Veiled PAGE

Email:   vulcan@anarchocat.com   https://anarchocat.blogspot.com/

1a

Hanna Böhm and Julia Meyer:

"What do you want to drink, Julia? I have coke, Fanta or mineral water," Hanna asked. She and Julia were friends since 7th grade. Now they were in the 13th class and stood before the Abitur examinations. They were among the best in the class and were blonde little beauties - a thing that they always perceived to be an asset. Today, as always, they met to do their schoolwork and then spend their free time together, both having the same career aspirations in journalism.

"It's such nice weather, let's eat delicious ice cream at Toni's and check out the men's world. What do you mean, again without panties?", Julia asked with a bad grin.

“The sun is shining. We should have our fun.” Hanna replied with a dirty grin. At 'Toni' at the terrace, the two were sitting and enjoying their well-deserved ice cream. They wore airy summer dresses and NOTHING underneath. Every time the wind gently caressed their shaved pussies, it lifted the hem of their dresses so high that their naked pop-boy flashed out under them. Exactly then, with a lewd gesture of their hands, the girls accidentally held off their clothes from further exposure. Not only was it an exciting feeling for the girls, but it also increased Toni's sales and thus his generosity. In short, the girls didn't have to pay for anything.

"Hey, I haven't seen Petra for a long time. I meant outside the school," said Hanna.

"Yes, she was right, always and everywhere. Now that you' re saying it, I also notice it and you' re right, you once looked at her outfits. I always knew her top modern and stylish. She walked around like a prayer sister in her long grey skirt and white long blouse today," Julia said.

"I'd like to know what the hell happened to her. A little practice for our future career target. What do you mean?" Hanna replied:

"I will have an English class with her tomorrow afternoon, then I will check in with her."

Petra Meiser:

How much I long for the madrasah, the silence and the prayers and my Abaya and the society of the women. I sometimes ask myself how everything could change so fast. I believe it started when I was visiting Rachid. When Rachid attends my school, his family is from Pakistan. For a small fee, he asked me to give him private lessons in German. Ever since my father moves into Hartz 4, we need every cent, and so I give tutoring to the weak students depending on their wallets. My mother left us six years ago, and my dad is still suffering from it by now. Then the bus stopped to drop me off. I glanced anxiously. Rachid promised to pick me up at the bus stop. I didn't want to be alone in Marxloh. I noticed him waving, and calmly I stepped out.

"Hello, Petra! I feel happy that you are here. Only 100 meters we are at my house."

"What a handsome one", I thought. Then he started, and when I tried to hold up with him, he walked faster. There was always three steps of distance between us.

"Hey, why are you running?" I shouted.

"If you keep three steps behind me, I can walk, slower," he shouted back.

"O.K., I will follow you, my master, with three steps apart," I shouted after him laughing. Then he walked on at a leisurely pace.

Fuck, he was serious. Hello, medieval! As I walked behind him, I admired muse his extended back.

"Not such a bad view," I thought.

"If I fall in love with this guy, he will have to adapt to German standards". At that time, I didn't know who had to adapt. Then we walked into a typical tenement house. We went up and Rachid rang the bell.

"Don't you have a key?" I asked, slightly dismayed.

"Yes, but we consider it impolite towards the women to enter an apartment without being noticed, and please remove your shoes in the hallway."

In the apartment, it smelled fantastically oriental. As I entered the hallway, a veiled woman stepped up to me, knelt and took off my shoes. The same with Rachid, to whom she kissed the outstretched hand afterwards and pressed it then in a submissive bow the forehead. Before I knew it, she took me in her arms and rubbed her forehead on mine.

"Welcome Petra, please enter and be our guest. My name is Soraya, and I am Rashid's stepmother. In the living room, a little boy was sitting on the carpet playing with cars."

"This is Mahmud, my little brother," said Rachid and lifted him to blow him lovingly on his naked belly. Mahmud laughed out loud, and I suddenly felt a deep affection for the family. I didn't know how to explain it; otherwise, I was much more reserved.

"Make yourselves comfortable! I'll bring you coffee and pastries," Soraya said. I noticed the limited space of the apartment. I didn't know that Rashid's father Ahmed belonged to the Brotherhood and was, therefore, the owner of the house and that the men of the family were living in the apartment opposite to the women's apartment to offer them maximum discretion. We knelt on pillows at a low table and learned. Half an hour later, Soraya brought the cookies and coffee.

"Take a little break, then it's half as hard to learn," and retired.

" Your mom is kind," I said. "May I ask why she is so veiled and why does she speak such good German?"

"Stepmother is a devout Muslimah and a German," he answered succinctly.

"Tell me, when we walked to you, you wanted me to stay three steps behind you! Was that serious?" I wanted to know.

"You don't know the rules of Marxloh. How do you think I'd expect to run the gauntlet if we'd been walking side by side," he asked?

"Now let's continue. At a certain point I have to get your Schiller," he said and smiled at me. I just thought:

"God, what a smile. Petra! Watch out! You'll fall in love and end up in his harem," and smiled more lovingly than I wanted. I left my curiosity about and enjoyed his company more and more. The doorbell rang, and Soraya rushed out to open the door. I heard a dull rumbling from the hall, and then Rachid's father Ahmed came into the apartment.

" Be welcome, dear Petra!" Rachid went towards him, and immediately I followed him without thinking. He greeted his father with a kiss and a forehead, and automatically I did the same.

"Very nice that gas has already worked on the girl. I give her an order. Let's see if it's all right," Ahmed thought.

"It will be dark soon. We'll have dinner together, and then I'll drive you home," he said. Now I noticed how late it was.

"Is it so late already, I somehow forgot the time? I would be grateful if you would bring me home. Can I call my father so that he does not worry?", I said.

"Do that and leave with Soraya to freshen you up. I would like you to take part in the evening prayer," he said as naturally and strangely enough. I thought it was okay to follow his wishes. I briefly described the situation to my father, and it reassured him. I followed Soraya to the bathroom where she took off her veils, socks and gloves and began the ritual ablutions.

"Do everything to me, then you'll do it right." she said. I stared at her speechlessly.

"What's the matter, Petra. What are you staring at me like that?"

"Excuse me, it's your appearance. I would not have expected such a beautiful woman under the veil," I replied. Soraya laughed:

"By Allah, I haven't heard that for ages. That's why we Muslimahs disguise ourselves, we are beautiful for our husband, and we want to be equal sisters among ourselves. We help each other and do not rival." I nodded. I didn't understand her correctly and tried to do the same for her. Now I also saw Mahmud again. He was lying in a triangular cloth on his mother's chest. Through another door, we went into the woman's room. "No stranger has access here, so I need not disguise myself here."

"It would be nice if you wore a prayer veil during the prayers. There is no compulsion, you would only be closer to me, like a sister, you understand?"

"You mean I should disguise myself?"

"No, just cover your hair and body."

"That's all right, Soraya,' I said and smiled at her.

The men with a sympathetic smile greeted me. To my astonishment, we left the apartment and went to the opposite one. Here everything was the finest and most expensive. We entered the prayer room. There we knelt for prayer. Ahmed said:

"You do not know our prayers yet. It is enough, and if you kneel and think of Allah, then you will please him". Ahmed quietly recited the prayers, and I sensed it becoming warmer in my heart. Soraya rose after the prayer, and I left the men with her to walk into Soraya's apartment. Soraya asked me in the kitchen if I would like to help her with the meal. When everything finished, we loaded the food onto a trolley.

"Would you like to serve Rachid? I then serve Ahmed. You only have to imitate me." A little surprised, I just nodded. So I knelt in front of my schoolmate, veiled except for my hands and face, and served him.

"How strange! I enjoy serving Rachid. Hopefully, I'll do everything right," I thought and concentrated on imitating Soraya exactly. After the men had had their fill, they stood up and thanked us women for the good food and our services. I was so impressed by the compliments that I did not notice how Soraya cleared the table.

"Come, let's go to my place, where we can eat."

We sat down in the dame's room and ate and drank hungrily the already cold leftovers. Then I followed Soraya into the kitchen and helped her clean up. Mahmud contacted me, and she allowed me to take him on my lap. Ahmed came in and said:

"It is about time. I'll get the car when I get there. I'll honk the horn and Rachid will bring you down." After five minutes it honked. I bade Soraya farewell in a hurry by rubbing our covered temples together.

"Keep the veil, I give it to you" Soraya said in farewell. Then I followed Rachid three steps apart. Rachid said:

"You made an impression on my family. So Soraya wants to see you again, and your modesty deeply impressed my father."

" Yes, it has been nice staying with you. I already miss little Mahmud," I replied, embarrassed.

On the street, Rachid opened the rear door for me, and I got in the back. It was a quiet ride. Ahmed didn't talk during the trip, especially not to women.

1b

At home, Ahmed said,

"I must still talk with your father." He rang our bell. He was not interested in me having a key. The intercom sounded:

"Yes, please,"

"Mr Meiser here is Ahmed Kadir. I will bring you your daughter and please have a short conversation." Then the buzzer opened the door, and Ahmed entered.

"Which floor?" he asked shortly.

"The third. There is an elevator," I answered fast.

"Nonsense, there are three floors with the elevator. Keep up behind me," he ordered. He walked up the stairs with fast paces without getting out of breath. In opposition to me, I had to breathe after the second floor. Arrived at the apartment door, the men greeted each other and father begged him to come in. I stood behind them, a barn owl gasping for air, sweating in its abaya.

" You should prevent your daughter from using an elevator so that she could take a little physical exercise," Ahmed suggested with a grin.

" First come in. And you heard it: No more elevator driving!" They both laughed. I wasn't in the mood to laugh about it. Ashamed, I took Ahmed' s hand, kissed it, pressed it to my forehead and ran into my room with a red face. Father looked confused at his counterpart. But he only shook his shoulders.

"Why I would like to have a word with you Mr Meiser is: Are you interested in getting a job?"

"Would I need a job? Sure! And what is it about?"

"Financial control and organisation of our real property at the full time." 

"I have done many similar jobs, always with top grades, but unfortunately only for a limited time."

"We know all about that. We investigate by ourselves and do not trust in authorities. We are not talking about your qualifications, but about how tolerant you are about other religions and opinions. Can you imagine working in a Muslim organisation?"

"As a Muslim?"

"No, there is no compulsion in Islam." Ahmed said and thought, "But gas." "If you're interested, drop by my place tomorrow morning at 11:00."

He handed him his card and said goodbye. I had showered and heard nothing about the interview. I walked to my father every night before I went to bed.

"What did Mr Kabir ask you?" I asked straight out.

"He offered me a job!"

"What? That is fantastic! A full-time job?"

"A proper full-time job, yes. But, I don't know. He told me it was a Muslim organisation. So what do you mean?"

"How many non-Islamic organisations deceived and exploited you in the last several years? We should never throw decent work under decent conditions in the wind. If so, we'll become Muslims," I said laughing.

"Sleep well, my clever child. I shall obey you. Tomorrow at 11:00 I will be there with Mr Kabir."

The next day

"Well, how was your job interview with Mr. Kabir?" I asked my father.

"Fantastic! I received a direct agreement. We have to make some changes. So let's have a talk, dear." We made it comfortable.

"This is the situation: I will have an office in the administrative wing of the mosque, and as it looks, my conversion is on the way. I have no illusions about that, but the job is exciting to me and even more so the payment."

"I would have no problem at all with the conversion. I have fallen in love with Rachid, Mr. Kabir's son, and will convert to Islam if he wishes."

"There is something else to discuss: We are moving. The Brotherhood has been offering me an apartment with top conditions nearby work."

"This is fantastic! Get out of this Hartz4 hole! You'll see, everything will be fine! I am so happy for you. After all these years, you got some perspective at last!"  I said, grinned mischievously and thought:

"I'll live close with my sweetheart and I can often see Soraya and Mahmud."

"Mr. Kabir said I could move directly, as a property manager I could have all the company's resources at my disposal. Would you like to look at the apartment? I got the keys, too."

The flat was a dream: big, bright and very spacious. There was a T-shaped hallway. In the past, it must have been two apartments.

- Contrary to her, her father knew about the gas system and with his signature, he had accepted it and committed himself to promote installations in other buildings -

I was enthusiastic and immediately started everything for an immediate move. I had the company's resources available and two days later we moved into the new apartment. I didn't have a single small room anymore; I had my very own 70 square metre flat, my father's share was 140 square metres. We no longer dwelt, instead we were living. I was sitting in my new lounge and thought:

"That much luck all at once could make me afraid. Daddy has a secure job, we live incredibly luxuriously and I love Rashid. Papa and I know if we want to save it, we will have had to convert it sooner than later. As his wife, Rachid will surely demand of me to disguise myself like his mother. On one hand this frightens me, but it makes me feel horny."

I wanted invite my friends to a housewarming party, but my father objected and when I told Rachid about it, he only said succinctly:

"Obey your father and remain at home and pamper him like you learned it from my mother".

I think I must change my life plan a little. A brand-new life as a Muslima is waiting for me and curiously I don't think I'll particularly be missing the old one, but looking for a future I still don't know.