The first part of a four part story, of Rachel who goes to Pakistan on an archaeological dig.
On my first day in Sialkot, Imtiaz took me clothes shopping. I had only western clothes, jeans and old t shirts for the dig, skirts and tops for off duty wear. She took a look at my wardrobe and said,
“mmm you are in Pakistan so maybe a bit more modest? A lot of people don’t mind, not here in Sialkot anyway but when we go out into the countryside? And even here some people are quite conservative. We’ll go shopping. We can get something Pakistani for you.”
So we went out and I looked through rails of clothes, salwar kameez in pinks and blues and yellows. I liked them all but drew the line at red. It was a bit too intense.
The first one I tried felt right. Light and airy, comfortable in the heat, modest too, the trousers covering up the ankles. I bought two, blue and pink.
“The lady was intrigued” said Imtiaz smiling. “I don’t think she has had western women in her shop before.”
“You know, I always liked the look” I said. “A lot of Asian people live near me in England. But, you know, I was always reluctant to even think about buying anything. Some people are quite judgmental, and I didn’t want anyone accusing me of cultural appropriation.”
“What’s that?” Imtiaz looked puzzled.
“I think it means borrowing from other cultures, but not understanding the cultural significance of what you’re borrowing. Demeaning the cities or something like that. Someone told me it was an extension of imperialism. I had an Asian friend, a really gorgeous Sikh guy who promised to take me shopping in Leicester. But it never happened and we lost touch.”
“Well I am glad you enjoy wearing our clothes. I think you look pretty.”
We went back to my rented flat and I put my new clothes on. I walked up and down as of on a runway, I twirled and turned, and Imtiaz took pictures on her phone.
“I’m putting these straight on Facebook. I want people to know that my new English friend is making herself at home in Sialkot. “
Then we went to visit her family who had invited me to eat. I chose power blue. Walking the short distance to their home in the early evening sun I enjoyed the flap in the breeze, the way I could see it in the long shadow I cast on the road. Everything was foreign, the sights ,the smells were unfamiliar. Sometimes people stared. But with my loose veil I could avert my gaze, enjoy the feeling of a safe space. Above all, in this lovely salwar kameez, walking alongside this pretty, friendly young woman I felt at home.
I am a graduate student of archaeology and had come to Sialkot for three months to take part in a project involving a dig at the city’s historic fort. Sialkot is in that part of the Punjab that become part of Pakistan after partition but has a five thousand year history, even the Greeks were here as well as Zoroastrians. It is a rich and fascinating history and I was determined to enjoy the opportunity. Imtiaz worked at the local museum and had been given the task of looking after me and helping me to find my feet in strange and sometimes unsettling surroundings, I had never been out of Europe before and the sunlight, the heat, the colours and the noise were difficult to get used to.
It was hard work on the dig. Painstaking, with the trowelling and chiselling and the gentle brushing of dust of exposed artefacts. It was the sun that was worst and, even with a hat on, I felt myself getting headaches. After the third day Imtiaz joined us on the dig, in old loose-fitting shirts, men’s shirts probably and jeans that sat nicely on her bottom. We worked together we talked, we often went back to my flat after work to drink lemonade and eat the delicious street food we picked up on the way.
I soon found myself thinking about her constantly. Then she came to me in a dream. I was on the site, removing soil, brushing way at an unrecognisable object that resolved itself into a female form. First I laid clear two small, firm breasts, a taut stomach, then moving down with increasing excitement, a vulva sitting in a garden of hair. I brushed the clitoris and Imtiaz sat up in the pit, showering me with dust as she shook her hair loose.
I went down on her, tasting dust, feeling grit on my tongue. She stroked my head, then pulled it towards her.
“We have so much time for that. First let me kiss you.”
And we kissed, and I felt her softness, her smooth skin, the cardamom sweetness of her breath. I was wet with wanting her, I….
I woke up. My breasts were hard, the nipples were rubbing against my nightdress. I looked at my phone. It was nearly five o’clock. I had another hour. I lay and masturbated to her.
When I saw her at the site I blushed, hoping she didn’t notice. I found it hard to focus that day. I ae excuses to pop into the office, just to be with her. Then I asked her, aware of the tremor in my voice
“Would you like to come for tea later?”
“Yes I would, thank you.”
We stood in my kitchen just two hours later, waiting for the green tea to brew. She moved closer to me, reached out and touched my face.
“Rachel, I, I”
“Imtiaz, you are so beautiful”
I kissed her. She responded and we kissed passionately before she pulled away.
“I am scared, Rachel. I haven’t”
“With anyone?”
“No. Nor with a woman, now with a man. I don’t know if”
“I will look after you. I will make it beautiful for us.”
I knelt and gently pulled down her pants. I pushed her panties to the side and licked at her vulva. I smelt arousal, tasted her. She was aroused. She tasted hot and sour, she tasted of the sex she had never had but longed for.
I pushed a finger into her cunt, pulled it out and licked it. Then I offered it to her.
“Taste yourself”
I pulled her down and we kissed on the kitchen floor, I put a finger in again and brought her quickly to orgasm.
She began to cry and I held her close, hugged her, comforted her in her vulnerability.
“Was it beautiful?”
She nodded, cast her eyes down, and cried again. I held her close, kissed the top of her head, smelling the fragrant oils. I kissed her on the mouth, tasted the tears. I pulled up her top, kissed her breasts, licked the nipples, flicking their stiff peaks with my tongue. She moaned then, again, tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Come tomorrow and I will show you how to do beautiful things to me”
