Tidal Wave (7 page)

Yet again she was surprised — he was flaccid. She took the head of his penis and began to suck on it, then slowly began to feed herself on the rest of the sweet flesh. He began to swell in her mouth. It was thrilling. He grew larger and larger. There were times when she thought she would choke on him, but her desire to have him feel her presence and the joys of sex with her drove her on. Once she saw the wild passion in his eyes from the pleasure she was giving him, it was even more erotic. She had never seen that look in any of the young men she had been with previously. It made her nipples grow erect, and her desire to give herself to him increased. She was determined to hold back her own feelings, to rape this man with her mouth. She wanted to force his passion into the open. When he came in her mouth, she felt she swallowed his very essence.

After a few silent minutes he rose and took a towel from the beach chair. She watched him dry himself off, tuck himself away, and zip up his trousers. He dropped to his knees and, bending over her, kissed her gently. He stretched out on the blanket next to her and, leaning on his elbow, said, after pushing some strands of hair away from her face, “You enjoyed that. I’m glad.”

“You might say you liked it, Anthony.”

He put his arms around her and lifted her half off the blanket into his arms. For the first time he touched her breasts. He took the erect nipple between his thumb and forefinger and began to pinch it, slowly increasing the pressure.

“Oh, I loved it,” he said and bent to kiss her throat.

She wriggled out of his arms. He stood up and pulled her to her feet. She reached for her dress and from behind he slipped his arms around her naked bottom, resting his hands on her lovely mound of damp pubic hair. Still in his arms, she turned around slowly and said, looking up into his eyes, “Oh, no, I will not give in as easily as you did.”

He said nothing. He helped her on with her dress, did
up the buttons at the neck, and turned her around to adjust the skirt so that she looked perfectly neat. They walked back to the cabin where she took out her gold purse, repaired her face, and combed her hair. She saw him watching her. He never took his eyes from her. When she sat down and reached for her shoes, he bent down on one knee and wiped her feet with a towel then slipped her shoes on. He picked up one foot and kissed her tenderly on the ankle. Arabella had to close her eyes and try to hold back the tremor she felt going through her. Their eyes met and she was about to say, Take me, take me here, now. Make wild, passionate love to me. I want it so much. But he didn’t give her the chance.

“No,” he said, “don’t say anything. It’s time to go back to the Cecil.”

He picked up both their keys at the desk. They traveled silently in the toy elevator up to their rooms. He opened the door with her key, picked her hand up and kissed it.

He said, “You are a remarkable lady, Arabella. Thank you for this evening.” He pushed the door open for her. She entered and he left her.

There was nothing for her to say or do. He had reverted to the proper English gentleman. She went in and closed the door, took her dress off and hung it up. She had planned to take a bath and go to sleep but she could not. She was too tense, unsatisfied. She needed sexual relief. She wanted him.

She lay on her bed and thought about Anthony, wondering why she had been so stupid and not let him make love to her. Her body ached for him, for him to take her wildly, madly. She knew something now, alone in her room: Anthony Quartermaine would know how to make love to her as she wanted it to be. She touched her breasts, which only fired her desire for him even more. There was nothing to be done except go and give herself to him.

She went to the door that connected the two rooms. It was locked; she knew that for she had tried it when she had
first taken the room. The key was in the lock. She turned it and opened the door. Behind it was another door, locked from Anthony’s side. She knocked on it. Her heart began to beat faster. She knocked again just as the key was turning.

He had taken his jacket off, but that was all. He looked her naked body over, reached out and caressed her breasts. He folded her in his arms and tilted her chin up to his face. She looked at him seductively.

“Do you really want me?” he asked.

She nodded yes. He touched her breasts again, picked up her hands and kissed them, saying “I have wanted you for days. I knew that ninny of a boy could never satisfy you the way you need to be. I lay in my bed listening to you, wanting you. I wanted to be the man with you.”

She put her arms up around his neck. He lifted her by the waist, crushed her to him, and then kissed her deeply and passionately. She melted in his arms. He put her down, and they walked to the edge of the bed where they sat. He picked up the telephone and made two calls, then put the receiver down and said, “Come with me.” He picked his jacket up from the chair and walked her through into her room.

He said, “Get dressed quickly. The car is waiting downstairs. I’m going to take you somewhere where we can make love properly. It will be wonderful, I promise.”

They drove in a plum colored Rolls-Royce through elegant streets past huge impressive mansions built and decorated by the foreigners who had lived in Alexandria. They were mini-palaces, with stature and elegance fit for princes or kings. Each of them was set behind walls with intricate wrought-iron gates, surrounded by exotic formal gardens with marble fountains splashing into basins often filled with goldfish. Giant palms, like sentinels, watched over them.

The one whose gates the Rolls passed through had a garden that was magnificent and subtly lit. The winding drive stopped before a long flight of wide pink marble stairs that led up to a grand entrance. As if by magic, the doors were opened by a pair of blue-black Sudanese
sufragis
.

As they started up the stairs, Arabella turned questioningly toward Anthony. They stopped on a step and looked at each other.

He touched his finger to her lips and said, “This is the most erotic house left in Alexandria, in Egypt, who knows — maybe in the world. Trust me and let yourself go. I promise you I understand what you want and I am going to give it to you.”

She said nothing, she could not. She was falling under his spell. He took her hand and they went forward together. Inside they were greeted by the handsome man she had seen Anthony talking to in the lobby of the Cecil. They were introduced and Anthony told her, “Prince Ahmed is our host.” He led them through the vast, elegant marble hall, down a few stairs to a magnificent drawing room where they were introduced to half a dozen couples. Someone was playing jazz on the piano — so incongruous in a room such as this in Alexandria.

The twenty-foot-high windows with their arched tops were draped in heavy tangerine-colored silk, tied back in great elegant swags. They were fantastic frames for the view of the beach and the sea. The chandeliers were massive and looked more like diamonds than cut crystal. Everywhere Arabella looked she was able to recognize every chair, every sculpture, every table as being of the finest quality.

The women in the room were gorgeous, dressed by the best European designers — Givenchy, Balmain, Dior, and St. Laurent. They wore magnificent jewels and they gave off a sensual scent like a strong perfume. They were women with vast sexual appetites who knew how to handle men. She recognized it at once; it was in the air in any city — here it was simply uncaged.

The men in the room were for the most part handsome, rich, sophisticated men. She looked them over, finding them sexually interesting.

Prince Ahmed, the host, came up to her, put his arm around her shoulder, and said, “You are ravishing, Arabella. I see you looking us over. You have most likely recognized
us as the devout libertines that we are. Anthony has told me that you have been seduced by Alexandria and that he has brought you here to seduce you as well. Please enjoy the hospitality of my house.”

A
sufragi
came by and offered her a glass of champagne. Anthony took her by the hand and led her to a sofa. He lit a pipe.

“It’s wonderful,” he said. “The best in the Middle East. Hashish always loosens me up. What was it you called me? Ah yes, a stuffy Englishman.”

He offered her the pipe. She took a few long drags on it and said, “I told you before in the restaurant that I will not allow myself to be embarrassed by my behavior with you ever again.” She had never used drugs before, or even knew of anyone who had. In America it was still considered “very bohemian.” Somehow in Alexandria, with a proper Englishman, it seemed all right.

They sat there flirting with each other while they drank more champagne. They spoke to a few people in the room, and finally he whispered in her ear, “Ahmed has given us a lovely room overlooking the sea. Let’s go.”

They slipped out of the room and walked arm in arm up the grand staircase to the first floor. A
sufragi
pushed open a huge pair of carved French walnut doors. The room was extremely severe and yet elegant. The walls were paneled in walnut boiserie and mirrors, the chandelier was huge and hung rather low. It was made of rock crystal in the shape of apples, pears, berries, and grapes, in tinted pale colors and mixed with droplets that looked like crystal tears. The floor was of black-and-white marble. In the center of the room stood a massive four-poster bed of carved ivory. The bed linen was of ivory silk satin, trimmed in antique ivory and white lace. The huge feather pillows were covered in the same silk satin and lace.

There were a few chairs covered in white suede and some Louis XV tables. Four large windows opposite the entrance to the room were draped in heavy white silk and tied back with huge black and gold tassles.

There was a knock at the door and two handsome young men entered with small tables, champagne, glasses, bowls of fruit, plates of fresh figs and dates. Another knock at the door and two very pretty girls entered, one a black African and the other Chinese. They came in carrying a blue silk robe for Anthony and a magnificent, diaphanous black caftan with borders of gold embroidery at the cuffs and all down the front. This was for Arabella.

The girls smiled at the couple and the Chinese girl, Mai Ling, said, “For you, miss, a gift from Prince Ahmed.”

Anthony began to laugh. He said, “Don’t look so surprised. This is Mai Ling and this is Coco. These two men are Dimitri and Jean Paul.”

Arabella had a buzz in her head and an excitement in her loins such as she had never known before. She wished they would all go away so that Anthony could take over. From the moment they had entered this house, Anthony had been stripping away layer after layer of his defenses. With every sniff of cocaine, every puff of hashish, he revealed another part of his sensual self and she knew it matched hers. She was excited.

One of the girls went to Anthony and removed his jacket, undid his tie. He took Arabella by the hand and led her down a few steps to a sunken bathroom of white marble.

“Shall we bathe before going to bed?”

“Yes,” she said. “Let’s.”

He sat down on one of the marble chaises, pulling her down next to him, and allowed Coco to take off his shoes and socks. Mai Ling then joined in and helped undress him.

Arabella wanted to be part of the sexy scene and said, “Let me do that, Anthony.”

“No,” he said. “You are to do nothing. You have done everything you are going to do tonight. We’re all here to wait on you.”

Arabella could not believe how handsome Anthony was naked. More handsome than any Greek god. Flanked by Coco and Mai Ling, he allowed them to fondle, kiss, and
lick him. Arabella was aroused beyond anything she had ever known before.

The girls approached Arabella, removed her shoes and her dress, finally her lace panties and bra, while Anthony watched. After they pinned up her hair, Anthony kissed Arabella on the cheek and took her by the hand to the sunken tub. They walked down the steps into it and bathed together. Anthony washed her himself, and she thrilled to his every touch. When she went to take the sponge to him, he stopped her by shaking his head and insisting she not do anything. When they stepped out of the tub they were wrapped in huge white bath sheets and dried off by the boys, who were now naked and impressively well made for sex. Coco let Arabella’s lovely hair tumble down onto her shoulders and Mai Ling brushed it. Arabella and Anthony were then helped into the robes Prince Ahmed had sent.

Anthony took her hand and led her to the bed. Arabella whispered, “Please send them all away, Anthony.”

He said, “Darling, don’t be silly. They are going to perform for us. They’ll be very useful.”

The men and Coco undressed Mai Ling provocatively, then produced various implements for lovemaking.

Arabella was extremely sensual looking in her sheer black-and-gold robe with her shiny blond hair falling around her shoulders. As thin as a web, the robe showed off her magnificent body — every line, every curve. Anthony looked at her and said, as he disrobed, “You are so very wicked looking, so provocative.”

She could bear it no longer. She opened her robe and let it slip off her shoulders and down her arms onto the floor where she stood. She walked into his open arms. They slid sensuously onto the white silk satin sheets together. Mai Ling and Jean Paul propped up the large soft down pillows behind them.

Anthony held her close, put his arm around her shoulder, and kissed her tenderly. Coco rubbed oil over Mai Ling’s nipples. Then she massaged the oil on the head of Anthony’s penis. Arabella stretched out her hand to touch Anthony but
he stopped her, taking her hand and drawing it up to his lips. He kissed it sweetly and gently.

“No,” he said softly.

Arabella could not help herself. She began to squirm with need and excitement.

He said softly, almost in a whisper, “Open your legs, Arabella.” Never had she felt so sexy. Never could she have imagined such need. Anthony pushed himself up to almost sitting position and, looking down at her, still with his arm around her shoulder, he bent his head down and kissed her on her hungry lips.

“And now it begins, Arabella.”