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MARYUM AASAN, TELECOM BITCH — PART VII — THE CAREER END
“Oye randi, idhar bhi toh kabhi apnay jalway zahir kyun nahin kar deyti? (Yo whore, why do you not let us see your assets sometimes too?),” the words rang through my mind as I completed the long trek from the main gate, via the administration building and finally to the new office block. As if things were not bad enough for me at PT&WC since the fallout from the recent investigation, the entire Commercial Division was moved from our isolated location, at the other end of the city, right into the middle of the main office complex. And in less than a day my hopes, that people in this area would not know about my indiscretions, were dashed by the vulgar comment from a mere company bus driver who was idling by his vehicle near the entrance. What was infinitely worse was the roar of laughter and added hooting from the dozen or more junior grade employees who were within earshot. Rather than anyone coming to defend an attack on a female, something that would automatically happen in a country like Pakistan, instead the crowd all participated in destroying any shred of respect that I may have hoped was left.
It was naïve of me to expect with all the indiscretions on my part, that I would be treated in a better manner. I was now a fallen woman and any friends that I may have had at the company were careful about being seen anywhere around me. IQ had been transferred back and Munafik was expecting to move within weeks. Their replacements had not been announced and so I could not fall back on to the goodness of my foreigner friends or lovers. Any local managers, who had sampled my treats, had been fired, had left on their own, or did not seem to recognize me. Mr. Jameel was no longer around and the new GM, Mr. Rana, who had replaced Haramoon, was throwing his weight around, as the acting section head of the Wireless team, even though he did not have VP level rank or a tenth of Mr. Jameel’s intellect.
“Maryum, we are rationalizing staff strength in the Wireless team,” Mr. Rana let me know first thing on a Friday, “you have the option of joining the Customer Care team or leaving the company.”
The business had imploded since the departure of Mr. Jameel, and was sputtering at about a tenth of its volume. One way the new owners had figured to keep heads above water was to lay off a large number of employees. While the major impact of the privatization was on the main land line business, Mr. Rana had found a suitable way to get me out of his team. He had rightly judged that I had played a role in bringing down the fort for Mr. Jameel and then Haramoon, and that it was much better for him if I was sent packing or elsewhere.
“But Rana Sahib, surely I have been a productive employee,” I implored.
“Maybe you have, since my arrival,” he agreed, “but your misadventures of days past keep coming back to life.”
“Mr. Rana, are you sure there is no way I can stay in this team,” I tried another tack while noticeably bending forward so he could get a sight of my boobs, “surely I could do something or the other for you?”
“Maryum, let’s be clear, first of all I have no interest in any of the girls in the department or company,” he sternly made sure I got the point, “and most of all why would I want to be with someone like you who may be carrying unknown diseases from all the people you have fucked!”
If he had slapped me in the face, in the middle of the conference room during a seminar, the hurt would have been much less than the barbs from his very pointed comments.
My time at the Wireless team was done, but he had not found a way to get me out of PT&WC. Although my foreign lover and boss were no longer in the picture, people were still wary of crossing my path more than they had to. I would have to find a way to fix Mr. Rana. I wondered why someone like him, neither having the former VP’s work or education pedigree nor his hot wife, had not fallen for my wiles. I was not surprised when I learned, from one of the secretaries in another department, that despite his very professional demeanour in the office and overtly heterosexual attitudes, the guy was devotedly homosexual and still in a relationship with a gay Senior VP from the prior management team.
“Hi Maryum, let me welcome you to the Customer Care team,” Mr. Zaleel Kibriya sounded genuine and it was certainly not what I had expected to hear on arriving at my new department.
“I look forward to contributing in whatever way is possible for me,” I tried to sound equally eager to join.
“That’s good,” he seemed happy, “I am sure we can put you to good use.”
Mr. Zaleel was one of those oft present ass-kissers who had made it up to the level he was by brown nosing the previous CEO constantly. Often seen in front of the CEO’s office before the man even arrived and also the last to see him out, he had survived on bootlicking to the extreme. His luck seemed to have run out, however, with the privatization as the new head man did not quite relate to his way of things kızılay escort and preferred results over flattery. Still, given that there were many other targets for the new management, he was slipping under the radar and managing to stay around.
I had my job and the fear of being sent back to Abbotabad began to recede fast in my mind as Mr. Zaleel asked one of his managers to show me to my desk.
Unfortunately it came roaring back as I was shown into a bullpen of sorts that had a dozen desks, with all but one occupied by men in local dress and Taliban style beards. The situation was made even more awkward by the fact that I had decided on wearing a sleeveless kameez that revealed a lot more female skin than any of them had probably seen in their lifetimes.
Before long the guys began to circle my work area checking out my attire and causing my body to tense. “Dekho uskey mammay kitney nokilay hein (Check out how pointed her tits are),” one of the guys who had just gone by commented to his friend who had almost sided up to me. Many of the group started to laugh at the rude statement.
As I began to turn beet red, an older guy came on over to the fellow who had just insulted me. In a flash he was holding his collar in one hand and slapping him a number of times with the other. Tossing the victim aside to one corner, he turned to the others and announced, “If I ever hear another person make a comment about this girl, I will cut his balls off right here and feed them to the rest of you!”
I could not believe what had happened and accepted my saviour’s comforting arm on my shoulder and back. “They will not bother you again,” he assured me and returned to his desk, which was inside a small office to one side.
As the office cleared out over the lunch hour, I was happy to see that the gentleman was still around. “Thank you for your help, uncle,” I went over and offered my gratitude.
“It is okay, young lady, and you can call me Afshar,” he replied, giving me his name, “I am the Customer Services Manager on the Wireless business and can relate to your troubles.”
“I am in your debt,” I let him know and got a fatherly smile back. Maybe things would work out just fine.
“What’s all this stuff on the table?” I queried Naila upon returning to my hostel. There appeared to be dozens of packages of what appeared to be new clothing, shoes and such.
“Sweetheart, my father has accepted the proposal from a friend’s son to be my husband,” she knocked me off my feet, “these are some of the gifts that have been sent over.”
“When is this happening?” I stammered, not willing to comprehend that my one constant in life was soon to end with her marriage and departure.
“I have submitted my resignation and will be leaving for home on Saturday,” she advised me with teary eyes. That was just a few days away.
“When do I get to meet your fiancée?”
“Oh, he is taking us to a party tonight, and my dad wants you to chaperone us!”
“Why is that?”
“Come now, my dad, like yours, thinks I am the world’s most eligible virgin and not to be soiled before marriage!”
We had a loud laugh at that. By now our two cunts were probably wide enough to accommodate the Blue Area Boulevard.
However, the true meaning of her departure soon sank in and I slumped into a chair. Naila came over and held my face in her hands. We kissed for what seemed to be an eternity. Before long our clothes were discarded and we were head to toe, sucking out each others’ honey pots. Naila’s tongue probed my cunt deeply and I was reminded that it had been some time since a cock had been in that crevasse. My own mouth seemed welded to her crack, but somehow the taste did not appear to be as intense as in times past. Maybe the thought of this bounty evaporating was making my mind feel that the romance was gone.
“You seem lost,” Naila asked me point blank as she turned herself around to face me.
“You are going to leave me all alone,” I was beginning to show my feelings through my cracking voice and stream of tears, “you too after everyone else has deserted me.”
“Hey, I am only going away for a bit,” she tried to comfort me, “after the wedding I will be back in Islamabad and we can keep things going.”
She had inserted her fist into my fairly accommodating insides and was beginning to pump in earnest. The friction was certainly there but I did not quite feel the earth move as I came and she withdrew. She wanted me to finger her, but I could not believe that my entire hand acted limp; I had heard of unresponsive penises but non-compliant fingers were something I was not familiar with!
Naila correctly surmised that my mind was otherwise occupied and moved to her own bed, probably unsatisfied as I had not really made an effort to get her off. It did appear that my sex life was coming to a quicker close than I had anticipated.
“Hi, you must be Maryum,” the guy who had been staring at me for the best part of an hour came up and broke the kızılay escort bayan ice.
“And you are?”
“I am Izhar, a friend of the groom’s,” he advised, “I believe my dad works within your department at PT&WC.”
I was surprised and somewhat pleased to learn that he was the son of my savior, Afshar, and had recently returned from some sort of technical course in China. I recalled Afshar mentioning a son, but did not figure he was already grown up and sort of decent looking.
“Naila’s hubby to be mentioned that you would be here, and I am pleased to meet you,” he added.
Sensing that I may have another person who was interested in me, and alternatively could be worthy of checking out also, I tried to act proper by quickly putting the glass of scotch on the side table.
Seeing this, he sided up to me and whispered, “it’s okay, only my dad displays those ayatollah tendencies.”
Very soon, he had replaced my drink a few times and I was certainly light headed. The music was pleasant and I did not mind as he touched me, mostly by accident or perhaps by design, sporadically on various intimate parts.
Unfortunately, we were still on curfew at the residence, and I wanted to head home. Naila figured with just a matter of days left to go, she could care less about the matron. I hoped that Izhar would take me home, but learned he had just returned from a long overseas trip and did not yet have a vehicle. The groom to be, Azam, offered to drop me off and Naila was clearly okay with this, dancing wildly with other guys at the party. I wondered if she was going to enjoy a few of them that night.
“Take your clothes off,” Azam ordered me.
Without giving a hoot for dorm rules, he had followed me into the room, rather than returning from the main door, not caring a bit about the matron or anyone else being around.
“Azam bhai (brother), are you joking?”
“No I am not, Naila has told me all about your exploits,” he explained, “and by the way she will be here to join us shortly.”
I was drunk and did protest a bit, but Azam was quite strong and committed to screwing me. He had no problem ripping my clothes off, pinning me to a wall, and in dropping his pants. Without bothering to put a condom on, he roughly pushed my legs apart and jammed his rather dry penis into my cunt. I was jerked to reality, but could do nothing as he tried to get his dick to spout.
Azam was heavy but his cock did not seem to be overly developed or maybe not fully erect as he went about his business. As he took me, he bit my nipples, scratched my torso and fingered my ass without concern. He was still in me, his orgasm taking a long time perhaps due to the opium he had been taking with the alcohol at the party, when Naila walked in.
“Hi honeys,” she chirped, “would anybody mind if I joined the party?”
Azam had pulled out of me but still was not done. “Give me a blow job,” he ordered, shoving his dick in my mouth as Naila offered her tits to him, “your pussy seems too big to get me off!”
I wanted to cry because of the insult, but the member in my mouth prevented anything but an in and out motion. After an eternity I felt his passion build up and he grabbed me by the hair, literally removing an entire tuft from the roots. I had no choice but to take every drop of cum down my throat.
“Thanks sweets,” he smirked, “I’ll let Izhar know that he will need a real big dick to fill you up.”
Pushing me off the bed, he was soon in Naila’s pussy. I crawled to my bed, naked and sobbed till I finally got to sleep. Her squeals attested to the fact that he was being rough with her too. Hopefully she would like violent sex and being dominated during married life.
“Maryum, please make sure you get home Friday night,” my father stressed, “we have some important visitors over the weekend.”
While I had my suspicions as to the nature of the visitors, these were confirmed by the ornate dress that my mother had ready for me to wear for the occasion.
“Maryum, a very promising proposal has arrived from a family in Islamabad, I am sure you will be happy with the choice we are already well set on,” my mother let me know.
My apprehensions caused my insides to coil up as time slowed to a crawl. Finally the appointed hour came and soon my sister advised that the visitors had arrived and were with our parents in the main lounge. Soon it was time for me to play the dutiful daughter and serve refreshments to the guests.
I literally dropped the tray when I saw my colleague, Afshar, and his son, Izhar, talking to my parents.
“Mr. Aasan, I am sure Maryum will have no problem with the proposed match,” Afshar addressed my father.
“Maryum, you do know the gentleman and his son, can we have your opinion?” my mother was straight to the point.
I was tongue tied, but Afshar suggested that Izhar and I be allowed some private time together to talk things out. Seeing quick agreement from my folks, the two of us repaired escort kızlay to my room. My sister was directed to stay around, but winked at us and went off somewhere else.
Izhar’s arms were around me and his mouth closed over mine in a deep kiss before I could even say anything. Hid dick was rock hard but, given the presence of elders in the house, it was not possible to have sex at that moment. I gave him some succor by jacking him off into a condom that he had placed on his cock. Izhar played with my boobs, having put his hands under my kameez.
“Izhar you do know I am not a virgin, why are you still interested?”
“Maryum, I have been in the Far East for years and have had my share of girlfriends, you are the type of girl I am looking for, open, friendly and experienced,” he honestly replied.
My sister coughed outside the door to signal we were needed back. Fixing ourselves, I let him return and then joined the rest in the main lounge. My mother took me aside to get my opinion.
Her eyes lit up with joy as she got my assent. Within minutes sweets were passed all around and right there, in an impromptu ceremony, we were engaged with an exchange of rings, mine being brought by them and his being quickly arranged by my mother from among our ancestral jewelry.
“If you do not mind, Mrs. Aasan, Izhar and I are headed back to attend Naila’s wedding tomorrow. I believe Maryum is also going and it would be kind if you could allow her to come along with us rather than going to Islamabad alone in the morning,” Afshar suggested.
My folks were so caught up in the moment, having earlier decided that the wedding would take place in just over a month, they did not think twice before acceding.
Izhar and I were cuddled up in his bed. Afshar had claimed that there was some sort of emergency at the customer care center and left us alone at their house soon as we had returned to Islamabad. It had not taken much for Izhar to come embrace me and for my clothing to melt away.
Compared to many of the others I had experienced, Izhar was an accomplished lover and appeared to appreciate the fact that I was not clumsy or reticent in my love making. He had fucked me in the living room, on the dining table and now in his bed. In between, I had given him a worthy blow job while we made tea in the kitchen.
Since returning from China, he claimed he had not had the opportunity of female companionship till I had shown up on his radar screen. Naila’s fiancée had sort of set him up to meet me at the party and, thankfully, had not told anyone of our tryst just a couple of nights earlier. Izhar had mentioned me to his dad prior to the event and it was no problem for my parents’ contact to be found and the connection to be made. I was in a whirl at the speed with which my life was changing.
Meanwhile Izhar had me turned around, his fingers spreading something cool and slippery around my anus. Sensing his intent, I raised my butt and his rod was soon buried in my back side. Though he was certainly better endowed than most people I had fucked, by now my orifices had all become fairly accommodating, thereby allowing him to control the friction and delay his release. It seemed like he was in my rectum for an hour before I felt him spurting into me. This time he was finished, but I was impressed with the number of times he had managed to perform in the past 12 hours or so.
Naila was in the room helping me with my bridal dress. She was barely married two months and already pregnant. I put that down to her pre-wedding transgressions and could not know for sure if Azam was indeed the father of her child.
Her demeanor was changed from her usual bubbly self. Initially I felt it was because of the fact that it was my big day. Soon, however, she let on that things with Azam were not exactly rosy. In fact, soon as she had discovered the pregnancy, her husband had decided to start visiting old girlfriends again. Though she was obviously not showing and indeed looked pretty as ever, to him she was now as good as a fat cow.
At least I figured this sort of trouble would not come my way. Izhar appeared devoted and his dad had been my protector. I was not surprised when he had asked that as I was to be joining his family, it was custom that women on their side did not work. As such, he asked for me to sign a resignation letter that Afshar had drafted and would present to the company. He had already received word from Mr. Kibriya that I would not need to fulfill the notice period, but could leave immediately. My career at PT&WC was at an end. To some extent I had come there to seek company and independence and now had a husband of my own choosing.
The wedding ceremony performed and the festivities over, I was sitting on the bridal bed awaiting my husband. Though we had made love many times in the past month, this still constituted my wedding night.
I was surprised when the lights went completely out, but relieved when a form entered the bed next to me. A mouth over my lips stopped me from saying anything and shortly my clothes were around the bed. My cunt was spread and soon I was being fucked. While the cologne was certainly what Izhar wore, something appeared different. I figured it was the heady atmosphere confusing me. After a while we both released our loads.
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