"They are clothing/covering (libaas) for you and you for them...."

Quran 2:187

Chapter 2

ELZA

I am peeved and angry at my husband. He is appallingly bad. But all tweets good songs about him. Am I daffy to see any dearth in him?

No, I am not. I am his wife, the LIBAAS of him which he has not yet accepted. He is Bad!

Surely, everyone has pathetic eyesight. Rather than tweeting about my husband, in front of me, they should consult ophthalmologist. This might clear their vision about the person who has no attention towards his wife.

I am highly self-respect obsessed person but with Airab I give more priority to our sacred relation. Being a wife I think I should. I am doing favors to no one but us. Despite his repudiation I am doing tactics to lure him. But sometimes, I just want to go and live on mountains. That would be still a better place than staying with a man who wants you as well as doesn't want to do anything to you.

My cognizance whizzes to the ticks where he has just held me with his caramel oozing eyes, keeping me captive of his scrutiny and making me damp at right places.

The exasperation is embracing me, looting my mind peace. I sob, hysterically but I have no care about it right now. I want him to come and see. See, what he has done as a husband. I want him to know he is not caring about me and my needs. Or maybe I just want him to come so that I can adore him.

Whatever, he should be thankful to me that I absolved him for his biggest sin. Who says to his wife on wedding night that he would not give her wifely rights? Bad, Bad husband! I am cent percent sure that we must have been receiving curses of angles since then.

I am feeling immense murkiness. Every time Maham asks me about us and our relation, I have to lie and change the subject. The only topic I have ever lied about to my pal.

Should he not come extremely close to me, touch me, kiss me and do naughty things to me? He never takes me to the bed like a husband should. Are my demands wanton and wrong? I am his wife. Why does this wee thing is not understandable to my pea-minded man? I have never fantasized sex and any romance but Airab makes me feel, real feel. I want to touch him, sleep on his chest and do all the things a happy couple do. Though I'm 18, I still want to make our relation work.

Now, it is clear to you that why he is a bad husband. Isn't it? I won't bear if you still think he is an epitome of sagacity.

When he had come my home to ask for my hand, he was in such flurry likelihood he would die if he did not get me as a wife. Like... like his life depends upon me. Everything is dead since then. Ugh! How can a man control this much? Do English novels lie about the sexual needs? No that's the universal truth.

Wait... Is he a gay?

I shut my mouth with palms for speaking such a nostalgic thing. He is a real man otherwise why would his mother keep asking me indirect questions about our nights. She does not nudge much but I get the points, obscure though. Plus, I have seen his crotch many times through his pants. And often get touched with it while sleeping in the same bed and same coverlet. Okay, let's not go any further than this. I will forget about my wrought mood otherwise.

The next instant I hear a faint knock at the main door and I instantly close my eyes knowing it is Airab. It is his habit to knock before coming in. Though he is forgetting this with us. Why to knock when we are husband and wife? I am angrier on him now.

He enters into the territory of main bedroom. The whole room is structured upon almost a canal. My husband is one rich, beautiful bastard. I bite the inside of mouth to name-call him. That is a bad habit. Anyways going back to room, it is designed with the best Magical Interiors help. Everything is perfectly in match and it gives Royal aura when I feel I am the owner of this room.

He sighs coming to the bedroom and I know he is removing the cuff-links from his shirt. This man has some craze about cuff-links. I had forgotten my counting twice when I first checked the posh arrangement of exorbitant pairs.

After a short stretch, he takes the way of changing room. Ouch! He did not come to me.

I hit my head. I am the one who is feigning evening nap.

He has always frenetic office days. For some limited seconds, my heart wanted to leap out and embrace him tight at his exhausted sigh. His main business includes advertising; all about the mind and its creativity. Realizing I am not kissed yet, the sympathy was instantly tumbled off. More reasons?

Well, first, I am pretending. Second, he has not given me that right yet - hugging him. Third, he is making me await while cherishing refreshing bath. Fourth, I cannot engulf him in a hug because of his specific intoxicant fragrance. Fifth, I have fight prepared for him.

I feel him coming closer to me and his hand fondle with my head in the most lovingly way. "Elza, wake up. It's almost Maghrib time." His honey-luscious words can buy you in a sentence. This man has done M.Phil. in Advertising and Public Relations.

I groan loud attempting to pull up a good show.

"Elza..." He once again calls my name. Mister, I listened in first attempt, only because I was not asleep.

"What are you doing near me?" I ask him in an odd tone.

"What?"

See, I can make my husband perplex. Yay!

"I ask what are you doing near me? Go away!" I clarify myself.

"What happened? Did someone say you anything? Mum was telling you didn't go down today? Are you okay?" He remains or feigns calmness. I do not know. But I know the true angry Airab. I love this sweet version of my Airab? My Airab? Yes, mine.

"You are a very bad husband. Do you know that? You should know it."

He lights up the room by the remote laying on my side table. "Please enlighten how I am bad." He presses his lips together, waiting keenly for the answer of his question.

"You just are... I could not go because of you." I accuse him.

"Elza, you are confusing me now. Sit up and clear yourself." Better. He never gives reaction until or unless it's too nosy. I uncover myself from the coverlet and sit up against flocculent assemblage of pillows. He really is looking fresh. He should not be this handsome. Whatever! I do not care about him. At all.

His eyes dart to my cleavage. The flesh is popping due to my tight bra and my breasts are looking gross through the shirt. "Now, tell what's the matter?" He asks, again.

"Matter is anything that occupies space." I joke. I was tired of sobbing-Elza. I had to smile to fight, keeping my point high.

His cheek bones stark out with the laugh. I joked to laugh myself. Why is he laughing?

"Okay, the thing is... nothing. First you answer my question." He nods implying he will answer anything I would to ask. "Why did your family think I will be too skinny that they bought me so tight braziers?" I roll eyes to show myself completely pissed. "I couldn't go like this..." I point towards my cleavage. "In addition, the laundry delivery is late." I have few new sets but they are same; same size is written on every box. I kind of have to admit, too, that I pulled up this plan to get his attention. I am a wife, after all.

We sleep in same bed. So, I am mighty fine fighting with my husband on the topics which are really intimate. But still the embarrassment is in the air. "You didn't buy me any piece or set." I suddenly have the urge to seduce him. Thank you, hormones.

His eyes are down. I want him to look up and stare at me. Maybe, he is taking time to absorb in my complaint. Please, be quick. I am waiting; for your answer and – your piercing gaze.

His eyes raise to me and I feel parched seeing desires in them. "Elza, you have lots of money, credit cards, debit cards and ATM cards. You should have bought your... innerwear's." Shit. He is right. I just took a point and started with complaint and seducing. I have more than billions. I look into his eyes for much of seconds. I cannot be wrong. I have to prove myself. I have to.

I gulp while forming my answer. "You brought me the dresses and bags. I thought you will buy me lingerie's and nightwear's, too." I speak with quite innocent and disappointed face. There I proved myself right, yeah.

He again looks at me as the slightest smile hit his cheeks. I really want to know what's going in that pea head of his. His appearances are deceptive. I know him. Gosh! Don't tell me he has caught my trick!

"You went to shopping last weekend with Maham. I thought you bought everything you need." Why the hell he has so strong points even being completely unprepared? No doubt he is so best at business.

"And I thought... well leave it. I was crazy to think about it." I show typical dejection in my words and over my somber face.

"It's okay, Elza. We can order now." He quickly grabs his iPad Air2 and enters the website of two lingerie brands. He is a freaky money-spender. These are foreign websites and shipping would take a day or two. But I have to make orders right at this moment.

"Add every item to the cart you want, I will pay for it."

I gulp down the saliva and asks for water. He gives me.

***

I am feeling nervous even after swigging the glass in a go. Boldness, where are you?

I dart eyes to the screen and feel the confidence leaving me again. No, no, I cannot let myself be down in front him.

When I mentally prepared myself to knock him out and order in front of him - being bold and unabashed - I realized I am uncertain about my exact size. "I don't know my size." My voice sounds alien to me.

He looks at me with shock. "You never shopped online?"

No matters how hard the truth is but I have to concede it. "Not lingerie's..." Yeah, a little less embarrassment. My mom is a typical mom who says online shopping's products might be cheap; away from deceptive images. "Actually, the size differs in different companies, so I buy, check and return if not fitted." Yeah, nicely going. Keep it up. No you my desires but the pretty confidence.

"I have a solution for it." He offers.

"What?" I ask.

"Let me know the size then."

WHAT? I think my breaths are going thin, thin, thin.

Fast, fast, fast.

"Um, how?" I ask even after his suggestion was fully comprehended by me.

"I can..." He rubs his hands.

I batten my eyes tightly. Dammit, it's the most intimate sentence.

*I can...*

I feel myself nodding at him. He eases on bed and starts to raise his hands to touch me. Oh Dear God! I sigh loudly, or may be moan at the feel of his both hands touching me very softly. This so very simple contact is not so simple for me at all. Infact, this transmitted 440 Volt current in my whole existence.

Millisecond onward, I feel his thumbs circling my pink points and his cupping-grip grows intact. My heart beats go in his possession and he masters them rudely and races them fast. Just to look at him, I open my eyes and there I am greeted with the true seduced Airab. His eyes are dark and his expressions are like he will die if not have me right now.

His face comes close to mine, our breaths mingling as if kissing but he pauses immensely close to my parched lips.

I wait to be cherished by him but his mouth touches my cheek instead and moves to my ear. I moan, uncontrollably this time. He must be grinning. I am a bad news for females. I could not even seduce my husband without these stupid moans.

"36C in La Perla, 36B in Victoria." His nose and lips snuggle into my ear and I feel myself backing down to have him on me. Even my breasts are pushed more into his hands. Traitorous body. Whatever, he is my husband and I am allowed by Allah to get intimate with him. Yes, it's not wrong by any angle. It can never be.

Well, nice excuse for your current molten state. My inner self chides at me.

His closeness has woven the mystic trap, around me, with love and passion out of which I can never think to exist. Maybe, he too would never want to be without me one day. The surrounding has gone blur and fuzzy. All I can feel right now is "us".

But before I could drown completely in the mystic trap created by my sensual husband, he rears back.

No!

He eyes me to focus on the work at hand - the iPad. The triumph smirk is dancing on his bad face. Dammit, why the hell I was in no-control? I keep looking at him for a long time.

My mind was not at the right place. It still is not, even after a few minutes. He passes me the smile and goes away to give me some space.

Thank you, it's much needed, you bad husband! And do not you dare to think I will leave you for this so easily. I will take my revenge; in the same style I have just been tortured. An idea hits my mind and I am laughing like a maniac. I have serious obsession with new things. When the delivery will come, I will sleep wearing only this mini night suit which has just appeared on the screen. There, I will see how would he be able to have his serene and deep slumber. Huh!

After a few minutes, Airab comes to me again, with amusing face. "And my dear wife, for the dinner you can play with the straps wear anything from the boxes left on the cushion in changing room."

Bam! I am dead with embarrassment.

I had extracted all of the stock – the unpacked lingerie's boxes – but as I told above, the same size was written. I had tried two and their straps were fixed so I left others too there being annoyed.

By the way, I, on the other hand, think I did my best. Who can resist his masculine charm? Well I had until I was tied into a scared espousal thread with him. Another problem I am facing these days is shortage of silk breaths around him. I have seriously gone stupid!