Gazes

Her gaze held his. He recognized pain in it, but also an unexpected determination. Her mouth formed a silent Why?

“Am I not enough for him?” she whispered. “Am I not beautiful enough?”

Daniel swallowed. This was a trick question. There was no good or right answer.

“That's not the point,” he tried to talk his way out of it, “Some men have fantasies. Things they want, but don't dare to say out loud.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “Fantasies?” She spoke the word slowly, syllable by syllable, as if she wanted to taste what it meant.

“Yes, they seek a certain thrill. Something that seems forbidden. They wouldn't admit it to someone close to them. But in the anonymity of the internet, they can fulfill these dreams.”

Her lips were a thin line. Samira puffed out her cheeks and then let the air hiss out.

“What does that mean for me?” she asked abruptly. “What should I do?”

Her hand moved upward as if of its own accord, touched the edge of her hijab, then slid lower and unconsciously traced the curve of her breast, hidden beneath her thick garment.

Daniel searched for words that weren't wrong. He knew he was walking on thin ice. He took a deep breath.

“It doesn't mean anything,” he said. “You don't have to do anything. He's the one who needs to change. He's an idiot if he can't see how beautiful you are.”

He startled himself when he realized what he had said.

Her cheeks took on a warm color. This time not out of shame, but out of honest joy at the compliment. Nevertheless, she looked modestly to the side. “You shouldn't say something like that to a married woman.” But there was no real conviction in her voice.

They both remained silent for several heartbeats. Unspoken desires and needs hung in the air. Anything could happen at that moment.

Daniel cleared his throat. “I'd better go now.”

Samira blinked as if waking from a dream. Did she want him to leave? Not really.

“Stay a little longer. I'll make us some tea.”

“No, I really have to go. I've already been here longer than I should have. I urgently need to see other clients. But thanks for the offer. Maybe later.”

“Yes. Maybe. Maybe today... tonight?” She looked at him hopefully.

“Maybe,” he repeated. Then he leaned over to the keyboard and typed a few numbers. “This is my private cell phone number.”