Jonali had seen Nagma from the earliest moment of the arrivals. Nagma was one of the first to arrive; she got involved in helping her people integrate.
Now, at this moment, she was one of the most influential women; she had her own store, which had two floors. The ground floor had a garment store, where clothes were cheaply brought in through illegal means; the first floor had a parlour, along with her room where she lived.
Jonali, standing at 5.2, looked up at Nagma and gave a shy smile. She could see the sweat forming on Nagma’s upper lip; her nose ring gave her a different look.
Nagma- You live near the block, don’t you?
Jonali- Yes, how do you know?
Nagma- It’s a small area; everyone knows everyone, and you seem to be here almost every day. Doesn’t your husband say anything?
Jonali- Well, I work for the NGO, and my husband is busy in his field, so I like to help your people.
Nagma looked at her intensely, her eyes moving from Jonali’s eyes to her full, kissable lips to her ample bosom that the blouse was holding; her bra outline could be seen, but Nagma wanted more.
Nagma- Your blouse needs a bit of adjustment.
Jonali looked at her bosom, blushing a bit.
Jonali- But I fixed it in the town market.
Nagma- They don’t know how to fix bras and panties of mature women; they themselves look thin and small. Only we Rohingya know how to fix them; don’t worry about the payment, you can give it to me afterwards.
Jonali was surprised at what Nagma said, but deep down she knew that they were actually good with it, so she carried on.
Jonali- Well, I will pay it in time, I promise.
Nagma smiled at her, her eyes moving towards the mangalsutra and taking a gulp.
Nagma- I know you will pay for it.
Saying that, they started moving towards Nagma’s store, her eyes not moving one inch from Jonali’s ass; its swaying made Nagma’s eyes twinkle; she licked her tongue.
Upon arriving, the shop was almost closed as it was time for lunch; the other workers had moved out, so there stood only Jonali and Nagma.
Nagma- You never know with men. I should close the door and let us move to the trial room.
Jonali obliged and moved forward, Nagma taking a measuring tape with her, and went after her. Upon reaching, the trial room was small, hardly enough to include two people; it had a mirror on one side, and the other two sides were cement-coated.
Nagma was taller, so her chest could be seen directly by Jonali; she had a smell about her that made Jonali nauseous. She didn’t like it, but it was intense.
Nagma asked Jonali to look at the mirror, which was behind her; now Jonali’s back was towards Nagma’s front. The room didn’t have a fan; it was heating up, but it made Nagma more excited as she saw Jonali’s drenched blouse, the bra lining forming better.
Nagma- Didn’t your husband buy you a blouse and bra? It looks old.
Jonali- No, …ah, he buys me during festivals.
Nagma- Men are useless; they don’t know how to take care of a body like yours.
Jonali was flabbergasted at what she heard; her body stiff as Nagma’s hands came forward, she brought the tape in front of her bosom and started to take measurements.
