After forty days in this desert of a country without seeing a single woman, let alone physical contact, Carl hungered for the sight of a woman.
Any woman would do. The closest thing that one got to that in this country were the blue ghosts that walked the streets in little herds. They were completely covered in the traditional blue Afghan burqa or chador. Each of them looked exactly alike, no identify, no personality. He often wondered how they could tell each other apart. Did an Afghan child ever go home with the wrong mother? Did an Afghan man ever go home with the wrong wife?
Carl had come to Afghanistan to join his wife, Lauren. She was offered a job working as a women's rights advocate for the US agency for international development. It had been a dream of hers since their first trip abroad and he had encouraged her to take the position.
Lauren's position was not an accompanied post. Because of security concerns, family was not allowed to come. But, there was no way Carl was going to let his wife go to Afghanistan alone, even if she was with the US government. So, he found a position with a small development organization that worked with the Afghan ministry of education. That way they could be together.
Lauren's supervisors hadn't been amused when the heard that Carl had gone around their restrictions and had gotten a position with a different organization in the same town where she worked.
They refused to let him stay with Lauren at the agency guest house and they also required Lauren to check in each night at the official compound. Apparently, there could be no exceptions made to the security protocols. Or at least they didn't want to make any exceptions.
So for the last six months that had been trying to make it work with day time visits. It reminded him of the worst parts of high school. He could go to her place. She could go to his. But they had a ten o'clock curfew. Once they had still been in bed five minutes before ten, when a sharp rapping on the door startled them. The night security had come, Charles the mission leader had told them explicitly to make sure that no guests were on the compound after ten o'clock. Since there were no guests besides Carl it was clear who was meant. Since then, if possible Lauren came to his place. But then she had to be back by ten, which meant that she had to leave even earlier.
The last several weeks though even that hadn't been possible. Lauren has been in Kabul, twelve hours away, and she's been traveling around the country visiting various women's projects.
So for the last forty days Carl had been separated from his wife. This wasn't the first time that they have been apart. But it was the first time that he had been so completely excluded from female company. He hadn't been aware how much I would miss those casual interactions that we take for granted on a daily basis.
Lauren had called a few hours ago to let him know that she was back from her trip. They made a date for Carl to come over to her place for dinner. And so now he was standing in front of the entrance to her compound with dinner in a sack, a red rose from his garden, and a bottle of contraband wine wrapped inside an Afghan blanket.
Lauren's compound and the guesthouse where Carl stayed were worlds apart. Hers was a concrete fortress with razor wire around the walls and armed guards at the gate. Carl's was a traditional Afghan home with a green garden, thick mud walls and an elderly chawkidar who answered the door if anyone knocked or would go to fetch fresh bread in the morning.
Lauren lived in a two story house together with several other expats. Carl knew the way to her room and knocked quietly as he opened the door. Lauren was sprawled across her double bed with box springs, another notable difference between Carl's accommodations and hers.
She didn't wake as he entered the room. Her headscarf -even the foreigners have to wear one, slacks and bra were lying on one of the two chairs in the room. Carl moved these and quietly set up the dinner table trying not to disturb her.
He had prepared a special meal for her, with ingredients he had saved for a special occasion. If this wasn't a special occasion though, he didn't know what was. It was their first evening together in more than a month.
When everything was set and the wine poured he walked over to wake her.
It was too hot for her to be using a blanket and her long smooth legs were uncovered. She was wearing full body white cotton panties that clung tightly to her rounded ass. After 17 years of marriage, he could still get a hard on from just looking at his wife. At 42 she was still a beautiful woman.
He gently shook her by the shoulder. Nothing. He shook again, and quietly said her name, "Lauren."
She breathed out loudly but otherwise didn't stir.
He looked at the food ready on the table and then at his unconscious wife. Gently, he eased himself onto her bed and slid in behind her.
She didn't wake up as he softly stroked her cheek and brushed her hair off of her face. Softly, he kissed her cheek. As he did so she breathed in deeply and opened one eye looking up at me.
"I'm sorry. Did I fall asleep?" Lauren asked the sleep still clinging to her voice.
"You did." he smiled and kissed her cheek again.
By pressing gently on her shoulder he was able to get her to shift her position so that she was lying on her belly and straddling her hips he started to rub her shoulders and back.
