Femme Fatale.

42

*_*
Carla swears to never have her name tied to that of Lax's in any matter whatsoever.
She waits till Lax is out of danger before she shares a bed with Jane for the night.
By five in the morning she is gone into her own hostel, bathed and prayed for her soul's forgiveness for the sin she has unwillingly been involved in.
*_*

Songs for the chapter:
Gentleman - Sia
Waterfall - Sia ft Pink

CARLA:

"I see you finally called it quits," Zahra says smugly to me. We are studying in our room. I choose to ignore her and focus on my studying but a tap at the door disrupts the silence. Zahra looks at me to answer it.

"Come in!" I call.

It is one of Zahra friends. A pretty girl of about sixteen. I smile at her, her eyes dance at the attention. "Yes, Fatima?" I ask politely.

"Teacher Juma begs his sweet mistress to accept this gift," the girl says mischievously, holding out a small box to Zahra.

She takes it from her, opens it and gives a little satisfied purr at the contents.

"What?" I ask, unable to retain my curiosity.

"A locket," she says shortly. Tell him that I'm honoured by his gift. And that I will wear it to practice today to thank him myself. Tell him," she smiles as if at some private joke, "that he will find he has a kind mistress and not a cruel one."

The young girl nods solemnly, make a deep mock bow to Zahra and a flirtatious bob to me, and takes herself out of the room. Zahra closes the box and tosses it across to me. I look at the locket, it is magnificent, set on a chain of gold.

"What did your message mean?" I ask. "That you will be kind and not cruel?"

"I can't give myself to him," she says, as prompt as any pickpocket who knows the value to a penny. "But we had words this morning because he wanted to take me to his house and I would not go."

"What did you say?"

"I lost my temper," she confesses. "I swore that he had wanted to treat me as a whore and dishonour himself."

"You lost your temper?" I ask, going at once to the worst part of this. "What did he do?"

"Fell back," Zahra says ruefully. "Shot out of the classroom like a cat scalded by a falling pan. But see what comes of it? He cannot bear me to be displeased with him. I have him dancing like a boy for me."

"At the moment," I say warningly.

"Oh, tonight I shall be kind as I promised. I shall dress and sang only for him."

"And after that?"

"I let him touch," she says unwillingly. "I let him stroke my breasts and put his hand up my skirt. But I never take off my clothes. I really don't care."

"D'you pleasure him?"

"Yes," she says. "He insists on it and I can't see how to avoid it. But sometimes –" she rises from her seat and paces to the centre of the room.