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I softly stroked her thighs and around her puffy lips for a minute then started to try to get her burka off her. Fatima sat up so that she was on her knees facing me. She reached both hands up to the right side of the square shouldered burka, released a couple of concealed buttons, then whipped the garment over her head. My breath caught in my throat, as I took in the sight of her kneeling there nude, arms at her side, eyes downcast, and cheeks rosy with embarrassment."Husniyah (beautiful)," I whispered.I said that reverently, and I meant it whole-heartedly. Her body was magnificent, all soft flawless skin and gentle curves. She blushed at my unabashed stare but didn't try to cover herself with her hands; there was no coyness in Fatima. After a minute she reached forward and started to ease the green boxers I wore off me. I pushed my right foot against the mattress to help. She giggled when my fierce erection caught on the waistband and she had to free it. She made as if to swing her. He had no doubts who he really loved. He was glad he had chanced that. He had confronted his own fears that day.Tim blinked and turned to his wife. Fran was smiling faintly, happy for them. Happy that they had shared one more kiss. She had no doubts that her husband loved only her. She was so proud of herself for giving him that moment.Patrice showed them to the door and they left. She closed the door, turned and slumped against it, and cried.Outside, Fran noticed as she opened her door that the man was no longer there tending to his garden. The midday heat must be too much for him.Fran felt like her relationship with Tim was even stronger now. They had faced Patrice together and 1982 was no longer something that divided them, but rather what brought them together. As Tim turned the key, Fran put her hand on his arm. It was a loving touch, a symbol of a bond. They drove off and back into their own lives.Benjamin leaned back in his chair, looked at the clock on the wall for the third.
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