A Time Honoured Killing

by Samesh Ramjattan

  Nick saw Fatima as she spoke to one of her colleagues. Fatima was barely recognisable to him, compared with the glamorous, pristine and polished woman that he remembered perched on the end of a designer sun lounger by that rooftop pool. She looked older, almost haggard and aged with blotchy skin, rank flat grey flecked hair concealed in a pale head scarf. As Nick confronted her she apprehensively tried to avoid his gaze and reacted almost like she sought a quick exit.

  “What do you want here?” Fatima enquired antagonistically.

  “I need to ask you some questions,” Nick asserted with ardent authority.

  “I have nothing to say to you Nick,” she retorted. “You shouldn’t even be in here. Please just go.”

  “It’s to do with Adilaah,” Nick reasoned, hoping she would want to help him in his quest.

  “Look Adilaah is gone and I’m not going to disgrace her memory by being seen talking to you of all people.”

  “Adilaah was pregnant,” Nick announced. “Did you know about that?”

  Fatima brazenly looked around to see if anybody had heard Nick’s utterance.

  “Let’s go in here,” She ushered, quickly moving Nick in to the privacy of a nearby office, closing the door behind her.

  Fatima moved in closer to Nick, rubbing her forehead and tired eyes preparing herself for the difficult words she was about to speak.

  “I don’t believe I am telling you this.”

  “Fatima, just tell me,” Nick encouraged, eager to get to the bottom of the issue.

  Fatima was silent for a moment.

  “She came to me a few months ago,” Fatima spoke. “She was desperate and didn’t want anyone to find out especially her father.”

  “Do you think they found out?” Nick probed inquisitively.

  “I don’t know,” Fatima said dourly.

  “Did she tell you who the father was?” Nick asked tentatively.

  Fatima shook her head grimly trying to avoid the course of Nick’s questioning.

  “Don’t lie to me,” Nick bellowed at the Fatima’s evasion of the truth.

  “Kusam Nick,” Fatima pleaded. “She wanted to protect me, so she didn’t tell me.”

  “Go on,” Nick encouraged.

  “I took her to see this woman who arranged it back in Lahore. Told her father she was visiting cousins and had it done,” Fatima replied despondently, sitting down as she spoke. “I didn’t see her much after that. She was never the same again.”

  “When did you see her last?” Nick questioned blankly.

  “A few of months ago. She seemed different.”

  “Different. How?” Nick inquired further.

  “I don’t know!” Fatima declared loudly, “She will take her secrets to the grave,” Fatima looked up accusingly at Nick. “Like everything in her life.”

  “I can’t let her go like that,” Nick said with purpose. “Without the justice she deserves…”

  “Justice. Look around you at all these women, battered, abandoned, raped. Where’s their justice?” Fatima scoffed as she stood up with determination and pulled her plain Headscarf aside, revealing the blotchy scarred skin on her neck and shoulder.

  “This is the only justice I know. Thanks to my father – he found out that I was friends with an English boy. He had acid thrown on me. Said I brought shame on him. How do think I ended up here?” Fatima bellowed as the pain of her injuries released tears from her otherwise guarded composure.

  “Adilaah was the only one I could turn to,” Fatima continued, “And in the end I failed her.”

  Fatima retreated into her seat, covered up her scars and placed her head in her hands, slowly wiping the tears away from her weary eyes.

  “We both did,” Nick said dejected, as he placed a comforting hand on Fatima’s back.

  “She knew what she as up against, and she couldn’t run away from it,” Fatima said regaining her composure. “Not even for you.”

  Fatima stood up once more to leave but stopped and looked Nick squarely in the eye.

  “Even though she really wanted to.”

  She spoke with conviction so that he would not misinterpret her words.

  8

  The ceiling to his flat was sprawled out like a canvas as the events of the day played out in an imaginary kaleidoscope above Nick, as he lay face up in his bed. Fatigue had overtaken any normal function and sleep would have been a welcome antidote, but the thoughts of Adilaah abated any restful seclusion. He could see her in all the memories that seemed as though they were fresh from a few days before. All the emotions and heartbreak that he assumed he had vanquished, suddenly reared their intrusive heads and tormented his soul.

  In frustration he rolled around in his bed facing the empty pillow beside him. Then suddenly and as if by some magical alchemy she was beside him. Her chamois powder smooth skin, delicate small perfectly formed nose, striding above a pair of full pout ruby red lips. Her face was in perfect symmetry, formed by a sacred geometry that was complemented by large round brown eyes that seemed to reach deep into one’s soul and find the good in it. It was impossible not to fall in love with her. She had something that everybody sought – an ability to make everything she touched beautiful, and by that touch, she could ensue pure poetry. Nick closed his eyes and he was transported back to a time when she was in his bed.

  ~

  Adilaah laid on the bed dressed in an elegant pastel blue blouse and tailored trouser. She had kicked her high heeled court shoes off and curled up in comfort-able foetal position with her arms together, coupled under her cheek. She lay in front of Nick, as he extended his right hand and caressed her face gently, Adilaah took serene delight in the soothing gesture, taking hold of it and coupling it with her own hands under her cheek.

  Nick sensed Adilaah’s anxiousness as she took his hand and clasped it under hers. It was more than an affectionate gesture. He could feel her pulse quicken and the palm of her hands were moist with the sweat of trepidation. Nick placed his other hand on her thigh and again he felt her clench her resolve, prompting him to move in closer and reassuringly place a gentle kiss on her soft lips. Adilaah clasped his hand tighter and inhaled deeply, drawing in all of Nick’s essence. He felt her consume him, and all of his doubt, susceptibility and weakness was drawn out by some spell that she had cast from her lips and her bewitching form. For a moment he wondered how someone who could command such power over his emotions, feel so anxious by his touch. But he could feel her anxiety fading as the kiss pervaded and he felt the overwhelming compulsion to touch every part of her delectable body. In the moment, the inexorable passion of the embrace engulfed his senses and he tightened his hand on her soft thighs, and gently moved it up, following her curvaceous form until he could feel the sensation of her bare waist under her blouse. The intrusion of his hand on her skin without the barrier of clothing made her tense and turn onto her back. She still clung onto his right hand like it was an anchor rooted in reality, but she left his other hand where it was, laying firmly across her stomach, flat and spread over her belly-button.

  Afternoon sunlight peeked through the closed curtains and evoked mirrored patterns across the bed like wild shards of dancing glass. Nick gazed at them, mesmerised by the patterns on Adillaah’s shapely figure. A patent energy electrified him and travelled throughout his body, via his frozen hand, transmitting through to Adilaah’s midriff. She could feel the intensity of anticipation between them, like a palpable tension that opponents felt in a chess game, each trying to out strategize each other, but relishing the riveting exchange. Carefully, almost as if he did not want to disturb the exchange, he moved his fingers over her trembling skin. The caress was more powerful than any orgasm, a scintillation overload that made her belly retract as she inhaled deeply. Gently he unbuttoned the lowest button and with the movement of a snail approached the next. She watched this hand while still grasping the other, moving her eyes provocatively to meet his. Nick smiled reassuringly, fostering trust in his wandering exploits. He undid the nex
t button, slowly parting the blouse like a stage curtain. Her breathing quickened and so did his as he exposed most of her waist to the low-lit bedroom. Nick lowered his head over her stomach and kissed her belly button. She tasted of creamy vanilla and sweet musk. Her skin had become moist and silky from the fragrant sweat of exhilaration. He licked her glowing skin with the end of his pointed tongue and kissed it lightly.

  Then he looked at the final hurdle. The blouse still masked her ample breasts, marked by the small indents that were made by her erect nipples. She looked back at him as her eyes permitted him to proceed. Nick unbuttoned the last fixture and gently unveiled her pert bosom. They sat comfortably and full inside a low-cut ivory coloured silk bra that just about covered her milk chocolate nipples. Nick pressed his eager lips between them. The impression of his lips made her quiver, as she rigidly pointed her legs and curled toes. He then kissed her gently on the lips, sucking each one and then coaxing her tongue from its refuge. Finally, he brought his hand up to the bra and with no fuss unclipped the front-clasp. Her bosom emerged into freedom and the exposure of her intimate body to Nick’s entranced eyes seemed ecstatic and terrifying all at the same time. Nick could see her wrestling with the compulsion to want to cover up, but the unthreatening look in his eyes made her resist and she lay before him exposed like she never had been before. Perhaps Adilaah saw something that she never saw before, and that was love. Love that inspired trust that the person before you only intended the best for you, and while exposing her body may have been new to her, she felt safe knowing that he would tenderly embrace her in the way that she deserved.

  They both felt it – an unspoken trust and security that was borne out of a higher experience, one that was holy and pure. One that had perhaps spanned the ages. He felt as though she would trust him with anything, without condition, almost as if she had placed her entire life in his hands. A part of him shuddered at the responsibility and immense implications, for it did not seem routed in any form of reality. But at that moment he didn’t care. This gift was in his arms and he felt like he had finally caught a break and the gods had smiled on him with this abundant reward, and there was no way he was going to second guess it. He kissed Adilaah again like she needed his life-giving spirit and he revelled in the sanctity of the moment. He kissed her neck and then her chest. Her skin tasted of revitalising nectar, and he licked it like it was honey, moving slowly towards her breasts. Adilaah held her breath in anticipation of his mouth on her breasts. She clasped his right hand even tighter and then placed her other on his head as he enticed her plump left bosom. Nick tickled the areola of her hard nipples and then placed his entire mouth over the nub and pulled on them, tantalising her with pleasure. Adilaah moaned slightly, cocking her neck back on the pillow, as Nick moved over to her other breast. Adilaah had become hot from the excitement and this only spurred his efforts. She gripped his hair tightly, but Nick persisted, as her excitement reached a fever pitch. He, himself had become overwhelmed with pleasure and felt the erect pressure build in his jeans. His breathing quickened as he pressed up against the side of her bottom and crossed his left leg over hers. He wanted to rip everything off of her and behold this Persian beauty with unreserved passion. He wanted to hold her in a way that she would understand how he truly felt, how he had always felt. He wanted them to experience a union that defied separation and embraced each other as though they were one being. He moved his hand down along her stomach and under her trouser. He found the edge of her silk panty and threw caution to the wind. He slipped his hand triumphantly over the wet bulbous mounds between her legs, further sinking his middle finger into the slippery flesh. He felt exuberated and a wet fluid filled his underpants.

  But just as she granted permission to touch her cherished inner most aspects, she withdrew it. Suddenly, she closed her legs with a steadfast grip and yanked his offending hand from her trouser. And with the same resolve that the pleasure entered, it exited. Adilaah recoiled and withdrew her permissiveness. Suddenly that reality had come rushing back and the purity of their lovemaking had no place in it. Adilaah covered her breasts and then curled up in a cocoon, rolling away from Nick. He could not understand what he had done wrong. Adilaah’s expression had gone from one of exuberance to bleakness, and she detached from the connection that they had just shared. All of a sudden, she was distant, and Nick could sense that she was a different person, as if some sort of failsafe had unwittingly kicked in.

  “What’s wrong?” Nick inquired tenderly.

  “This,” Adilaah retorted coldly, staring blankly into space, then without cordiality sat up abruptly, got to her feet and declared, “I should go.” Nick watched her as she sullenly got dressed.

  “Have I done something?” Nick asked.

  “No,” Adilaah replied bluntly, reconstituting her hair and make-up.

  “Is it so hard?” Nick ventured, “To just be yourself and answer to no one.”

  “You don’t understand,” Adilaah replied with a cracked voice as tears fill her eyes and she tried to mouth words that wouldn’t come. Nick moved up to her, kneeling on the bed and placed his arms around her waist.

  “Then make me,” Nick said convincingly, pulling her closer, “I…”

  “Don’t…don’t say it,” Adilaah exclaimed quickly, feeling Nick’s emotion enrapturing her own.

  “But I want to,” Nick offered as he felt Adilaah’s resolve weaken.

  “It will just complicate things,” She said dourly.

  “That is what we are…” Nick affirmed despondently. “Unspoken words.”

  ~

  Nick could still hear the words he spoke at Adilaah in that very room when the shrill sound of the electronic buzzer disturbed his reflection. He reluctantly dragged his exhausted body from his unmade bed and plodded through his small flat through the short hallway and into the living-cum-dining room straddled by a sleek and compact modern kitchen.

  The sun had quit for the day and the laminate floor possessed an inhospitable coldness as he stepped over it in his woollen socks. He rubbed his shirtless slim muscular upper body as he lifted the receiver off of the intercom saddle.

  “Yeah?” he barked disinterested in the voice that belonged to his interruption.

  “It’s me! Let me up,” Came the impatient bilious reply. He knew all too well who the voice belonged to, and he was in no shape to deal with her outspoken antics tonight. But he knew that she would continue to pester the button to the entrance door, until he would have no choice but to let her up. Thereafter would follow the run-of-the-mill tussle before he would succumb to her wayward charms and she would end up staying with him knowing full well that he preferred the warmth of her robust body compared with the cold emptiness of nobody. Nick pressed the button on the intercom and the front door released.

  It was a few moments before the rapturous plod of Carley’s footsteps could be heard stomping up the stairs. Nick unlocked the door and turned the door knob allowing the door to slide open of its own accord in preparation for his guest. Nick stood ready for Carley’s appearance as he caressed the cold bare skin on his chest and rubbed the tiredness from his eyes. As they refocused, there she stood. The door to his flat creaked open to reveal her casually leaning against the door frame. She took his appearance in – bare feet, unbuckled denim jeans and bare chested, rounded off with a temperate scowl in response to her intrusion. She raised her eyebrows and said, “Ready for me then.”

  Carley slammed the door, announcing her arrival with fervour. She strolled in and unhooked the thick strap from broad shoulders, dropping the fully loaded bag onto the floor. With equal zest, she slid off her studded patent leather jacket and kicked off her shoes. Nick watched her as she seemed to settle in without much need for permission, almost as if she was returning to the marital home after a long day at work. Today she looked surprisingly coordinated, which left Nick with a feeling of adoration. She fashioned a fitted all-black cocktail dress, which on its own seemed to suggest a decency in her manner. Neverth
eless, it was still short enough to land just below her rear and snug enough to reveal that she was sporting no underwear. So much for decency. But somehow Nick seemed to like it. In truth he always did, and she knew it. For all he knew there was a side to her that curled up in bed with soft pink pyjamas and furry bunny slippers every night, but that was a side that he had never seen, and never wanted to.

  Carley knelt down and rummaged around in her overflowing bag to produce an opened bottle of Jack Daniels. Then she stood proudly, holding it aloft as if she were a spokesmodel, displaying a slight sway in her stance that only an intoxicated person would embody.

  “Peace offering,” Carley offered amiably.

  “You’ve had some,” Nick said, noting her slurring offer.

  “You were off the cranberry juice,” Carley retorted, “So I thought you might be in the mood for something stronger.” She closed in on him, slowly uncapping the bottle and stopping before him. She lifted the bottle to her pouting pink lips and took an unceremonious swig of the bourbon, swallowing as it crucified her throat on the way down. She placed her free hand on his chest, stroked his pecks, ruffling his black chest hair, then moved up to the back of his neck. Then she took another generous swig of the alcohol and planted her lips on his and injected the saliva mixed liquor down his throat.

  Nick should have spat the liquid out and kicked the temptress out, but the coaxing of her rich and over-powering body musk combined with her bewitching allure, seemed to override any sense of resistance that he had in him. He swallowed the liquid fire down, lubricated with honeyed saliva and the taste of a lascivious tongue. Then with a vigour that resembled domination, she retracted her mouth and rested the bottle on the floor. She stood erect just as quickly and attacked his lips with voracious intent, seemingly hungry enough to bite them on occasion. Nick could feel an insatiable passion rise from a hidden recess. It was uncontrollable, animalistic and undeniable. She didn’t kiss him, she possessed him and there was nothing he could do to stop her once she got going. Most men would give anything to have a woman like Carley in their lives, to be worshipped with a carnal instinct and make love like she was wading into battle – relentless and unwavering. He realised, as she devoured his neck and ears like an overfraught beast, that this unbridled passion had its root in some form of raw affection, and that is why he had made the sacrifices for her, risking his career and morality. Deep down she provided him with some sort of tangible survival, in exchange for the life he in turn liberated her from. Maybe it was a morbid love. He wasn’t sure.