Ann's Interlude

ANN'S AFFLICTIONS - AN INTERLUDE.

THE BEGINNING, AND HASSAN!

Interlude between Parts 5 and 6.

The day after I recieved the video clip was one of Mom's days off. She worked on the computer doing her homework. I stayed away in my room to think. I needed to go over all this and put more pieces together. I went back to our holiday in my mind.

It had started just like any holiday abroad, enjoying the sights and getting to know the town. We made friends with a married couple in their early fifties I'd say, from New York. mom had many chats with the wife as her hubby and I talked men's things. I felt very comfortable with our friends depite me being only touching twenty.

Mom liked the market stalls especially. She was almost like a giggly young girl again with the traders when they gave us all the patter and compliments to her. She seemed to become extra friendly with one local in particular, a guy I'd guess was between 19 and 22. He owned several stalls and had workers his own age about, but he worked on his main stall selling womens clothes. They were all kinds of things, from the Eastern exotic dresses, shawls, scarves and even racy bellydancing costumes, to the more Western stuff, and sporty clothes too. His name was Hassan. mom bought quite a few things from him.

The second day into our stay, mom was having a giggly conversation with the wife of the New York couple, at an outside table of a cafe we soon came to frequent. They were joking about the men of the town, and watching the stall holders trading. Mom said to her, "Hassan's nice isn't he!"

Jackie replied, "Oh, he's well known, he is! He has an even worse thing for British and American wives than the rest of them! He has several nicknames and he lives up to them too! That's the town rake! He's certainly got the hots for you Ann, no mistake!"

Mom looked over at him smiling over her coffee. He winked back at her. She laughed, "Well I'm a respectable Mom, and he must only be about Bob's age!"

"He likes that even more!" Jackie raised her eyebrows and whispered in Ann's ear but I caught it. "They call him Rude big Willy Hassan! It's true too!"

"Really?" mom wondered. "How do you know that?"

Jackie looked at me and said, "Bob, would you go and get us more drinks?" mom agreed and said I was a good boy.

It was a ruse. I waited just inside the doorway before I went to order. Jackie told mom she and Mike came here every year. They had an understanding. Mike allowed her to "Get her jollies!" She was very happy about that too. She whispered again, "Mike has a cuckold fetish!" mom had heard of that. She wanted to know more. I was a while at the bar. I heard mom saying Hassan was good looking too. I dare say he was, with his fit sleek body and clean dark looks, but there was something oily about him too, and he had acne scars. Not many, but enough to maybe indicate an overactive sex drive, and there was something sordid and snakey about his manner.

Hassan came into our hotel lounge and bar that night. Mike was talking some boring crap about his house renovations to me but I couldn't get away. Hassan was hanging around mom at the bar, buying her drinks and chatting her up. There was nothing I could do if she enjoyed the attention. She was a free agent. My Mom, not my wife.Yet I took a close interest, feeling a twang of jealousy and uncomfortable curiosity.

Next day Hassan's friends all greeted Ann and joked more with her. Not all of them spoke fluent English but those that did acted as translators. They would laugh ripely among themselves about something, then translate to us what they wanted us to hear I think. Hassan joked, " Yourr motherr is a very nice woman. We say her hair is colour of fire. Hot!"

I wasn't quite sure of his meaning. She was smiling and her eyes shining, and I was sure she'd gone a bit pink. He added, "Yes, my friends all agree! Hot Mom!"

One of his friends on the fruit stall nearby too two large grapefruit and held them to his chest like breasts, squeezing them suggestively at Ann. "Hot and juicy Mom!", he said. They all laughed and I went angrily red!

Such things carried on. Then, just the day before our arrest, mom and I were again at his stall. I had to go to the toilets, and as I returned his friends waylaid me, insisting I let them buy me a drink. I could see mom talking to Hassan, at the cafe tables. It looked more furtive than usual. He gave her a package of something from his stall.

I extricated myself and went to Mom. She was sitting with a coffee again. We had a late lunch. Hassan and his friends came and sat at the place across the narrow street.

They were staring at Mom. She wore a light summer dress and you could see quite a lot of her chest. She chatted away to me, but I noticed her glancing at them. Now two big policemen were talking to Hassan and the guys. It looked like he was telling the police something about us.

At that moment, my mom slipped off her newly bought shoes, one by one, and slowly exposed her bare soles to them. Was she flirting? She turned her feet in circles. Definitely teasing. I got more wound up as she put her feet up on the cafe table. She'd bought an ankle chain too.

She had a chocolate eclair, and she put the tip to her lips and flicked her tongue into the cream, then crossed her ankles and wiggled her toes toward them. There was a tube of whipped cream on the table, for customers to use as well as the usual condiments. "Ooh, I love cream!" she said, picking it up. All eyes were on her as she put her tongue tip to the tube and squirted a big streak of it, that went up along her tongue and into her mouth! The guys all laughed loudly now!

I was erect in my pants, jealousy and excitement mingling.

Suddenly the policemen walked straight over to us. They frowned at Mom now, saying did she not know that to bare the soles of your feet, and worse to put them up on a table toward people, was a very rude gesture in this country?

Mom didn't move at first. Whether she'd miscalculated the situation I don't know, but she replied questioning why, and surely it wasn't a crime or anything? The taller officer got testy then. He put his telescopic baton tip to her bare soles, and told her to put her feet away sternly. "Do it now!" he ordered. He stuck the baton end now into her big toe cleavage, saying she needed to learn she was far from home and things were done differently.

She realised then the police weren't easily argued with and did as they said.

We were slightly shaken by the incident, but we went back to the hotel and stayed there. Mom seemed in a good mood. I noticed she put on a bit more make up than usual for dinner. Hassan was nowhere to be seen, but she had a glint in her eyes.

To this day I suspect one of the barmen or somebody put a sedative into my drinks that night, as I felt so tired I couldn't fight it by half past nine. Mom guided me to my room and left me to sleep everything off.

That was the night my mom was visited in her room down the corridor by Hassan the Dirty Lothario, I know now! How do I know? Well, one source was a package and a letter. Another was Mom's new homework for her course! Still another was her other camera that she came home with!