Kissing the Veil

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Kissing the Veil 2

A Postscript on Fetishes

We are at a trendy sushi place with some of her friends, a few Aramco employees, a few AUC grads. The girls are robed in abayas, per rule. But the second floor hideaway and the foreign flavors ensure that the muttawa religious bullies are far from anyone’s mind. One of the oil employees has just had a new haircut and asks the girls what they think.

“You look like that movie star,” one of the girls says, “what’s his name…Shia Labeouf.”

“What! Are you saying I look like a Jew!?”

“Jewish guys are really cute,” a second girl chimes in. “C’mon, seeing those Israelis in the papers when they show pictures of their army soldiers, admit it, they are really hot.”

My princess sends a wink my way with a grin of acknowledgement. I can only shake my head in bewilderment, clad in anonymity as I am to everyone save my one special lady in black at the end of the table.

I cannot say how universal the opinions from the sushi place are (though the guy did look like the Jewish actor). What I do know is that I certainly do not have a fetish for Arab girls, or for the “feminine other.” If I do have a fetish of sorts, it is for something far more hazardous…first kisses, and all the promise and mystery wrapped up in their embrace.

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