I tried to hold onto her smell, the feel of her lips against mine, the taste of her tongue and the taste of her mouth. Her body was slight in my arms, and I thought back to how she had pressed her lower half into me when she felt my erection. I was still painfully hard, as hard as I had been when we were kissing. I highly doubted that it would go down any time soon.

A heavy despair crept in under the intensity of my arousal, realizing that the window of opportunity for anything to happen between us had basically closed. She was happy with her fiancé and she didn't want to cheat on him. Our coffee date in the morning would be difficult at best. I debated whether I should even go or just let that kiss be our last interaction. Why torture myself any more? What we had was nice. It was a beautiful day but it was over. There was no need to drag out the inevitable, I reasoned. As the cab pulled up in front of my hotel, my resolve was set. I would send her a text message in the morning thanking her for a lovely day and bid her adieu.