10th May 2023

Regrettably the burgeoning relationship between the Basheer girls and Zara Amin was proving troublesome. The eldest daughter Hafse seemed particularly besotted by the physically stunning translator and was almost drooling over her every spoken word and tiny gesture. In any other such grouping Claudine’s assumption would have been of some undercurrent of growing emotional connection, but among this specific cultural circle her personal experience and knowledge were thin to nonexistent, so good practice made a voyage of illumination most vital. As luck would have it several years earlier Claudine had enjoyed a very pleasant tryst with a girl of mid-eastern heritage, so she contacted her past lover with some haste for insight. Labella was not presently a practicing Muslim, but could no doubt throw some light on the adolescent development of female/feminine attraction in its early blossomings.

The conversation with Labella gave Claudine pause to consider her own observations and feelings about the till today stranger who was Zara Amin. The dark abaya and hijab should have by rights and purpose made the tall, slim wearer blend most unobtrusively into the background in formal any setting. The uniform was blatantly nonsexual, non-gender affirming, rigorously avoided highlighting the shape and definition of the physique so scrupulously concealed. In all these important exclusions Zara Amins clothing failed dismally.

Like so many middle eastern woman Zara appeared to wear no obvious facial makes up, but to Claudine’s experienced eyes the very lack of the conspicuous simply indicated the depth of the skill of the application. The dark frame of the hijab showed the panned perfection of Zara’s completion ideally, her lips glistened a rouged welcoming, and her eyes sparkled quite magnetically from their dark alluring surrounds.

Zaras abaya was especially cunning in this design. Loose enough to fall straight and flat when at rest but just tight enough to give a generous indication of the form below as the material creased and caught underclothes when in movement. Claudine caught herself pondering whether Zara was wearing stockings or tight hosiery beneath the noire shroud. She found considering the question uncomfortably stimulating.   

“Did you want to ask me something sergeant Miller?”

Being addressed by her title made Claudia shiver just a little.

“Nothing specific Zara, but please do call me Claudine.”

“Such a powerful first name, do almost make me quake in the saying. I am very honored to comply with your wishes.”

Claudine knew perfectly well she was being verbally played, but to be totally honest she didn’t minutely care.  Her mind was still replaying the earlier conversation with Labella and the way the very arousing chat had evolved into a hot exchange about harems and the ways such female gatherings amused themselves almost continuously.

“I am so happy your thoughts please you.”

Claudine suddenly realized she was grinning quite wantonly.

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