The Pakistani-American Wife Ch. 01

Author's note: This is an introduction to the fictional story of Yasmin, a modest Muslim-American wife with conservative and prudish sensibilities when it comes to intimacy. This series is a slow burn, and if you want the story to quickly get to descriptive sexual encounters, you may want to look elsewhere. This series will explore Yasmin's burgeoning sexuality, as she has her boundaries pushed repeatedly, and delve into how she reconciles the shame engendered by her traditional upbringing with the undeniable excitement she is afraid to embrace.

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Chapter 1. Back to Work

Yasmin took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. She had been looking forward to returning to work, but now that the day was finally here, she couldn't shake the feeling of self-consciousness that had been weighing on her since she gave birth to her darling son. As she got dressed for work, standing in her bra and panties in front of her full-length mirror, Yasmin looked closely at her petite 5'2 frame and her caramel complexion still glowed from her pregnancy. She couldn't help but think about all the changes her body had gone through in the last few months.

Growing up as a modest Muslim woman in America enmeshed in the Pakistani community in Edison, New Jersey, Yasmin was used to dressing in a way that didn't draw attention to her body. She had always been self-conscious of her naturally large breasts and had found ways to minimize their appearance, even on her petite frame. But now, as she prepared to return to work, she couldn't help but worry that there would be no hiding their size, which had expanded from an already large 32D to 32F during pregnancy. "At least my baby will never go hungry," Yasmin sarcastically thought to herself.

Her concerns didn't stop there. Yasmin's hips had grown curvier during pregnancy and she had a bit of a mommy belly. She was worried that her new, more voluptuous body would attract unwanted attention from other men. She couldn't wear traditional modest Shalwar Kameez or Abayas to work in her modern office in Edison, and had to dress professionally in business attire. She silently cursed the fashion designers who made it so hard to find professional women's attire that wasn't tight or form-fitting. The thought of wearing pants, skirts, and blouses that hugged her body in all the wrong places made her feel even more self-conscious.

Yasmin struggled with her bra. No matter what she did, her brown areolas kept peeking over the top of the cups. "Another joy of pregnancy," Yasmin's sarcastic thoughts continued. Along with her growing breasts, Yasmin's nipples had also expanded and darkened - now a very deep brown over three inches - something she read happened to most women to help newborns find them and latch on for breastfeeding. Her husband raved about her new "dark chocolate peaks on her caramel mountains"

As Yasmin buttoned up her blouse, she felt a twinge of embarrassment when one of the buttons popped off. As she put on a replacement blouse, still tight but no in danger of losing buttons, she looked at a blazer and felt some relief that she could wear a suit jacket to somewhat cover her chest. It was a small comfort, but it helped to ease some of the anxiety she was feeling.

Despite her concerns, Yasmin knew that she needed to return to work. She was excited to get back to her job and continue making a difference in the world of healthcare consulting. And while she was nervous about how her body would be perceived by her colleagues, she was determined to find a way to feel confident and comfortable in her own skin once again.

As Yasmin made her way to the living room, she saw Ali sitting on the couch, holding their baby. Ali was also a Pakistani-American, in his mid-30s like Yasmin, born and raised in Edison and a long-standing member of the local Pakistani community. He had always been supportive of Yasmin's decisions and was proud of her for returning to work.

"Good morning, love," Ali said, smiling at her. "How are you feeling about going back to work today?"

Yasmin took a deep breath and replied, "I'm a little nervous, but I know I have to do this for our family and for myself. And I'm grateful that my company set up a new nursing room for me to pump in during work hours. I think I'm the first new mom that's worked there in a while."

Ali nodded and handed Yasmin their baby, saying, "I know you'll do great. And don't worry about anything here at home, I'll take care of everything."

Yasmin smiled, comforted by the support of her husband, but unaware that Ali had noticed how her clothing hugged her curves much closer than it used to. Ali always thought Yasmin was the most beautiful girl in the world, and the changes from pregnancy had only made her more attractive in his eyes. He knew that Yasmin had been feeling self-conscious about her curvier body, so he didn't mention just how tight the seat of her pants hugged her rear, clearly accentuating the contours of her cheeks and her panty line; or how the openings between the buttons on her stretching blouse billowed as she moved, allowing him to steal glimpses of her bra as they talked. Ali thought he saw a hint of her nipple at one point and a flicker of concern raced through his mind as he contemplated the possibility of someone at Yasmin's office catching the same glimpse and violating her sense of modesty. As he weighed the options of protecting Yasmin and adding to her already anxious state, Ali noticed a rush of familiar sensations in his groin, which only added to his confusion. Ali pushed the sensations aside and chose to remain silent, convincing himself that Yasmin's blazer would sufficiently preserve her modesty.

"So how do I look for a working mom? No drool or milk stains anywhere?" Yasmin smiled as she did a twirl for Ali. "Do you think this suit still fits me ok?"

"You look amazing and the suit is just fine! I'd definitely hire your company if you were on the team," Ali told Yasmin with a smirk. She couldn't help but smile and felt comforted by the fact that her traditional and modest husband didn't have any concerns with her outfit. Yasmin had noticed Ali looking but chalked it up to his normal behavior -- he was always complimenting her beauty and checking her out even when she was pregnant and felt as big as a whale! Yasmin smiled at Ali and kissed their baby's forehead, putting on her hijab and blazer before heading out the door.

As she walked to her car, Yasmin took a deep breath and relaxed a bit. She couldn't help but feel a little more confident knowing that Ali was supporting her every step of the way, and she knew that while the road ahead may not be easy, she was ready to face whatever challenges came her way.

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Yasmin arrived at her workplace, a medium-sized healthcare consulting company, feeling nervous and self-conscious. It was undeniably a male-dominated office, with women making up only about a third of the employees. Most of those were secretaries, and of the women that worked directly in business development like Yasmin, most were young and/or unmarried. Overall, Yasmin was part of a small handful of women that were married and had children, and most of those were much older than her with grown children. Having just had her first child and returning from her maternity leave, Yasmin knew she was going to have to work harder and put up with more bullshit than normal to reestablish herself in the company.

As Yasmin entered the building lobby, she began seeing many familiar faces and couldn't help but feel a wave of anxiety wash over her. Her body had changed so much during her pregnancy, and she was self-conscious about the attention it might draw. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was a professional and had a job to do.

As she walked towards the elevator, she noticed her boss Omar walking towards her. Omar was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his mid-40s and had been divorced for a few years. He was also a Pakistani American like Yasmin, and they were both part of the same Pakistani community in Edison, New Jersey.

Yasmin had mixed feelings about Omar. On the one hand, he had always been respectful towards her and had never made her feel uncomfortable or objectified her in any way. On the other hand, she had heard rumors that he was a ladies' man and had a reputation for flirting with women in the office. She had also noticed how he would sometimes check out other female employees when they walked past him.

Yasmin had always found Omar to be somewhat abrasive, but he had been kind to her. Given that they were both part of the same Pakistani community in Edison, he had always been respectful to her. She knew that he was divorced and had assumed that he was single. She had never really paid much attention to him beyond that, but as she saw him approaching her, she couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy.

"Welcome back, Yasmin," Omar said, smiling warmly. "How was your time off?"

"It was good," Yasmin replied, trying to sound as confident as possible. "The baby is doing well, thank you."

"I'm glad to hear it," Omar said. "We missed you around here."

Yasmin nodded, still feeling a bit self-conscious. She noticed that Omar was wearing a well-fitted suit that showed off his broad shoulders and muscular build. She couldn't help but feel a bit envious of his confidence and how he carried himself.

As they entered the elevator together, Yasmin couldn't help but notice the way that Omar was looking at her. It wasn't anything overtly sexual or suggestive, but he was looking intently it made her feel uncomfortable nonetheless. She knew that her body had changed a lot during pregnancy and that her curves were now more pronounced than before. She had always been a modest dresser, and she was worried that her new figure would attract unwanted attention. He stood half a step behind her as the elevator went up, and Yasmin could have sworn that she saw his eyes flick down to her ass for a split second in the reflective elevator doors.

They arrived at their floor, and Omar insisted she exit first as they walked towards their respective offices, Omar spoke again.

"I hope you know that we've set up a nursing room for new mothers like yourself," he said. "I know that breastfeeding can be challenging, especially when you're trying to balance work and motherhood."

Yasmin was surprised and relieved by Omar's words. She had been worried about how she would be able to maintain her milk supply while working full-time.

"Thank you," she said, grateful. "That's really thoughtful of you."

"Of course," Omar said with a smile. "We want to make sure that our employees feel supported and valued."

Omar continued, "I'm going to grab a coffee, care to join me?"

Yasmin hesitated for a moment, but didn't want to seem rude or ungrateful for his offer. "Sure, I could use a cup."

As they walked towards the break room, Yasmin couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. She had always found Omar to be intimidating, especially as he towered over her small stature, and given that he had a reputation as a ladies man. She had heard rumors of his inappropriate behavior towards other women in the office and had always been wary of him. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was looking at her differently now that she had returned from maternity leave with a more curvaceous figure.

As they approached the break room, Yasmin tried to quickly grab a cup of coffee and make her way out. But Omar seemed to linger, stirring his own cup of coffee and making small talk. Yasmin couldn't help but feel his eyes on her, as if he was checking her out. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to subtly adjust her blouse to make sure it wasn't too revealing.

"So Yasmin, I have to say, motherhood looks good on you," Omar said with a smirk.

Yasmin's heart raced with discomfort. She wasn't used to being talked to in this way, especially by someone she worked with. She tried to keep her response polite but distant, "Thank you, I'm just trying to adjust to everything."

Omar took a step closer to her, his body looming over hers. "Well, if you ever need any help adjusting, just let me know."

Yasmin felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment and quickly made an excuse to leave. "Thanks, but I think I'll manage."

As she walked away, Yasmin couldn't help but feel flustered. She had always been a modest and traditional Pakistani-American woman, and she couldn't believe that someone from her own community would say something so direct and insinuating.

Yasmin couldn't help but feel conflicted. On the one hand, she appreciated Omar's consideration and support. On the other hand, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was checking her out. She knew that she was being paranoid, but she couldn't help it.

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Yasmin settled into her office and began catching up on the latest developments at the company. Some time after lunch she began to feel that familiar pressure in her breasts. She'd never gone this long without breastfeeding her son, and her body was sending her a reminder. Yasmin grabbed her pump and nursing cover and made her way to the new nursing room.

As Yasmin stood just outside the nursing room, she noticed that there was no lock on the door. She was taken aback by this and felt unsure and vulnerable, as anyone could just walk in on her while she was pumping milk for her baby. She hesitated, considering whether to go in or not.

As she stood there, she heard footsteps approaching. It was Omar.

"Oh, hi Yasmin," he said, noticing her hesitation. "Is everything okay?"

Yasmin looked at him, still feeling uneasy about the lack of a lock on the door. "There's no lock on the door," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Omar looked around the room and then back at Yasmin. "Yeah, I know," he said, shrugging. "The fire code doesn't allow it since there are no windows in there or other doors to the room."

Yasmin felt frustrated and helpless. She had been looking forward to using the nursing room to pump milk during her breaks, but now she felt uncomfortable and exposed. "But what if someone walks in on me?" she asked.

Omar looked at her sympathetically. "I know it's not ideal, Yasmin," he said. "But let's put a sign on the door that you can flip over when you're in here. That way, everyone will know that the room is occupied."

Yasmin felt a little better at this suggestion. "Okay, I guess that'll have to do," she said, though still not completely convinced.

Omar noticed her hesitation and placed a reassuring hand on her lower back. "Don't worry, Yasmin," he said. "I'll make sure that everyone understands the importance of respecting your privacy while you're using this room. I'll talk to everyone individually if I have to."

Yasmin felt comforted by Omar's words if a little taken aback by his touch. She appreciated his effort to make her feel more at ease, even though she was still uncomfortable with the lack of a lock on the door.

As Omar left, Yasmin took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. She flipped the sign on the door to indicate that the room was occupied, entered the room and close the door. Hesitantly, she began unbuttoning her blouse and removed her bra. She sat on the sofa and began connecting the pump to her swelling nipples, noticing a drop of milk already forming at one before she had done anything.

"Wonderful," Yasmin thought to herself. "I didn't even think about leaking." Making a mental note to herself to pack nursing pads with her pump, Yasmin looked up and sighed -- the way the furniture was arranged had the sofa directly facing the door. If anyone opened it they'd be looking straight at her bare breasts as she finished connecting the pump. She put on a nursing cover and started to pump her milk.

Despite her initial unease, Yasmin found the pumping process to be a comforting and familiar routine. She closed her eyes and focused on the sound of the machine, the rhythm lulling her into a sense of relaxation.

After a few minutes, she heard a knock on the door. She quickly turned off the machine and adjusted her clothing, feeling a little self-conscious. "Yes?" she called out.

"It's Omar," came the reply through the door. "Just wanted to check in and make sure everything's okay."

Yasmin felt grateful for Omar's concern. "Yeah, everything's fine," she said, her voice a little shaky. "Thanks for asking."

"Okay, great," Omar said. "Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"

Yasmin nodded, even though Omar couldn't see her. "I will, thanks."

As she resumed pumping, Yasmin couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. The lack of a lock on the door made her feel vulnerable and exposed, and she wasn't sure if she would ever truly feel comfortable using the nursing room. But for now, she tried to focus on the task at hand and remind herself that she had the support of her boss and colleagues.

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Yasmin continued to settle back into work the rest of the week. She often got the sense that some of her male coworkers were looking at her as she walked the hallways which made her uncomfortable, but otherwise her first week was uneventful.

On the Friday afternoon of that first week back, Yasmin was wrapping up her day and felt that familiar sensation in her breasts. Exhausted from the week and the interrupted nights of sleep, she decided to get one more pumping session in peace before she went home. It was a long weekend and the office was sparse, with many people having taken the day off to travel.

Yasmin was wearing a pullover that day. It was too tight to simply pull up and rest above her breasts, so she had to remove it completely in order to attach the pump. Sitting there on the sofa with breast pump attached to her nipples and emptying her milk, Yasmin was exhausted, having been up all night with her newborn, and didn't have the energy to bother with the nursing cover. With 90% of the office gone, she wasn't worried.

She had just closed her eyes for a moment and began to dose off when she thought she heard the door open. Not really registering what the noise meant in her half slumber, Yasmin didn't bother to open her eyes. But when she heard the sound of Omar's voice, her eyes snapped open in alarm. "Yasmin, I needed to speak with you immediately," Omar said, his voice low and urgent.

Yasmin looked up to see Omar standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on her bare breasts attached to the pump. She scrambled to cover herself with one hand, while trying to detach the breast pump with the other. "Omar, you can't just barge in here like this!" Yasmin said, her voice shaking with anger and embarrassment.

Omar's eyes flicked up to hers, but he didn't seem to register the gravity of the situation. "I'm sorry, Yasmin, but I needed to speak with you and I thought you would be covered," he said, stepping closer to her.

She could feel her heart racing with panic, and her cheeks burning with shame. "I'm pumping milk, Omar," she said, her voice panicked and shrill as she futilely tried to cover her ample breasts with one arm while trying to reach her nursing back with the other to find her cover or her shirt. "This is not an appropriate time or place for a conversation. Please leave!"

Omar's eyes flicked down to her breasts again, and Yasmin felt her stomach twist with revulsion. Yasmin's face burned with embarrassment as she futilely tried to cover her large, bare breasts...her enlarged nipples peeking from above her forearm. With her other arm she tried to reach her nursing bag with the other to find her cover or shirt while Omar stood there and tried to talk to her.

She had detached the pump suddenly, and the milk was still coming. Yasmin could feel the milk starting to flow down from her breasts, dripping down her stomach in front of him -- the creamy white liquid contrasting sharply against her brown skin. There was no way he didn't see it. She was mortified by the situation and wanted nothing more than to be alone and unseen, but she couldn't do anything about it as Omar stood there and kept asking her questions, none of them registering. She felt humiliated and wished she had taken the time to cover herself properly. It was bad enough that she had to pump at work, but now her modesty had been compromised in front of her boss. Yasmin felt like crawling into a hole and disappearing. All she wanted was to finish pumping and be done with this uncomfortable situation.