Darejani

This story takes a while to get to the sexual content. It's a slow burn to begin so if that's not your thing, please read something else. For those of you who like a good set up, please enjoy.

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Hi. My name is Mickey, as in Mantle. Dad was a Bronx guy and huge Yankees fan, and he convinced my mom to name me after his favorite player back in 1962. It wasn't unusual; a lot of boys were named for the great MM back then. Unfortunately, I wasn't a jock growing up, just a mediocre athlete at best, so I took a lot of (mostly) good natured grief over my name versus my ability. No big deal. I still played softball and football growing up, playing just for the fun of it.

Dad may have grown up in the Bronx, but I grew up in Queens, not far from Shea Stadium, which we could see from our apartment window. We also had views of LaGuardia Airport and the Manhattan skyline. If I still had that apartment, it would be worth a fortune now. Queens was a great place to grow up in the 60s and 70s. We were middle class in a mostly Jewish-Italian-Irish-German neighborhood, with smatterings of other ethnic groups, like Chinese, Greek, Latins. Queens was, and still is, the ultimate American melting pot. My family was Jewish, as were most, but certainly not all, my friends.

My high school was a melting pot itself. Roughly a third white, a third black or Hispanic and a third everything else. In September of 1979, I was a senior and starting to apply to colleges. That was when I first met Darejani.

She was my age, 18, and she just transferred to our school after her parents fled Iran in the wake of the Islamic revolution there. That was traumatic enough for her. Then the "students" there took over the American Embassy on November 4th and took the staff there hostage. And that made Darejani a target for a lot of shit from a lot of idiots.

I didn't know her really when she first transferred to our school. After all, I was a senior with friends I knew for years, and she was a new student who knew no one, so there wasn't much socializing. She mostly kept to herself and being from a much more conservative culture, she didn't make many friends at first. When I did notice her in the halls, I certainly noticed how beautiful she was. Petite, with a matching body, about 5'3", a lovely dark complexion, fine features and jet black hair. But I didn't really know her to start.

That changed one afternoon in early November, maybe a week after the hostage crisis began. I was walking down the main corridor near some lockers when I saw Darejani trying to get to her locker. I say trying, because these three guys and one girl, all who had reputations for being jerks and bad news, were blocking her. They were taunting her, calling her names I won't repeat and threatening to do terrible things to her. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she tried to get past them. The worst part was there was a teacher standing maybe 15 feet away, ignoring the way those four assholes were tormenting this small girl.

I was on a spot here, at least in my own mind. The way I was raised, I couldn't just let this poor girl be bullied like this. She had nothing to do with the nightmare in Tehran. I didn't relish the idea of an ass whipping, but someone had to do something, and the teacher wasn't going to do it.

Summoning up my courage, what little there was, I went over to the confrontation and asked Darejani "Hi, do you need some help getting something from your locker?" Her eyes, big and dark, looked both terrified and grateful at the same time.

"I, uh, I need my purse so I can go home" she said in heavily accented English.

I just stepped into the group of tormenters, as they moved aside grudgingly. I think if that teacher hadn't been there, it wouldn't have gone so favorably for me. Darejani got into her locker and got her purse and I walked with her to the exit of the school.

Outside, I introduced myself and asked if she needed help getting home.

"No, thank you, I can get home by myself." She barely made eye contact with me.

"Listen, Darejani....do you mind if I just call you Dar?"

She nodded her head to say it was ok with her.

"Dar, those guys are jerks, cruel and dumb, but none of them would ever hit a girl. Except maybe their girlfriend. But here in public, where it would get around? No way. Me, maybe. But not you. Not even Tina, the she-wolf they were with."

Dar was quiet. She was so shy, it was painful.

"Well, I'm glad I was able to help you. Be safe going home. And remember, most of us aren't like those fools. It's a tough time now, but things get better." And I turned to go on my way.

"Mickey? May I ask you something?"

"Sure, anything, I guess."

"Why? Why did you help me? We don't know each other. Iranians are hated here. Why did you stop to help me?"

She really wanted to know. I could see it in her eyes. It really mattered to her. "I think they just pissed me off. I don't like bullies in general, and four on one, and the one is a young girl....it just made me angry. I didn't want to fight them, it's not like I would have had a chance if I did, but some things are just wrong. And that teacher, Mrs. Wahl, was the worst. Anyway, I would have done it for anyone in that spot. As I said, some things are just wrong. My parents would have expected me to say something. It's the way I was raised."

Her eyes were so grateful now. I noticed for the first time how really beautiful she was. "Thank you, Mickey. Very much. Bye." And she almost scurried off, like she was ashamed. And that hurt my heart, the way she had been made to feel so unsafe and humiliated.

Over the course of the school year, Darejani and I would say hi, and sometimes she'd even give me a shy smile, which gradually became more friendly. I noticed she even developed a few friends, which I was glad to see. She really was a very pretty girl with a lovely face. I even thought about asking her out, but I just couldn't muster up the nerve to ask.

I worked on the school paper, reporting the kind of stories you find in school papers, school events, sports, neighborhood happenings (we were in a semi-urban environment). It wasn't my goal for a career, but I enjoyed it and it looked good on my college applications. One day in March, Darejani came in and told the editor she was looking to work on the paper. He gave her some basic tasks and she did them perfectly. So he assigned her to me to train her as a novice reporter.

"Hey, Dar. It's good to see you."

"Hi Mickey. You as well. You must be getting excited to be graduating soon. Do you know what college you're going to?"

"I'm going to Albany. And yes, I'm very excited. So you want to report for our little paper here?"

"Yes, I think I'd like to try. I don't know if it is something I want as a career; I don't really know what I want to do yet If I can even have a career. But it gets me out of my house for a few extra hours."

I wondered what that meant and I asked her. Dar looked upset. "My father. He's so strict with me! My brother Mehdi can do anything he wants, but I have to go home right after school every day. I can only have a girlfriend come over if my mother is home and we have to stay in the same room so she can hear what we talk about. I'm proud to be Muslim, but women are often treated terribly. It was much better in Iran under the Shah, but my father is very traditional." She looked so sad.

"Do you mind if I ask why you left Iran?"

"My father was a mid level deputy minister under the Shah, so we were targets of the radicals." She said the word 'radicals' like she was spitting out poison. "He would have been killed had we stayed. He started as an English teacher, that's how I learned to speak it fluently."

I really liked her, and I wanted to ask her out. So I scrunched up my courage and just asked "Dar, would you like to go to a movie or get a burger with me sometime? Maybe Friday night?"

She looked crestfallen. "Mickey, I would love to. But my father would never allow it. I can't even go out with a Muslim boy unless there is a chaperone, a male relative, and absolutely no privacy. You are Jewish, yes? He would never permit it. If I even tried to see you alone after school and he found out, he would pull me out of school and just keep me home until he could marry me off to someone he approves of. I'm going to have to marry someone he chooses for me, whether I like him or not. I'll have no say in it." She was so sad and again, my heart hurt for her. I took her hand, and Dar, at first, almost pulled it away, but she let me hold it. "I really wish we could go out, Mickey. But I can't, I just can't." She jumped up and burst out of the office, crying, and I felt like I had hurt her, so I ran after her.

She was sitting down in the corridor, crying softly, for the life she couldn't have. I slid down the wall so I sat next to her.

"Dar, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Mickey, you didn't hurt me. You've been nicer to me since I've been here than anyone else, by far. So few people even try to talk to me. The Iranian terrorist girl."

"Dar, people who say that are fools. I think you're really sweet. And so pretty. May I just kiss you? I know it can't go any further, but I would love to kiss you. Just once."

She looked at me. That long, straight, thick and silky black hair framing her thin, strong face. She didn't have to say anything. I leaned to her and our lips met, and it was like a fire inside me. One second became three, and then seven, and then twelve, and our kiss just kept going in the silent hall. Our arms wrapped around each other and still we kept the kiss going. It was the best kiss I ever had, and it was with a girl who'd never been kissed before.

Soon, eventually, we had to let it go. It was both the best and saddest thing I'd ever done, better than the sex I had with other girls. Well, not the actual sex itself. It was the promise in the kiss, what it could have led to if our stars had aligned the right way. It killed me not to be able to share more with her. "Dar, I think that was the best kiss I've ever shared with a girl."

"I don't have anything to compare it to, but I think I know what you mean." We kissed once more, a shorter, sweet kiss. She leaned her head on my shoulder and we just sat quietly like that for a long time. "Mickey, I want to see you. That's why I asked to work on the paper, to be near you and talk to you. And now I want to kiss you more, many more times, But I can only see you after school. I can't meet you at night. I can't meet you on the weekend. My father is always around when he's not working. He watches over me all the time. I don't want to promise you anything beyond just seeing you after school, because I can't. I can't even give you my phone number, because you cannot call me. Ever."

I had to be out of my mind. Having a girlfriend you can't go to a movie or to dinner with, or hang out with others. But I wanted to be around her, as often as she could manage. There was just something so wonderful about her, beyond her beauty. "OK, Dar. Whatever you can offer, I'll take. I really like you a lot." I knew I loved her, deep inside, but I couldn't say that to her, not yet. "But I'll have to quit the paper, or we won't have any time together. It's ok, I don't want to be a journalist. And I want to get to know you. And I want to kiss you too, every chance we can."

Dar took my hand. "You also have to know, I can't have sex with you. My father....he's a violent man. If he found out, he'd beat me. He'd even have my brother beat me. Just seeing you will be dangerous. But I want to take that risk."

So I quit working on the paper the next day and Dar and I spent most afternoons together. We mostly went to a nearby park as the weather got nicer, or we sat in my car. We occasionally went to get something to eat. And we kissed. A lot. She was the best kisser I ever knew. This shy, quiet, sweet girl had so much passion in her. She even let me feel her breasts. But we went no further. It was hard on me, literally. I suffered a lot from blue balls, but it was worth it to get to know Darejani. We talked about all sorts of things. I learned about the Persian culture and some of the language. She told me about her family, how her father had been a sweet loving man until they fled Iran. She missed that father and feared the father she had now. I told her of my family, but she didn't meet them. She couldn't, because she couldn't go out at night or on the weekend. It was wonderful and frustrating at the same time.

I didn't date anyone else the rest of the year, and I skipped my prom. I couldn't take Dar, and it would have been false to myself to be with someone else and to whoever I took because my heart wanted to be with Dar. And so it went, all through the rest of the school year. We saw each other for a couple of hours most afternoons, but that was it. And we were running out of time. Her family was going to spend the entire summer in Michigan with her uncle. We only had until the end of the school year.

Our last day together, just before my graduation, was a tough, horrible day. We sat on a bench in our park and spent the time mostly crying. "We're never going to see each other again, Mickey. Not after today. You're going away to school before I come home. You'll meet girls and forget about me."

"Darejani, I could never forget you. Dar.....I love you." We hadn't said that before. I think we both were afraid to admit it, because it would make the inevitable separation that much worse. But I had to put it out there.

"Oh Mickey" she cried, falling into my embrace. "I love you too. I've loved you since that day you came to my rescue. I'll never know love like you again. I may never love anyone again. My father will marry me off to some stranger, who may be decent or a monster, and I have no say in it. My mother won't be allowed to say anything. Only him, and my fool of a brother. But you'll fall in love a few times and marry a woman you love and forget about me."

"I will never forget about you. Never. I promise, Dar. I promise." We kissed one last time, one last incredible time. And my heart broke as I watched her walk away for the last time. She graduated with me, but I couldn't go up to her. We could only see each other from a distance. I wanted to introduce her to my family, but no way, not with her father there.

Summer came and I worked, and then went off to college in the Fall. Darejani gradually became a distant memory and I met women and dated, had sex with some and not with others, got my degree in political science and went to work in the office of a major magazine, not as a reporter but as a production assistant. Life went on. But I never forgot Darejani. not completely.

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A word about the company I work for.

They have a mentoring program. New employees are matched with others who've been there for a few years, usually 2-5, to work closely together for the first few weeks, and that mentor then oversees the new hires work for their probationary period. I was matched with Henry, whom became a good friend. It was also fortuitous because he was a real up and comer, so as he rose in the company, so did I. Not that I wasn't deserving of promotions. I did good work, if I say so myself.

Two years went by, and I was seriously involved with Jan, a sweet, cute blond I met on a fix up by a mutual friend. I thought she might be "the one", and a few more months together would decide it. We weren't living together; each of us had our own apartments in Manhattan (in the 80s it was still affordable) but we saw each other 5 nights a week usually.

September. I was busy at my desk in my tiny office (hey, I had my own office!) when I got a call from HR to come upstairs. After waiting about 10 minutes in the office, Jay Perkins called me in. We knew each other in a casual manner, since we started at the same time.

"Mickey, how's it going?"

"Same old thing, Jay. Still working, since I haven't struck it rich."

"Yeah. I hear you." He buzzed for his assistant. "It's mentor time, and you're selected to mentor a new hire. You were selected because you do good work and show leadership. So let me introduce you to Patricia."

I stood up and shook hands with a very nice young woman, polite but reserved. We were given a basic intro to each other and then sent down the hall for a general orientation for the dozen or so new employees and their mentors. Boring for me, but necessary.

I took a seat next to Patty, as she asked to be called, in the large conference room. As everyone settled in, I noticed down the table and across a familiar face. Something froze inside me. My god... Dar? Darejani?

I wasn't 100% sure until she looked my way and her eyes went huge. Those eyes alone told me it was her. It was her. Older. Make up done right. That gorgeous face and lustrous hair. Everything came rushing back, every emotion and desire. The head of HR spoke for about a half hour, but I didn't hear any of it. I don't know if Dar did either.

I wrote a short note on my pad of legal paper. Simply "Call me at extension 2588 when you get a few minutes. Please?" When the meeting broke, Darejani was headed out with her mentor, a woman I knew named Charlotte and I managed to slip my note into Dar's hand, and when I did, that same electric feeling shot through me, and it had to do the same with her. She looked at me with those eyes I could drown in, eyes that were smiling with her lips, and we headed our separate ways.

I worked with Patty, showing her around the offices, explaining basic responsibilities and so on, but my mind wouldn't leave Dar. Patty was in my office when my phone rang and my heart leaped in my chest. I picked it up before that first ring stopped and said "Hello? Mickey Gold."

"Hey baby." It was Jan. I never had been disappointed to hear her voice before, but I was now.

"Hey sweetheart. Can I call you later? I have a new employee I'm training here."

"Male or female? Is she prettier than I am?" Jan asked jokingly. She really wasn't worried. Until this morning, she had nothing to be worried about.

"Not a chance. You know better. I'll call you later. Love you."

I got off the phone and shrugged at Patty. "Girlfriend" I said simply.

"Really. I wouldn't have guessed." Not mean, but humorous. I liked that. I knew we'd get along fine.

20 minutes later, I was showing Patty how we set up appointments on the computer when the phone rang and I just answered absentmindedly "Mickey Gold."

"Hi Mickey Gold. It's Dar. You know you're the only person to call me that? I like it, always did, but only from you."

Hearing her voice was another lightening bolt to my brain. "Hey. How are you? It's so great to hear your voice. I can't believe it's you, Dar. How are you?

"I'm good, very good. I also can't believe it's you. Are you well? Are you married?"

"Well, yes. Married, no. But involved. What about you, are you married" I asked with a small knot in my gut.

"No, not married. Very single still."

"Your father didn't marry you off?"

"He had a heart attack before he could. I was miserable for two years, unable to work or date or anything. Then he died and my brother Medi tried to take over. But he's weak, and my mother wouldn't have it. She took off her hijab the day of my fathers funeral, and she's living her life. And she's letting me live mine."

"Are you free after work? Can we meet for a drink?"

"I don't drink, but I'll meet you. Where?"

I told her about this bar nearby, not the one that was the regular haunt of our department. I wanted a little privacy. I told her we'd meet at 6 and got off the phone.

"Now that was not your girlfriend." Patty quipped from her chair. She was sharp. I'd have to watch out around her.