Amazon Arab Lady
by Joe Rathbun
Ish Alish has strength and vitality which gives rise to a fiery sex-drive.

                             Amazon

                            ARAB LADY


                             Preface

This gal is at the same time, demure and conservative, yet, hot-
blooded to the boiling point! She is full of surprises...

First, she is an Amazon; her tall rugged stature and powerful
physique breeds a maverick personality. But second, she IS Arabic
and that sends the fellow who wrote this story in the first person
into an unusual relationship.

She can't help it; her strength and vitality gives rise to a fiery
sex-drive. But she proudly retains her Middle Eastern heritage and
Islamic faith. She must balance between the two.

The guy who wrote this account appears to be a bit dumbfounded as
to why this big gal would love him so, although he hoped for it and
certainly appreciates it. Her strong, giving soul does indeed
appear to strengthen his.

As with all these stories available at the source you found this
one, the Lady is always in charge of the situation. She is able to
take care of herself without a man's help when the situation
becomes unsavory.
                           Amazon

                            ARAB LADY


It was just another mountain bike trip to the Cascade Mountains of
Washington State. I went on a Tuesday.

Because of my profession, that of a contracted C++ (and other
computer languages) programmer, I work mostly at home. Sometimes
trips are involved to install systems but usually, my work takes
place in my home. Therefore I am not subject to the Saturday and
Sunday grind of most people. I WORK on Saturday and Sunday, and use
either Monday or Tuesday (or both) as my "weekend". That way, I get
the beautiful parks, reserves and other wild places and trails of
the Cascades practically all to myself.

And because I live just about IN the Cascades, I do not use a car
to first take the mountain bike to the park then hit the trails; I
pedal all the way by bike. Again, due to my work-at-home life-
style, I do not have to live in the big city (Seattle or Tacoma in
this case). I live... well, in the boonies.



I prepared the bike Monday night, and took off something like 8
a.m. Tuesday morning. So I pedaled, struggling up big hills or
mountains, careening at wild speeds down the hills, then into the
park which is connected to the Cascade Trail system, and huffed and
puffed up that big mountain for the next three hours. I was not in
a hurry. I stopped often to gaze at the wondrous views. The
mountain I climbed is not famous, it is a "non-descript", typical
Cascade ridge or peak just a little over 10,000 feet. From the top
of it, one can see Mount Rainier and some other famous peaks. I am
not out to break height or speed records, just for the enjoyment of
the wild outdoors... and a break from the desk and computer. I
often climb this same mountain because it is close to where I live.
I never tire of the scenery. Also, due to its NOT being famous,
that reduces the crowds even more. It is not that crowded, usually,
even on Saturday. It is one of those "Residents-only-know-about-it"
kinds of places.

I was huffing and puffing up the last 100 feet or so of altitude
and last 1000 feet of trail before the top. Gasping for air at this
10,000 feet level always slows me down. Already, most trees were
below me, and from one side of the trail, (the CLIFF side! The one
with a 3000-foot drop!) I could look over a valley to the east, a
splendid view!

It has never happened yet, but I thought it was happening then; an
oxygen-deprived state of mind that causes hallucination... I could
have sworn I heard an angel sing... The melody was haunting and her
voice echoed off the adjacent mountain-tops. I WAS just a wee bit
dizzy, but I often am for the last 500 feet of climbing. The
singing ceased as I neared the top. I looked for that usual rock
formation to coast up to on my bicycle and lean against, just about
ready to drop, to recover. I was just a little concerned over my
condition; that of hearing voices.

I thought "Well I am 38 and maybe not quite as spry as I once was",
although I hoped that was not the case. Maybe just an "off-day".
Had I been in competition, this day would have been one of those
days athletes sometimes have where they just don't do well.

I reached the rocks and leaned against them with my right arm, head
bowed, huffing and gasping. The stiff breeze felt good. I recovered
quickly but then, startled, I thought I saw red in the corner of my
eyes - I thought "redding-out", a term Fighter Pilots use to
indicate loss of consciousness proceeded by seeing red after being
exposed to extended negative g-force - but, I wasn't in a fighter
jet... I put my hand to my forehead to rub the tension out then
raised my head, then, looking away per chance, saw the unexpected
source of both singing and red...

Before I fully realized that she... SHE was there... or at the same
time, I don't know... she said, "Easy there, sir, you better sit!"
Her voice dulcet, she had some kind of accent that imparted an
"exotic spice" to her speech.

Finally my mind had time to register this startling sight, this
source of red...

From her head, held high on a very tall frame, to her feet, was ALL
RED! A long, flowing, billowing thin bolt of red danced and waved
about her solid, six-foot body. It was slightly see-through, I do
not know if she realized it. I was under the shade of rocks and she
was still in the sun with bright scenery behind her. So the light
shined through her billowing red, robe-like dress casting an
outline of very well-built, shapely legs. I could see from the mere
silhouette, that her legs not only could have easily brought her up
this mountain, but a load as well, had there been a reason for it.

The red dress flowed and waved in the wind around her legs, but the
dress was a "second skin" around her tight, lean waist. Her upper
body including head was wrapped in a red-rose-colored shroud or
hood-like garment. From the lower edge of this garment hung many
small, glass diamonds... I assume they were glass... that many
diamonds would have been a fortune! Although this clothing was
layered over the basic dress, her ample bosom's shape showed
through plainly. She was shaped well! The dress under the shroud
must have been sleeveless, because her fore-arms were bare. The
shroud came down to just over her waist and about the level of her
elbows. Though not massive, her forearms were nicely shaped and
looked solid. Indeed, nothing puny could be seen on this gal!

Anyway, to continue, the shroud was not all... fully more than half
her face hid behind a purple veil. It appeared to be supported in
place by a thin, delicate gold chain running over her forehead to
a head-band. The veil's material was thin, so that I could just
barely see her sumptuous, pretty lips behind it. Only her big,
pretty eyes were in full, un-obstructed view.

And what eyes! The white was really white, and the pupils, dark
brown with, of course, the black center. There was a large contrast
between the dark part and white of her eyes imparting a look, that,
well, immediately ensnared me. I was unable to continue to look her
in the face with those piercing eyes. I looked down while she
continued to, almost like "glide" toward me. Looking down hard as
I was, I saw occasional glimpses of her feet. She was bare-footed
with toe-nails polished red.

I think at that point, if she commanded me to kill, I would have.
Fortunately for me, not one violent thought existed in her. "You
best sit down a bit!" she advised me once more. Gosh, as she came
up to me, I could see she was every bit as tall as I, maybe taller!
I'm six feet-even already and slender at 165 pounds. She was as
tall or a wee bit taller than me and, being so... solid, she was
certainly heavier and possibly considerably stronger!

Usually, after most climbs up that mountain, I linger a while,
straddling my bike and leaning against the rocks, catching my
breath. But she told me to "sit", so... I obeyed! That's all I
could do!

Before I was ready perhaps, I lifted a leg to un-straddle and get
off my bike. Maybe from the thin air, not fully recovered, and the
intoxicating effect of her presence, my foot struck the bike's
saddle as I lifted it over causing me to fall. Her sturdy bare arms
caught me with no problem. Thus I had my first real piece of
evidence, this Lady WAS STRONG!

As she grabbed me saving me from the fall, my hands unconsciously
grabbed her about her shoulders. Her shoulders felt large and
solid. "Easy there, sir! Please, sit a while. You over exerted
yourself!" she said as she helped me stabilize and accompanied me
to a convenient rock to sit upon. 
I sat, and she released her hold on me and stepped back. Those
piercing eyes... I could not look her in the face. I sheepishly
said, " sorry about that ", barely audible.

"That's quite alright, sir! Here, do you want me to bring this...
this refreshment here? In the bottle-cage here, on your bike... is
that a sports drink?"
"Y... yes... okay" I stammered out.

She pulled out the bottle from its cage on my bike and brought it
to me. As I drank, she stood back a bit asking me this and that.
Her speech was beautifully spiced with some kind of foreign accent,
but clear. She had no problem with English. I dared occasional
glimpses at those eyes. The rest of her face behind a veil, her
eyes were all that was required to entrap me. Maybe it was a good
thing her face was veiled. I think I would have melted down into my
own personal "China Syndrome" otherwise.

"Did you peddle that bike all the way up here from the park below?"
she asked.
"Yes, and from further away than the park. All the way from my
home. But it isn't far, just in that valley to the west. You can
see it from the over-look here."
"You must be very strong! But you should take it easy, don't over
exert." she advised sweetly.
"It's the thin air. I moved from Florida a few years ago after
becoming safely established in my career. Florida is at sea-level
so I guess I still am not used to thin mountain air. And my present
home is in a valley at only about 1500 feet, so that does not help
me acclimate to altitude." I puffed after that passage, to catch my
breath. Then I continued, "Florida's way too hot for me. As soon as
I felt safe to, my career that is, I got out. This is for me.
Mountains, cool, not so strong a sun."

She laughed a bit saying, "Huh, you would have trouble adjusting to
my country at certain times of the year. It gets very hot in
summer... but nice and cool in fall and winter. And the sun is
always bright and strong..." she paused a moment then continued,
"But Florida, that you speak of, is oppressive even to me. I think
the humidity does it. In my country, the air is really dry. So,
even though hot, I think it is more comfortable than Florida. And,
in my country, there is not the mildew problem and... oh, I'm
talking on too much! I did spend a few years in Florida then I too,
moved to Washington State, in Seattle. Except for too much rain in
winter... my country is always dry so I'm not used to rain...
Seattle is nice. And it and these mountains sure are beautiful. You
mentioned 'stabilizing' your career. What do you mean? What is your
career?"

"I am a computer programmer working from home. All my jobs are
contractual so I had to build a reputation and clientele first
before moving. Moving is a lot of trouble and expensive."
"A computer programmer? Hmm. I have done a LITTLE of that. But..."
she paused a few seconds then blurted out, "Do you think you could
write an Arabic Word Processor?"
"A what?"
"A word processor for Ara... well, I forget, one would have to know
Arabic first... It would help me with my work! I translate...
stuff... much of it technical, from English to Arabic for Saudi
Arabian clients mostly... I work at a service bureau in Seattle...
as a Translator."

"Hmm" I pondered, still in her spell. If she wanted me to write an
Arabic word processor, I would have at least tried, even though I
would have NOT known what in the hell I was doing! I began, "I
would have to be thoroughly informed as to Arabic letters and their
capital and lower-case forms. And as to an Arabic spell-checker...
Hmm... let's see... I would have to set up a small, temporary
program where an expert speller of Arabic would input some 80,000
Arabic words, well, you know, some big number of them... so it
would be useful... then..."
"One correction..." she began, interrupting my analysis, "In
Arabic, there are no capital and lower case letters. But... " she
smiled at me impishly, "There ARE four forms for each... and 29 of
them, not 26 as in your English alphabet..."
"Hmm. Interesting problem. To get the four forms, not only the
'shift-key' would have to be employed, but the 'ALT-key' and the
'ConTRoL-key' as well... with no keys at all to type, I would
assume, the most commonly occurring form..."

I was really quite absorbed into what would be a programming
challenge to me when she interrupted, "Oh, I'm sorry! You came here
to rest and get away from that computer stuff and here I am dumping
more work on you! Never mind. Let's just enjoy the view! It's so
nice here. I wish to tarry quite a while!"

Her word was command to me, so I promptly forgot the Arabic word
processor and began to stand up to stroll around, as I always do,
gazing, at first one spectacular scene, then another. As I stood,
she asked, "Are you okay now?"
"Sure! You don't have to worry about me. I come here often. The
climb DOES take a lot out of me sometimes. It depends on how much
sleep I get. I have been hurrying the past few days to get a
program out to a guy. He needs it fast. Most weeks, I take Monday
and Tuesday off. But this week only Tuesday. And I stayed up late
working on his program last night. Not advisable on the eve of a
mountain-climbing-day!"
"Oh I see that you're one of these computer professionals who work
too hard. You should take it easy. You work on Saturday and Sunday
to get Monday and Tuesday off?"
"Yes. Mondays and Tuesdays the parks are not crowded."
"Hmm. Same with me. Although I do work for a company and a boss...
sort of, I have arranged to work on Saturday for Tuesdays off...
for the same reason you say. But..." and she looked at me with what
seemed like concern, "Do you go to church on Sunday?"
"Well... I... er... um..."
"I'm Muslim myself, so we go about it slightly different, but you
should stay close to God, who is, when you strip away minor
worshiping differences, the same God for us all."

As she strolled about taking in the scenery as did I, she
continued, "This before you is the exquisite art-work of God! Just
look at it and behold!..."

She gestured toward the scenery which was, as she said, God's art,
no less! Interesting too, the way she gestured, and in the type of
clothes she wore and being a-top this mountain, she reminded me,
somewhat, of a stereo-typical "Bible character". She continued,
"When I come here, I feel closer to God. I feel I could almost
touch His face. To show reverence, I take off my shoes, a few
hundred feet down the trail, before coming here, just like before
entering a Mosque."

I did wonder if she hiked bare-footed all the way from the park
below to here. What she said answered my question. Anyway, I did
get the feeling she was chaste, and so resisted any kind of show of
sexual interest. And she was sexy, though nearly all covered. Those
eyes, her posture, her strength and what seemed like now,
articulate intelligence all combined for awesome impact. And being
a Translator with at least a working familiarity with computers,
she was an "up-to-date" professional.

I became helplessly submissive to her. I asked, "Should I remove my
shoes too?"
"Oh no, no, no! It's just my own habit." she smiled sweetly at me
and concluded, "Relax!"

We both strolled around, quiet at last, taking in the sights. I
followed loosely or stayed close, at least, to her, never further
than fifteen feet. At that time, she may have not known it, but she
had a personal slave that would do anything for her.

The "slave" at last ventured, "Just as I approached the top, I
heard... or thought I heard.... beautiful singing, like an angel.
Was that you?"

She looked at me smiling, laughing almost, "Yes, yes, I was
singing. I quit when I saw you come. I feel you do not wish your
peace here interrupted by my noise!"
"No! Not noise! And... not only that, I ask, could you sing now?
The sound of it earlier... was so enchanting..."
"Are you SURE? It's just a prayer-song to God. I was singing in
Arabic. You wouldn't understand."
"But the beauty of the melody, I keep thinking about it. Come on,
please?"

She stood and gazed at me with interest for a minute then said,
"Usually, only a Man sings prayers when there is mixed company...
Oh, oh well. This is United States. Okay, very well..."

She cleared her throat producing a sound which already sounded
pretty. She gracefully stepped up to a slightly higher point, where
I believe she may have been when I first heard her. With her
stature, and her red dress flowing in the wind, she was scenery
herself! Standing in an erect and graceful pose, she began...

In a voice pure and powerful, she sang out the exotic strains of
some kind of praise to God. Her voice echoed off nearby peaks and
closer rock formations. She had an interesting way of inflecting
her voice which, I learned later, is a common characteristic to
most Arabic Music. She hit all notes, true and accurate and the
language she used, Arabic, was a delight to hear, fitting the music
well. It seemed to me she was singing more powerfully than when I
first heard her and thought I was hearing things. Perhaps it was
because she now knew she had an "audience".

She wrapped the song up and then I begged for another.

"One more! Then that's it." she declared, smiling.

I closed my eyes to be transported away to a different dimension by
another haunting melody. It was over too soon. She wrapped it up
and gave me a penetrating look, smiling. I felt my soul touched and
warmed by her.



I would not soon forget that music.

We went back to strolling about. By and by I was staring out over
some scenery thinking of her of course, and mostly, how to make
these moments with her last longer or happen again.

I was near a gnarled tree or bushes. Twisted the tree was, from
prevailing winds and harsh conditions of the mountain top. I was
near enough to the tree that I nudged its leaves. The wind caused
the leaves to gently brush against me. That is why when I felt
something gently caressing my butt, I gave it no thought.

Suddenly, I realized, there are no leaves there... at the level of
my butt. The tree, rooted in rocks facing out from the cliff,
reached over rocks to about my shoulders and upper back. Also, I
felt a warmth radiating onto my back... I turned slightly wondering
what... Red filled half my sight as I looked back -
"HAH HAH HAH!" She guffawed out loud as she jumped back. "Made ya
turn! HAH HAH!"

She stepped back and twirled, naughty and laughing! "OOO! Nice
BUTT!" she declared. Her red dress and rose-red shroud swirled
gracefully with her twirl.

It sure surprised me. I did not expect that behavior from her. It
had not dawned on me, my cycling clothes, which consisted of extra-
short, typically tight, black-with-blue-stripe cycling shorts and
white tank-top jersey, do impart to me, a lean look... if I may
speak so of myself...

Six feet-even and 165 pounds is a light-weight man, but at least I
can say, what there is of me is all muscle. All my muscles, such as
they are, show clearly. My biceps are hard as golf balls... and no
bigger than... My legs are hard with iron-cable muscles as is my
butt that she so gingerly felt over. A woman has to like slender
physiques to appreciate mine, but if they do, my body is a good
example of... slenderness...

All I did is hope she did like slender physiques... and therefore,
mine. I continued to enjoy her naughty attentions.

She kept her distance, laughing, looking me up and down with those
dark eyes. If I stepped toward her, she would back away, sometimes
with a twirl and amongst many giggles.

I did not know what to say, and I do not remember what I did say,
but the following stands out: I said something like, joking of
course, "Why, you cad, you beast, you imp! First you sing praises
to God, then you start feeling me up!"

I reached for her just to give her a friendly tap on her shoulder
but she backed away, twirled real pretty and laughing, "Well it's
not MY fault you come up here tempting me with your shiny black and
hard butt!"

I enjoyed her "feeling me up" but I pretended to laugh and say,
"Well keep your hands off my butt, or I'll put my hands on yours!"
"I'd like to see ya try! HAH HAH!" she declared as she twirled like
in a dance past me and then -
WHAP!
A stinging slap on my butt almost knocked me down. And it really
hurt, including tingles afterward. I had to rub out the hurt.

"Alright!" I declared, "I'm gettin' you for that!" Then I took out
after her in a delightful pretend chase. But I was indeed after a
harmless feel.

But she was not to caught! Each time I approached her, she would
twirl of leap away. She surprised me with what she could do. Once
she jumped up a five foot high rock formation that I had to
scramble over. Another time she leaped, almost like flying with her
red outfit waving behind her, some 12 or 15 feet from one rock to
another. I had to jump down between the rocks and jump back up the
next one. Her naughty and pretty laughter graced the mountain top
all during our little game.

Suddenly, she stopped. I reached toward her rear only to have my
skinny wrist grabbed by her strong hand. She forced my hand to her
own red-covered butt and "made" me feel. That surprised me!
However, her butt felt good! It was ample and hard, and I could
feel energy from her gluts (butt-muscles) pulsating from it. At
this point, I was pretty sure, this Lady was just plain STRONGER
than I, and I think she knew it too.

"Okay, okay!" she laughed, huffing from all that running and
leaping, "You've felt my butt! Now let's quiet down and enjoy the
view a little while longer, then I have to leave."

I thought to myself, "have to leave". Oh, I dreaded leaving. I did
not want this to end. I began to think again on how to extend this
longer, then she interrupted my thoughts with, "Say, with you
chasing me around, I don't even know your name!"

"Aaron, Aaron Rayburn!" I said cheerfully. Asking my name possibly
meant interest from her in continuing this past this day I hoped.

"Hmm" she began, "Interesting. Not the 'Rayburn' part, that's
clearly English, but 'Aaron', sounds just a little bit Arabic!"

It cheered me to hear that. I replied, "Well, Aaron IS a name from
the Bible, which means it's a Hebrew name. Isn't Hebrew a little
like Arabic? They come from the same region of the world..."
"Yes, it's a little like Arabic. Now, here is something 100 percent
Arabic; can you say, 'Ish Alish'?"

I ventured, "Yish Aleece..."
"Well, not quite. You might could say 'Yish', but it's better to
say 'Ish'. And Alish ends with 'sh', not 's'. Try again now, Ish
Alish..."
"Yish Alish"
"Say 'Yish' one more time and I'll toss you off this mountain." She
grabbed my shoulders and shook me gently, grinning that impish
grin. But, if she really meant it, I think she COULD toss me. Next
to me, she really looked and felt strong.

She coached me one more time, "Okay, 'Ish Alish'!"
"Ish Alish!"
"GREAT!" she pronounced, clapping her hands, "My goodness, you
sound like an Arab guy already. You CAN be taught!"

I laughed with her as I was glad to have pronounced her name
accurately. I did try to give it an "Arabic" sound. She further
said, "At the service bureau, most Americans there call me 'Alice',
but I like better to be called 'Ish Alish' or just 'Alish' for
short. Addressing me with 'Alish' gets my attention. When someone
says 'Alice' to me, sometimes I forget they're talking to me. I
assume they're talking to the one of the two other Alices in that
office."
"Okay, Yish, er uh, Ish Alish! And it's a pretty name!"



My bliss with Ish Alish continued for I don't know how long. She
initiated the descent-hike off the mountain. I followed, "walking"
my bike.

We walked a ways, maybe about 500 feet. Then she stopped and pulled
out a pair of white Nike walking shoes from a hidden spot behind
the rocks. Indeed, it was her shoes that she removed earlier, to
show reverence to God's Mountain-Art. Then we continued walking
down the trail.

By and by, Alish, who had been looking me over from time to time as
we walked, asked, "Aren't you going to ride it down?"

Stupidly, in a daze, I replied, "Ride what down?"
"Your bicycle!"
"Oh, oh... yeah... "

I stammered, shaking my head, then continued, "Yeah, yeah, I
usually ride it down. It's quite enjoyable. Unlike hiking up then
hiking down, when you ride up, its work, sure. But going down, you
just sit and enjoy! Gravity is your engine!"
She looked at me wryly and asked, "Then why don't you... ride it
down now?"
"Because I don't wanna..." I stopped myself. I didn't look her in
her face but I could feel those eyes x-raying me. Oh well, she knew
it anyway. So I just said it out, "I don't wanna leave you..."

She blurted out some modest laughter and bumped my shoulder with
hers. She said, "Okay, okay. Then could we ride together?"

With those eyes piercing, I stammered out, "Well, uh, the bike, uh,
this is only for one rider..."
"Aww! Come on! Let's do it! It'll be FUN!"
"Okay" I said, ready to do anything she suggests like it was
command, "We'll figure something out!"

She ended up on the saddle of the bike. I lowered the 'quick-
release' saddle adjuster to its lowest position for descending. Due
to her long dress, she sat 'side-saddled'. Her hands on the brakes,
she could control the descent. I sat on the rear carrier meant for
supporting bike-packs. Though a little heavy for it, my 165 pounds
was easier for it than her 180 or more pounds. Sitting on it was
cumbersome and after a time, began to hurt my butt.

I asked her to stop a while so I could rest my butt from that hard
seat. Alish suggested, "Take off your jersey, ball it up and use it
as a cushion." She smiled and waited.

I had always been shy of any kind of undressing, especially in
front of a Lady. But she grew impatient waiting and said, "Take it
off, silly! It's getting warm anyway as we descend."

She reached to my sides and began to peel off my own jersey. I had
to comply. No sooner did I complete pulling the jersey over my
head, then two hands were on my chest, feeling.

"Is there ANY place on you that isn't hard?"
"Well, I, uh, well..."
"Let's see if THAT'S hard..."

I saw her hand go for my crotch. I almost jumped away, surprising
her. Maybe I'm too much of a conservative nerd, but some of that
Southern Christian stuff rubbed off on me from my Mother. Alish
could see I wasn't ready. "Okay, okay! My, such an up-tight fellow
for an American!"

I laughed nervously.

"Well, lets continue on down. Here, roll it up like this..." Alish
said as she rolled up my jersey and gave to me to cush my tush.
"With a butt as hard as yours, I think perhaps that carrier is
receiving more damage than you. IT can use that cushion as well!"
she said with a naughty grin. She remounted my bike and we
continued.


When we arrived at the park, there were only a few picnickers.
Their heads turned at the sight of that tall, red-garbed Ish Alish
by my side.

After taking a drink from a fountain as did I after her, she led me
to a small red car, a Toyota, then asked in a smart-alec way,
"Well, do you want to pedal off alone, without me... or shall I
take you home? You say it's close, in the valley to the west?"

She already knew what I wanted. Of course I sheepishly said, "Yes,
take me home... please..."
"Okay! Let's secure your bike, and we'll be off!"


As she drove, Ish Alish commented a number of times on the
beautiful scenery of the small lane that led to the valley my home
sat in. Pine trees reached for the sky, way up on either side. The
road sometimes went through deep road-"cuts", with ragged rocks on
either side. The road went down and down. My ears felt pressured
just like on an airplane. I swallowed to relieve the pressure. As
we descended, we encountered fog. It was cool and damp; typical
Seattle and west-Cascades.

"And you really pedaled all the way UP all this?"
"Yes"
"My my! Your legs and butt must be steel! And stamina! OOO! A man
who is hard and has stamina! I could find that very pleasurable...
uh... when you're ready!"
"Uh, well uh, I... uh..." I stuttered out like a dunce until she
interrupted with, "Okay, okay. When you are ready!"

We continued to wind around and descend. We actually passed through
to the underside of the cloud that had been fog. Now the day
appeared over-cast and was cool with a light drizzle. Like I say,
typical north-west.

I directed her to enter and drive down a gravel and dirt drive that
wound around through tall trees. It ascended sharply some, going
back up the mountain. In this place, one either descends or
ascends; there's no level land!

She appeared fascinated with my home. Just a cabin, a cottage, it
was no telling how many years old. Through a clearing in the tall
trees, the valley below could be seen; my house is not all the way
down the mountain. From behind the cabin, the rest of the mountain
soared skyward; today, its top was in the clouds. The Salesman that
sold the property to me said Native Americans built the cabin and
used it a while 80 years ago. But the Salesman may have just said
that to capture my fancy. It has been refurbished a number of
times, the latest by me.

Under tall pines and sort of nestled against the rocks of the
mountain, the cabin and its area was shady, almost dark. The cabin
sat on a base of rocks apparently taken from the mountain. The rest
was all wood, not logs, but typical north-west hard-wood. Ish Alish
lingered a time, absorbing the cozy scene.

"This is nice," she finally said. "Would it violate your Christian
virtues too much, if I came here to spend the night? Not tonight
but later? I promise to sleep in a different room... and to
behave..."
But she was grinning that impish smile again...

"Uh... uh, s- sure!" I said enthusiastically but nervously, "You
can spend a night!"
"Great!" she replied with a naughty smile, "You'll... enjoy my
presence... I think... HAH HAH HAH!"

Gosh, she almost made me nervous.

She lingered more, then noting some UHF-band antennas, asked, "What
are those?"
"The telephone company was going to charge me over 3000 dollars to
run a data-capable phone line from the highway over the 1000 feet
or more to my cabin. So I spent the 400 dollars or so for a full-
duplex, uhf radio link to the highway. The phone lines at the
highway carry 28K modem signals just fine. But man, what an
exorbitant price to hook up my home! Anyway, the uhf link works
just fine. 28K modem communications is ESSENTIAL for me, since my
work is computer-data oriented and is done at home."
"Hmm! Very interesting!"

A look inside the cabin wrapped up her "tour" of my place. There
was not much. The cabin has two rooms; a bed-room, and an-
everything-else-room! Squeezed in the bed-room were the computers,
modems and so on of my trade. One older computer hummed away, on
continuously; used as a small bbs of sorts for my Customers or
Clients to dial in for help and to pick up or leave files,
questions and such. Ish Alish thought the bbs fascinating. "Maybe
I should set one up for my translation Clients..." she pondered
aloud.

She left but not before we traded telephone numbers and email
addresses and agreed on a password for her to access my bbs. She
appeared desirous to stay. And certainly I wanted her to stay. But
my over-bearing Southern-Christian up-bringing pushed against it
for having just met, as did, perhaps, her Muslim back-ground.



I hardly accomplished any work that day. Thinking about her and
thinking about her, those eyes, her manner and everything else used
up no small amount of my mind. I would sit at the desk to plan out
a computer program, do a little, then catch myself thinking of her
again.

That evening I surmised she had plenty of time to get back to
Seattle. I tried calling her, but no answer. Dark outside, I found
the small cabin very constricting for the first time since I lived
there; there wasn't enough room for me to pace. I just could not
get her off my mind enough to do my work. And I had a rather urgent
job to get out. I ate little and finally gave up trying to get any
work done and laid in bed, day-dreaming what it would be like for
her to be beside me.



It became worse over the next day or so. I called her number many
times always with no answer. And she did not call me. I missed her
so, and my chest ached. I could not work. SHE did not call but that
guy sure did. "Where's my program!?" was his ever-present question.

Finally, with my mind ground to a halt with thoughts of a one Ish
Alish, I did something that was costly, financially, but I thought
just once is okay. A buddy of mine in Colorado; he is a C++
programmer also. Occasionally, when I get overloaded, he takes
work-load off me. But off course, I have to pay him so I
essentially make no money on anything he does. He is there only for
emergencies when clientele-"log-jams" develop. Although my Customer
wanted his program LAST YEAR, I, normally, could handle it.

But not now.

Actually, the program was finished. But a run-time bug kept messing
it up, and with my mind locked up, I couldn't trace the problem
down. So I modemed the whole thing to my buddy in Colorado and let
him tackle it.

Then I just wallowed in emotion over Ish Alish...

My chest ached (heart-ache?) so bad it welled, almost, to tears. I
paced around all day, going in the cabin only to attempt calling
her again... and when darkness came. As the sun sank, so did my
hope of her calling.

I feared if she wrecked on the way back to Seattle. Or did she give
me a bum number so I could not bother her... Maybe she found me
mildly interesting but not a serious pursuit. After all, I'm
foreign to her.

After no work done at all that day, and eating little, I finally
fell asleep without getting ready for bed.



Next morning brought a slight lifting of my soul, finally. I was
finally getting over her, maybe. I decided to mow the lawn. Some
outdoor, light physical activity might be the final touch to help
me get back to my career.

As I usually do for yard work, I dressed in a very brief (man's)
thong bikini of very thin material. Call it silly, call it kinky,
although I really don't know why; I think it should be called,
simply, logical. In mowing, grass cuttings and chafe get all in the
trousers, one sweats even in this cool area, and it is just plain
comfortable. I feel sleek and ready.

It was cool when I began mowing. Overcast, there was a light fog
and very cool even though it was May. The cool moist air felt good
next to my skin. So, I set to work with the mower buzzing away.

I only maintain a small area around the cabin as a neatly mowed
lawn. Outside of that, I let nature rule. But mowing is still a
challenge because of living on a mountain-side. While cutting a
swath away from the cabin, it's down hill. I have to hold the mower
from careening down. Then, toward the cabin, up hill. It takes some
good shoving to push the mower up-hill.

When cutting a swath up hill, my skinny but hard muscles hung
tense. Triceps popped out of my arms, clearly defined and hard as
stone, just not very big. My stomach area was thin and hard while
my leg muscles, the only large muscles on my body thanks to
mountain cycling, rippled with each step. I kept thinking of my
physique and Ish Alish. I could sure use some more bulk, even at
the expense of hardness. It just seems most women like men with
mass. But I also thought that was silly to think my physique is the
only criteria Ish Alish considered in not pursuing me any more.



I was about half-way done. I mowed out a tricky area next to the
cabin, then did another down-hill swath away from the cabin. Then
I turned around and bowed my head in the umph to get the mower
moving up hill. I stabilized the up-hill grind, mower way out in
front, my arms outstretched with triceps popping out. I wiped my
brow with my forearm to sweep away a collection of light sweat and
accumulated fog droplets. Then, looking up, I nearly dropped off
the mountain - there she was!

Up there, atop the grassy hill, in front of the cabin, red dress
billowing slightly in the light breeze, there she stood! I had to
swallow my heart back down. Sure enough too, there was her red
Toyota parked there. The loud mower had drowned out the sound of
her approach.

I stumbled around a bit then revved the mower down. I was going to
turn it off, but left it running... I forgot I was in that thong...
barely 2 square inches of thin white nylon... I kept the mower
going to "complete the scene" that "I was doing yard work" to
justify my apparel.

Just like two days ago, Ish Alish was in rose-red shroud, cherry-
red dress and, this time, black veil. Bare feet picking up grass
cuttings, she began coming down the hill toward me. I did not know
what to do. My thong... "EGADS!" I thought! The thong consisted of
a pouch, mostly, that barely contained my relaxed genital. That
plus a teeny "token" patch of cloth in back and that was it; the
rest of it was straps. And there she was coming toward me!

As she drew closer, I could see I was worried about the wrong
thing. I worried my near-nude state would rankle her, possibly
conservative, Muslim sensitivities. But that was not the case.

As she drew near, I saw she had the most wicked grin yet. Those big
Arab eyes, dark brown and black and bright whites, looked me over
thoroughly. I heard her say something in Arabic. I said, "what?"
but she just continued looking. She circled around, like a shark
does prey before moving in for the first bite.

And she moved in! First thing she did is reach for the off-switch
on the mower's handle. She turned it off completely. Mower quieted,
I could hear her panting. She said something else in Arabic as she
looked at me, alternately in my eyes, then, scanning my body. She
wrapped her bare arms around my waist, and with a lot of force,
drew me next to her and squeezed.

In her clutches like that, I could feel her great strength; indeed,
she was strong! She had me tight as her hands began touring my
body, especially my butt. She pinched my butt, rubbed it, and
pulled at the thong's straps. She raised a leg to "wrap" me
partially in her dress and her body. Her crotch pushed against my
hip. Wet stains appeared on that fine material of her dress over
her pubic area.

She hugged me tight, crushing the breath out of me, then held me at
my shoulders at arms' length, looked into my eyes... then drew me
back into her bosom again. She began moaning and groaning and
mumbling in Arabic... She huffed loudly with her lower lip lowered,
quivering, ready for hard, steamy kissing. Hugging me tight, her
face approached mine then she began vigorous kissing and even
biting!

By now, with this wild, hungry thing wrapping me up, I began to
"harden"... and like I said, that thong barely contains my relaxed
genital... well it was not relaxed any more. It was lengthening and
becoming hard, leaving the thong's hem way below. It did not take
long for her roving hands to find it, grab it and rub on it
vigorously.
"OOHHH! DON'T!" I begged.
She stopped but only to go to her knees and begin kissing... it...
and... wow, put her mouth over it! That scared the hell out of me,
I thought she was going to bite it off. I did feel her sharp teeth!
After some of that, she stood up again and wrapped me up once more
in her arms and raised leg.

During it all, funny what goes through the mind... I was concerned
of her lovely, cherry-red dress. Her own vaginal secretions and my
secretions and even some semen spilled on her dress. And she did
not help matters. She grabbed my penis, and shoved it toward her
vagina, against the material of the her dress. She kept doing it
and rubbing my penis with her hand. This stimulated me almost to
ejaculation. I tried to hold it back but a little spurted out onto
her dress.

"Uh... You're gonna mess up your dress!" I stammered out in
warning.

Ish Alish was reduced to a huffing, puffing mess. She huffed
something in Arabic to me. She grabbed my hands and led them under
her shroud that came down to just below her bosom at about the
level of her elbows. Under the shroud, her arms and shoulders were
bare. Without the shroud, her basic dress was one with only straps
over the shoulders with a lot of back and front exposed. She led my
hands to grasping those straps and pulling them down her arms. This
began a peeling off of her dress. She helped me by shimmying those
big hips. The dress fell to the ground and she, pushing me up the
hill a little, stepped away from it.

Ish Alish was now nude where it counted! Starting with the lower
edge of the shroud on down, it was her olive-brown skin... plus an
ample growth of black pubic hair. Within that hair steamed a hungry
genital. She wasted no time. Grabbing my penis again, she poised
it, standing on her tip-toes to clear it, then let herself down.

It felt like her vagina sucked my penis in, all the way to the
base. Oh! My eyes burned, I couldn't see and I was ready to
rupture. She groaned long and hard then began thrusting her crotch
vigorously. Up and down her vagina coursed, stimulating my penis to
the point it ached, like it was about to burst. Her vagina grabbed
tight as it racked up and down. I felt myself coming - "Alish!" I
warned but she climaxed just then, violently. She shoved me down,
and with her butt-muscles flexing, her butt flying up and down,
pounded my crotch without mercy. Orgasm roared through her pushing
out insane, ear-piercing screams while I gushed gob after gob of
stuff into her.

Calming down only a little, she continued thrusting. Normally, my
penis would have softened, but maybe I was pent up, and with her
thrusting, coursing her fiery genital over mine, the stimulus kept
it hard. Her thrusting got me going again and soon, we were once
again trading furious orgasms.

I have NEVER felt anything so good, so thrilling. Don't get me
wrong, I'm not one of these nerds who has never had sex before. But
Ish Alish tore me to shreds with ecstacy!

We lay in the grass, panting, sweating. Her shroud and veil were
all disheveled and her long black hair was out. She looked wild and
sensuous that way. I looked and admired her tasseled, wild
appearance. I thought she was sleeping. But suddenly those big
brown eyes opened and gazed at me. She smiled sweetly, calm now.

"Are you satisfied?" I asked, a teasing tone in my voice.
"NO! I'll want MORE!"

Ish Alish got up on her hands and knees and pushed me over to my
back. Then she straddled me. Her smoldering vagina hovered over my
softened penis. She sat upon me, her vagina pressing against my
penis. She looked at me and said, "Dam you anyway! You treacherous
thing! Teasing me like that, never answering my email, making me
grow fonder and fonder of you. I couldn't get ANYTHING done! Then
I drive out here and here you've got this TRAP set for me!"

I almost thought she meant it. She continued, "Oh MAN! The sight of
your luscious hard body in those little bits of straps... OH! And
your... your... sex-part clearly visible! That thin material, the
sweat sticking it... to... to... your sex-part... why bother at
all!? Just go nude! I am!"

All the while saying this, she moved her crotch slowly up and down
my body, causing my penis, limp though it was, to lodge in the slit
of her vagina. Add to that, she began stripping the rest of her
clothes off as she spoke. Off came shroud, veil, even head band
that held the veil. Now, a naked, big brawny wild woman with olive
skin and long, wavy black hair straddled over me! Such a stimulus
soon had it hardening again. And she was ready.

We entered another round of crotch thrashing with Ish Alish on top
of me, commanding the situation. It dawned on me as I built up to
orgasm, "Email! I forgot to check for her email! She didn't call,
she used email! What a dope was I! Some computer person I am!
Waiting for an old-fashioned phone call when she used modern
email!" My thoughts on it ended there as orgasm quickly built up in
me. With that wild woman atop me flailing away on my genital, I was
dumping my stuff into her once again amongst crazy screams and
groaning.



The day turned into a sex orgy. After sleeping on the grass again
for a while, we hastily gathered her clothes from where she threw
them and we moved our "sessions" into the cabin. With that six-foot
or almost six-foot-one, 185 to 190 pound naked Arab muscle-woman in
the same cabin with me, I searched for refreshments... to get her
mind off further sexual assaults on me!

And she did turn out to be a muscle lady. Heavy chunks of muscle
bulged and rippled on her powerful legs while her tummy, flat and
hard, was "bumpy" with abs development. Her breasts were held out
and high by a foundation of good pecs (chest muscles) development.
Well sculpted shoulders and arms rounded out this prime female
specimen. I surmised she was at least a good 50 percent stronger
than me.

So there I was, being ogled by a muscle gal who could do what ever
she wanted with me. It made me just a little nervous.

Fortunately though, her first few orgasms took the sharp edge off
her approach. The rest of the day, though still very forceful and
in charge, she was soft and gentle with me.

We alternately had more sex, then slept, then more sex again and on
and on. It was to the point I would climax but nothing came out. My
penis was even a little blistered, and it felt funny; sort of numb.
But she could get it going anyway.

Just curious about how this fit in with her being religious, or at
least seemingly so when I met her, I had occasion to ask about it.

During one of our countless copulations, we were in my bed and she
was over me, my genital burrowing deep inside her. She was gazing
at me with adoration, thrusting slow and easy. She said nothing,
just kept cooing and purring, and smiling at me. Her hands toured
my chest. She just enjoyed having me under and in her. Far be it
from me not to cooperate, but I was just curious. So I asked,
"Alish, gosh! The way we've been going at it all day; isn't this
naughty behavior for a nice Muslim Lady like yourself?"

Ish Alish smiled, giggled, then replied in a cooing voice so
dulcet, "Well, my Aaron! You're a Christian, are you not?"
"Well, yeah, but..."
"Well, what's a fine Christian doing NOT going to church and now,
drilling a Lady out with his part, dumping his fire into her
furnace? Hmm?"
"Well, uh, um..."
"Uh-huh! 'Uh... um'!" she smiled, mocking me. She pursed her lips
in a kiss toward me then continued, "I believe God provided us with
the capability of sex for us to enjoy. Just do not indulge in it
and don't let it become your master."
"But we've let it become our master today, that's for sure. And as
for indulging, whooee! We've been..."
"Shh! It's just one day! We get it out of our system, then we'll
be... cool. Okay? Now stop gabbing, OOO! I got another one coming,
(gasp) OOOHH!..."

Ish Alish began thrusting furiously as another monster orgasm
welled up suddenly in her, taking me into it with her...



This kind of activity continued into the evening. Maybe we did over
indulge... or something. Things became just a little weird, at
least for me.

We had taken a break from sex, ate some, then returned to bed to
admire each other's physiques and to do a lot of touch and feel.
Somehow, I still got a little hard... "rubbery" one might say. As
soon as she saw any length and rigidity to my genital at all, she
grabbed it and positioned it toward her crotch where her voracious
vagina slurped it in. It began to appear to me that thing of hers
was never going to get enough.
Ish Alish thrust only very gently, just enough to stimulate it to
stay hard. My penis burned, and felt funny. Really, I did have sex
too much that day. But Ish Alish was not done with me.

On our sides with me in her, she began gazing in my eyes with those
x-raying eyes of hers. I looked "down", or what would be down if we
had been standing. Then she gently but firmly commanded, "Aaron!
Look me in the eyes! You're a handsome, sexy guy! You have no
reason to act ashamed or bashful. Every time I look at you, you
look away or down somehow."
"B... but I just..."
"Shh! Look me in the eyes!"

She chucked my chin to encourage me to look up and into her face.
Indeed, until now, I have not looked into her eyes for much more
than a couple tenths of a second. But she MADE me gaze to her. My
eyes watered from wanting to look down.

She approached my face, while I looked her in the eyes, and gave me
a gentle but smoldering peck on my lips. And all this while, my
part was inside her, partially ridged. She thrust gently, just
enough to keep it erect. It burned and my face burned. My eyes
watered. She wouldn't let me look away from her eyes. As soon as I
did, she nudge my chin firmly to make me look her in the eyes
again.

Then, weird things...

Before I knew what was happening, somehow, I was in Cairo, Egypt,
at a market. A non-descript, quite ordinary market. Nothing out of
place. I was buying some bread... and other stuff. It was crowded
and noisy...

Then... I was staring into her eyes again, in my bed next to her
with my penis inside her furnace.

"Alish!" I began, "Is this some kind of... hypnosis..."
"Shh! You gab too much!"

She pulled me closer. I blinked hard to clear the tears. My eyes
smarted. I looked down but she yanked my chin again.
"Uh-uh-uh! No looking away, Aaron!"

As her vagina continued to gently stimulate me, I stared into her
eyes...

Then... I was strolling along a beach, in Cairo, Egypt again, along
the Nile. A cool, dry breeze caressed me. Again, nothing felt out
of place. It was pretty weather. Evening, with the sun setting
behind Cairo, the buildings cast longs shadows over the deep blue
waters of the Nile.

Then, I saw the big, penetrating brown eyes of Ish Alish again. I
was in bed with her and my "part" was still inside her and her arms
gently held me.

"Alish" I began again, "What's going on? What are you doing to me?
I keep seeing these..."
"SHH!" she shushed me firmly. "Gab gab gab and so many questions!
Let it happen, whatever it is! Our sex has reached a level of
maturity for today. So relax and enjoy or I'm going to get rough
with you! Shh!"

I looked down again but she yanked at my chin. She just would NOT
let me look away.

She continued... whatever it was she was doing. My penis burned
horribly, but she just kept that slow undulation of her crotch,
holding me a particular "level" of excitement. My face burned and
my eyes smarted. She did let me blink hard to control tearing, but
that is all.

Again, she drew her face slowly to mine for another gentle but
steaming peck on my lips. And she continued holding me in her arms
and staring me out with those powerful Arab eyes...

Well, there I was in Cairo again, this time at another bustling
market. I was buying cloth for my Mother. A non-descript market, a
quite ordinary bolt of cloth. I asked this and that, haggling over
price and quality. Somehow I was speaking and understanding Arabic.

Then, I was gazing in her face...

I was strolling up a wood dock into the Nile again. There were many
boats around, tied to the docks. A cool, dry breeze blew. It felt
nice. Such beautiful weather, I wonder if Cairo really IS like
that. Again, it was evening. The shadows of Cairo's buildings
stretched across the water of deep blue.

Then, the face of Ish Alish...

Then, yep, you guessed it, I was in Cairo again, but getting a
taste of its NOT-so-nice weather. I was in south-west Cairo,
bicycling along a busy, narrow road. It was burning hot. I... don't
know what I was doing out there or going.

Then, her face...

In downtown Cairo again, not so hot but plenty warm. I was buying
school books for school. School was about to open... huh! I haven't
done that in years, myself. Anyway, the books were written in
Arabic, but I could read them.

It felt awfully hot and my mid-body tingled and burned...

I had been rolled on my back with Ish Alish over me thrusting hard.
Huffing and puffing, she soon rocketed into orgasm, pulling me
close behind. I ejaculated nothing, but the orgasm almost tore me
apart; it felt like my head caved in.

Panting and puffing, both of us simmered down and fell asleep. She
held me close keeping my genital inside her until, I guess, after
sleep, it came out at last itself.



Then, dream-time...

Don't ask me how, but I was flying, sans airplane, close over the
top apex of a huge pyramid approaching Cairo from the west, from
over the burning desert. I continued the approach, zooming along.
Then I was soaring just over the buildings of Cairo itself. I
approached the Nile. It was huge. I crossed it, flying. I circled
around at the other side then flew back over it. The water was
deep, dark blue. Then I came in for a "landing". I approached the
beach of the Nile. Then with the grace of a landing heron, my feet
touched and I switched to running, then slowed to a walk. Then I
just continued walking.

"Let me show you my culture and Cairo!" Ish Alish said. Suddenly,
she was walking beside me...

Well, I am not going to go into detail, but she showed me all kinds
of places. What it was, I now believe, was her child-hood and other
early memories. Somehow, her mind's memories were conveyed to me...
during dream-time. The dream seem to span over several days. I even
took beginning Arabic language lessons from a typical Egyptian
looking gentleman. Heavy-set he was, and kind, he coached me in
writing the letters and in speaking Arabic... Well I could go on
and on but I won't tell any more except to say, I so enjoyed the
time in Cairo with Ish Alish by my side.



I woke up.

It was morning, and densely foggy outside. The bed beside me was
empty. That frightened me. "Did she leave!?" I feared.
"Alish!" I called in a frantic voice. No answer.
"ISH ALISH!" I called louder, bounding from the bed and to the
cabin door.
"Out here!" she answered from outside. She added, "Just a minute,
I'm coming in!"

"OH! WHAT a RELIEF!" I thought.

As she came out of the foggy mists of morning among the trees, she
resembled a spirit materializing. With swaying hips, she walked
slow and graceful and stopped just in front of the cabin door...
buck naked.
"Ohh! Feels nice out here. Come on, join me! Don't even wear your
thong. Go naked with me! Lets stroll then we'll have breakfast..."
I joined her, still wearing my thong. I had not noticed the part
about "go naked"; my chest ached and I wanted Alish in my arms.

"OH!" I said as I came up to her and put my arms around her sturdy
back, "I thought you left!"
"I'm not going anywhere... without you that is!" she reassured,
slipping her arms around my waist.

We indulged ourselves with each other for a while, then wound it up
with furious copulation and screaming orgasms. Afterwards we napped
a while then went right back out for a sweet, hand-holding stroll
in the fog...

Enough! You get the point. A super-sweet morning with my Love and
Mistress, Ish Alish. But... and I did not realize it myself...

I had been speaking ARABIC! I KNEW my mouth felt a little
different.

It took me a while to realize it. Now I knew English as before, AND
ARABIC.

When it came to me, I asked her as she stood on the lawn, gazing
out over the mist-strewn valley, "Alish! How can this be!?"
"What?" she asked, looking back at me.
"I'm speaking Arabic!"
"So? I am an Egyptian-Arab Lady. And your Love. So I guess you will
speak Arabic to me. You want to speak English again? Fine! But I
love the sound of you speaking Arabic to me!" Then she turned back
to looking out at the scenery.
"But yesterday, I didn't know a single word or letter of Arabic!"

Ish Alish whirled around, wrapped her strong arms around my skinny
waist and pulled me close, squeezing. She demanded, softly but
firmly, "Stop it with the questions! Just accept what is happening.
Be happy! God has given this to us!"

I accepted. But still I kept wondering and thinking, "I don't
believe this!" and "How can this be!?" and similar.



The day went by ever so sweetly. She never put on a shred of
clothes. I kept wearing my thong against some protest from her, for
she wanted me nude. We strolled some deer-trails, right around my
home. I did some programming. But my concentration was not up to
100 percent yet. I was still too enthralled with Ish Alish. But it
was a whole lot better than when my chest ached over her absence.

I checked my bbs for that urgent program for my impatient Client.
The new-files-list indeed showed it. My buddy in Colorado had
worked his magic. Fully functional software plus an explanation of
the bug that was making it go a-wry were all available to me.
And... I found some other stuff in the new-files-list...
Files from Ish Alish!

Indeed, I did give her a password for her to access my bbs when I
gave her my email address. She had uploaded one email and some
juicy sound and image files.

Before examining those files I checked the internet server for her
email to me. Indeed, there were several extensive letters to me. As
each letter's date grew later, her words in the letters appeared
more pleading. She was in heart-ache herself because I was not
writing back.

Again, I railed at myself for being so old-fashioned. Here I am a
computer programmer waiting for an old-time phone call from his
Lady, and this so-called "back-wards" Arab Lady is communicating
the up-to-date mid-90s way... and I was too bone-headed to think of
that!

I explained to Ish Alish as she sat by me with me at my computer,
I called her several times.

She explained, "I use my phone-line at home for voice very little.
I assumed you were going to send me email. I checked for email from
you but found none. I kept checking every hour. My computer's modem
was connected to the line as it usually is. The phone-line switcher
is manual. I guess I just did not think, or remember, you might try
to voice-call in. The switch was set to connect to my computer
which was off unless I was looking to see if I had email from you.
Oops! Sorry!"

She placed her hand on the back of my neck and shook firm but
gently, asking, "Why did you not, in failing to get an answer to
your dialing my number, check your EMAIL!? Mr. Computer Man!"
"I don't know!", I said, shaking my head in disgust with myself,
"Stupid, I guess!"
"If you ignore my email again, I'll shove your modem down your
throat! Got it!?"

She shook me firmly but gently by the back of my neck in her
pretend threat (or was the threat real?). I responded, "Yes Ma'am,
Sir, er, Yes Sir, Ma'am, er, that is..."
"Okay! That's more like it!"

A quick mention of her files is in order here... Wow! Knocked my
socks off! It shows you what this Lady is capable of with all this
techno-stuff! First the email she put on my bbs was just a "cover-
letter" for her sound and image files. Two sound files were of Ish
Alish and her powerful, beautiful singing voice. In one, she sang
solo.

Ish Alish waited for me to play the files as she sat beside me,
watching me examining her files for the first time.

"Really, I had NO IDEA you wouldn't check your email! I sang this
for you straight into the stereo mike of my sound card. That night!
As soon as I returned home!" Ish Alish explained. She continued,
"The only thing I added was an 'echo-effects' unit, to add a little
reverberation to my singing."

I set up the computer for sound, running the sound-application. I
have equipped my computer with a switch that redirects its output
from the built in speakers to my big stereo-amp located in the
"every-thing-else-room". Through big speakers sporting 15-inch
woofers and a good hunk of power, the digitally recorded music
comes through in breath-taking dynamic depth.

I listened to the file. As soon as I touched the key to start her
music, Ish Alish and I ran out of the bed-room to the every-thing-
else-room and sat on the sofa for her performance. It sounded like
morning prayers sung from a minaret in down-town Riyadh, Baghdad or
similar. I was amazed at the technical skill of Ish Alish in
slapping that "quicky" recording together so well. And her voice
was haunting in its beauty.

Her other sound file, so said Ish Alish as she sat next to me on
the sofa, is a copy of a recording she and a group of Arab-style
musicians did about two years ago. She sounded great there as well,
with typical Middle-Eastern music back up, performing a typical
pop-hit from Egypt.

And, she had two picture files, jpeg format. One was her in her
clothes similar to her red outfit. But this outfit had a white
shroud and the basic dress was shimmering blue. The veil was white
as well. And the second jpeg, wow. Nude from head to toe, she posed
erect and graceful, a work of nude-art.



After that enlightening session at my computer and her files, the
day continued to go by sweetly. But I just could not get over my
sudden ability with the Arabic language. And by the way, all of our
talking from this day's morning on, (and until further notice) was
in Arabic. I am writing it out in English of course for you
readers.



I was floating in bliss, on the sofa, my arm around her bold
shoulders and my body up next to her nude body. She had in her lap,
almost covering her luscious vaginal area and its profuse black
hair, a copy of a National Geographic Magazine. It had an article
on Egypt. She was looking through it and pointing out various
things for me in the pictures, giving me special insights as only
a Native from the area could.

She spoke in Arabic, a pretty sounding language anyway, and I was
understanding almost every word. Thinking, during this tender
moment, she may be receptive to my questioning, (she had sounded
impatient before) I ventured to ask again...

"I just can't help wondering, HOW did this happen? How can one
learn a language practically overnight? That's impossible!"

Ish Alish sighed and looked away from the National Geographic to
me... OH! With those penetrating eyes!... and explained, "Aaron,
NOTHING is impossible with God! I DO WISH you would stop
questioning your Arabic language gift and disbelieving. Disbelief
and lack of faith displeases God. You could very well LOOSE your
Arabic. And I doubt it will happen again. Then you would have to
learn it over again... the HARD way... day by day a little bit at
a time. It would take at least five years of studying Arabic for
you to achieve what you have now!"
"So you think it is a gift from God?"
"I KNOW it is a gift from God! I couldn't have done it! Certainly
satan didn't do it. And there are no other interested parties. It
is therefore logical to assume that GOD did it!"

Sounded a bit like First Officer Spock, didn't it? Can you imagine
Spock, in Arabic?

As I thought about it, Ish Alish added, "Your lack of faith
attracts interference from satan. You better stop questioning it.
You could indeed loose it!"
"Okay, okay. No more! It is a gift of God, and that's final!"

Ish Alish gave me a heart-warming, rib-crushing hug. I was lost in
bliss!

After recovering, I wondered more about her faith.

"So tell me, Alish, all this you say is based on your faith in God
as you learned from the Koran?"
"Of course."
"I would like a look at this Koran. I wonder where I could find one
in English..."
"Why do you need one in English?"
"Oh... uh... yeah, right. But anyway, I would like a good read of
it."
"Sure! I will bring mine. You will find much in the way of goodness
taught within it's holy pages. Perhaps, as an American, you have
been exposed to all the untrue crap about Islam. To you, perhaps,
at least it seems like to me from other Americans, Islam, or Muslim
means hostage-taking, bombings and airline hijacking. But you must
remember, these are the doings of mad-men. They are religious
zealots and extremists. They're nuts. They are just like Christian
zealots who shoot abortion-clinic Doctors."
"Yeah," I pondered out loud, "That's true! That's REALLY true!"
"Islam, the Koran, teaches generosity, helping the weak, education
for improving peoples' lives... You know what, under Islamic
teachings, it was Arabs who developed Arithmetic and Algebra..."
"Oh, so YOU GUYS are responsible for my days of algebra-terrors
during high-school!" I interrupted, joking.
"Uh-huh! I guess so! Speaking for my Arab Brothers and Sisters, I
admit guilt!"



We ran out the day in sweet bliss. Not so much sex as the first
day, just a lot of holding and tender stroking. The last thing I
remember that evening is laying, tummy-down in bed, with the long
finger-nails of Ish Alish lightly scratching my back. She hummed
softly, an Arabic tune while caressing my back, gently sending me
to dream-time...



I guess I had insufficient faith... too much questioning... too
much disbelief. Ish Alish did her part well. She gently sent me
away to dream-time, but while there, I encountered trouble...



I was in Egypt again, but it seemed it was not Cairo, but an area
of disputed territory near Israel. I was sharing consciousness with
Ish Alish again, actually being her, in some history of her life.

In the hot sun, we were unloading supplies from some truck. Men and
women both worked side by side heaving heavy packages. I huffed
myself as I lifted packages and crates from the big truck to a
smaller truck, sometimes, and hand carts at other times.

It was food, other provisions and medicine. The people here were
isolated, not allowed to leave their immediate neighborhoods. I was
not in full meld with Alish's consciousness, so I did not have many
details of the back-ground situation.

But I WAS in her body. The men wore those "Arabic-looking-things"
on their heads, with that scarf over their neck. It is effective
clothing. It protects the skin from the powerful sun. I... I guess
as Ish Alish in an earlier time... wore, not a fancy version, but
a set of typically Arabic type of attire for women. The women-
workers wore the shrouds but no veils. Again, the loose-fitting
shrouds and loose fitting clothes are effective for that climate;
hot and dry. The clothes protect one from the sun. And as for
staying cool; because the clothes are loose, plenty of that dry,
desert air gets underneath them for very effective cooling. One
must drink lots of water, that's all.

For a time, we worked, unloading packages and crates.

Suddenly, machine-gun fire! Many of them! We frantically ran for
cover. I saw some fall. One in particular, a young woman, that I
felt through my loose meld with Ish Alish's consciousness, was
either a friend or somebody nice just met, got hit hard. Blood
spurted from her front and she fell. I began to stop but heard,
"Run! She's gone!" So I continued running. Then I felt a stabbing
pain in my side. My own blood poured forth from my side at about my
waist. I was hit but only on the side. I kept running frantically.
Practically somersaulting through the air, we, including I in my
injured condition, leaped over and took cover behind a broken wall
of what once was a complete building, bombed out earlier.

One of the three men that had machine-guns themselves and were
guarding us was shot dead. The two others had taken cover and were
now returning fire. The chorus of "rat-tat-tat-tat" of the two
machine-guns was ear-piercing but necessary. With my side hurting
and I was becoming dizzy, I dared a peak at my friend or
acquaintance out there in the street. I shuddered at the sight of
a veritable creek of crimson blood flowing over the street from her
ruined body. Tears welled up in my eyes...

I woke, with a start and a yell. I shivered and sweated at the same
time. My eyes were full of tears, even beginning to trickle down my
face. Ish Alish said something to me in Arabic while she put her
hand on my back...

"What did you say?" I quivered out, shivering. "What WAS that!?"

Again, Ish Alish said something in Arabic to me...

I did not understand... my Arabic was lost!

Ish Alish reached and turned on a light. It hurt my eyes so I
closed them and looked away a second. I open my eyes and - my heart
shot out with my gasp as I beheld a rotting corpse of what used to
be a woman kneeling in bed with me! It's shriveled eyes rattled in
their sockets... I closed my eyes, shook my head and with fear,
opened them again... relief, it was Ish Alish and her beautiful
self again; penetrating dark brown eyes and gorgeous body
completely nude!

I was dressed only in a thong and shivering... yet sweating. Ish
Alish indeed noted, when she rubbed my back to comfort me, it was
wet and clammy. She left the bed and came back with a towel for me
to wipe off with. She helped me wrap up in a light sheet including
wrapping around my head; indeed, I resembled, just a little, a
shrouded Arab myself. With only my face exposed, she grabbed a
magazine and fanned me with it.

I felt much better with all this tender care from Ish Alish but my
mind churned frantically with what I had just experienced.

"What in heavens was all THAT!?" I asked loudly.
"You have forgotten Arabic, haven't you?" Ish Alish said... in
English.
" yeah... Yes! Oh no! Sure enough! It's... it's... gone!"
"Tch-tch-tch, I'm sorry, it's okay. I LOVE you Aaron. Only remember
that!" she cooed gently, hugging me.

My shivering subsided enough for me to gather my thoughts. Her
closeness was a balm for me. It was as if the soothing power of
Love had been snatched from me, and now more Love flowed from Ish
Alish into my soul, strengthening it and making me feel better.
Finally, I asked again, "What happened? What a terrible dream!"
"An attack from satan", she simply replied while rubbing my back.
"First, a night with such good dreams, I learn Arabic, then,
tonight with that horrible night-mare and I loose Arabic; why all
this all of a sudden? I've lived here for three years and in all
that time..."
"Shh! Take it easy, Aaron." began Ish Alish. "God is near. But when
God is near, satan, always battling with God, is also near."

She hugged me and rubbed my back. I felt even better. Then I asked,
"Were you ever shot?"
"Uh-huh. Look..."

Ish Alish pointed out her right side, just over her hip. A slightly
discolored scar and slight depression in the skin could be seen.
One was slightly in front, the other in back. I had not noticed
before. The scar was not that prominent. In fact, if anything, it
imparted just a sexy touch of ruggedness to her. And apparently,
she WAS rugged.

Ish Alish explained, "It happened while I and other volunteers were
helping out with the movement of supplies into the disputed
territory around Gaza. We even did some nursing where needed. I and
a few others were hastily trained in nursing. But anyway, we were
supposed to have special permission to be there. I don't know why
they attacked us. The bullet pierced my side all the way through.
It didn't hit anything important, just made a nasty, painful
injury. It bled so much that I lost consciousness. I don't know how
my Comrades got me out of there, but they did. Praise them and
praise God! THAT was a close one for me!"
"Who shot at all of you anyway? Oh! And, also, when you were shot,
did a friend of yours get killed?"
"An ambush from, I will assume for now, misguided Israeli soldiers.
They CLAIMED it was an accident. I can't help but have my doubts,
but I accept that for now. The Koran teaches forgiveness. Anyway,
she was a just-met acquaintance, not quite a friend although she
could have been... say, how do you know all this? Did you dream
it?"
"Yes! My nightmare; I was in your body..."
"Okay, okay, I get it. Some kind of sub-conscious meld between the
two of us... Well, yes. She could have been a friend, a dear friend
of mine. She was shot square in the back. Died instantly."
"Man, you were lucky!"
"Yes, I was lucky! A few inches further in the wrong direction, and
you would have never met your Ish Alish!"

Oh! THOSE were poignant words! They arrested my further movements
for no small span of seconds.

Ish Alish continued, "If I had gotten it, then maybe she would have
continued -" her voice cracked, "and given, maybe you or another
needing man her sweet Love! OHH!..." and Ish Alish broke down with
wailing sobs.

Tears welled up in my own eyes. I fought them back. Oh man, did I
ever stumble across THIS can of worms. But it was good for me. This
gave me a peek at the human suffering behind the headlines in the
paper or the 6:30 tv news about the Middle-East.

So then it was I putting my arm around Ish Alish to try to comfort
her from her sad memories. She cried some more then finally calmed.
She wrapped herself in a sheet and declared, "I'm going to pray..."

She prayed in Arabic AND English, I guess for my benefit. Her voice
cracked and quivered at times. She essentially prayed for an end to
hostilities in that area, and for freedom for the Palestinians and
Arab Unity. She also prayed for the soul of her lost friend in my
dream. Finally, she prayed for protection from satan.

After the prayer, she sang a short song of praise to God, all in
Arabic. Her voice quivered at times but otherwise it was that same,
beautiful, enchanting sound, with the interesting voice inflections
and that unmistakable Egyptian-Arab style. This song was, as well,
serious, not just for my entertainment... although I did enjoy it.

After the song, she reached over and turned out the light. Ish
Alish and I laid down, covered ourselves with the sheets and, in a
loose, comforting embrace, fell asleep.



I woke once more to an empty spot next to me on the bed. Ish Alish,
apparently, is an early riser. She was outside again, in that dense
morning fog, strolling about nude. I joined her.

After some sweet talk, Ish Alish announced, "Today, Aaron Love, I'm
going to take you home with me. I have to go back to work on
Saturday, and... I need you with me... or else, as you say, my
chest will ache! And then I won't be able to work..."
"But I..." then I stopped myself from voicing concerns about my
programming work being abandoned. She was really asking me to move
in with her. Not to mention, her word was still my command. I
replied, "Sure, Alish, anything! So you have chest-aches too, eh?"
"Oh! Yes! And there is but one balm..."

She pulled me close with her sturdy arms around my skinny waist,
then hugging around my back, squeezed the breath out of me. I am
always surprised at how strong she is.

Alish moaned and cooed, "Ohh! That's better! Oh! You see? That's
why I need you with me! So I can do that five times an hour!"

I felt so warm and loved. Anyway, I wondered about her saying, "go
back to work Saturday..." so I asked, "Did you take some days off
or something?"
"My chest ached so bad for you, I couldn't work. So I said I was
ill and needed a few days off. I was ill! I came here to drag you,
kicking and screaming if necessary, to my home. I needed a few more
days to tame you. But... I ended up staying here..."

We had breakfast and prepared to go to Seattle. 

Ish Alish had no change of clothes... but she has been nude ever
since she arrived, so, no problem. But her red out-fit was a
problem.

On the front of her beautiful red dress were a number of obvious
stains from dried semen and vaginal secretions. They were
noticeable, whitish and crusty-feeling.

"You treacherous thing you!" Alish joked, "You really trapped me
good, didn't you? Now what am I going to do with this?"
"Can you take it to a dry-cleaner?"
"Now HOW can I tell them what this is? I'd be super embarrassed!"
"You don't have to tell them. They'll just get it out."
"Well, okay... I guess there's no other way. This material is
tricky. I don't dare clean it myself."



Alish helped me pack some of my things while I prepared to modem
off the software to that impatient client. He would have the
software right away. I prepared his set of disks and manual,
packaged them and got it ready for mailing. Then I gathered up
other projects into three brief-cases. They were still in the
planning stage which meant desk-work. A computer is not needed at
this stage. So I could work at Ish Alish's home, during the day,
when she is at work. Later, I could set up her very modern and up-
to-date computer as a programmer's work-station just like mine.
These were Ish Alish's suggestions. It seemed she really intended
on me moving to her home permanently!




Ish Alish wore her red outfit for driving home. This was the first
time I saw any clothes on her at all in over two entire days. The
soiled condition of her dress could not be seen by others while
driving. The upper parts were fine. After arriving, we would just
go straight into her apartment. That Ish Alish... for her attire,
it's either all or nothing. For the past two days, she wore not one
thread. When she put the outfit back on, she put it all on, shroud
AND veil and associated jewelry.

We took off for Seattle with light fog still in the mountains. Ish
Alish drove. She invited me to play tapes, of her collection, of
Egyptian pop-tunes. Definitely an interesting musical experience.

Coming from the deep boonies of Washington State headed west, we
ended up on route 2 and joined the famous (or infamous) I-5 in
Everett. Then we headed south for Seattle on traffic-clogged I-5.

When we started, weather was foggy and drizzling rain in places.
But as the day wore on to noon then afternoon, the day cleared.
This is the usual pattern in West-Washington during the summer;
over-cast with maybe drizzle in the morning, beautiful, cool and
dry in the after-noon... just in time for getting off from work!
However, our slow drive was compensated by splendid weather.

Creeping along at times, we s-l-o-w-l-y pulled into Seattle amongst
thick commuter traffic. With Egyptian pop-tunes playing, with that
very particular style of singing joined by sometimes, the beautiful
voice of Ish Alish herself as she sang along, and those Arabic
drums, I scanned the beautiful Seattle sky-line. There it was,
clear and impressive, the Space Needle, and just beyond it
southward, the sky-scrappers of down-town Seattle. One thing for
sure, one knows they are in a metropolis of major proportions!

The weather was great. Dry, just a little warm, no air-conditioning
was needed. Windows rolled down provided Ish Alish and I with a
Pacific breeze. The only thing is, heads of other drivers turned
toward us when they heard that strange, exotic music... we were
playing it a bit loud.

Creeping along at no faster than someone could jog would be
maddening to the commuter who must put up with this every day. But
it gave me, who have escaped this kind of life (hah hah), a chance
to really look around in a leisure manner. We were at a point where
the Space Needle was directly to the right, in the distance, past
a low area of non-descript buildings. To the left was a high
embankment, some 70 feet high. Granite rocks were exposed. Way up
there atop that, were quaint looking apartments, typically north-
western in design. Humble, actually, until you give them good
consideration... which Ish Alish helped me do...

"There's MY apartment, Aaron! Toward the right-end of those up
there. Ooo! Wait 'til you see the view, especially at night!" Then
she added, grumbling of the traffic, "Now, if we could EVER get to
the exit ramp and get there, I would be most pleased. Man! This
traffic is almost as bad as that in Cairo!"

At last we did reach the exit ramp. Ish Alish drove her Toyota
gingerly around, threading through back streets only a long-time-
resident would know. The route she took avoided traffic but was
very hilly. The car was either grinding its way up hill or brakes
squeaking away controlling down-hill descents. It kept Alish busy
shifting gears and working the clutch to adjust to the constantly
changing conditions of climbing, descending, climbing and
descending.

Finally, with the sun already set and darkness coming on, Ish Alish
parked the car in the parking of her apartment complex. She
commented, "I'm glad it's dark... uh... with those, um, stains, you
know..."

It turned out her apartment is in "back" which means her living
room window looks over that very spot on I-5 we were on earlier
when she pointed out these apartments as her home. And being on the
second story, that made the view even better. There before me,
stretched a vista of Seattle sure to impress. Directly ahead is the
Space Needle. And to the left, the down-town sky-scrapers soared.
With the sun already set, the sky was a gradual shading of orange,
yellow, pale blue then deep blue way over-head. The Space Needle
silhouetted beautifully against that.

At night, as nude Ish Alish and I sat on her sofa, in each other's
embrace of course, looking out that window, Seattle was a dazzle of
mostly amber lights and many other colors. And... with the lights
of her apartment off, we were listening to more Egyptian pop, from
CDs now... and feeling each other over.

As I felt over Alish, I was amazed all over again on how big and
solid she felt. Her back was an expanse bumpy with muscle. I could
feel the presence of muscular power even though she was relaxed.
Heat came off her body like a furnace.

Later, a lot of touching, feeling and yes, full-blown sex spiced
that night and early morning. The next morning would be Friday, one
more day off for Alish. We planned to take her dress to the dry-
cleaner...

Which brings me to the last major incident I want to relate in this
account. Indeed, before I close this report of Ish Alish and I, a
look at the fighting side of the physically big and powerful Ish
Alish will be impressive.

Ish Alish is like the Pacific Ocean... beautiful, huge, powerful
but usually so peaceful, one forgets just how powerful... until
there is a storm! With me, Ish Alish is so sweet, I forget how
strong she is. She is a big Lady! She showed me her weight on the
bathroom scale; indeed, 190 pounds. And that is her nude-weight.
And also, there it was, further evidence...

Her apartment is essentially two rooms; a kitchen/living/dining-
room and one bedroom. Crowded in the bedroom with the bed was a
complete weight lifting station, including even, cable-weight
systems. While nude, she works out on this. And she lifts weights
in such a graceful manner. Perhaps required due to living on the
second story of an apartment (with people living below), Ish Alish
handles her weights in a smooth, controlled, graceful manner,
making little noise. There was no loud crashing and clanging.

That very first evening I was in her apartment, she went through a
set of lifting exercises while I watched. She said she was "behind"
her exercise schedule. Watching her exercise and lift weights is
entertainment in itself.

First she started out with a quick dance to the sound of
traditional Egyptian dance music. It is what most Americans refer
to as "belly dance"-music... in fact, she did belly dance. It was
a warm-up exercise for the weight lifting. I can tell you surely,
I resembled a cartoon character with my eyes bulging out!

Then she did the weight-lifting. Her workout is a show of bulging,
rippling muscles and graceful movements. Some of her weights were
so heavy, I could scarcely budge them.

She does a lot of grinding "abs" (tummy-muscles) -work. She added,
"When I was younger and still in Cairo, much of my income came from
dancing for foreigners. To get that tummy in shape, I used to work
out my tummy, only. Later I added exercises for the rest of my
body. I can do sit-ups all day, but usually quit on 300; I don't
have that much time!"

Indeed, after the weight lifting, she did sit-ups. She zoomed
through over 300 of them in just a few minutes. She could have
continued, but "didn't wanna".

Watching Alish exercise with those weights while naked was sexually
stimulating to me. Seeing I was "hardened up", she rewarded herself
for completing the exercises with a quick "genital meeting" with
me. Her bed right next to the weight station, Alish shoved me onto
her bed, straddled me and worked it out. I was helpless under 190
pounds of feminine muscular fury beating my crotch.

WHEW!

Anyway...

Before I end this account, a demonstration of Ish Alish's strength
and fury. Like I said, usually the Pacific Ocean and Ish Alish are
both so peaceful, their strength is forgotten... until there is a
storm...



Out of bed first, as always, Ish Alish prepared an Egyptian
breakfast for me. She prepared her red outfit to take to the dry-
cleaner. She was nude until after breakfast, she then dressed to go
out. She dressed in blue with everything there; like I said, all or
nothing. Her basic dress of dark-blue was complemented by the
light-blue of the shroud-part. The veil was white. All her clothes
are almost the same, just different colors.

In over-cast conditions of about 55 degrees, fog and drizzle, (a
typical Seattle morning) we took off for not only the dry-cleaner,
but to go to a Middle-East store for bread and other groceries,
then to a computer store for floppy disks. We went to the dry-
cleaner first. She wanted to be sure and be able to pick up the
dress that evening.

We went in the dry-cleaner and to their "Difficult Stains Counter".
Of course other customers were there as well as dry-clean
Personnel. Ish Alish was embarrassed about the nature of the stain
on her dress, so she begged me to approach the man at the counter
with it. She stood behind me shyly, pretending not to know English.
Alish had an attack of giggling which she tried to hide behind her
veil and by looking down. But it is hard remain unnoticed when you
are a shapely, six-foot woman dressed in bright blue flowing
clothes and wearing shroud and veil.

I was about to approach the counter when Alish suddenly yanked me
aside with her strong arm, nearly pulling my own arm off! She
whispered in my ear, "OH NO! That's WORSE!"
"What?" I whispered back.
"HIM! One of THOSE guys! Oh boy! This is going to be fun! I hope
he's not doing the counter!"
"Why, what about him?" I looked to whom she had discretely pointed.
I had to look quick to not be noticed, for he, like others, kept
looking at us. He was heavy-set with close-cut, curly black hair
and olive-tan skin... It took a minute to sink in my C++ crowded
mind but, he was another Middle-Easterner; I could not determine
what country.

"I know him!" whispered Alish. "He and his kind tend to be very
fundamentalist! Not him, he's just a follower, but some of those
types are always going around Seattle's Middle-Eastern community
spreading Muslim Fundamentalist thinking. Most pay them no mind,
but they are slowly growing in number. Oh man! If he sees me and my
dress like that, I'll never hear the end of it! Now I'm REALLY embarrassed!"
"Well, I don't think it's a problem. First, he is NOT working the
counter, some American guy is. And I still say, they don't know
what the stain is! They'll just get it out. The end. Now relax.
I'll do it."

Perhaps we should have selected a cheaper, bargain-basement cleaner
with low-paid Personnel who don't care... but on other hand, the
delicate material of that dress needed the care of this top-rated
cleaner. I just did not expect them to be quite so comprehensive in
stain analysis; and Alish's attack of giggles did not help...

I approached the counter and the Gentleman there.

Me: "I need this stain removed. The material's very delicate."
Him: "Yes, it's some kind of silk. So that we may use the correct
dry-cleaning chemicals, could you tell me what these stains are?"
Me... stuttering: "Uh, well uh, well uh, well uh, it's uh..."
"I didn't ask you about Walla Walla Washington," he interrupted,
smiling impishly and mocking my stuttering, "I asked you, what
these stains are?"

Stifled laughter burst out behind me as Alish could not hold it
back any longer. Her hands across her face, her shoulders quaked
and her pretty eyes, the only part of her face unveiled, winced in
laughter. The Middle-Eastern fellow back there kept looking up from
his work.

Being a personable, handsome young man himself who has probably
seen a lot, the gentleman at the counter smiled wryly and said,
"Oh! THAT kind of stain! Okay, I know what to do. It'll be ready
this evening after six! See ya, and have a nice day!"

Alish lost all control on her laughter. Her face redder than I've
ever seen it, she did everything possible to stop it, but by now,
her entire body quaked from laughter. With me following, she made
a hasty retreat. I took a quick look back at that Middle-Eastern
gentleman before going out. He was examining her AND me with
interest... and NOT laughing.

Back in the car, Ish Alish succumbed to an attack of acute
laughter. She kept laughing out, "Oh MAN!" and some words in Arabic
as well. I drove, and it took all the way to the Middle-Eastern
Market for her to recover.

Even while in the market, Alish broke out giggling from time to
time. The other people there, most of whom were Middle-Eastern,
kept glancing at her... but they did a little anyway...

Just an observation, most of the other folks at the Middle-Eastern
Market wore American style clothes. There were a few, older women
mostly, who wore shrouds but not the veil. Actually, Ish Alish's
outfits are not entirely standard-traditional. She wears a modified
version. The biggest difference between hers and the others is the
fact the base dress can be worn by itself and when done so, it is
very revealing of Alish's back, arms, shoulders and bosom. As long
as I have ever known her, however, she always wears the upper, the
shroud part, as well, never wearing the base dress with its
revealing characteristics. But her arms, especially fore-arms, are
always bare. All the other shrouded Ladies had long sleeves.

So, with her slightly un-traditional attire and tall stature, Ish
Alish attracts looks wherever she goes.



The day went by sweetly. By late in the day, sure enough and right
on schedule, Seattle's weather improved. Gone was the fog and
drizzle, replaced by blue skies spangled with puffy white clouds.
Mount Rainier's peak was visible, in and out, among those clouds.
A pleasant breeze, certainly not chilly but cool, caressed us when
outside.

That evening, we drove to the dry-cleaner to pick up the dress.
Alish's concern was, would that Muslim Fundamentalist still be
there. I said, "Maybe not, maybe he gets off work at five. It's
already six now."

But when we arrived at the dry-cleaner, not only was that
Fundamentalist there, but he was at the counter!

"Oh NO!" Whispered Alish into my ear and pulling at my arm, moving
us aside, "I'm shish-kabob!"
"Now, now," I reassured, "All we have to do is pick it up. Let
me..."

Like before, I approached the counter with Alish shyly standing
behind me. There were few other customers at the time. I was the
only one picking a garment up from this "Difficult Stains Counter".

That Middle-Eastern fellow, though large, appeared very soft-
spoken, even shy. I could hardly hear him. He kept glancing at Ish
Alish which made me proud; I assumed he was admiring her dazzling
beauty. I handed him my ticket, all normal. He went back there and
brought the garment out. While back there, Alish giggled, rolled
her eyes and looked down and giggled some more.
"Oh no," I joked, "Not another laugh attack!"

He came back and said to me, "You see sir? Stain gone."
I said, "Great! You guys do good work!" then began fumbling around
for cash. While doing so, he directed attention to Ish Alish, which
I was not expecting.

In a voice significantly louder than when he spoke to me, but not
yelling (he spoke too low when he spoke to me) said something to
Ish Alish in Arabic. What ever it was, it did not please the Lady.

Up until then, Alish's only problem was giggling. But after he said
whatever he said, Alish ceased giggling, boldly stepped up to the
counter from behind me and in a stern sounding voice, said
something in angry Arabic back to him. Further, she emphasized
whatever it was she said with a solid slap on the counter with her
hand. I glanced quickly at her face. She did not look pleased at
all.

Well, he didn't like what she said. In an even louder voice, using
Arabic, he said something back to her. Further, it was a rather
long something to which Alish responded emphatically, interrupting
him before he was finished. The tone of Alish's voice was nasty,
indeed. Then he yelled something back, and so did she. "Uh oh" I
thought, "a Mid-East skirmish is breaking out right here in
Seattle!"

It turned into a shouting match. Alish even un-clipped and pulled
down her facial-veil I guess to facilitate yelling louder. Yelling
over each other, angry Arabic language bandied back and forth
between the two. Somewhere along the way, I heard the name
"Mobareck", President of Egypt mentioned. Alish said it first. He
also pronounced the name within his heated response.

The yelling became worse, accompanied with desk-banging from both
of them. I said, shouted, actually, to be heard, "Alish, we better
go!" but she paid no attention. Everyone in there was looking at
us. Customers and other workers alike stared at this developing
crisis.

I pulled at Alish's arm but she shrugged me, continuing to yell at
him. It really looked like it could become violent at any time. I
sized up the situation. I wouldn't like to have to take that guy in
a fight. Though my six-feet-even was taller than his, maybe 5-foot-
10, he was wide and solid, built like a tank. He was not in real
good shape, though, not a lot of muscles, but heavy and somewhat
over-weight. I began looking around for a weapon to use against him
should he attack Alish. But I had no cause to worry!

Shouting, the angry fundamentalist stomped around the desk to
Alish's side to face her directly. That startled me and I assumed
he would start slapping or hitting her. It took me several tenths
of a second for my mind, numbed from the shock of this (not to
mention, I've never been very quick in these kinds of situations
anyway) to command my body to move forward and at least get between
the two - Too late! Alish struck with the speed of a cobra!

Next thing I knew was that big man tumbling side-ways and back
amongst a rack of clothes to be cleaned and some stands with
advertising on them. Alish had slapped - no, clawed - or half
slapped and clawed his face with a powerful blow of her hand. Her
hand was indeed held in what Chinese Gung-Fu people might call the
"Eagle-Claw-Fist", used in Eagle-Claw Gung-Fu.

The downed Middle-Eastern fellow scrambled around on his back
trying to get to his feet. Crimson streaks of red appointed his
right-cheek from Alish's left-handed blow. But Alish was not done!
Screaming Arabic profanities, she lunged forward over him, and with
both her hands grabbing his closest-to-her arm, yanked powerfully
and sent him hurtling across the customer area, slamming against
the opposite wall. Like a giant 200 pound bowling ball, his body
knocked over various advertising and coupon stands and made a
raucous noise. People would have been bowled down too but they
deftly jumped aside.

Knocked dizzy, the guy was helpless and it looked like to me for a
scary second that Alish was going in for a final blow, right in his
crotch. Her shoed foot was ready - she was yelling Arabic
profanities (I assume) - I thought she was going to do it. If she
had, her powerful leg driving her shoed foot would have annihilated
his genital - but...

She didn't...

Not only that, as she backed up, all yelling stopped, she looked
remorseful. I glanced at her face and saw tears ready to roll. All
other customers had either left altogether or were standing way
back, watching from a safe distance, this female "blue-fury" waste
a sizable man.

I heard her say more Arabic words, cooing, soothing words as she
helped him up to his feet. He wobbled around, dazed. Ish Alish
helped him to a chair where she kneeled before him still cooing
soft words of Arabic. It sounded pretty to me. One point, the words
appeared to rhyme, sounding a little like poetry. Occasionally,
Alish's voice cracked, sounding like she was near sobbing.

It had its effect. He responded finally, looking down and speaking
softly. Suddenly, Alish turned to me and said, "Go get the first-
aid kit from my car. It's under the seat.". That yanked me out of
my stupor. I had been standing there like a bump until then,
perhaps.

I ran to her car, looked under first one seat than the other, found
the kit and brought it. When I came back, things were calming.
Still looking, the other customers were resuming their picking up
of clothes. Dry clean Personnel picked up the stands of coupons,
ads and such and straightened out the rack of clothes to be
cleaned. I helped after handing Alish the first-aid-kit.

One Employee, an oldster, grumbled to me, "What's with your Arab
girl friend anyway? Tell 'em to take it back to the Middle East! we
don't need their war here!"
"He said something bad to her!" I replied, perhaps a bit
snappishly, in defense of Ish Alish.
"Whatever he said must have been a doozy!" said another Employee in
a good natured tone.

Ish Alish gently, tenderly anointed the man's bleeding scratches on
his face with some kind of medicine from the first-aid kit. All the
while, she spoke the softest and most tender yet. Not even to me
(up until then, but later she did; more about that later) had she
used such dulcet tones. It sounded like Arabic poetry. A pretty
sounding language anyway, at least when coming from Ish Alish, the
way she trilled ending "r"s, and performed some of the other
particularly Arabic sounds, the over-all effect was beautiful.

While she took care of him, I finally paid for the cleaned dress.
Then I stood out of the way until Alish was done. By the time she
was ready to go, the man was smiling, even laughing a bit at what
must have been some kind of funny stuff Alish spoke of. Alish
parted, finally, bidding good-byes in Arabic to a completely
restored fellow. Alish then grabbed me, and we left.

I drove, for when we entered her car, Ish Alish began to cry over
her regret of what she did. I gave her a few minutes undisturbed.
Later, after she calmed, I remarked, "Okay, so you regret smacking
that guy around, but gosh, the way you treated him afterward! That
more than made up for it."

"Oh!" her voice quivered out, "I am just too much of a hot-head
sometimes! I've got a terrible temper. I only hope, and prey to
God, that you will never have to experience it..."

Man, I hoped so too! The way she dispatched that hefty 200 pounder,
she could make quick work of my 165 pounds of bones! Well, anyway,
I further ventured, "If I may ask, what in heaven's name did he say
to you anyway?"

"Oh, he's cool now, but he just said some bad stuff about me."

I thought, I'd be cool too, if I went through what he went through.
Anyway, Alish continued, "After he handed the dress to you, he said
to me... because of his being such a religious control-freak-
zealot, he said, 'I know you're a dirty whore, doing as you please
in this land of satan, but MUST you ADVERTISE it? I hope you didn't
wear this announcement of your available genitals in the Middle-
East community...' OH! That made me MAD! I didn't let him finish
and I began shouting all manner of profanity at him. I guess I have
to admit, I have picked up some stuff in my over 10 years around
here... Amongst the things I called him is a 'Mother-Fucker'... I
picked that up here, but ooo! Such a thing is not only unthinkable
in Islamic society, it's not even SPEAKABLE!"

I commented, "Nah, you say that to some younger Americans, it's
water off a duck's back."
"NOT with MY people. That really made him hopping mad. He screamed
at me, 'You really should have your entire clitoris removed! THAT
would dampen your arrogance!' Then I screamed, 'You should have
your COCK REMOVED! You never use it anyway!' Ohh! It was ugly, all
because of me!"

I commented, "But what he said to you was terrible! You had a right
to tell him off..."
"Tell him off perhaps, using well chosen, strong words. But I
became a barbaric, screaming, profanity-spewing mess! Anyway, after
I yelled about having his penis removed, he hollered, 'Surely in MY
country, a bitch-woman like you would be put to death!' Then I used
another American cuss word; I said, 'YOUR country SUCK COCKS!' And
I translated it directly into Arabic too! In United States, 'sucks
cocks' has toned down to just 'sucks' and is no longer a bad cuss
word. It simply means something is 'crummy', 'ratty', 'no good' or
whatever. But in Islamic society, one does not even speak of it!"
"What IS his country anyway?" I asked.
"I'm not going to tell you. One, he was not acting like a normal
citizen of that country, and two, you would get a bad impression of
that country. Americans have enough bad impressions about the
Middle East already. Anyway, I really misbehaved and just blew up
unnecessarily. I'm 38 years old, and he is only, maybe, 20. I'm
nearly twice his age, almost old enough to be Mother to him, yet,
look how I acted! Mean, violent, no understanding! Then I beat him
so bad..." her voice cracked, "and he's so far from home and...
and... lost..." and then Alish cried again.

As Alish calmed from the renewed crying, I said, "But you made good
repentance, at least it looked like to me. The way you, not only
nursed his injury, but nursed his psyche as well... it was
beautiful."
"I was about to stomp in his penis, then... all I can say is God
came to the rescue. God saved him from me and... straightened me
out..."
"Well," I reassured, "All of us need that help from God from time
to time. That's what it's all about."

I said no more and let Alish reconcile the matter in her own
thoughts as I continued to drive us home. We arrived home to her
apartment, had dinner and spent some time in each other's
comforting embrace on the sofa. No sex, just an evening of sweet
togetherness. Tomorrow, Alish would go to work, to her Translating
job at the service bureau.



It became apparent to me, among her many other characteristics, Ish
Alish is, despite an admittedly hot temper, a healer. Strong and
sturdy herself, not only physically but mentally as well, Alish is
an exemplary example of the Koran's teaching about the strong
should help the weak.

"But," you might be thinking, "Alish injured him..." well, true,
but he was belligerent and an over-bearing religious zealot.
Sometimes somebody has to be slapped around a bit to knock them to
the right track. He may have thought he was a sincere Muslim by
being so militant, but Alish showed him the true Islamic way.

A lot of Christians could use this lesson too, by the way...

Later, he even became somewhat of a friend to us. He showed me a
Web site intended for Americans operated by Egypt. He helped me a
little bit here and there with my learning Arabic. Through that
web-site, I was able to locate an English Language Koran, so I
could see for myself "what they're talking about".
[The Koran translated by N.J. Dawood - Penguin Books]
                        In conclusion...

Ish Alish and I stayed together from that time on to this day.
About a year later, we were married the Muslim way during a journey
to Egypt. We were notoriously coy about our "pre-marital" sex...
well enough said there.

By the time of our marriage in Egypt, I could stumble along in
Arabic. Indeed, Ish Alish's prophecy came true. Although we tried
and tried to duplicate the events of that night, the magical
acquisition of fluent Arabic never came back to me. And not to
mention, I am still not thoroughly convinced that it ever really
happened. I still think I dreamed it. I can not deny the evidence
though, of a tattered sheet of paper I still keep; it has some
lines of rather advanced Arabic that I wrote that one day... hmm...
could be my lack of faith is interfering with a repeat of that
Godly magic.

We lived, and still live, mostly at her apartment. On weekends
(Monday and Tuesday for us), we live in my cabin. We hike in the
mountains almost every weekend, weather permitting. She stays
shrouded and veiled whenever out in public. I certainly don't make
her do it, (I don't and can't make her do anything) but she wears
the outfit voluntarily. What can I say except, she is proud of
being Arab and Egyptian!

One weekend at my cabin, I somehow slipped on wet grass and had a
nasty tumble down a rocky embankment to a trail or ledge below. No
bones were broken, but one of my shins received a bad wallop that
I believe may have cracked the bone. (It doesn't take much to crack
or break the pretzels that make up my bone-structure.) In addition
to that, I received a variety of bruises and scrapes, some severe.
I was pretty much out of commission after that.

Ish Alish, nude as she always is when we are at my (no, OURS, now)
cabin, came running around the trail and down to where I was,
frantic. And this is where I experienced her warm, healing balm
that she gave that guy in the dry-cleaner.

Helping me up tenderly, she practically cradled me in her strong
arms up to the cabin. The anointments stung, but her cooing, dulcet
voice was like anesthesia. I felt little pain, actually. She became
a firm (better not disobey her orders!), but gentle Nurse for me.
In seemingly no time at all, my injuries were gone. Huh! I almost
enjoyed it! I think I'll have another tumble down that
embankment...

NOT!!!

Neither one of us tried to "convert" the other to his or her
religion. I believe, and so does Ish Alish, that we honor the same
God, despite minor differences in worshiping methods or in
Prophets/messengers. A lot of zealots, both from the Islamic side
and the Christian side, would take issue with that, but, that very
"taking issues" is what starts a lot of violence over religion. It
is logical to assume, therefore, that kind of behavior displeases
God. So I think the approach of Ish Alish and myself has its
merits.

And a word or two about clitoris removal. That guy at the dry-
cleaner, in his anger, brought it up. According to Ish Alish, it is
done, but it is against the law in both Egypt and Saudi Arabia.

Ish Alish said it was done to her Mother and older Sisters. When
Ish Alish "came of age" however, she said "NO WAY!" She said, "If
God wanted Women to have no clitoris, He would have created them
without a clitoris. Why can't people think of that simple fact? It
does not take any great intelligence to figure that out!"

Ish Alish said her refusal to permit it done to her resulted in a
most stormy argument with Mother and Father. She even threatened
reporting it to the authorities. Further, Ish Alish said the
frigidity of relations with her Parents caused her to finally move
out and eventually from there, find her way to United States.
First, Alish lived in Florida, then, moved to Washington State. I
guess she liked fresh apples... and cooler weather! The
relationship with her Parents has healed now.
                      BACK-GROUND OF STORY

Some months ago, this story came from the hinterlands out there
somewhere into a bbs about Amazon Women I operate. Similar to
another story (the one about the Cyclist who found himself
mysteriously in another time and place for a while), this story
came to me in sketchy form from a user of the bbs. He wished to
remain anonymous and further indicated his Middle-Eastern Wife did
not want her name or actual photo used. Due to the sketchiness of
what he provided, I had to use his account basically as an outline
and write the story myself. So, this story, ARAB LADY, is
essentially written by me (Joe Rathbun), but the idea came from
somebody else.

I hope, now that I am running a bbs AND web-site, that if anybody
wants to submit a story about Amazon Women, go ahead and write it
up completely yourself, even if you have to get the help of an
experienced writer. I'll put it on my web site for you. Or, if you
have a web site, I will provide a "Menu-item" on one of my web-
pages to choose that will link to your site. Who knows, a story
projected out on "the Net" just might fall into "fertile soil" and
turn into something for its author. It HAS happened.

Unlike all of those "Central Mountains Republic" stories (for those
who have read those), this one takes place in OUR time, OUR country
of U.S.A., and is about a more "believable" Amazon-sized Lady
rather than those big giants described in the stories from Central
Mountains Republic.

Catalogs should be available both on the web-site or the bbs that
you obtained this story from. If not, please email:
71533.714@compuserve.com

ATTENTION: PEOPLE FROM MIDDLE-EAST:

If by chance you downloaded this story from the web-site or bbs and
find gross mis-representations about the Middle-East, please let me
know about them. Email:
71533.714@compuserve.com

However, keep in mind, the Arab Lady is a "maverick" (an unusual,
independent and self-guided person; a pioneer), and so produces
much in the way of unusual situations or actions. That is what
makes a story. If she was just like everybody else, the story would
be boring and not worthy of being written.

A LITTLE ABOUT WHO GAVE ME THIS STORY IDEA:

As already pointed out, several months ago, a fellow, finding my
bbs about muscle women interesting, wrote several emails to me. He
offered an outline of what happened in a relationship with a big,
robust Egyptian Lady he met and later married. He asked me to write
it up into a story. I tried talking to him over the telephone but
he found that awkward and intimidating. We gave that up and went
back to email. He wishes to remain anonymous. I will call him Jim.
I asked Jim for a photo of his Arab Wife but said she certainly
does not want her photo here. So I asked for a detailed description
of her so I could render her in a drawing. Find the Arab Lady in
the file:  ALISH.JPG or S_ALISH.JPG on the web site or the bbs.

Names and places were changed of course. The story follows his
sketchy outlines. I added a few items to spice it up:

        > About the touching and feeling of Jim's butt: <

On the mountain-top, she followed Jim around, showing a lot of
interest in him. Because she was dressed in that conservative
manner, and because Middle-Eastern, Jim assumed she would not be
interested in him but he found her attractive. She did NOT feel
over his butt, however she made many favorable comments about his
body. Jim was wearing at the time, skin-tight cycling shorts and
sleeveless jersey.

         > What about the scene in the dry-cleaner's? <

Jim said she indeed possessed a huge libido. Their first sexual
encounter was un-planned and did result in her dress being soiled,
by... well, by the way it was described in the story. Jim said the
dress was discarded.

Due to her free ways, she did rankle the conservative sensitivities
of the more fundamentalist people of the large Middle-Eastern
community. (It is located in a big city.) Once in a dry-cleaner
where she was indeed dry-cleaning one of her traditional dresses,
she got into a shouting argument with a fellow there. It did not
turn into a scuffle, but came close to it. The boss of the dry-
cleaner admonished the Middle Eastern employee, obliging him to
"take a hike" to cool off. (In my story, the boss, it is assumed,
is out for some moments.) Jim did not know what the argument was
about except she told him it was an argument over Islamic values.
Anyway, I simply wove the ruined dress and the real dry-cleaner-
argument together and added the fight.

    > What about the dreams and sudden learning of Arabic? <

Jim said he did have a series of clear and bizarre "flying" dreams
about his Arab Lady-friend the first night after they had sex. He
did not come in sudden possession of Arabic language. But, when Jim
did set out to learn Arabic, he surprised everybody and himself
with the hurtling speed and ease of his progression.

             > Was the Arab Lady really shot once? <

Yes, according to Jim and what she told him. Her family members and
Parents back it up. She worked for a time as an assistant Nurse in
the disputed Arab territories held by Israel. She was shot,
slightly injured, in a sudden, uncalled-for attack in which many of
her just-met friends did indeed die. That part was not added at
all, just told like it was!

   > Finally, just how big and strong is the real Arab Lady? <

Many Egyptians tend to be robust. Jim said she stands six feet
tall, and due to her constant battle with over-weight, works out
with weights three times a week. Jim says she is only slightly
over-weight, just enough to give her tummy "an enticing jiggle" if
she dances. (She dances regular old American dances, not Middle
Eastern (belly) dance although she is trained in Middle Eastern
dance.) Jim says she is powerful. More than once, she helped push-
start an aging automobile by pushing it herself, while Jim sat in
the driver's seat working the clutch. She bench-presses 180 pounds
and can curl 150 pounds. She easily does 300 sit-ups as warm-ups to
the weight lifting.

Further, Jim's Arab Lady-friend took some Gung-Fu courses for added
exercise and discipline training. That's where I added the "Tiger-
Claw Gung-Fu" strike that the Arab Lady in the story did in the
scuffle-scene at the dry-cleaner.

If she gets her weight down to where she wants it, she is 180
pounds. But she often is seen at 200 pounds. Jim says he likes her
looks best at 200 pounds. Jim says of himself, he is six feet tall
at 170 pounds. (I took off 5 pounds to make it MY average weight.)

          > Clitoris removal!? What's THAT all about? <

For that, I simply refer you to the following book:

PRINCESS SULTANA'S DAUGHTERS told by Princess Sultana to Author
Jean Sasson. DELL Books. ISBN: 0-440-21850-0
Read the chapter called:  Fatma

Helpful Hint:

Perhaps the book above AND the English Koran (below) can be found
at the new, huge on-line book store.

If interested in either one, try finding both the book above and
The Koran translated by N.J. Dawood - Penguin Books
at the following web-site:
http://www.amazon.com

Email to:
info@amazon.com

And no, Amazon.com has nothing to do with my bbs or web-site about
Muscle Women (Amazons). They just named it Amazon because it is so
big.