Alisha Takes the Veil
Chapter 8 – Veiling for Pleasure
“Oh sir.” she calls out, “There is one other thing.”
“What is it?” he replies without turning.
“I really need to practice wearing this attire outside if I’m to travel abroad with you.”
“I suppose you do.” he turns a little and smiles.
“So I was wondering if you would mind escorting me to some places. I understand women wearing this sort of thing are usually accompanied.”
“Oh I think that would be an excellent idea. Where did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps some shopping?”
“That sounds like fun. Okay then, let’s go.”
She stands up and lifts the burqa off the computer. Both the wearer of the burqa and probably the computer itself are relieved that the heat slowly building up underneath the shroud is allowed to escape. Then she follows him to the exit and through the door then stands rigidly to attention while he locks up. He walks down the road, she following three steps behind as she almost flows along the pavement. In fact he is somewhat grateful she is doing this as he is really not sure he could handle what to his mind is an image of near female perfection brushing against him as they walk.
“I see you’ve been reading up on some of our customs.” he calls back but he hears no reply.
They reach his car and he opens a rear door and allows her to get in before closing the door and getting into the driver’s seat himself.
“Did you hear my comment?”
“The female voice is awrah in the street.”
“Ah, I see you have been reading some of the more stricter interpretations of our customs!”
“Thank you master.”
“Isn’t that the correct term?”
“Well … uh … it could be.” he stutters with his reply, trying to think of which Arabic term has been translated in this manner.
Underneath her shroud she smiles at his discomfort, ignoring her own of course.
They visit a shopping mall, she again obediently following him at three paces. He has to admit to himself that even his grandmother was never this devoted, let along his mother to his late father. Many people look on at them but he ignores them whilst Alisha with her restricted view doesn’t even notice most of them of course. Looking round the mall, it is obvious that most of the shops are not of interest to either of them as they display Western-style clothes. But she does stop in front of a shop any true Muslim women would wish to enter. Her eyes shine up at him through the dense gauze of the burqa. He soon gets the message and they enter.
“Uh … please choose any gift you like.” he offers.
She shakes her head. Obviously he’s got the wrong message.
“Please. I wish to show my gratitude. There is nothing untoward expected in return.”
‘That’s the problem! I want you to do something untoward!’ she thinks to herself but holds her tongue.
She tries to point him towards the trays of engagement rings but he moves to the other side of the shop where dress jewellery is displayed. Still remaining perfectly quiet, she reluctantly nods towards a tray of gold bracelets, then similarly communicates which one she likes. Soon it is being affixed by a bemused female shop assistant to her wrist before her two outer gloves are rolled back into place over the thin silk inner one.
“How can she bear to wear all that?” the female assistant whispers to the manager as they leave.
“It’s just their way.” he replies, day-dreaming as he does of enveloping the assistant in similar attire.
Later on he drives Alisha back to her home and inside the car she allows herself to speak again.
“Thank you sir. I’ve had a wonderful time. And thanks for the bracelet. I’ll always wear it at work.”
“So I’ll probably never see it again.” he laughs.
“Ah but it isn’t what you see, it’s the beauty that you imagine lies underneath.” she smiles through the gauze enough for him to just about make out her grin.
“There is one thing I would like to ask in return.”
“Yes master.” she replies, pretty sure the request won’t be for the frenetic sexual romp through her underwear she so desires.
“My name is Javed. I would really appreciate it if you used this name rather than sir or Mr Khan all the time. And definitely instead of master.”
“Oh.” she smiles once more, at least achieving one of her goals for the evening of getting on first name terms. “I trust you do not mind if I check with your mother if it is acceptable for me to address you in this informal manner.”
“I suppose not.” he replies, not sure why his mother appears to have an influence on the matter.
“And you must call me Alisha.”
“Don’t I have to ask your mother for permission?”
“Oh she’s not a Muslimah.” she laughs from beneath her shroud, “She won’t mind what you call me.”
Javed assists Alisha to the door of her flat but makes not even the hint of an unworthy gesture, bidding her goodnight before she inserts the key in the door.
‘Shit!’ she thinks as she shuffles in, ‘So near and yet so far.’
She strips off her attire and takes a well needed shower before retiring to bed.
At Alisha’s insistence, they go out each evening after work, ostensibly to give her practice wearing the burqas though of course both spend the time enjoying each other’s company. And often when they go out, he often discovers she has added another layer or two to her clothing as well as trying out different colours and styles of burqa.
On Thursday morning, Javed arrives at work and can’t help himself give a whistle on seeing his secretary. She looks up with a grin.
“That’s a little naughty, is it not sir?”
“Sorry.” he lowers his gaze. “I should not have.”
“Oh that’s alright.”
“It’s just that is surely the most beautiful burqa I have ever seen.” he remarks, then quickly adds “And the most beautiful wearer of one of course.”
“Why thanks.” she replies, “I think it might be a wedding burqa.”
“Oh. Odd thing for my mother to find, isn’t it?”
“Who knows?” she giggles, then mutters to herself as soon as he goes into his own office, “Of course it wasn’t odd she found it. I asked her to!”
Later that afternoon he reappears from being on the phone most of the day.
“I assume you won’t want to go out wearing that?”
“Why not? It’s beautiful like you said.”
“Well yes. But so is a western style wedding dress yet I assume you wouldn’t walk round in that.”
“Hmm. Good point.” she replies, then thinks to herself, ‘Why didn’t I think of that? He surely couldn’t carry on resisting me if I had a big poufy wedding dress rustling like mad whilst hidden underneath this!’
“It’s your choice. You could change or cover it with something else.”
She ponders a short while but decides to go for it. His reaction indicates this was what he hoped she would choose and they take a short walk around a local park. A pair of jilbab clad girls look on with great interest and then start badgering the man with them. He approaches Javed apologetically and asks where he can obtain similar outfits for his two daughters. Javed grins and hands them his business card and they arrange to visit the office the next day to find burqas to their liking. All this time, and despite the two girls analysing the depths of her clothing in greater detail, Alisha stands impassively still and silent.
‘I should get sales commission for this.’ she grins to herself.
The following Monday he remarks “I thought you didn’t like black?”
“I thought I’d give it a try. Your mother told me it’s sort of compulsory in some countries.”
“I suppose it is. Good point.”
And even in the late afternoon sun, Alisha soon realises that it isn’t the Muslim women who choose black for their attire. Her head is soon feeling like it is in a furnace and her inner garments saturated with perspiration. She won’t be taking this one on her trip abroad.
Well not unless Javed shows he really likes her in black.
“Come on, it’s really warm today.” she declares at midday the following day.
“I don’t understand.”
“Take me out for a walk now. Please. Please. The sun is really bright today. It’ll be a bit like where we’re going.”
“You mean hot.”
“Yeah. After the problems I had with the black one, your mother told me I need to practice more allowing the air to flow under my clothing without showing anything of myself of course.”
“You’re getting like a puppy dog, always wanting to go out.”
“Oh thanks.” she replies with some hurt, “You want to treat me like a pet.”
“Sorry. I meant you were always full of life.”
He does as she asks, they covering about two miles in a round trip. The sun reflects off her pink shroud so brightly it is difficult to look back on her. He arrives back visibly sweating quite profusely. Of course she has been silent as usual for the whole time, but once they are back in the office he can expect a reply again.
“I assume that was too hot even for you?”
“Oh I managed, didn’t I?”
“Well I was expecting I might have to carry you back here unconscious with heat exhaustion.”
“Now wouldn’t I be the lucky one then.” she giggles whilst kicking herself for not thinking of this herself earlier.
The next day her plan to go out in the black burqa in the midday sun is thwarted by the weather. There is no way Javed is going to think she suffered heat exhaustion in a shower of rain. The wet weather turns to cooler dry weather and the hot spell appears to have ended. However the collection of burqas Rana finds from somewhere shows no sign of ending.
But then neither does the look of delight on Rana’s son’s face show any sign of ending as Alisha appears day after day in yet another fabulous outfit. Each one finds a slightly different manner of inducing discomfort and even claustrophobia by varying the way they restrict her vision, sit irritatingly on her nose or even her eyelashes, smother her breathing, compress her head, weigh down her body, get in the way of her arms and generally restrict her movement in such a different manner that it is often the middle of the day before she can be said to be wearing the burqa rather than the other way round. She is now sure that anybody who claims wearing a burqa isn’t oppressive hasn’t actually tried wearing one. But due to this, Alisha finds herself in an almost constant state of arousal as the restrictions imposed upon her by these garments becomes more and more addictive.
And at night, she eventually cannot resist the urge any longer to try sleeping in a full veil as Rana had claimed her target’s last candidate for the position of wife had done. She takes home a white full niqab and gets ready for bed wearing it.
“Well here goes.” she whispers to herself as she sits on the side of the bed. “If I don’t wake up in the morning, Rana was wrong!”
Then she suddenly gets an urge. She stands up and tries to remember from an article she has been reading on how Islamic prayers are made. She makes some hesitant steps through the movements until she ends up face down on the ground as required. And for some reason the urge to remain there pulsates through her body. She even presses herself closer to the ground in abject prostration. She remembers getting quite a warm feeling when she once had to make a curtsey but nothing like this. Pleasant feelings swarm through her body like small electric charges, tingling and sensuous. It is some time before she gets up, by which time she has forgotten what was supposed to come next. Instead she carefully finds the bedcover, pulls it aside and pulls herself and all of her shroud into place before restoring the bedcover to it’s original position.
“Ah, I’ve left the light on.” she mutters to herself but decides to leave it that way. If she wakes up in a panic in the night she doesn’t want to be struggling to find a way out of the niqab in the dark.
Fortunately for Alisha, Rana appears to have been right as she is still breathing come the morning. Unfortunately she is also tired as she has had little sleep, the veil inducing all sorts of pleasant feelings within her, but also leading to bouts of breathlessness as her heart and breathing rates rise with her alternating excitement and worry. She finds the book she has been reading and pulls it under the shroud to enable her to perform her first full prayers. There isn’t quite the sensation of the night before but she definitely feels better for doing it.
On being told about this, Rana decides Alisha will be wearing the shapeless black numbers she has previously rejected to the office as well as she drapes her protégé daily in heavier and heavier shrouds. Though unlike the time Alisha tried two styles on during their second meeting, this time her modesty is much better protected by the simple expedient of placing a burqa or other niqab on her underneath the chador as well, it showing quite clearly below the end of the outermost garment and when she looks up from the stooped position this clothing seems to encourage the wearer to assume.
“Just remember it is expected you will have difficulty in breathing.”
“You mean I haven’t so far?”
“Trust me. This is about to get a whole lot worse.”
“And it is also supposed to get really hot in there. Women who wear extreme degrees of niqab believe their path to paradise will be so much easier.”
“I’d just prefer my road to paradise to take in your son’s bed.” she grins back.
“Oh don’t be silly.” Rana laughs as she hides the grin from view with a simple pull down of Alisha’s outermost veil.
Each night Alisha persuades Javed to go out walking with her as practice for the trip but even wearing the garment his previous marriage prospect had worn continuously, no interest in a similar arrangement with Alisha appears to be forthcoming.