stacey4u2luv
Posts: 127
Joined: 4/26/2004 Status: offline
|
What balm could it be that removes warts and hair that it would never grow back. Is this balm even for real in the orient? http://www.haremgirlreview.com/pages/chapter5.htm This is quite an interesting read none the less. Ahmad left the room, and then quietly reappeared proudly holding high a yellow striped jar. “This balm stops hair from growing back,” he said, before he had the barber spread the foul smelling cream over my denuded areas. “You’re a lucky woman; this is a great improvement over the old ways of monthly plucking or threading. I am being kind to you.” A slight tingling sensation swelled to a maddening burn as a triangle of fire spread over my groin, pushing away any thanks I may have had for Ahmad’s kindness. I could not hold back my tears or find comfort regardless of how much I squirmed and changed position. Unconcerned with my suffering, Ahmad insisted on leaving the balm to do its work—for a full hour—otherwise, he said, it would be an expensive waste of money. Over the foul smell of the balm, I occasionally caught a whiff of the pleasant aroma of coffee and tobacco and heard the two men laughing and chatting, interrupting their talk to briefly come to me and inspect their handiwork, apply fresh balm, but not to ask about my comfort or offer consoling words. After an excruciatingly uncomfortable hour, the barber scraped off expired balm and wiped clean the bared mound and hollows with a cloth. The burning sensation died down, giving me some relief from my torment. In a large polished metal mirror, I saw myself as others would see me. Although my skin still bore a rash from its ordeal, I was peculiarly pleased with my new appearance, and could understand why many men preferred their women groomed in this manner. I felt young, alluring, and confident that I could seduce my sheik when the time came. “You have me to thank for the balm,” Ahmad confided on our way back to his house. “I discovered that mehndi and I am the only purveyor of it. For many years, I brought back from the Orient a lotion to remove warts. I had one here on the side of my face,” he said, parting his beard and pointing to a small bare patch. “The wart disappeared and so did the hair—it never grew back—and this gave me the idea for a new use for the balm. I had to disguise its humble origin, so I added tiger bile to give it a strong overpowering smell, and put it in an expensive looking pot. Supremely clever of me, don’t you think? “My Chinese apothecary must think Arabs have many warts,” he chuckled. On our return to Ahmad’s house, he showed me into a small room with a quarter-bath set in the floor in one corner. Before leaving, he instructed me to “Wash thoroughly, at least twice. The smell of tiger bile is not easily washed away.” I emerged from the soothing water, wrapped a towel around me, and was startled to find Ahmad standing in the doorway. “How long had he been standing there, watching me?” I wondered.
|