The Awakening of Nympho Jasmeet

## The Sun Rises Over Old Cairo City

The natural rays of light silence the faux neon of the nightlife. But for all the darkness the light touches, the smoggy haze infects the city all the way down into the pristine tubes of the undercity. No matter what, it seeps into people's skin and their lungs and their eyes.

It infects everyone at some point, incubating their darkest fantasy that grows like mold in the mind.

The darkness of the surface calls to the sinners to come into the neon light.

And Jasmeet feels that dark fantasy, that burst of desire, calling to her in the city above, for the first time.

---

Her father, Ramesh, takes her to the surface to buy parts for vintage cars he collects.

"You are eighteen now," he says as he hits the buttons in the white surface elevator, "And you will come to the surface at some point. If you are to be in it, I want to teach you about it so that you are ready."

"Ready for what papa?" Jasmeet asks.

"For the real world."

The elevator reaches the surface and stops. Jasmeet tastes petrol and dust. Ramesh takes a mask off of the wall and gives it to her. She puts it on over her thick hijab that hides her black hair. She sucks in to make a seal. Ramesh does the same.

As the doors open, Jasmeet's eyes open just as wide and take in the neon lights of the surface street in a back alley. He takes her by the hand and drags her out into the dusty street.

Flashing delivery drones buzz overhead.

Advertisements displayed on large walls and buildings above show new HUD visors, the latest versions.

The street is teeming with people crawling in all directions.

And she gasps at how some of the women dress.

No head scarfs.

Off the shoulder jackets.

Bleached blonde hair with neon extensions.

Jasmeet has to be pulled along by her father. She's excited about seeing a new world that was always sealed off from her. Her mother always told her nightmarish stories of the crime world on the surface.

*They will kidnap you and take you away the second you are not paying attention,* Jasmeet remembers hearing from her mother.

She always faked being scared, but she hid her excitement for it well.

Something about being taken by a group of men twisted her insides in a good kind of way.

That twisted excitement and intrigue unraveled inside her the moment she saw the lingerie shop with its flashing advertisements of AI generated women, clad in some of the most erotic garments she'd never imagined.

The images change over to fetish ware and Jasmeet feels herself blushing.

The women look bound, helpless, stuffed with plugs and gags.

An advertisement flashes over the women.

*Come in for an experience you can't get anywhere else.*

She let go of her fathers hand.

And she feels it awaken inside of her.

"Jasmeet!" yells her father over the sounds of motors and conversations on the street.

She jumps as her father comes to her, then looks at the shop, then back to her.

Jasmeet feels a sense of shame but cannot help the overwhelming feeling now bursting inside of her.

"Jasmeet, you must listen to me. There are many things on the surface that are distracting, dangerous, and meant to con you. Your mother may have scared you about stories of crime and danger. Yes, those are true. But the true danger is in what people may take from you. You are innocent. And you must protect that innocence at all cost. But you must also know the danger and be able to recognize it. Understood?" he says.

Jasmeet nods even though she doesn't listen at all. She can barely keep her eyes on her father as she speaks, wanting nothing more than to go into the shop and explore.

But he takes her by the hand and drags her in the direction of the parts shop.

Ramesh begins to point out shops, different kinds of people, and different real world dangers that she will face.

Jasmeet listens but remembers none of it.

But she remembers the way back to the shop.

---

## High School is Over

Days later, she completes her last final and summer school for college courses will begin. In the white tube of her Agrahara style home several levels down, Jasmeet's mother, Vihaan, prepares Chana masala and butter-brushed naan.

The smell is comforting to Jasmeet as she looks down over her new course work for college, but it does little to settle the sexual fantasies swirling in her mind. She's still in her school uniform of a black sweater over a short pleated skirt. The feeling from the surface mixes with her wanting to wear the uniform despite the school relaxing the dress code over the last few days. She doesn't understand it. What she does understand is the burnout in her brain from the finals she just went through. But her mother doesn't understand her protests about burn out. Vihaan dismisses it.

Just like everything else Jasmeet feels.

"I want you to go to the pre-orientation at the college," she says.

"*Amba*, it's optional. And it's just a bunch of stuff that's in the brochure. It's a commercial. I don't want to go."

Vihaan snaps at Jasmeet.

"No, you will go. No arguing. Now eat. You will be late," she says.

Jasmeet packs her bag with her tablet and other items and marches out of the sliding door without eating. Her mother calls after her, but she's already on the light rail in the pathway before her mother can stop her.

Jasmeet feels frustrated as she plops into her seat.

*This is all work and no play*, she thinks.

But as the tube fills with more people taking their seats, the feeling returns.

And she closes her eyes to think of the shop.

The images of the digital advertisements in pink and red neon flash in her mind. The women wear garters, thigh highs, high heels with straps she didn't know existed. She combines them with the images of the woman with their hair uncovered, shoulders bare, and mashes the images in her mind.

But what comes together is even darker.

There was fetish wear, bondage equipment, and ropes in the window over moving mannequins. They looked helpless, like captured prey off the side of the road and sold into slavery.

She feels herself becoming so wet and turned on she becomes dizzy.

When she opens her eyes, every man she sees looks attractive. She wants to surrender to them. Wear the bondage equipment. Be helpless. And be taken.

The train comes to a jarring stop that snaps her out of the feeling within. Jasmeet wishes it didn't fade.

But then she looks at the stop she's at.

It's the same stop her father took her to on the day she turned 18.

The day she saw the store.

And she remembers the way.

A force within her makes her get up and step out of the tube and into the walkway, towards where the elevator to the surface is.

*I'm eighteen now. And I don't need permission to go to the surface*, she thinks.

---

## Jasmeet Goes To The Surface On Her Own

She stands outside the sex shop in the acid rain and wipes the soot away from her mask. Although the neon screens aren't as bright during the cloudy day as they were at night, the shop is still easy to find. She lets the images of the advertisements cycle through several times, feeling that bursting sense tickle her inside and twist at the dopamine laden through her system. She watches the main hook come one more time.

*Come in for an experience you can't get anywhere else.*

She weaves through the throngs of neon heads and delivery bots and walks into the shop.

Jasmeet's heart races as her brain tries to catch up with all of the imagery and products inside.

Robotic mannequins are posing in their white crystal bodies, wearing the fetish leathers.

Glass asses are along the top of the shop that show sparkling butt plugs and stainless steel dildos.

The walls are adorned with every combination of toys and lingerie that she never knew existed.

And she stands there, dripping from herself and the rain, eyes wide, and still in her mask.

"Hey there sweetie. Can I help you?" hears Jasmeet.

She startles and brings herself out of her imagination and into the shop. A woman with green neon extensions fashioned into a bun with glowing neon eyes looks at her with a smile. The Nigerian woman stands behind the counter putting black lacy bras on hangers.

Jasmeet walks up.

"I uh..." she stammers and feels herself blushing.

"Honey, can I check your age first?" the green attendant asks.

Jasmeet puts out her arm with the embedded implant that holds her most sensitive information.

The attendant holds for a moment, looking at Jasmeets arm. She reaches under the counter and rummages around, then finds a scanner.

Jasmeet notices that it's an old model and unlike any of the new ones in the stores below the surface. The machine chimes as it scans, proving that she just turned eighteen.

"I'm guessing this is your first time on the surface?" asks the Green woman.

"Second time. I saw your shop when I came up here," Jasmeet explains.

"You just come from school?"

"No, I just graduated. I just enjoy wearing it more now than I used to."

"Well, this must be very new for you. We don't get many tube dwellers coming into the shop like this, especially," the green woman gestures at Jasmeet with a ring laden hand, "women like yourself at your age."

"Why?" asks Jassmeet.

"It's kind of dangerous up here. In fact I'm surprised you got here by yourself."

"I'm much more adventurous than most people in the tubes. And... Well after seeing your shop and the advertisement, I just couldn't help myself."

Jasmeet starts to press her legs together, feeling that surge again. Even the woman behind the counter makes her want to climb over, kiss her, and let her green eyes eat up her entire body at her will. It's the same surge from the subway, making her want to give herself freely to anyone who want to use her, especially those that *want* to use her. She wants to experience what she feels inside but can't seem to verbalize what it is.

"What advertisement honey?" asks the attendant.

"The..." Jasmeet turns around and points at the front windows, "The one that say '*Come in for an experience you can't get anywhere else*'. I want to know what that is," Jasmeet says.

"Oh. It's more just the experience of the shop. It refers to a shopping experience. That's all."

Jasmeets indescribable feeling starts to deflate. She looks around, seeing the expensive garments and dildos and toys and thinks about her credit in her arm. There's a rush at imagining it, but she doesn't want to imagine it. She wants to explore it.

"Damn," she says under her breath. Jasmeet makes her way to the door.

"Wait, hold on there honey," says the attendant. She rounds around the counter and comes face to face with Jasmeet.

She smells like rose oil and it makes the feeling return to Jasmeets heart.

"What were you looking for exactly?" she asks.

"An experience. I'm... Well, for lack of a better word, *inexperienced.* And... There's something that I'm feeling that I can't put into words. Something I need. I just... This is the only place that I know that makes me feel like this and I wanted to look for it. Just not sure what that experience is."

The Nigerian attendant looks at her with her hands on her hips, letting the holographic eyes swirl as she thinks. Then, she puts up her hand.

"Hold on, I think I know how I can help you," she says.

She goes back around the booth and heads in the back for a moment, then returns just as quickly.

The attendant hands a white paper card to Jasmeet. It has an old QR code on it.

"What is this?" asks Jasmeet, turning it over. She scans it with her rental hud and orange letters float in her vision.

"The experience you're looking for. When you meet him, tell him that Yathiq sent you."

Jasmeet reads the instructions put in her vision.

She hears a message in her ears in English.

The message looks weird and is not connected to her net.

Encrypted.

She records it just in case.

Jasmeet finishes the message and looks at Yathiq and smiles.

The gates of her mind and body have opened and the rush comes in. She still can't find the words, but the feeling is stronger now than ever.

*I found what I'm looking for,* she thinks.

---

## Zamalak At Night is Different

Jasmeet feels fear when she steps out of the elevator several days later. The night felt different with her father, but alone she feels the danger that he mentioned.

She takes an auto taxi to lower Zamalek and feels out of place. The ash is heavy in the air. The crowd feels different. Their eyes are on her as she shuffles through the soot toward the instructed place. She passes a series of shops with Arabic neon in blue and finds the alley she needs to go down.

It's the darkest place she's ever walked.

And the fear rises, hearing the horror stories her mother told her in her head.

*The kidnapping of young women.*

*Murdered and tortured.*

*Slavery.*

*You must protect your innocence.*

But she brings up the message given to her by the card and takes courage in its words.

"We are the mediators. For those living under our oppressive regime, what stays constant is our humanity. This cannot be oppressed. Neither can our desires. And whatever your desire might be, we can help arrange it in the safety and most satisfying way possible. Come in person to our office to discuss and get a quote."

The directions for the office follow.

And they lead down the dark alley with only a few neon signs to illuminate her path.

She gathers her jalabiya and marches down the alley.

The door of the mediator is hard for her to find, but after doubling back between a bionics shop with red neon and an abandoned jewelry store, she finds it.

The door is old, but the keypad is modern and scrubbed clean of the film of smog.

She punches in the code for the stiff door and takes several pushes to get it open, then squeezes in.

The narrow stairwell in the hallway is of the Old Cairo architecture forgotten to time. But she goes up the slippery marble steps toward a glowing yellow light on the top floor. And there, just as the message said, is the computer repair shop with the glass window and open door.

The fear is at its height in Jasmeet, but it brings about the misunderstood feeling that now feels bursting out of her stomach and into her throat. But she steps in anyways and is greeted by a young man at a desk.

"*Mrhbaan*," says the young Egyptian man. He sits in a 20th century desk in the same style of architecture as the hallway. He has a strange paper book in front of him and is surrounded by keyboards, computer screens, and other wires and old computer equipment that are stacked to the ceiling.

Jassmeet is hesitant and stands in the doorway.

"I... I'm here to meet with someone," she says.

"Yes, come in. Who did you want to meet?" he asks.

Jasmeet does what the instructions say and produces the card, showing the QR code.

The Egyptian man points to the office to his right and goes back to his book.

As Jasmeet opens the door, she's met with the smell of sour apple smoke and mint. There's a cloud of shisha smoke. It obscures the old typewriters stacked around the small office. But behind a worn wooden desk sits a man with platinum white hair. He's large and barely fits in his chair, but he takes the pipe out of his mouth and blows smoke through his smile.

"Salam," he says with a deep smooth voice. "May I help you?"

Jasmeet closes the door behind her and turns, holding the card out.

"Yathiq sent me," she says.

His eyes brighten and he sets the pipe down. As he rises, he offers her the wooden chair in front of the desk. They introduce themselves.

The old man's name is Omar.

He is the Mediator.

"Would you like Chai, my sweet?" he asks.

"Please," she says sitting down.

As he pours the hot kettle into a small crystal glass, he begins to speak.

"It has been some time since Yathiq has sent me a new client like you. In fact, she went out of her way to come and see me to tell me about you."

"She did?" asks Jasmeet.

"Yes. She felt compelled to ensure that you are taken care of. She tells me that you are feeling something new inside of you, yes?"

Jasmeet feels strange having to now express this new feeling inside of her to a much older man. Not only is she unable to put the words together now in her nervousness, but it mixes with her desires so hard that she starts to breathe heavily. The images from the shop come back. Her own fantasies of the dark stories her mother told come crashing into her mind.

She only knows one way to start.

"I've never done this before," she says.

"Many clients have their first experience through the Mediator. Your nervousness is very common," he says, sipping tea.

"No, what I mean is... I'm a virgin," she says.

Omar chokes on his tea and spills much of it over his white shirt. He drops the glass on the desk and it flows over the rare paper on his desk. It makes Jasmeet jump.

After coughing and clearing his throat, he keeps a hand on his chest as his eyes water.

"My word, I apologize. What did you say?"

"I'm a virgin," she repeats.

There's a moment of pause.

"Well, in my years of this business I created, I must say that is a first for me to come across. Jasmeet, are you sure you want to be here?"

She sits up in her chair.

"Yes," she says firmly, "I want to be here. I'm seeking... Um... I don't know exactly. But I'm feeling and experiencing something I can't explain. I need your help."

"Young woman, I would highly suggest that you start easily first. Be with a few men your age and experience your first time as gently as you can. The experiences that I offer are very advanced and might be too much for you. You will become in touch with your feelings as soon as you--," Omar says, but Jasmeet interrupts him.

"But you don't understand!" she almost shouts.

Omar brings his hands together over his chest and takes a deep breath.

Jasmeet feels a tension in the air, and then feels guilt rise inside of her for interrupting an elder.

She sees Omar thinking and then the tension dissipates. He smiles at her.

"Jasmeet. I recognize that you are a very bright lady. Bright enough that, if you wanted to, you would have already slept with men your age. And you've taken great lengths and danger to come here. For that, I apologize for dismissing you. Please," he says, sliding across the shisha to her and offering the pipe, "help me understand what it is that you are feeling. I am here to help you."

Jasmeet takes the pipe and inhales the tobacco, letting the stress and tension release with the smoke as it curls into the air. She hands it back to him and lets the tobacco try and settle her mind for the moment as Omar takes an inhale as well.

As the smoke swirls with her thoughts, she finally feels something settle into her mind. What dark thoughts that twist her are unwinding just enough for her to express what it is she feels as simply as she can.

"Everywhere I go, I want to have sex. Anyone I look at, I want to fuck. It's constantly on my mind. I can barely focus. And I'm horny all the time. It's driving me mad. And it's what's driven me to the surface to find you," says Jasmeet.

Omar listens and contemplates what she says for a moment.

"Jasmeet, do you know what nymphomania is?"

Coming from a sheltered religious school, Jasmeet hasn't heard the word mentioned before.

"No. What is that? Is that what's happening to me? Is it a disease of the mind or something?" she spits out rapidly, thankful that there is a name to what she feels.

Omar puts a hand up to halt her questions.

"What you just described to me is, by the government and medical standards, something called nymphomania. You have excessive sexual drives and desires, yes?"

Jasmeet nods as she twists her hands together in her lap.