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I know how busy you are and I'm sure your performance will delight the Arab/American community, as well as those of us who are not Arabs." He said as he placed his hand under her elbow and started to gently lead her away from the statue.
"A friend of mine recommended this nice bar and grill down the street. While it is a little early for drinking I hear the food is excellent. Will that be OK for lunch? Do you object to going to an establishment where alcohol is served?"
"No, no objections. I am not that old fashioned. It will be fine as long as they have booths where we can be unobserved and talk in private together."
"By the way, speaking of privacy, where is your body guard today?" Joseph asked . "I don't see him around."
"I did not think I needed him today. One of the advantages in living in Manhattan is that people usually do not recognize me and I can live a more normal life here." She explained and then shyly asked him. "Do you think I need him around with you?"
"You never can tell," he said as they found the place, entered and were seated in a private booth. As they sat down beside one and other, Dina after looking around the place, let her black headscarf fall to her shoulders and ran her fingers through her hair to fluff it out.
Joseph, using it as an excuse reached over and using his fingers adjusted her head covering over her shoulders. The waiter smiled, handed them menus and asked if they wanted anything to drink before they ordered.
Coffee, just coffee for now, they both requested and started to look at the menu.
When he returned with their coffee, they ordered and while waiting for the food to arrive Joseph asked her, "So tell me what kept you awake last Russian_Underage_Lolita
night ?"
"Who in the name of the prophet are you?" She asked as she turned to him and took both his hands in hers.
"I'm Sgt. Joseph Benson, US Army." Joseph said, kind of bewildered and taken aback. "I thought you knew that. Didn't I tell you?" |
"That is what you told me, but that's not what I mean and you know it. This past Tuesday evening before I went to work, two rather rude and big Syrian intelligence officers or so they claimed to be paid me a visit.
They almost broke into my apartment and after roughing me up a bit they began questioning me about you. They wanted to know all kinds of things about you and our relationship. They asked me if you were working for the CIA, the FBI or even Army Intelligence?"
Joseph started to laugh. "Army Intelligence? Now there is an oxymoron if I ever heard one. There is no such thing!"
"This is no joke, you idiot. These people are dangerous. They could just as soon kill you as look at you. One of them grabbed me from behind pinning my arms to my sides and the other used his hands to feel me up while he questioned me.
It was as if they already knew the answers but were just using the questions as an excuse to abuse me. The one behind me was rubbing his you know what on my backside. They were really enjoying their work."
"I'll just bet they did! I'm really sorry this happened. I hope they did not hurt you. But, Dina, I have no idea why they should question you or even for that matter, how they would know that you know me.
last teen funs video
night , when I was at the Club, Mr. Amos the Cafe Casablanca owner mentioned that you had been asking about me since my last prelolita girls
visit a while back. Perhaps they overheard you and thought that you knew me.
The truth of the matter is that, yes, they must and should be interested in me because of my involvement with Fazzi Muhammad and his family. You see Fazzi at one time was a big wheel in the Syrian government apparatus.
During my Army studies of Arabic and Muslim culture, I happened to attend services at Fazzi's mosque where I met and became friendly with him and his family. So friendly and so close, in fact, that I also became engaged to his daughter.
Add to this the fact that I have started working with Fazzi and the Arab/American community on this Investment Club and you can see why they would be interested in me. If you want to know my guess it is that they are trying to gather information about me.
And that includes those I associate with. I hardly know you that well and really cannot understand why they would bother you." He explained, as their lunch arrived. They continued talking while eating, Joseph telling her all about his public life.
"So I guess it's just a case of them wanting to make sure that I'm not going to steal the money or that I'm not running some kind of a scam." |
"There must be more to it than that." She insisted. "They wanted to hire me."
"Hire you? What on earth for?"
"They said they would pay me well to spy on you and find out every thing I could about you. They said they want me to find out if you are a homosexual. They asked me to make love to you and take you to bed.
They wanted to see if you were attracted to women." She laughed.
"Oh so that's the reason for the whip and your hand under the table last sex movie in arabic
night ." Joseph returned her laugher. "Look, if you want maybe I can get Fazzi to use his influence with the government to get them to lay off you.
As far as I'm concerned, I don't care what you report to them. In any case, I guess you can report that I'm at least normal in the horny male department."
"Judging by last preteendigest com
night , I would say you're more than normal."
"Perhaps you might like to do a more clinical examination. You know, just to earn some of that money they promised to pay you. I don't know about you, but I would love to do a more intimate exam of you.
I could get us a hotel room. I assure you that you would not be disappointed. From what I saw and felt as I held you in my arms last underage bbs list
night , I know I would not be disappointed in you."
He half jested. "However please keep this in mind, my little spy, while you are a beautiful woman, and you are tempting, and I would love to ravish you, I must confess that
I'm hopelessly in love with Kasemah, Fazzi's daughter. Nothing, my little Mata Hari, will change that."
"What or who is this 'Mata Hari'?" she asked bewildered. |