Meeting my friends

Jeremy's smile was slow, deliberate. "Something like that." His gaze flicked to Tom and Felix, registering their obvious arousal without surprise. A muscle twitched in his jaw—not disgust, but something more analytical. I stepped forward, "Jeremy, meet my friends, Felix and Tom."

Felix, ever the opportunist, extended a hand first. "Hey man," he grinned, shifting slightly to hide the tent in his jeans. Jeremy clasped his hand, then paused. "Allah rewards patience," he said, eyes dipping meaningfully to Felix's crotch before releasing him. Felix flushed crimson.

Behind Jeremy, Mom disappeared into the kitchen as Tom stepped up to Jeremy. "That was amazing, bro! You jizzed on a photo of Anastaisa?!" My face turned red but Tom ignored me, asking "What else have you seen?" Jeremy chuckled smoothly, adjusting his thobe before answering, "Allah provides many glimpses of beauty." His gaze flicked toward the kitchen doorway where Mom's laughter drifted out—high, melodic, completely unaware. Felix leaned in closer. "Dude, have you seen her... You know?" He mimed cupping breasts with his hands.

Jeremy's grin turned predatory. "Not yet." The words dripped with promise. He lowered his voice, thumb rubbing the prayer beads at his wrist. "But Surah An-Nur says a woman's body is a garden. And gardens..." His dark eyes glittered as Mom's dress straps slipped off one shoulder when she reappeared, balancing a tray of blinis. "...are meant to be tended." My stomach twisted as he watched her bend over the patio table, the neckline of her dress gaping to reveal the soft swell of cleavage.

Tom's breath hitched. "Holy shit," he muttered, adjusting himself again. Jeremy didn't blink. "Holiness has nothing to do with it." His voice was silk over steel. "Three weeks. That's all I need. By Eid, she'll be the first addition to my harem." The certainty in his tone made my skin crawl—especially when Mom giggled at something Felix said, completely oblivious as her nipple poked obscenely at her slipping fabric. Jeremy's jaw tightened. "What do you say, Lachlan?" His fingers drummed a slow rhythm against his thigh. "Want to watch your mother become *mine*?"

I gulped - already thoroughly humiliated - before speaking, "N-no Jeremy." My hands clenched into fists, nails biting into my palms as Jeremy’s words hung in the air like a threat. Mom was oblivious, humming as she adjusted the tray, her nipple now fully peeking out from the slipping fabric. Jeremy’s gaze darkened, his fingers tightening around the prayer beads. Before I could respond, Felix let out a choked noise—half-laugh, half-disbelief—and muttered, "Dude, you serious? You’re gonna convert her?"

Suddenly, Mom reappeared with a tray of smoked salmon canapés, the thin straps of her dress now dangling precariously off both shoulders. "Who's becoming whose?" she chirped, blissfully ignorant as her left breast nearly spilled free from the straining fabric.

Jeremy didn’t miss a beat. He caught the strap between two fingers, his knuckles brushing against her bare skin as he slid it back into place with deliberate slowness. "Just discussing business, Anastasia," he murmured, his thumb lingering near the swell of her breast. Mom blinked, her cheeks flushing faintly—not from understanding, but from the heat of the afternoon sun. "Oh! Well, don’t let me interrupt!" She beamed, oblivious to the way Jeremy’s fingers twitched against her shoulder like he wanted to yank the strap right back down.

Mom placed the tray on the table before trying to rise, but it was no use. Jeremy's grip was firm on her dress strap. Jeremy looked mom in the eye before speaking. "Anastasia, as a Muslim who's been invited to your home, I need to institute some rules to make my trip here more... halal"

Mom smiled at him, "Of course, honey. What's bothering you? Is there something wrong with our hospitality?"

"It's got nothing to do with the hospitality, actually. I need to make some rules about... you."