It’s the evening of 30th January 2013, and the interior of a highly reputated five star hotel in Dubai, “Armani Hotel”, occupying eleven floors of the highest skycraper of the world, Burj Khalifa, is lively and vibrant with people of countless nationalities, races, dress styles, languages, professional backgrounds and social positions.
Only a few places in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, can claim, that they are more luxurious, more trendy, more glamorous. Everything is simply perfect here, and you fall in love with the place instantly, watching the impressive scene of millions of city lights downstairs, not willing to leave back to your world, or to another destination.
Here, you simply feel, that you are alive, you have countless options, how to assert yourself, and your interests in life: or rather let go all your bold, but foolish plans, and to go back to Islam, submitting to Allah, putting trust into His hands without any doubt in your heart, and following His wise guidance, living the way to please Him, to get peace, freedom, happiness, purpose, calm mind and countess rewards?
But Alexandra Pianka, a young female fashion supermodel, the most reputated in the Emirates, called “Princess of Dubai”, has no taste for admiring the place today, on the contrary: she walks with long steps of her immensely long legs into the hotel restaurant, she looks inaccessible, furious, even angry: and when she notices her old female friend, Laura Guerrero, the human resources manager of the “Armani Prive Lounge”, the most luxurious night club of the world, located at 144th floor of Burj Khalifa, her face clears from the dark clouds only a little bit.
“Girl, you look so messed up,” Laura welcomes her friend, kissing her on both cheeks, and embracing softly. “What happened to you?”
“Don’t ask me, Laura, before I will have a drink,” Alexandra Pianka throws her luxurious Prada handbag on a free chair. “To wash away my bitterness! It seems, that the angel of luck is turning his back to me!”
“Oh, come on, girl… what can be so tragical, to let it ruin your day? It means nothing, believe me! Only we fools think that it means something. So share the news with me, and maybe I can help you,” Laura offers her friendly help with confidence. Although not so pretty as Alexandra, she knows her ways, how to shine: for example, by having perfect sense for original fashion, catching attention by all other women around.
“Yeah, I will be glad to tell you the whole nasty tale, to relieve myself,” the supermodel orders an alcoholic mixed drink from a secret beverages list, available only on request, as this is still an Islamic country, although rather open to the world. “It’s related with the fucking night club of yours. Did you ever hear the name, Marketa Korinkova?”
“Of course, that I did,” Laura smiles bitterly. “It was me, who made an employment interview with her! And if I would have known, what will happen, since she will be accepted… girl, I wouldn’t hesitate to lose her personal file, by some accident, and forbidding her entrance inside! Ever!
She fucked up everything there, can you imagine? Or what can I say about executing Da’wah, the Islamic missionary activity, in a night club, instead of sexy naked bodies!
The whole club is upside down, and my boyfriend is really angry, as the demand for the cheap Russian models, with their thighs widely open, dropped so significantly, and half of the girls started wearing hijab, making some kind of sick female revolution there… and imagine, with the complete blessing not only of the local management, but also from the headquarters in Italy!
You know that guy I am talking about, the big boss, Giorgio Armani himself! He stated in the Italian TV, I will play a record for you, that she is allegedly an asset, or what, and he welcomes, what she does here… I swear, that I will leave this sick place, but… where should I go?
So I am smiling at the bitch, saying: ‘Yes, Giorgio, I like her, and I am glad, that Marketa is in the team’, even if the club is losing money, as the alcohol consumption dropped almost to zero, because it’s ‘haram’, forbidden in Islam, and all VIPs started to play good Muslims there!”
“This fucking bitch comes here from some hell hole, Czech Republic, Czechia, Czechoslovakia, or what, I don’t know the fucking geography, I am a fucking fashion model, and a good one, you know that!” Alexandra Pianka complains. “I sacrificed so much for my fucking career, I let the fucking surgeons to cut my body and to fill it with fucking poisonous silicone, because that male idiots allegedly need big tits… my body, my sacred temple, created by God!
I slept with all these horny, fatty, sweaty, dumb, fake rats, high executives from the luxury fashion industry, powerful idiots, to secure my future, and now… this fucking bitch marches here, just like that, and she ruins my whole fucking life!
No, I won’t allow it, I will fucking destroy her, by using ruthless tabloid media! Why do I pay the lazy journalistic bitches, if they would let me inside this mess now, not helping?”
“Oh dear, you look so funny, when you are angry,” Laura has to laugh. “If some journalistic rat would hear you right now, I am not sure, who would be liquidated by the press, whether her, or you… but what happened exactly? I didn’t know, that you two are somehow connected! Or was it that video clip, that controversial audition?”
“Damned, Laura, don’t mention this shit in front of me! Not anymore, ever!” Alexandra finishes the drink with a long draught, and she instantly waves to attract a waiter, to have another one. “The fucking music video was a fucking comedy in the end, believe it or not, not speaking about questionable artistic quality! I look as a dumb, weak bitch there, not controlling her fate, fully dependent on men and their dirty deals! This is an independent, modern woman indeed, an example for others… my ass!”
And I shouldn’t take this job, after all this poisonous gossip, that she should get the main female part!
Because I looked cheap, and the lousy cow Marketa Korinkova even takes my fucking name into her filthy mouth, saying, that ‘Alexandra needs the contract more, than me, so I am letting it for her, in my endless generosity, as I don’t need such small contracts for poor little girls anyway!’
And that idiot Ramy Ayach (=male Lebanese singer) nodded to it, confirmed this fucking slander as truth for the media! How could she bribe him, how many times did she fuck with him, sucked his small dick, or I don’t know what ‘special wishes’ she fulfilled to him?
I am such an idiot, imagine that, but only now, after all the events, when nothing can be changed, I see my own mistakes.
The truth is, that the thing was fucked up, since she came at the scene… but don’t think, that this spoiled contract is the only reason, why I am so fucking mad at the cow!
Yeah, there is more, and as I told you, my dear Laura, it’s related to your fucking employer!
Do you know, what is happening? My fucking Persian Gulf clients started babbling suddenly, that they want ONLY a Muslim fashion model for the contract, and they are mentioning HER, as an example of, as they defined it: ‘A good Islamic fashion model, because we are proud, devoted Muslims, so if we will provide the business contract to someone, we want to support preferably an Islamic girl, to support her in the Advanced Islamic studies in Saudi Arabia‘!
Can you fucking believe it? And it’s all because of her! She is fucking ruining my career, so don’t wonder, that I am angry… I swear, I will leave this cursed Islamic place… I will go to the U.S., or Europe, because here, I can’t walk on the same piece of ground, as the bitch!
How perfect was the life in the Emirates! And now, she comes in, and she fucks up everything, for everybody!
How long will we tolerate it? Do you know, how much money I am losing? How much my fucking professional reputation is suffering? Not speaking about many other people, like your boyfriend… and she is untouchable, everybody knows, that the highest places are keeping the protecting hand over her, including the Sheikh himself and Saudis, so nobody dares to make any move against her, including all the ruthless pimps!
Do you know, what those idiots say? ‘We are Muslims, and she is a Muslim. Our Lord is her Lord. She leads people back to Islam. So we have to obey, and money are only secondary. She will speak, as Allah wants.’
No, Laura… this affair is just a fateful sign, that I don’t belong here, and times are simply changing. Sooner or later, someone like her would come anyway, some shining Islamic Princess with pretty face, covered under hijab… and everything would be changed.
So, maybe it’s the time for me to say goodbye to this Emirates dream, to pack my stuff and find a new place, new destiny… I can’t fight with Islam, and this is an Islamic contry, we have to accept it. Their country, their rules… fuck it, and her, I don’t care anymore.
You see, couple of years ago, I became a member of the Munich lodge of that silly Illuminati, allegedly ruling the world. And the old rusty fools, who are losing contact with the reality, they don’t care, fucking their mistresses in their medieval castles in the Bavarian Alps! How can they allow this? Where is some nasty conspiracy?”
Laura watches her friend understanding, but also with disagreement. “Maybe you would pack your bags too quickly, Alexandra, if I will tell you about a very interesting meeting I had just today. Don’t be so rash… sometimes, things can be different, than they seem. Sometimes, an apparent tragedy can be a covert blessing. It depends just on your angle of view.”
“If you want to recommend me a good Swiss chocolate, to calm my nerves, then thank you,” Alexandra sighs. “This is simply lost: even if she would disappear tomorrow, into Saudi Arabia or where, the things will never return to the original status of liberty we once had. Where Islam grasps the rule, it can hardly reverse back. You know the rules.”
“Relax, girl, relax… you talked too much, you are too emotional. Keep calm, you will live longer. Now, have a drink and listen!” Laura advises her friend well. “Anyway, why do you have friends? To help you, to support you, to keep you up, to give you good advices!”
“Maybe you will recommend me to convert to Islam as her, to keep competitive. And tomorrow, I will be a good Muslim girl too, Saudis will pamper me… no no, I can’t go this far in my career. My family would literally kill me, they are devoted Christians,” Alexandra couldn’t stop the endless flow of negativity.
“Girl, can you be silent for just one minute, to cool your head a little?” Laura is patient, still smiling mysteriously.
“Uh, you are right, why should I bother, it all means nothing,” the supermodel agrees in the end. “Let’s talk about men instead.”
“No no, forget about men! Those weak losers and liars are nothing in comparison with the very precious insider information I have for you, my friend! Are you willing to hear it? Or is this cause finished for you, as you said? Are you leaving the Emirates tomorrow, or will you fight for your future?” Laura seemed irritated by her friend’s resignation. She hated such talk of defeat.
“I don’t know, Laura. A woman should know, when to stop. What could I do? I see no option, and conversion to Islam is absolutely out of question, I am telling you openly, although I realize, that it could bring many unique advantages for me, and I could defeat the bitch with her own weapons!
But Islam… it’s not a game. You can become a Muslim easily, just by reciting the Shahadah, but the consequences are vast and endless, as it’s for life, there is no way back, or out.
But this is the feature which the weak people maybe like: they don’t want to be themselves, free, they want a firm hand and protection above them, who will tell them, what to do, who will promise them to take care of them, both in life and after life.
She has the upper hand now, she is a Muslim, and this is an Islamic country… what is more there to say?”
“Alex, did you switch off your brain? Do you listen to yourself? Do you know, what you are saying? Are you a supermodel, or some loser cow from a suburbs, with her girlish dreams spoiled by circumstances and life mistakes, reading gossip media, pressed on shiny paper, and breastfeeding some bastard, that you conceived with some drunk asshole?
Think about the last sentences you said! You can find a lot of truth there… summarize all the information you have on her, and you will find something really interesting, believe me! And then I will tell you, what I know, and believe me, it will interest you very, very much!”
It seemed that Alexandra Pianka started to get together. “Media, Islam, Emirates, and opportunities, you say… there can be only one connection: conversion not by heart, but for publicity, for building a powerful personal brand in an Islamic country, and for getting massive opportunities. Is this, what the bitch did?
Maybe the tabloid media could write about this… but still, it won’t change anything. The fools here are stubborn now, talking about Islam all the time now, praying the whole day, going to the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque in Abu Dhabi like obsessed, praising the bitch, like some queen, or mother!
Do you know, that she has chosen the new Islamic name of Prophet Isa‘s (=Jesus) mother? She really aims highly, let me tell you that! How could I compete with her, if she has Islam, even if she had chosen it not by heart, but for purpose?”
“Girl, let’s take it from a different side, or we will spend the whole beautiful evening talking negatively,” Laura interrupts her supermodel friend. “Don’t forget, that you are creating the world with your thoughts, as the bitch said in that damned interview with Al Jazeera television! So maybe it’s the right time to learn from her a little bit… before she will go down!
No, I am not fucking joking here, dear Alex: she will go down, soon, and in large, believe me! When certain interesting information will be publicly revealed about her… by the media in the Emirates, so any citizen can read, how much she lied to the people, that she is a fake liar, and many other nasty things!”
“I doubt about such pleasant development,” the supermodel was still pessimistic. “The Sheikh is protecting her, he even offered her an official function in his staff, some Personal Advisor in Female Affairs, or what. He won’t allow such dirty accusations to be published!”
“Oh, Alex! Are you so naive? This is a global world! Who says, that only the Emirates media can write about her? She is from the Czech Republic, as you said… what about a special edition of their gossip magazine, ditributed in the Emirates, in English, of course… and for free, to have the most possible impact here? How long will the Sheikh protect her, do you think?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Alexandra Pianka is very attentive suddenly. Will her nightmare disappear? Will the fate, or Allah, be so kind to her? Shouldn’t she accept Islam, not only to defeat her competitor, but to find peace inside her? What is this life, to be angry, jealous, negative, hateful, using bad words and cursing like some old sailor?
She read somewhere, that Islam, it’s the submission to Allah’s will, resulting in peace not only inside you, but also with other people and the whole world. Could this be a solution, so she could find peace, even with the spoiled professional career, and her dumb naive girlish dreams lost?
“OK, Laura, tell me more, please. I am listening,” she addresses her friend, now with her mind and heart completely open, clean of hatred and clouded judgement. Wasn’t it a proof that Allah protects her, helps her, controls her, and leads her to His ultimate light? To stop endless complaining?
“So, this is what happened,” Laura reaches for her handbag, to find something. “A woman approached me, some Czech fashion model, now working as a reporter for some ‘Heavy Slander’, a key Czech tabloid magazine, as I found on the Internet. Look, here is the business card.
She said, that she is making ‘a complex research’ about Marketa Korinkova in the Emirates, because they want to publish a Special Issue, an international edition, dedicated only to her, and her countless lies, about her fake conversion to Islam, and much more, because ‘their filth must be revealed’, as their motto says. She could be useful, no?”
“Jackpot!” Alexandra Pianka is absolutely joyful, laughing like a child. “Give me her contact, please! I will ask her, to add a little bit of salt into their interesting articles about Marketa Korinkova!”
The second day, in the morning, just after she returns from the bathroom, where she prepared herself for the new day, the supermodel Alexandra Pianka, living in a 400 m2 residential appartement in a Dubai skycraper, opens her large wardrobe, where all her apparel and accessories are located. She paid for just a fragment of this most impressive fashion collection: most of it was received as part of her fashion modeling deals, when she could keep the nicest pieces for free, including those of the most reputated fashion brands she has worked for.
Sometimes, she made an hijab and abaya shooting, and she rather rejected such contracts at first, before she realized eventually, that it could be good for the publicity, for good relations with the powerful Saudis, inviting her to the most ineresting audition: to be a face of their ultimate “Superior Woman” worldwide campaign.
But Alexandra was not a Muslim, so the negotiations were on hold, and guess, who was considered instead? Of course, that Marketa Korinkova, not only because she was a devoted Muslim, but she was also capable of managing the related media affairs, as her university studies were aimed at Public Relations, Media and Marketing.
The closet is really large, and various luxury goods worth of million of USD are lying there, but Alexandra Pianka likes perfect order in her things, so she can locate a beautiful hijab immediately, made from silk and wrapped with gold, with two materials, that only women can wear.
“The bitch will go down, and in large,” the supermodel thinks with a victorious smile. Because to be a fashion model, it’s not only a social status, it’s rather a psychological diagnose…
Two hours later, Alexandra Pianka parks her GMC Suburban, a full-size American SUV, painted with “Dubai White” color to deflect the hot sunshine of the Emirates, in front of the famous Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque, located at Abu Dhabi, where Marketa Korinkova (allegedly) converted to Islam.
Alexandra Pianka always avoided such religious Islamic places, but not today: her long legs carry her to the masjid entrance with certainty. She is so ruthless, that she misses the ‘Tourists forbidden” warning sign, and she follows other Islamic women, entering for a Dhuhr prayer…
“I want to talk with the Imam,” she asks a guard at the entrance decisively, when she removes her Gucci shoes obediently.
The man watches her, and he can’t avoid to look at her immense beauty, only emphasized by the Islamic clothing, although watching an unrelated woman without serious reason is makruh, disliked and not permissible in Islam.
These mosque guards are intentionally trained to be loud, even vulgar, rude and savage, something like evil guard dogs, to keep the authority. But when this particular guards has to face Alexandra Pianka… he forgets all the rules of his service.
Several moments later, Alexandra Pianka is introduced to the local Islamic Cultural Centre, where the Imam has a presentation about Islam for non-believers.
Of course, that the lesson is highly disrupted, when the supermodel walks in, everybody except the Imam forgets Allah suddenly, and the tourists watch the supermodel curiously… but Imam is not irritated, or disappointed, rather curious… who is the shining woman that Allah sent us to this modest place of worship, and for what purpose?
He finishes his lesson, and Alexandra is waiting patiently. She won’t leave: she has a mission here, and she doesn’t hesitate about it.
When the last tourist leaves, as all questions about Islam are answered, and only the Imam and two of his aides remain in the office, the Imam looks at Alexandra Pianka, like if he would discover the truth in her eyes.
But her eyes are like made from a glass, no muscle in her face moves, she is so concentrated.
She wants to rule the whole world: and if she has to connect with Allah, or a Devil, she doesn’t care. She is simply obsessed with power, as any supermodel: once you taste it, you can’t stop, you need more and more doses of power and influence, to build your personal empire, to heal all your complexes.
Or is Allah a way out of this curse and obsession?
Imam still watches Alexandra Pianka, as her expression slowly changes to something as revelation, and submission, when she realizes, where she is, and how small and insignificant is she in comparison with Almíghty Allah, ruling here.
Originally, she came here to ask, what would happen, if someone would proclaim himself or herself as Muslim, but this conversion would be not genuine, only for the media, for the professional career, a pose.
But now, Alexandra is not interested anymore, to know the answer. She is not willing to think about others anymore, only about herself, her needs, her interests. And total liberation from all chains and confinement of the world is one of them, not only for her, for anybody.
“Imam, I want to convert to Islam,” the supermodel says in the end, still decisive, but her voice seems strange, like if some other entity would speak instead of her, like if she would losing control of herself.
She feels, like lying on a operations table in a hospital, while they administer a somnific, sleeping drug into your veins, to commence the medical intervention. A doctor is talking to you, to assure, that you are losing conciousness correctly, and the operation can start.
She is losing herself… she is surrendering, and Allah is entering through her whole body, like in some decadent Western horror movie.
A supermodel came into the mosque originally… but when another batch of foreign tourists watch the beautiful woman leaving, it’s not her anymore.
She is submitted to Allah, once and forever. She is His servant and slave now, and only His: now, not men, not government, no worldly power has any control about her, except Allah: He has full control of her now, her mind and body, and nothing in her life now happens without his knowledge and permission.
And you forget, what the word “self” mean.
Several hours later, the American surveillance satellites, cruising day and night in the silent emptiness, high above the surface of Earth, but seeing and hearing many things, intercept a surprising message, sent from the Czech Embassy in the United Arab Emirates, through a highly secured diplomatic channel:
Operation SKINNY PUPPY (U2013-CZ78772), update 24
Request for additional actions: obtaining a new VIP asset
On January 30th, our Asset A55 was approached by a female fashion supermodel of German Origin, working in the Emirates, named ALEXANDRA PIANKA (requesting her personal file for background check), who indicated high interest in the upcoming Special Issue of ‘Heavy Slander’ gossip magazine, as she has her own interest in damaging the personal brand of Asset A102, the target of the media project, whom she perceives as an ultimate business competitor.
There is a perfect and easy opportunity to obtain this highly positioned, VIP asset of extremely high social influence for the Czech state defense interests, particularly to use her as a suitable asset of our Asian Warfare department, sending her to Shanghai, China, for the planned infiltration operation of the Chinese luxury fashion industry, and highest Chinese Communist Party ranks, using Woman’s Destiny fashion brand as cover.
We ask for the approval of acquiring this asset, using locally present operatives (A55, A58), just by making a small favor for the supermodel: adding an additional strength into the Special Issue content, particularly changing the main title from original “A Czech Girl In Dubai” to the new “Sex, Lies, Emirates” (suggested by A17). Additional financial costs: none.
Updated front page of the Issue will look like this: