The Harem

by Paul Preston

As soon as I woke up I got out of bed and looked in the mirror to see if what happened Friday night was just a dream. When I saw the purplish bruises Jeremy made sucking on the side of my neck, I breathed out a sigh of relief. I had not gone insane! It had actually happened. I had not just imagined my sensual awakening, I had lived it. I have no idea if God or Jesus approves. If I had to guess, I would say probably not, but I’m not sure if I care anymore. If there is a hell for sinners like me who indulge in the flesh, then I will eventually be taken down into the fiery pits, but not until I make my current existence a heaven on earth. Because now I’m going to have sex! Sex! Sex! Sex! Jeremy was right. Without judgment and fear, the Garden of Eden can be recreated, right here on Earth. And I intend to do just that.

  I was thinking about Jeremy, touching myself and fantasizing about sex off and on all Saturday afternoon and evening. Every thirty minutes or so Mom kept knocking on my door and interrupting me, asking where I was until after 11:00 last night, if I was sick, if I was hungry, if I needed anything. I was starving, but I couldn’t go downstairs to get food. My neck looked like a fireworks display went off under my skin. Luckily I found an old turtleneck in the back of my closet which would cover it up.

  After I put my bra on, I had this weird feeling. For the first time in my life I felt restricted and uncomfortable wearing it. The straps felt like they were digging into my shoulders. I took off the bra and tried on another, but all of them made my breasts feel like they were trapped. All my panties were too large, stretched out and ugly. I looked like my Grandmother in them. My conservative clothes and dresses were even worse.

  I suddenly hated every single shred of clothes in my wardrobe now. Am I going to go through life acting like I’m already sixty years old? Did I just go through menopause? I have a cute body; at least I know someone who thinks so. Why not start showing it off?

  Impulsively, I threw on the turtleneck with no bra and sweat pants and quietly tiptoed downstairs before I fainted from hunger. Luckily, Mom was doing the laundry and Dad was watching a football game, so no one saw me, thank God. I made a sandwich quickly and grabbed some snacks.

  When I got back upstairs I was sweating. It was hot as hell in the house. Mom keeps the heat cranked way up during the winter. Oh well. I might as well start getting used to hell, if it exists. I punched a one-way ticket there as soon as I laid eyes on Jeremy’s handsome, virile face. I love Jeremy so much it has now officially driven me crazy. I keep thinking of climbing up to the top of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and plunging myself headfirst into the briny depths below, and on the way down shouting the name of my lover and my friend: JEREMY!

  As I ate my sandwich up in my room, I thought things over. When I was a virgin I think I was right about one thing. You can’t have sex with someone and remain emotionally uninvolved. Maybe Jeremy can do it, but not me. Jeremy, if you don’t tell me you’re in love with me and want to spend the rest of your life with me, I don’t know what I’m going to do! I feel like I’m going mad. Am I? Am I going mad?

  I stayed up in my bedroom Saturday night, trying to process what was happening to me and hiding from my parents. I couldn’t sleep and stayed awake all night long, thinking.

  Tomorrow was trash day. So, late at night, long after I knew Mom and Dad would be asleep, I snuck down to the kitchen and took these large green trash bags back to my room. I threw out every single pair of my crappy underwear and bras and then I emptied out the rest of my closet, throwing out every piece of clothing and pair of shoes I owned. I snuck the bags outside and stuffed them in the trash containers on the curb. The next morning I heard the squealing brakes of the trash truck stop in front of our house and haul away the old version of me.

  When Dad finds out I tossed out all my clothes, he’ll have me committed. I don’t care. Those clothes were picked out for me by my mom, not by me. As soon as I get paid again and save up enough tip money, I’ll buy clothes that I like. I just had to get those old clothes and clunky shoes out of my sight.

  The only clothes I had left were the lingerie and shoes Jeremy bought me which I had hidden in my closet, the open-crotched panties which I was wearing, and a sexy light grey sweater dress from Express. I had impulsively bought it a few months ago with my first paycheck from TGIF as a birthday present for myself, but never had the nerve to take it out of the bag and wear it. Now I had no choice but to put it on!

  When my parents see the empty closet there’ll be another shouting match, I’m sure – weeping and gnashing of teeth. They must be at their wit’s end. I was such a good little girl up until just a few days ago. Oh well, it’s time to grow up.

  After I heard the trash truck pull away, I got out of bed and started to fix myself up for church. After a long hot shower, I shampooed and conditioned my hair. I washed my thong in the sink and got it as dry as I could with my blow dryer. I pulled out my Express bag and finally opened it, clapping my hands together three times like a schoolgirl when I saw it. I slipped it over my head and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked so hot in it! It fit me perfectly, showing off the natural curves of my breasts and waist where Jeremy touched and fondled me as we kissed. The hem went down just barely below my hips and stopped at my upper, upper thighs. If I bent over just a little, you can see pretty much everything that the Good Lord gave me back there, especially wearing the pencil-thin thong. Enjoy the view tomorrow, gentleman. Maybe I can single-handedly increase church attendance at the Presbyterian Church of Christ.

  Also, you could see the contours of my swollen nipples and aureoles, pointing upward, jiggling and shaking with every move I made, through the thin material.

  But I didn’t care about that either, anymore. Let the guys look at me. My large nipples and the puffy pink rings around them are pretty, I think, and my breasts are young and pert. When I looked at them in my bedroom mirror, they seemed a lot bigger than I thought they were and they have a nice form, now that I’ve stopped trying to cover them up. Maybe not quite as big as Cynthia’s breasts at the Harem (hers are huge) but just as big as that other girl I saw who looked like she had rings piercing through her nipples. (OK, they looked sexy and I’m a modern woman now, but that’s where I’m drawing the line.) I’ve kept my breasts hidden all my life. I want to show them off now. I’m going braless from now on. I kept looking at myself until the break of dawn, admiring my breasts and the way they looked in the mirror. I would say they are medium sized. Yes, I thought to myself, I have a nice pair of tits.

  Am I allowed to start calling them that? Tits, boobs, cha-chas. Can I say those words now? Can I write bad words in my diary? Can I write the word fuck? It’s my diary. I guess I can write whatever I want. OK, let me try.

  I want you to fuck me again, Jeremy. I just want to be fucked by you. Anywhere you chose, Jeremy. Any time you desire. You know I am all yours, Master Jeremy. By contract, as a slave girl in your Harem, you’re allowed to fuck me whenever and however you desire. I’d really like it if you tied me up. Can we try that? I think it would make me really aroused. Do you want to tie me up and take me from behind? I know you want to, Jeremy. Do you want to try it? Or shall I kiss you, Jeremy? I know how you like to come in my mouth. You can’t get it out of your mind, can you? So why not just give in to your desires and just do it to me. I want you to come in my mouth, Master Jeremy, again and again and again…

  Dear Diary, I’m so wet and in the mood right now from all these dirty words. I’m having such naughty, nasty thoughts and no one to share them with…

  I suddenly noticed it was 8:15! I threw on some makeup to cover the marks on my neck, some lipstick and eye shadow, and tried to sneak out of the house. The only problem was that I threw out all my winter coats. Spring, summer and fall ones too. Oh boy, I’m going to freeze my little ass off. Now I wish I hadn’t gone completely crazy and kept one stupid coat at least.

  So I gathered my courage and quietly crept down the stairs in my supermodel dress and high heels, attempting to escape without my parents seeing me.

  Un
fortunately, they were ready for me this morning. When they saw me, they both stood up from the living room couch in their fluffy bathrobes like a couple of potato-shaped jailers and blocked the doorway, speaking in unison again and overlapping each other.

  “Where do you think you’re going, young lady? Where’d you get that awful dress? I can see all the way up your legs. Wait. Are you wearing a bra? She’s not wearing a bra honey. What? What? She’s not wearing a bra? You’re going to church dressed like that? Have you lost your mind again? I can see your bosom, Evelyn! Go back upstairs and put on a bra, young lady? And change out of that slutty dress immediately! What’s got into you? Why are you trying to embarrass us, Evelyn? Have we not been good parents to you? Have we not given you everything you desire? You haven’t yet told us where you were Friday night and why you came home so late. Tell us the truth, Evelyn. Don’t you lie to your mother!”

  I wanted to tell them, “Don’t worry Mom and Dad. I’ve become the Harem girl of a rich man named Jeremy and I’ve become sexually involved with him. I’m in love with him, Mother. Jeremy’s training me to become a sexual love slave. I will be paraded naked, oiled and chained in front of the family members of a rich Middle-Eastern sheik at a slave auction later today. If the sheik buys me for his Harem, I’ll be flown to Dubai on Tuesday to join his Harem. If I am allowed to return, I’ll come back home a very rich woman. No more waiting tables for me. Please understand, Mom and Dad, I know you’re upset, but this is what I want to do with my life.”

  Instead, without raising my voice, and in a calm manner, I said, “Mom and Dad, I appreciate your concern, but I’m twenty seven now, I’m an adult, and what I choose to wear is entirely my concern. Now please stop blocking the door so I can get to church. I have to prepare my lessons for Sunday school class.”

  They just started shouting at me in unison again, further annoyed at my composed manner, in the face of the clothing crisis.

  “If you are twenty seven, why are you acting like you’re still thirteen years old? You are not wearing that slutty outfit to church, young lady. Over my dead body are you leaving the house looking like that. I want you to turn right around and march right back up those stairs and change your clothes. Where’d you get those high heels? You look like a hooker in those shoes! You’re not going out of the house in those. What has come over you in the last few days? We’ve made you an appointment, haven’t we, honey? We called yesterday. Yes we have. We did. We’ve made you an appointment to speak with your psychiatrist. We’re worried about your strange behavior lately, honey. We made it for Tuesday morning, so it doesn’t interfere with your schedule at the restaurant. Now, honey, we think you need some help. We love you, honey. We just want to help you. Perhaps if you just talk to your psychiatrist…”

  When they uttered the word, “psychiatrist”, my heart stopped and the power shifted between us. They had done this before; making everyone think I’m crazy. Suddenly, I felt sick to my stomach and my confidence disappeared.

  “At the clinic?”

  “No dear, here. We didn’t think you’d cooperate in going to Potomac Fields to see the doctor, so he’s coming here…”

  “Here?”

  A home visit could only mean one thing. I’ll be leaving in the back of the white van in one of those shirts that button up the back. I stood completely still and could hardly breathe. The parental units had my full attention now. Potomac Fields…

  “Now, go back upstairs this instant like your mother said and change your clothes! Are you insane? You can’t go to a House of Worship dressed like that! Do you want to bring shame to the family? This is our home, and when you’re living under our roof, you’ll have to obey our rules! Listen to your Father! Take off those awful shoes and change your clothes this instant.”

  I took off my high heels.

  “OK, Mom. OK, Dad. I’ll go back upstairs and change.”

  After taking a few steps toward the stairs, I made a mad dash for the back door.

  “Evelyn!”

  I made it outside, instantly freezing my bare feet on the frost. I ran to my car, started it up and turned the heat on high. I pulled out of the driveway and looked back at my parents in the rear view mirror, yelling at me from the front porch and clutching their bathrobes around themselves in the cold.

  I made it to church a little early and hung out in the classroom, straightening up the toys scattered everywhere. A few minutes before 9:30, people started dropping off their kids. The women looked at me like I was trash; the men tried to keep their eyes focused on the floor. People talked, the news spread and soon every single man in the church, as well as some who were married, came by to take a peek at the church tramp through the window of my classroom. A couple of the more confident and attractive men, the most eligible bachelors of the church, guys who had never looked at me twice before, actually came into the classroom and introduced themselves to me for the first time. They gave me their business cards and asked me out for coffee or lunch later in the week. I was actually quite flattered that they wanted to take me out on a date. The men seemed quite nice, so I took their contact information and said I would give them a call. As the two gentlemen left, I could see Mom and Dad staring at me through the window, judging me. Was I supposed to be rude and not take their cards? It was quite obvious how ashamed and disappointed my parents were in me. Their daughter, the church whore.

  Finally, the 9:30 service started and I was left alone to play with the kids. I was supposed to read them children’s bible stories, but I decided I just couldn’t do it anymore.

  Just as I made the decision to resign as the Sunday school teacher, I sensed his presence, burning into my backside as I bent over to calm a crying child. I gave the boy the toy he wanted, stood up and walked slowly over to Jeremy. His sexy muscular body filled the frame of the door. He was the most handsome and sharply dressed guy in the whole place. We stood very close to one another, and spoke in whispers, so I was sure no one else could hear.

  “Hey you,” I said, as Jeremy leaned over and gave me an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

  “You look so nice, Eve.”

  “Thank you, Jeremy.”

  “I told you I’d come if you tried on the lingerie. I’m a man of my word.”

  “You are.”

  I glanced out the window toward the chapel and bit my lower lip.

  “Is there something wrong, Eve? You seem nervous.”

  “In less than two minutes the services will be over and the parents will come in to pick up their kids. My parents are expecting me to go into the chapel and sit with them for the next service. I want you to wait for me in the hallway. When you see me come out, no matter what happens, I want you to walk with me to the end of the hallway, take my hand and escort me out the back exit of the church. You’ll walk me over to your car, drive me to your home, lay me down in your bed and take my virginity away today…”

  “Eve… We discussed this. It’s not that I don’t want to—”

  “You’ve got to get me out of here, Jeremy.”

  “But I made a vow to you. We decided—”

  “Jeremy. I’ve been a virgin for twenty seven years. Now that I’ve found someone that I trust enough to do this with, I’m not going to remain a virgin for a day longer. I’ll sign the contract if you’d like.”

  “It’s not that, it’s just—”

  I touched my finger gently to his lips.

  “You have to help me, Jeremy. My parents think I have some sort of mental problem. They’ve set me up to see a psychiatrist in two days. Not at the clinic, but at my house.”

  “Why at your—”

  “They’re coming to my house to get me, Jeremy. If you don’t get me out of here right now, I’m afraid my parents are going to have me committed to a mental hospital…”

  Jeremy’s eyes widened and he put one hand protectively on the back of my arm. I continued, “If I’m locked up in a mental ward somewhere, I’ll never have another chance to feel something. I need to know
what it’s like to have sex, at least once in my life. You’re the only one who can help me. You have to help me, Jeremy. Please. I’m begging you. You have to help me.”

  “Of course, Eve, of course. Whatever it is you need me to do. I’m here for you. I’m here to help you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “The service is almost over. People are coming out. Go. Wait for me in the hallway. Hopefully we can get out of here without creating a scene.”

  Jeremy nodded and made a move to leave the doorway. I reached my hand out and touched his sleeve.

  “Jeremy, if you can’t get me out of here, if they come and take me away and lock me up, if I never get to see you again, I want to say… thank you. You’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been. You’ve made me feel like a woman for the first time in my life. I want you to know I really appreciate it. And if you can get me out of here, I intend to show you, time and time and time again, just how much I do appreciate it.”

  I stood up on tippy-toes and kissed his cheek.

  “Go. Before they find out you’re here to rescue me.”

  Jeremy nodded and walked nonchalantly down the hallway to the water fountain as the crowd emptied out of the chapel. I peered out of the window and saw my parents milling about in the crowd, glancing in the direction of the Sunday school. About half of the parents had come in and picked up their kids, the other half were in the greeting line along with my parents, waiting to exchange gossip with the Pastor. Finally, the 11:00 Sunday school teacher, Ms. Vivienne showed up. She stood directly in front of me, staring. She had that churchy smell of cheap perfume, hairspray and crumpled up tissues. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my parents had made it to the front of the line and were talking to the Pastor. I saw the Pastor consolingly pat my Mom’s hand. Dad tried to keep his eyes on me, looking over his shoulder toward the classroom. It was time to make a break for it.

  “Ms. Vivienne, I’m glad you’re here. Do you mind watching over the rest of the kids still here from the 9:30 class until their parents get here? I’ve got to use the restroom.”