[Lordsnow]

They walked without speaking.

The path curved away from the main gardens and followed a quieter line of trees that bordered the far wing of the resort. Fatima kept several steps behind the woman, the abaya moving around her legs with every stride. The wetness from her orgasm had soaked through the thin under-pants she wore. She could feel it with each step, cool against her skin when the air touched it, warm again when her thighs closed. The sensation kept her tightly focused on her own body.

She told herself she could still turn around. The main buildings were not far. Sameer was in their room. She could return, wash, pray, and force the last hour out of her thoughts. The argument repeated in her head and lost a little more strength with every metre she continued to follow the woman in the dark green dress.

They reached a side entrance used mostly by staff and long-stay guests. The woman opened the door with a key card and held it without looking back. Fatima hesitated on the threshold for a full second, then stepped inside.

The corridor was narrow and quiet. Soft carpet. Pale walls. The woman led her to the second door on the left, unlocked it, and went in first. Fatima followed and heard the door close firmly behind her.

The room was larger than the one she shared with Sameer. A wide bed, a seating area near the window, heavy curtains half drawn against the afternoon light. The air smelled faintly of the woman’s perfume and clean skin. Fatima stood near the door with her hands closed inside the sleeves of the abaya, suddenly unsure what to do with herself now that they were alone behind a locked door.

The woman set her key card on the table and turned to face her.

“Take off the veil.”

Fatima’s fingers moved slowly. She unpinned the cloth and folded it once, twice, before placing it on the edge of the nearest chair. Her face felt exposed again.

“Now the abaya.”

Fatima’s breath caught. She looked at the woman for a long moment. The woman simply waited, calm and unhurried. Fatima reached up, opened the front of the abaya, and let the heavy fabric slide off her shoulders. It fell around her feet in a dark pool. Underneath she wore a full-sleeve undershirt and loose cotton pantaloons, both plain and modest. The cloth of the undershirt clung slightly to her skin where sweat had formed.

The woman looked at her without speaking for several seconds, eyes moving over the covered shape of her body.

“All of it,” she said. “I already had my fingers inside you. There is no reason to pretend modesty now.”

Fatima’s hands trembled as she gripped the hem of the undershirt. She pulled it up and off, then pushed the pantaloons down her legs and stepped out of them. She stood completely naked in the middle of the room. Her nipples were still tight. The dark hair between her legs was wet and matted from her earlier orgasm. A thin line of slick had dried on her inner thigh.

The woman walked a slow circle around her, the same way someone might examine an object they were considering. Fatima kept her eyes lowered. She could feel the weight of that gaze on her breasts, her stomach, the curve of her ass, the exposed cunt that still felt open and sensitive.

“You said the need does not stop even after you come,” the woman said from behind her. “Show me how you touch yourself when you are alone and it gets too strong.”

Fatima’s face burned. She did not move.

“I am not asking,” the woman said. “Put your hand between your legs and show me.”

Fatima’s right hand moved as if it belonged to someone else. She slid it down her stomach and between her thighs, fingers finding her clit. She began to rub in small, tight circles, the way she did in the bathroom at home when Sameer was asleep and the heat became unbearable. Her breathing grew heavier almost at once. The wetness returned quickly, coating her fingers.

The woman came and stood in front of her, watching the movement of her hand without touching her yet.

“Faster. You are not performing for yourself. You are showing me the truth of what your body does.”

Fatima increased the speed. The soft, slick sound of her fingers filled the quiet room. Her hips began to move in small, involuntary rolls. She kept her eyes on the floor, too ashamed to look up, yet too far gone to stop. The orgasm built faster than she expected. When it took her she bent forward slightly, a broken moan leaving her throat, her fingers still working through the pulses as her cunt clenched and released.

She stood there afterwards with her hand still between her legs, breathing hard, naked and shaking in a stranger’s room.

The woman reached out and took Fatima’s wrist, lifting the wet fingers up between them.

“Again,” she said. “You do not stop until I say you can stop.”

Fatima stared at her. The demand settled over her like a weight. After a long second she returned her hand between her legs and began to rub her already oversensitive clit once more. The sensation was sharper this time, almost too much, yet the heat under it kept rising. The woman watched every movement, every twitch of her thighs, every change in her breathing.

Fatima came a second time with a quieter, more desperate sound, her legs nearly giving out. The woman stepped in close and held her upright by the upper arms until the trembling eased.

“On the bed,” she said. “On your back. Legs open.”

Fatima walked to the bed on unsteady legs and lay down. The sheets were cool against her back. She opened her thighs because she had been told to. The woman stood at the foot of the bed and looked at her exposed cunt for a long moment before she began to undress. She did it without ceremony, pulling the green dress over her head and dropping it, then removing the simple bra and underwear beneath. Her body was firmer than Fatima’s, breasts high, stomach flat, the dark hair between her legs neatly kept.

She climbed onto the bed and settled between Fatima’s open thighs. She did not kiss her. She simply lowered her mouth onto Fatima’s cunt and began to lick her with slow, deliberate strokes, flat tongue moving from the entrance up over the swollen clit and back again.

Fatima’s back arched. Her hands gripped the sheets. The woman’s mouth was hotter and more precise than any of the hurried contact she had known before. She licked her steadily, then closed her lips around the clit and sucked while two fingers pushed back inside her. Fatima’s third orgasm of the afternoon built with almost no warning and broke hard. She cried out and tried to close her thighs around the woman’s head, but the woman held them open and kept licking her through it until Fatima was gasping and oversensitive.

Only then did the woman lift her head. Her mouth and chin were wet. She wiped them with the back of her hand and looked down at Fatima’s flushed, trembling body.

“You are going to stay here for a while,” she said. “Your husband can wait. I am not finished with you yet.”

She moved up the bed, straddled Fatima’s waist, and reached down to position herself. Then she lowered her own cunt onto Fatima’s mouth.

“Lick,” she said simply. “The same way I just licked you.”

Fatima stared up at the body above her for a split second. Then she opened her mouth and did as she was told.