Going down on Her: The German Goddess Read online

  Going down on Her

  The German Goddess

  Naser Pour Aryan

  Text Copyright © 2016 Naser Pour Aryan

  All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Get out!

  Like a planetary vagabond

  In peace

  Searching shelter

  Meeting the Sun

  Working! Working! Working!

  Going down on her

  Misery meets Porsche Cayenne

  A letter to the Sun

  Preface

  Having found a job in the city of Ingolstadt in Germany, I meet this beautiful, wealthy woman, but she…

  Although pertaining to a true story, the real names of the individuals are withheld in the following narrations. The strength of this story is its closeness to reality.

  I would like to thank Sigolene André for her feedback on the plot of the story and her help in editing the contents of this book.

  Naser Pour Aryan

  March 2016, Ingolstadt, Germany

  Get out!

  I still don’t know what I had done wrong the other day. Julia was really angry at me. She had announced, sometime around noon, that she would cook for both of us. I kept waiting, but nothing happened in the kitchen. Therefore, I just left the house to fetch a kebab sandwich to allay my hunger a bit. After I was back, Julia could not help yelling at me:

  “You stupid bastard! I told you I will cook! You’re so stupid!”

  I was petrified by this sentence. Was it such a bad thing to just fetch a sandwich? Anyway, I had not even dared to ask her when she was going to cook her chili sauce.

  She threw everything available in her immediate vicinity at me, including a saltshaker, a banana, and two apples. I didn’t react, and kept calm, otherwise she would have begun with her complaints about how impudent and insolent men from migration backgrounds treat the women badly nowadays. I just kept calm, and then boxed myself in inside my tiny dark room.

  I still could hear her shouting and yelling, so I turned on my high-tech internet radio, tuned in the Vocal Trance music channel, and turned it loud. Now I could contemplate and reflect in peace!

  I thought nothing has changed that much since I had been a child. In those past days, my father had almost the same role my girlfriend is playing today. He always wreaked his fury on me. He called me stupid and fool.

  I thought however bad my situation now was, it was incomparable to my lots back then. There was a great difference between my relationship to my father back then and to my girlfriend today: I depended on my father financially. So he could practically do whatever he wanted to me. Now I could at least shut the door and isolate myself, back then even this was not possible. He could just thump the door open, come in, and smack me, if he wanted! I depended on his courtesy alone, which was a matter of contingency.

  I continued contemplating those grievous past days.

  My father tended to humiliate and scold my mother in front of her children, out of trivial, petty grounds. My two older brothers remained silent and didn’t do anything to help her. But I revolted against him, as I loved my mother. I knew that the only reason she had not got divorce from him up to that time was her love for her children. She was the outcome of a broken family, and had experienced abuse at the hands of her stepfather. She didn’t want the same to be inflicted on us. Being a simple housewife, she also could not afford raising up three children on her own. What I did not know back then was that I was causing her even more pain and grief by defending her in front of my father. She felt even more humiliated as she saw she had to rely on her small son to remain in peace. Several hours after my father had beat me up, while I was sobbing in my room, she entered the room, striding slowly and stealthily in a way that my father would not find out that she was there, and mollified me. We wept together, while she hugged and stroked my hair, and said: “I told you one thousand times that I don’t need your help when I quarrel with papa!”

  “But I don’t like when he scolds you like that,” I answered.

  “But that’s my problem, ok?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “No, no but, …”

  I was so sad, so sad at that moment. I wished I could have done more to protect my mother. Alas, I was only eleven.

  My father’s behavior towards me worsened a lot when I grew up, impelling me to leave home at the age of 16. I managed to come to terms with my life. However, I had to always worry about my mother’s conditions back home. My father behaved as if she was a hostage in his hands. He asked me for help with some affair or asked for money, and treated to throw my mother out of his house if I didn’t comply with his demands.

  I think he didn’t know that I didn’t have that much money, as I had lied to him about my conditions. I had told him that I had found a well-paid job, only to make him envy. I didn’t know that it would have a terrible consequence for me. He didn’t believe when I told him that I didn’t have the money, he thought I was playing a trick on him.

  I tried to waste time until he gave up on his request. I didn’t know how devastating the outcome of that development would be. God! Please forgive me!

  I feel so much pain in my heart when I think about those days. Tears run down my face like a flood. My poor mother, who couldn’t see me being abused at the hands of my father, took her life on January 2005. Since then I keep asking myself the same question again and again, couldn’t I have just brought her to my own room? Of course I didn’t have one room for myself, I had to share one with another friend of mine. But was it not possible to bring another person in? In this case my beloved mother would have survived. How reckless I was. Shouldn’t I have just lumped some money together by borrowing from acquaintances and pay him off, so that that matter was not stretched that far? Oh God, I am so sad!

  As I continued pondering, all of a sudden, Julia thumped on the door.

  “Naser! I want you to leave this apartment tomorrow first thing in the morning. Did you get me? Just get out!”

  Like a planetary vagabond

  I didn’t know where to go the next day. I asked Hans, a good friend of mine if I could stay at his place for a couple of nights, until I would find a new apartment. “Oh, I’m sorry!” He said, “My parents are visiting me for a couple of days. I won’t have enough room for four people.”

  “A couple of days?” I asked. “They live in a small town nearby but they want to visit you for a couple of days?”

  He just hung up.

  I was desperate. I called a female friend of mine if she could provide me with shelter as she had an apartment with six empty rooms. “Yes. You can come over here,” she said.

  I took my travelling bag which contained all my belongings and set off for her place.

  Mitra is a good friend of mine. Although she is forty years old, she has no family and no children yet. Her last boyfriend left her several months ago. She is not that tall, around 160 cm (five feet and three inches), however, she is slim and quite good-looking. She has light skin but black hair and eyebrows, and dark brown eyes.

  She was already waiting in front of the door for me. Today she looked even more beautiful than always, and had put more make-up on her face than she usually does. She was carrying two large bags with her hands. She smiled when she saw me and greeted me.

  “Hello, Naser.”

  “Hello. Have you been shopping?” I asked.

  “Yes, just some dresses, and a pair of shoes… So come on! Let’s go inside.”

  “Yup!”

  We went up the stairs to her apartment, on the landing she asked:

  “So you didn’t behave again that your girlfriend has throw n you out?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I answered.

  We entered her relatively large apartment. She had five rooms, plus the living room! For Germany, this is huge! Her apartment is located in a town called Neu-Ulm, which is just across the Danube from Ulm. The German call Danube, Donau, by the way.

  “Do you want some tea or coffee?” she asked.

  “I would like tea, with sugar.”

  Mitra went into her kitchen to make the tea while I was observing her furniture sitting on her settee. Besides the settee, there were four black leather armchairs around a glass table. The living room had large windows, letting in lots of light. An old-fashioned clock was standing to my left side, opposite to the kitchen’s door. Its pendulum was swaying. I thought it was crazy. Who keeps this kind of huge clock in year 2016?

  Mitra was back again, holding a tray with two cups and a sugar-bowl on it. Vapor was rising from the hot tea, which was a pleasant scene as the weather was relatively cold, although it was summer. No joke! It’s Germany, it sometimes gets really cold in summer.

  I noticed that Mitra had changed her clothes in the meanwhile. She was wearing a tight tank top and a short skirt. Mitra is from Middle Eastern origin and well, some ladies from that region have large breasts, and Mitra was one of them. I thought she was looking so sexy. I was slyly looking at her beautiful, voluptuous body while drinking the tea, and Mitra noticed that. I felt ashamed and wanted to apologize, but before I say anything, as if she had already read my mind, she kindly said:

  “Don’t worry! It’s ok! I want that you feel like you’re home!”

  “Thank you!”

  I thought it was very kind of her. Especially at that time that I felt so sad and lonely, having lost my last job, and now my girlfriend had kicked me out. She asked:

  “How is your job hunt going?”

  “Oh, not well! I’ve had no invitations to interviews yet.”

  “I could help you with that! You know that I work as recruiter with Teknelek.”

  “Would you? Thank you! I really need help. I think it’s a huge challenge to formulate a really fitting cover letter, and an appropriate curriculum vitae,” I answered.

  “Yup! You can count on me, we are friends for a long time now. I will help you out with that!” She said.

  I thought it was so nice to have Mitra as a friend, and I felt even more ashamed about having glared at her body the moment before. I felt so safe there in her apartment, and I felt so much warmth in my heart.

  That night I slept on a mattress Mitra kept for guests. I slept very well, although I was not lying in a bed. I woke up very late. It was Sunday and Mitra didn’t have to work. She had already prepared a wonderful breakfast for us: boiled eggs, salami, and jam, with lots of bread. I sat at the wooden table in the kitchen. Mitra was wearing a light blue dressing-gown. She was half naked under it. It was again a plight for me! I had to again give my best to control my eyes. Although there were enough room around the table, she sat on the chair right beside me, with a distance of half a meter from me.

  “So did you sleep well last night?” she asked me while pouring hot coffee for herself from the jar.

  “Pretty well. I first thought I could not handle the noise from the trains going through the train station nearby,” I answered.

  Her apartment was located directly beside Neu-Ulm’s train station. I continued:

  “However I got used to it and became indifferent after a short while.”

  “Yes. But you are lucky that the weather is not that warm now, although it’s summer. Otherwise you had to open the window to let air move, and then it becomes impossible to sleep with that noise,” she said.

  “Oh! That’s not good.”

  We turned silent for a moment. Suddenly Mitra touched my arm with a stroking manner and said with a tender tone:

  “Do you need anything else? Should I make tea for you?”

  I was a little confused at that moment. I thought she was becoming too kind to me. I mean we were good friends but I felt like something was going wrong. However, the next moment I pulled myself together again. Anyway I am a man, and it is nice for a man to be treated gently by a sexy kind lady, isn’t it? At that moment I thought it was ok.

  We continued to talk but at one moment, she put her hand on my thigh. Well I must confess I had no problem with it. I responded by gently stroking her back. It was a strange situation. We were talking about jobs and business and to which company I should apply to but we were simultaneously fondling. It was odd, but pleasant for me. I felt warm and safe beside her. Suddenly, I ended up caressing her beautiful hair. We stopped talking. I continued fondling her. We gazed into each other’s eyes. She had such beautiful eyes. The next moment we were kissing…

  We had both lost control. She took off her dressing gown and helped me strip myself off while we continued kissing. Then, while looking at me with a grin on her face, she led me to her bedroom. We were both naked. She lied there and signaled me to join her, with a movement of her delicate hand. I jumped in, and lied on her. We were excited, breathing hard and kissing. We were making love the next moment…

  But I suddenly lost my concentration. Instead of enjoying the moment, I thought about my applications, and about how should I structure my cover letters.

  It didn’t work. We couldn’t do it.

  Mitra looked very angry shortly after.

  “What happened?” She asked.

  “Nothing. I’m sorry, I can’t do it.”

  “Why? You don’t like me? Did I do something wrong?” She asked.

  “No. You’re excellent. I just can’t concentrate.”

  “Should we try it again?”

  “I think that it’s better that we leave it for now,” I said.

  For some moments, a heavy silence prevailed in the bed. I didn’t know what to say. It was a bad situation. Mitra let out a hiss of annoyance. I was also embarrassed. It was so strange that I didn’t feel any appeal to her. Suddenly, I saw a drop of tear running down her face. I said:

  “I am sorry!”

  “Shut up!” She said sobbingly.

  I tried to approach her but she crawled away.

  “Leave me alone! Get out! Just get out!” She said, while crying now.

  I startled and jumped off the bed. I scurried out of the room and went straight into the other room where I had unpacked my stuff. I closed the door and sat down on the mattress. The situation felt familiar to me. It reminded me of my childhood. I remembered how I would have waited anxiously in my room, after having done something allegedly wrong, till my father would abruptly enter the room and smack me. I remembered how my mother would try her best to prevent him from spanking me till the last moment.

  “I beg you! Don’t beat him, he’s small,” she would say.

  “Get out of my way!” He shouted angrily.

  Suddenly Mitra’s thumping at the door brought me back to reality:

  “Naser! I want you to get the hell out of my apartment right away!” She cried loud.

  I knew what I had to do. I took my travelling bag and packed up my few things: Some socks, jumpers, and underwear.

  Before leaving I went shortly to Mitra who was smoking a cigarette in the kitchen, looking outside through the window.

  “I am very sorry,” I said.

  She turned around while her face was still visibly wet out of crying.

  “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you in this situation. I am sorry that this happened, and I know that it was my fault. But please understand, I don’t want to have you in my apartment any longer,” she said.

  I heaved a deep sigh and walked towards the exit. It was raining outside. I put on my cap and zipped up my overcoat. A balmy breeze was blowing. Amazed at the turn the day had taken, I tried to make sense of what had just happened. “What did I do wrong?” I asked myself. It was understandable that having ended her last relationship, Mitra would feel lovelorn. But why did she approach me like this. That was by no m eans a way to begin another relationship. I felt confused. I thought to myself, “You stupid Naser, why didn’t you just concentrate on her? Now what? Where are you going now? To a hotel?”

  I had some money, but I didn’t want to spend it for a hotel or even for a hostel. I had been unemployed for a long time then, and not much of my savings had remained. I was afraid. I felt the fear with all my existence.

  I kept walking along the Memminger Street. Suddenly an old tramp, sitting on a bench and holding a bottle of bear in his hand, caught my attention. While walking past him, he stared at me. An old, German guy. He stank like hell. He had obviously not taken a shower for ages. I thought if I was already like him, lost and planetary.

  “Hello my friend,” he said.

  “Hi,” I replied.

  “Why don’t you sit here beside me? Come, don’t be afraid! Here is enough place for two.”

  I didn’t reject his invitation. I felt so lonely that every company would have felt great to have.

  “You don’t look German. Where do you come from, my friend?” He asked.

  “Actually I am German national, but I was born in Iran.”

  “So you’re Iranian.”

  “Well, if you say so.”

  “Do you want to drink?” He asked.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Oh sorry! I forgot. You’re Muslim.”

  “No. I am rather an Atheist.”

  “So you don’t believe in God?”

  “I believe in God, but I have no religion.”

  “But that’s not being Atheist!”

  “Call it how you like,” I answered.

  “So it should be much more comfortable to live in Germany as an Atheist, I imagine?”

  “Oh no, it’s not that easy. We Iranians are very different,” I answer, “the difference between the Germans and the Iranians is far more than just a different religion. It is thousands of years of different evolution paths.”

  “Oh, the nice Mr. Darwin,” he says, “could you explain it better?”

  I say, “like I will describe how an ideal public holiday would look like in Iran. You would wake up at 9:00 o’clock. You drink breakfast with tea till 10:00 o’clock. You laze around the house or on the couch, watching TV, till one o’clock. Then you eat. Then you take a nap. You wake up again, drink tea again…”