Veiled PAGE

Email:   vulcan@anarchocat.com

28

Christine and Max:

"God, I'm mad! You don't have any eggs! Again and again, you promise me that you will divorce. Okay, your old lady owns the store, but you're absolutely top of the line in your job, and we have all the customer data. We could start a competitor right away, and your wife looks stupidly out of the laundry. She could only inherit. She can spend money, but certainly not earn it," I said for the thousandth time.

We sat in his office to vote on how to proceed. We had been a couple for two years, secretly, because he was married and we both worked for her. He had outsourced her business to the Internet and thus saved her from insolvency. When she inherited the business from her father, it was a well-stocked fashion discount store with many well-attended stores. Madame had failed the internet shop, and she was more interested in the Golf club than being in the company. Max, then head over heels in love with her, came just in time to save the day and be a decorative and presentable husband financially dependent on her. He knew all that, but he couldn't get away from her as much as he loved me. We had to close most of the branches to save the rest. Today business is going fantastically well again, and we want to acquire a new customer base, the growing Muslim community. We want to run the business unofficially, without Madame knowing anything. Perhaps the first step towards an independent firm and his divorce. Hope dies last. He said:

"It's time, we have an appointment with Sheik Ahmed Kabir. We should not annoy him by being late."

At Sheiks:

"Madame, dearest friend, I'm glad you made time for me. I must inform you urgently about some grievances in your closer environment, but we want to sit down first and drink tea together."

"Yes, as you always say so nicely: Nothing can be so hasty as not having time for a cup of tea," she said.

"The Brotherhood is deeply in your debt. By taking over your branches in the shopping streets, we have achieved great success for our causes." The Sheik replied.

"You can bring your faith further among the people and for this, you manufacture for me to top conditions in your tailoring factories. So we both get what we need. But the friendship with you and Soraya cannot be paid with any money in the world," Madame said. Soraya entered the living room and brought the tea. The women greeted each other warmly, and Madame asked:

"You're not wearing a niqab, what happened?"

"A new, more liberal policy helps us more than holding on to too strict rules. We women want to get more involved, a niqab is a hindrance at the moment," Soraya said.

"Wow, if I can design the women's clothes for you now, I'll come on board," Madame said.

"Then you would convert? Ahmed gives her the order so that I may welcome a new sister." Soraya chuckled. "Maybe it's not so absurd, at the moment I'm looking for something that gives my life more meaning. Enough of me! Ahmed tells me your horror stories."

"Believe me, and it's not easy for me. It's about your husband and business," said Ahmed.

"If you want to tell me that he's cheating on me with his assistant, I've known that for a long time." She had tears in her eyes. It was a mixture of anger and sadness. Soraya came up to her and stroked her comforting.

"Unfortunately, that's not all. Your husband and his assistant have a business meeting with me in an hour. The way it looks; they want to betray you."

"Enough, I've had enough of this egg and brainless beauty. I'm getting a divorce," Madame complained.

"I would strongly advise against that, Madame. It could ruin you, and we lose one of our best partners. Are you serious? Are you one hundred per cent sure that you want to dissolve the marriage? "Sheik asked.

"What a marriage, if the parasite and his bitch are gone, I have two pimples less on my ass," she roared up.

"You are too upset for me at the moment, go to the women's wing with Soraya and wait until I call you!", Ahmed ordered and happy to have such a kind, caring friend, she obeyed.

"I love this woman. I have to protect her. Soon she will become my second wife, Inshallah", Ahmed thought. In the women's wing, in Soraya's comforting arms, Madame dropped all her inhibitions and cried bitterly.

 

Max with his assistant:

"Welcome to my house, Mr Reimann! Come in. Oh! You brought your secretary with you. But that's a good thing! You must know my wife Soraya is unfortunately not at home. Your secretary can fix us tea, can't she?"

"I am not his sec...", Christine wanted to clarify, but Max drove over her mouth and said:

"Yes, of course! My secretary cooks excellent tea. Where do we find the kitchen?"

"Straight down the hall." said the Sheik, left the two and went into the living room with a big grin. Madame and Soraya could follow everything on a monitor from the women's wing. Madame's mood improved abruptly with this scene. They saw Christine storming into the kitchen in rage, Max trotting behind her, and when she closed the door behind her:

"How could you say this: 'My secretary cooks an excellent tea.' I am treated like a maid here.  I want to go home immediately!"

"Christine, please, calm down. Just do what he asks for so that I can get the business done. After all, we want to get married!" That was it. Immediately Christine caught herself and said:

"Damn, take care of the asshole, and I'll make the tea." Quickly Max ran to the Sheik to crawl even deeper into his ass. While the women kept watching Christine, who was desperately looking for the utensils to prepare the tea that Soraya had put away, she let a generous amount of gas flow into the kitchen. Madame asked.

"Dear, what are you doing?"

"I give the bitch a large dose of consciousness to taste manipulated gas," she said.

"You're scaring me. What diabolical stuff happens here?"

"It's not diabolical stuff, and it's a blessing for any degenerate western woman. It enables us women to become good Salafist wives. I am a Western German, how do you think I can lead a life as a submissive and obedient servant of my husband and still be the happiest woman in the world? The gas freed me from my decadent imprint and let me have a happy marriage. I understand your horror, but to once experience this happiness of a perfect marriage is incredibly pleasant. Just think of your messed up marriage. Sorry, I didn't mean to say that, I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"All right, I think I'm suffering a little clash of culture, let's discuss that later, but go on. I want to see the bitch wriggle!"

"With joy, dearest friend" and both laughed about Christine wandering around in a strange kitchen. Meanwhile, Max entered the living room.

"Sit down while we wait for tea. You must know that I don't close a deal without having a cup of tea."

"Of course, Mr Kabir."

"I ask you to address me with my title Sheik, as is befitting for a guest," he demanded.

"Excuse me! I am not very familiar with the customs of your country," Max said.

"Well, if you want to do business with me you should close these gaps immediately! Where's your stupid secretary with the tea?"

"Oh! she might have trouble finding everything in a strange kitchen, I think." Max's shirt collar became tighter and tighter. He thought he was sweating blood.

"You should be more careful when choosing your staff. A secretary who keeps her boss waiting is an aberration. Ah, I see my wives have come home." The Sheik pressed a button and said, "Come down and make tea. In your kitchen, there's an incompetent secretary."

Madame and Soraya had turned into black spirits in the meantime, and they were two identical cubes. They rushed into the kitchen, and the two saw a completely confused, wandering Christine. The gas dose was perhaps a little too healthy.

"Whom do we find here? What are you doing in our kitchen," Soraya hissed at her. Silently Madame enjoyed the scene under her veils.

"I, I should make tea for the men, a..but I find nothing," she stuttered.

"Too stupid to make tea! With you hollow chicks no one can make a state anymore! Get out of our kitchen, and we'll bring the tea!"