Alien 3

So why is the Afghan woman an outcast? I think back to days in the prison library, reading up on both, just in case. Not like Afghans at all, clannish, family-oriented.
So - maybe a family disgrace? There are 2 names, she's now legally Shauzia Khan, but the other, previous name sounds more rare. I search for hits on the web. Groan aloud - my goodness - no wonder she's hated so. So, what to do? Avoid the Afghans, maybe find a white friend.
Something else twigs my memory, women back home are into endless prescriptions and over-the-counter pharmaceuticals. This one, nothing at all except the empty aspirin bottles. So presumably no ongoing health problems.
Do people on any planet kill themselves out of loneliness? Perhaps, but probably rare, usually involves mega-disgrace and/or terrible health problems. And yet the disgrace is not to her the person, but to her family. Funny these Earthlings are more collective than us.
Just a minute now, something is strange. To listen to women back home, sex is on their minds every minute of every day. Should I not logically be horny by now? Yet I'm not, just curious, like a detective. Ah yes, Earthling women would have lesser libidos.
I stand in front of the mirror. I gotta get used to being 8 inches taller, 60 pounds heavier, 20 years older, change of gender and culture. Oy!
So what does she do in her spare time? After all, Earthlings work some 40 hours weekly on average. TV remote has a lotta dust, as does everything else. No books, magazines or newspapers. Only newslink on her handheld in cbc.ca, Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. I check, come on, barely 10 minutes a day of reading on that.
From the looks of this place, cleaning is at the bottom of her priority list. Any guy back home kept house like this, it'd be thrice-weekly beatings.
The only vice appears to be cigarettes, no booze or illegal drugs present. Out of curiosity I light one. See back home, mosta the women smoke, though of course, they don't want boyfriend to. Halfway through, I stub it out. I just do not see what anyone gets out of it.
So, what to do? Clean, figure her job, lose 20 pounds.
Cleaning is eary, within an hour I've made a huge dent. I do a mental list of what all is to be done.
This is Saturday, got Sunday off, then Monday to work. Tired, I crash. I have wild erotic dreams of junior high. I wake up feeling vaguely guilty, as if I'd cheated on my techie girlfriend back home.

I think back to the briefing. You get work access memory, none on personal life. I sit relaxed, do the chant to turn off the mind chatter. Works. Real images, not data style as in a report.
I see what time to set the alarm, what to wear. Where the work ID and monthly bus pass is in her purse. Where the bus stop is, route number, time, which stop to disembark. Which door to enter at work, names and faces, brief bio on each. Where the workstation is, password, break schedule and the lot.
Yep, that's the easy part. Our constitution says you hafta give the new Earthling means to make a living. Personal life, they don't care. In a way, makes sense, long as you have income and shelter, you can make whatever improvements you feel are needed. If you're homeless, not a lotta scope to improve.
Being a believer in the value of reconnaisance, I go for a bus ride Sunday. I walk to her building, see the door. So far, so good, now let's check out a coffee house and the library.
I order an espresso, take a window seat, discretely watch inside and out.
To my very great joy, I am utterly invisible.
Feeling much better, I look through the library. What a joke! This is the main branch of a major Canadian city, yet far less stuff than the prison library.
I'm leafing through a women's magazine, agog at the sheer stupidity of it, when an obvious Afghan woman sits, "you got nerve, showing your face in public, should stay home."
I size her up, I'm bigger, heavier, got unarmed combat training from my Reservist hitch. I just grin, say, "bite me."
She's at a loss what to do, shrugs, gets up and walks away.
I turn the page, see a full page ad showing a Japanese woman, very similar to the one back home. I feel hot hot hot. I sit for a few minutes, realize I'm better off with love than physical abuse.
I go home and there's another e-mail, this from the Japanese, "I find you exciting. I recall your hot look when we chatted. Real test was spanks. When a man gets that throbbing bone, means the sex energy is there. We agreed to fight a duel of sorts. I get you for one week, she for one, then you decide. I've attached a vid of self and boyfriend using Japanese bondage."
I click, wow, hot, exciting. I soon realize she isn't cruel. She's just spanking to get him to produce. Same as girls in sex-ed did, same as my girlfriend in junior high. No bruises on his body to indicate any beatings.
I decide I want her. Good job I don't have the technological ability to reply. Techie could sabotage the boomerang outa pure spite.

Two stops after mine, the library woman gets on. Sits next to me, look of concern, "you feeling ok?"
"Why?"
"Went strango on me yesterday."
"You were pretty insulting."
She sighs, "it was meant as a joke. We are hated by the public, everyone in our Department. Or has that escaped your attention?"
I blush hotly, "sor-ry, I thought you meant something else."
She gasps, "you gotta lighten up, forget all that. Only old-fashioned people blame you for that ah unfortunate family thing. Westernized ones know you're an individual, can't be blamed."
"So how many are westernized?"
She laughs, "rather not say, you might find the answer depressing."
"Oh, you mean 2 in the whole city, you and one other."
"I knew you'd understand. Just didn't wanna say. Cheer up, it's not like Dante's 7th level in our Department, only 2nd or 3rd."
We both laugh.
"Seriously, gotta get yourself laid. When was the last time that happened?"
"I ah don't recall."
"BS, gotta be five years now."
Fred crosses my mind, how did he know? "Looking in the mirror, I'm not a hot property."
"Get offa that lazy ass, start reading those mags for real, not leafing. You don't even own a lipstick. That dress, be more appropriate on a heroine in an 1850's film. Skin, gotta show it."
"Maybe you're right, but"
"But you're always too tired or too depressed or whatever. World ain't gonna change for you. Cheer up, last time you hear me nag at you for a month, I'm off on vacation tomorrow. When I get back, wanna see that look on your face says 'laid'."
I blush.
"Do what I did to hook my boyfriend. First weekend, half dozen BJ's. Second, 3 BJ's, 3 in back door. Third, same half dozen, divided three ways. He's mega-hooked on me now."
I'd rather die, I think.
"Don't look so grossed out. He's gonna last maybe 2 minutes in your mouth, it's over."
It's a giant complex, I turn to my elevator bank, she to hers. That's how I met Salima.
At that moment, tiny beep on my handheld from back home. Curious, I call it up.
It's the pilot, "I am informed medically I am probably ok. Standard procedure following several days adrift in a rubber raft in ice water is a spell of office duty. Your 2 GF's think they're sooo smart. I one-upped them, altered the alteration. Only one way to come back, you press the accept button. Can't send anything else. You see I recall junior high. I had to spank a lot the first two months, rarely after. Since that, my experience with men has been less wonderful. For your further understanding, I enclose 2 vids. One of junior high days, so you can relive the magic of it all. Second shows current BF, so you can see the difference. Please press accept. If you do, we're together in one minute. If not, enjoy being an Earthling."
My decision is fast. With the techie/office manager, there would be love. With the Japanese, sex sizzle. This one, may as well kiss a rubber doll. No question of going back, leaving her, she'd report me to police as a missing person and they'd return me to her.
I erase the memory, crush the tiny plastic toy, place it in a garbage bin.
They have now further way to contact me. For better or worse, I am the Afghan now.
As I ride the elevator, I briefly ponder the wildly libertine behavior of Salima.
No woman living as just registered girlfriend would permit a man to place his member in her. Come on, that's only for married couples, usually only for procreation, not recreation.
Classes teach the ideal for junior high girls or adult women is to receive 3 oral sessions per week. Most laugh this idea to scorn, want triple that.
Classes also teach the girl to be generous, allow him relief once a month. From what I've read, about a third don't do this. Unabashadely state it's best when men are kept needy and greedy. If he shoots accidentally, it's spanks to teach him a lesson.