Ms. Samantha Fox
By Kamran Khan

Samantha Fox could not be in his room. It simply was not possible. Her dirty blonde hair was still glistening with the chemical-laced water from the pool. Her skin smelled of freshly sliced strawberries mixed with the clinical sterility of chlorine. How could she smell of anything, Faisal thought, she should not be here in the first place.

She stared at him with daring, crystal blue eyes. Her eyes matched the sky blue bikini she wore, uncannily similar to the same one she wore in the "I Wanna Have Some Fun" music video. Fortunately for Faisal, the bikini was currently missing from her ensemble. Faisal's own outfit of the shalwar bottoms and his ubiquitous, white T shirt was marred by the fact that his right hand was inside the elastic waistband of the shalwar with a loose grip on himself.

He could feel the au jus on the palm of his hand as it rubbed over the head, eliciting the desired response of additional, liquid friction. Ms. Fox did not seem to mind this bold display. Her eyes shifted from a dare to a challenge, beckoning him. Faisal’s eyes flicked down to her luscious, plump breasts. These were far more visually appealing than the hole between her legs. He didn't quite know how or where that entire area worked, so simply blurred the logistics over in his mind. He didn't know how he would fit in or how the process of fitting in would occur, but he did know how appealing those breasts were.

Faisal continued his blatant show, methodically stroking inside his shalwar. Having spent the last several months with this new found sensation, he was loathe to do anything else. This would be, however, his first time with Ms. Fox. Thankfully his parents weren't home and his sisters were caught up in their over-achieving after school activities. Faisal was left in peace to explore his body further. Although his exploration was severely limited to one very acute region, his thoroughness of the exploration made up for the limited surface area being explored.

He had another two hours before anyone came home, which meant he could have anywhere from two to ten wonderfully fulfilling experiences with Ms. Fox, if she was willing, which all evidence available to date would certainly indicate so.

This first time he would relish. In spite of the novelty of the process, Faisal had already developed a makeshift system, with his pillows next to him and a substantial amount of toilet paper (sometimes tissue paper, though not as convenient to manage). He upgraded from paper towels when he realized how sensitive the head became and how averse it was to any level of rough friction. A necessary trade-off from their super absorptive qualities was a rough exterior surface. One particular ten-time session when he repeatedly released into paper towel cocoons left him chafed and raw and denied him, however brief, of another session with himself for fear of scarring.

Toilet paper was far more soft (two-ply, also far less was required due to the additional absorption properties) as well as very easy to wrap around himself extremely similar to a condom, had he known what a condom was. He found out quickly he couldn't just release between the two pillows as the forensic evidence left behind made his subsequent attempts at sleep extremely uncomfortable. This one release was entirely all his own. No one could take this away from him. In spite of everything else going on in his life; moving to this godforsaken, monkey country, a parental separation, the looming threat of the nigh forbidden big D over their marriage, his poor school work, feeling the stress of life itself, he could rely on this one simple pleasure.

He usually used his sister's latest issue of Cosmopolitan or the odd Vogue that would occasionally pop up (it would be over a year before he feasted upon the fare of Mr. Heffner). His favorite issue was a tie between the March and September 1988 issues of Cosmopolitan. The unbelievably stunning and alluring September Ms. Crawford blazed off the cover in a red dress with a plunging neckline and a soft, delicate shoulder revealed. Her trademark mole adding to the exoticness of her beauty in a strange, marred way. The incredibly sensual, erotically innocent March Ms. Crawford captivated Faisal with her smoking eyes and ridiculously exposed right breast from a multicolored, snakeskin-style, tight, revealing dress. He would constantly lean to one side, desperately trying beyond reason to look further into her dress from another angle in the vain hopes of catching that elusive last few centimeters of flesh. Ms. Crawford's hair flew wild and flashing all over the page, much in the same way that Ms. Fox's blonde tresses were teased out into a makeshift lion’s mane, framing her face.

While it was Ms. Crawford's visage that would inspire a deep seeded love for brunettes in Faisal, it was Ms. Fox's look that would leave him with a blonde fascination in such a primal way. Faisal boldly dropped his shalwar and repositioned himself to mount Ms. Fox. She hadn't said a word to him. He was thankful for the courtesy. He didn't think his own powers of speech would be of much use and his hearing was currently impaired by the pounding throb of his heart beat reverberating to the jungle beat in his ear drums.

The complete lack of blood flow to his brain further impaired his limited ability to think rationally. The vital, life giving fluids were currently diverted towards a more needful area. So it was that he didn't hear the garage door open. He took the large pile of toilet paper and began to wrap it bandage-style around himself, starting with the head and working his way down. Ms. Fox's eyes never left him the entire time as she waited, her breath coming out in small, barely audible gasps.

Faisal held his overly-bandaged-in-toilet-paper member in his hand and approached Ms. Fox when her head twisted sharply to one side at the sound of the front door opening. His own head snapped in time to hers as the dreaded sound of the door closing shut echoed in the no-longer-empty house. Adrenaline kicked in and an immediate redistribution of blood shocked his system, causing the toilet-paper-bandage to fall off. He leaped off the bed and hit the VCR off-button, simultaneously trying to pull his shalwar up with the other hand (thank God for the elastic band instead of the troublesome ‘naala-paani’ rope-style belts in most of these monkey outfits). Ms. Fox made a quick exit, with a hopeful promise of a future meeting. Faisal jumped back on his bed to rearrange the pillows into a more acceptable bedroom structure.

He pulled out the latest issue of X-Men and dived into it, his eyes barely able to focus on the pages as they twitched with the adrenaline still pulsing through his veins. A few seconds later, his heart still pounding, but to a different rhythm than before, he looked up when his mother stuck her head in the door.

"We're home early, did you eat anything?" She asked.

"Not yet," he replied, clearing his throat as his voice caught on the frozen vocal chords.

"Did you finish your homework?"

"Almost... almost."

“I am doing what God wants me to do. My prayer each night is: Let me go my way and make people happy.” – Samantha Fox