White Moon Black Sea (19 page)

Suddenly he saw her. He stopped to stare at her. Her sensitive and seductive beauty stunned him. He felt his heart begin to race, his mouth go dry. His body yearned for her. His loins ached with the pain of lust for Humayun. For the first time since he had met her he saw her in truth, and for what she was, and loved her all the more for the seeing that replaced his blindness. They gazed into each other’s eyes and tomorrow disappeared for them. No yesterdays were there to be remembered. There was only now. All his thoughts stopped, and so did their sense of time.

The light that he saw on her face was like the light behind the eyes. He kept very still and unknowingly he flowed with it. The beauty of that light was love.

Humayun felt a strange quietness come over her and a feeling that everything about her had come to a standstill — even though a car slid into the compound, Moses was walking toward her, somewhere a bird was singing in a tree, the waves were crashing on the beach. Her sense of aloofness was sublime. She never moved, just stood there and drew him to her. He placed his hands in hers. She slipped her fingers through his and was mesmerized by the interlocking of their tawny and black skins. She raised their fingers to her lips and kissed them.

She whispered huskily, “You fill my soul.” He answered, “I fill my soul with you.”

Destiny came to them most unexpectedly. A strange stillness and peace seemed to pour down from the clear
blue above and the heavens beyond covering the earth. If they hadn’t known it before, though they said not a word about it to each other, they knew now that their love had been born, that a voice had called from their terrified souls, and that they had to face it because there was no defense against the lure of love.

Tie first, then cuff links, one by one. Fingers slipped under the buttons of his shirt, feeling the warm hardness of his chest. She slowly and sensuously stripped him down to his beautiful ebony. He stood there, rock-still, watching her every movement, and let her take him over. Each shed garment of his was followed by the sensuous shedding of one of hers. After her sarong has fallen to the grass, he began to devour her nakedness with his eyes and his hands.

She liked him nude. He shone like black marble in the sunshine. She enjoyed the firmness of his flesh, the roundness of his buttocks and his arms, his shoulders and thighs. She took in the strength and muscle of his body, caressing it erotically. And his phallus, the weight of it, and his testes. His body was perfect, seeming more than perfect when he was in the throes of lust with her. At those times he used his body variously as athlete, ballet dancer, rampant man possessed, submissive female, glorious primitive animal capable of taking her roughly. Only she could excite him into those roles with her magical hands and probing fingers as she was doing now. She felt the rise of her own passion as she let her jeweled fingers rove over the dark silkiness of his skin. She took him by the hand, her eyes fixed on his thick, reaching penis. She led him to the reclining nude. Thus far, if he had tried to touch her she had not allowed it. But now she placed his hands upon the warm bronze of the sculpture and ordered him to caress it. She watched his hands pay their sensuous, tactile homage to the bronze figure as hers did to him. Then she took both his hands in hers and raised them to her mouth. She kissed them passionately.

A kind of wickedness came over her. She stood back a few steps so that he could take a good look at her. With her legs wide apart, she ran her hands over her breasts, squeezing them, her fingers pulling on her large and tantalizing
nipples. Her back arched, her hands glided down and over her beautiful mound, naked of all hair and so enticing with its tattooed arabesques of henna. Her body signaled, “Take me,” begging with every gesture to be pulled open and probed by her lover.

Humayun rubbed herself roughly up against Moses, like a cat in heat. She dropped to her knees slowly, just brushing his yearning penis with her cheek as she sank. Her hands in his, she pulled him down to the grass with her and made him assume the reclining position of the bronze lady. With her back to him, while resting on her haunches, she bent over, affording Moses a very sensual view of her. Her mass of red-gold hair was falling about her shoulders and over her bare back, accentuating the roundness of her exposed bottom and the shaded cleft between the cheeks. He pulled the cheeks apart, none too gently. He viewed her spread open from her anus to the sensuous moist lips of her cunt, which he swiftly opened with probing fingers to find her clitoris.

Moses sensed Humayun was full of lust for him. Lust gave her voice its husky, sensual throb as she said, “No, no more, not yet.”

She slithered in one sensuous movement onto her side and up against his body. “Promise you will do everything that I tell you?”

“How could I not?” he answered, already lost to her in lust, alert to her every demand.

Her body tight against his, her arms around his neck, she kissed him. First an earlobe, then his mouth. Lightly, gently, soft as the whisper of a butterfly’s wings. She caressed with her lips the other earlobe, and placed a more seductive kiss on his chin. She moved her lips to his neck and on one side to just under his ear to kiss him there. She licked her wet, sensuous tongue across his neck and kissed him once again under the ear. She passed her pointed tongue across his shoulder to mouth him in the crack where his arm met the side of his body. When she lifted his arm and kissed him in its pit, she felt a spasm vibrate in his chest, heard a sob escape him and a barely audible muttering,
“Oh God, God.” She smiled to herself: He was lost to her. She would enslave him further.

She slid on top of him and moved her lips to one of his nipples and licked it. Around and around, lightly, scarcely touching before she closed her teeth over the small tip and sucked. She hungered now for his cock. Huge and full, it throbbed between her legs. But she held back. No, she would not let him in. As she straddled the phallus she craved, she squeezed it tightly between her legs as she moved her mouth to the other nipple and sucked it sensuously.

Hungrily, greedily, she reached up and put her arms around his neck, and they kissed with open mouths. Just their tongues played with each other now, while all the time she felt what she really wanted pressed tight against her cunt.

Humayun roughly tore her lips from his to kiss him on his chest. She slid down his body and ran her tongue around the inside of his navel, moistening it with her saliva. Next her lips tracked a dewy trail down to the black mass of pubic hair. Humayun sighed and rubbed her lips and the snub of her nose in his crisp fluff. Oh, the wonderful, raunchy tang of him! Her lips found the base of his penis, and, taking his hot, hard phallus in her hands, she lifted it to kiss the underpart. In spite of herself, she felt again the mystery of his dark masculinity. Moses had a fine scrotum which she adored. She began sucking. She took one ball in her mouth and rolled it around, sucking deep and hard on it. He was on the edge of a coming, she knew.

She found his hands with hers, and as she stood she pulled him with her. “Take me into the house,” she ordered huskily. And he swept her up in his dark, cradling arms.

10

“W
ill you marry me? Will you come away with me and be my wife? If happiness can be promised anyone, I promise you we’ll be happy. Your life needn’t add up to being only a sexual slave to Rashid. I want to live with you and show you that there are other worlds to see and ways to live beyond the luxurious prison Rashid keeps you in.”

“No. Do you think I do not know already your other worlds?” The coldness in her voice when she so emphatically rejected his offer surprised Moses.

“Why deny us a life together?” he asked. “I know you love me, you can’t tell me that you don’t. I saw it in your eyes this morning in the garden. And how many times in these last hours together have you told me you loved me? Don’t pretend that was mere talk. I know better.”

“I don’t deny I love you, Moses. But sexual slaves don’t marry their masters, love or no love.”

“But you are not my sexual slave, Humayun,” he declared. Did she really think him capable of setting up such a bond?

She began to laugh; it was a wicked laugh. “No, my dearest man, you have it wrong. It is you who are my sexual slave; I am the master.”

“That’s not true, I have never been anyone’s slave, sexual or otherwise,” he snapped back at her.

“Don’t pursue this, Moses,” she said, a note of annoyance in her voice as she sat up in bed and switched on the lamp on the table next to her.

“Not pursue it? But I must. How can I allow you to think of me in that way? It’s simply not true.”

Humayun rose from the bed and, taking him by the hand, pulled him across it. He rose reluctantly and stood
next to her. She slid her arms around his waist and sensuously caressed his body with hers until he succumbed to her embraces and enfolded her in his arms. Only then did she speak.

“I love you, Moses, in ways I have denied other men. I have never known a better, kinder man, nor one I felt more drawn to. That’s very special, but still not enough for me. The love you offer me is dim and ponderous in the light of the erotic love I feel for you, and the sexual excitement I gather from the life I lead. I love you far more profoundly as my sexual salve. Accept what you are in my life — that it is all you can ever be.” He began to speak, but she silenced him with a finger over his lips. “No, please, let me say what I have to say, and then you can speak.”

She walked him, still in her embrace, across the room to her dressing table, where she took a navy blue silk robe lying across the bench in front of it and held it up for him to slip into. She tied the sash and pressed her cheek against the side of his face. Then she slipped into a sheer silver silk kimono; its sleeves were embroidered with cranes whose voluptuous outstretched wings were sewn in gold thread laced with diamond chips. She sat down at the dressing table and handed him a silver-backed hairbrush. He obediently began brushing her hair, all the while looking into her face in the mirror. She pulled the stopper from a bottle of Coco and dabbed the scent behind her ears. After replacing it, she clipped the emerald doves on her ears and spoke, surprising herself at the twinge of sadness she was feeling.

“I listened very carefully during dinner when you spoke to me about your life, your family, and the influences that have molded you into the man you are. I understand now what makes you so different from most men I have met. You and I do not only live in different worlds and cultures. We are separated by basic beliefs, like the big truths and realities of life. We can love each other for a few hours on occasion in spite of our differences, because we are each the other side of the coin, the complement to each other’s soul. But more than that is asking too much. We have traveled too far down our different paths to change direction for
each other. And especially since we are very happy in the lives we live without each other. Moses, we must face that truth together, here and now, and go on happily in spite of it. Otherwise each of us will destroy the other. You must see that?”

“I can’t agree that what we have together can’t be built on, anymore than I can agree with being just your sexual slave.”

She felt the steady strokes of the silver-backed brush going through her hair and it soothed her ruffled feelings. There was something in his voice, a subtle change that she sensed. A lack of conviction. She had her moment, and she knew that she must press on and do the deed.

“Of course it is true that we could never run away together and make it work. Of course you are enslaved to me sexually, and you must face the fact that I have driven you slowly and methodically into that role.

“It is you who wants to take me away from Rashid and my life at Oda-Lala’s, not I. You who cannot understand that I can be happy as a sexual slave to Rashid and have no desire to be free. You see that as some sort of crime on Rashid’s part. Maybe lawfully it is. Maybe most people would call it a crime. But not me, because I am a willing victim. I am amoral. I accept that my kind of slavery still exists. Why should I care even that there are victims of it who may not be willing? I believe it is up to them to find their way out of it, if that’s what they want. I have seen that look of determination on your face to show me your better way to live as a free woman. It is what has driven me to enslave you sexually. You know now what it is to be bound. I’ve tapped into that vein of evil in you that tells you to submit, surrender, be mastered by oblivion. I have made you, while in the throes of sexual madness, drop every one of your moral stands and revel in the nothingness of sexual ecstasy. Exhibiting our sexual encounters before voyeurs. The deflowering of a child. Orgies where you suddenly found yourself with other men, who helped themselves to you while I looked on. And the heterosexual ones that went on for days. The whip, the bonds. And the fire in your heart that showed in your eyes and your
actions when you watched other men take command of me and deliver me into sexual oblivion. And always you came back for more. You have fallen in love with me for it. And you claim not to be my sexual slave?”

She said all this while staring hard at Moses in the mirror, and now she turned around on the bench and wrenched the hairbrush from his hand. It flew across the room. With passionate strength she grabbed him by the wrists, pulled him to his knees in front of her.

“You have to accept that from the moment you came to me I saw love in you, and that some of it rubbed off on me. But it has not changed me in the least. I learned at once to accept you for what you are. I wondered about your sexuality. Were you pure? Celibate? You gave that appearance, and I thought it might be so. I asked nothing. I took you on, wanting — as Rashid did — to give you the joy of sex, the fun, the ecstasy we sensed you needed and lacked.

“Oh, I have taken great sexual satisfaction with you. I enjoyed the love. But there have been many times when you have left my bed, and, late at night, lying there freshly bathed between the cool, smooth sheets, I have made love to myself. I would start by stroking my hair and then my shoulders. I would hold these full breasts,” she opened her kimono and with one hand fondled herself, while still clasping him tightly by the wrist with the other, “in my hands and cup them, squeeze them, take the saliva from my mouth and spread it over my nipples with my fingers. I would squirm with desire and then masturbate. Come again and again until the spasms were so great they exhausted me. Only then could I sleep.

“In the morning I would wake still wet and slippery between my legs and think how ridiculous it was. I knew that men wanted me, that you wanted me, and it didn’t stop me from wanting a stranger. One particular time, after a night such as that, and one when we had made love all the day before in that little hotel in Bodrum, and you had confessed that you loved me and wanted to live with me and had asked me to think about it, then reluctantly left for Istanbul, I was delighted, maybe even a little in love. But it never stilled my sexual craving, or stopped me from
masturbating or from considering several sexy-looking men in the port who pursued me the following day. I was there waiting for Rashid, who was to arrive in three days’ time. I accepted none of the strangers as lovers. The thought of picking up a stranger not at the behest of Rashid repelled me.

“During the lonely nights that followed I pleasured myself with fantasies. But not fantasies of a married life with you. You figured in them only when I wondered which new areas of sexuality we might trespass in together. Those nights I came so completely and achieved such release that I would call out into the dark. Often I had to stifle my passion by putting my fist in my mouth and biting hard on my knuckles. The scream still in my head, beads of perspiration on my forehead, my body taut like a violin string, I would continue, and come again and again.

“The second night after you had left me was no different. I came and the huge wet warmth flowed over my fingers and between my widespread legs. I writhed, jerking my head from side to side with the agony and the bliss of orgasm, moaning softly from the pleasure of it. Then I saw him. Bending over me. He was a tall, heavyset man. Turkish, about fifty years old. He had slipped into the room through the unlocked door. He had been watching me for I don’t know how long. I reached for the sheet to cover my nakedness and, taking my clenched fist from my mouth, I began to speak.

“But he put his hand gently over my lips and said, ‘Don’t be frightened. I have been watching you in the light of the open door. You are wonderful. I have never seen anyone like you. So beautiful, such craving. I have heard you for two nights from my room next door. I will make you much happier.’

“The man wore nothing but a pair of trousers. He undid the fly and dropped them. He was massively erect. I removed the sheet without thought or hesitation. He slid his hand between my legs. When he found me moist and ready for him, he mounted me with an urgency and violence that thrilled me. He said nothing more, just pulled
my legs wide apart until they ached and they straddled his shoulders, and then he poun ——”

“No, no more. I don’t want to hear this,” Moses said in a voice of anguish. And he tried to struggle to his feet. But she was determined to be heard, and, once again, her hands around his wrists forced him to remain where he was.

“I insist you hear me out. I listened to you and the story of your life without protest. This is only one small incident in my life and
you will listen
. I need you to know that he pounded mercilessly into me again and again before he came. Exhausted, he lay down next to me, this rough, uncouth faceless man. He took me in his arms and rocked me back and forth and stroked my hair and cried because he had come too quickly and wanted more for both of us. All that took place in the darkness of the room. I never really saw him, only the outline of the man. I could hardly believe what had happened. It was outrageous yet thrilling. He had ignited in me the arid flame of sex. He was right, he wanted to give more cock, I to take it. For as long as it lasted he was wonderful, even if it was over for him almost as soon as it began. I was caught up in the mystery of being violated by a man I could not know, and it was new and thrilling to me. He asked me to wait and not to move, and I heard him go from the room and down the hotel corridor. I have to say I could hardly wait for his return. I found I was reaching inside myself with searching fingers, trying to simulate the thick cock I had had so briefly. Not many minutes later he returned and slid onto the bed next to me. Then the door opened and two more men slipped quietly into the room. Moses, I did not protest … not then, nor when they switched on the bedside lamp and threw a silk scarf over it to take the harshness of the light away. It was as if we had agreed on silence. The man who had fucked me was a huge man with a not-unkind face; the other two men were in their twenties, brooding, handsome, with dark sexual looks. Women fantasize about being taken by such men. One went to the door and bolted it. They stripped. They were young and virile and hungry for a woman. I wasn’t frightened. I only squirmed out of the arms of the older man, wanting to switch off the light.
They mistook it for fright, and one of them caught me from behind. He held me by slipping his arms around me and clasping me by the breasts. I felt him, his nakedness, his stiffness pressed between the cheeks of my bottom, and he whispered, ‘Please don’t cry out. My father, my brother, and I, we have been listening to you in the night, whimpering for love.’

“ ‘The light, turn off the light’ was all I could reply to him. I don’t think at that point they understood that there was to be no struggle on my part. The young man laid me on the bed next to the father. The other son went to the chest of drawers. With some of my own clothing they tied my hands and fixed a gag across my mouth. Then they did as I asked: They switched off the light.”

“I don’t want to hear all this,” Moses cut in. “I know what you will say of them. I know.”

“But I need to know I have told it all to you, Moses. You must hear it, all of it.”

“Humayun, I —” said Moses, but she silenced him.

“The father fondled my breasts, kissed them. He was randy. He pulled and bit into my nipples while the two sons took turns fucking me. They were marvelous young studs who did not brutalize me. The first young man was a long time at his task, and his constant thrusts in and out of me were all that I wanted then. I felt the father and the other son kissing and sucking my breasts and clitoris. It just enhanced the power of my orgasms and their steady flow. They understood, at last, that I was not resisting but sharing their lust. The second son released the gag in my mouth. I had hardly gasped before he replaced it with his penis. He moved it in and out once or twice. That was all that was necessary for him to understand. He released the bonds on my hands and I felt myself take him wholly down my throat. I sucked him off as he had never believed possible while his brother came. The father slipped on top of me, hard of cock again and rampant, while the brothers lay momentarily exhausted on either side of me.

“Just as daylight broke, the father rose from the bed and kissed me tenderly, tears brimming in his eyes and words on the tip of his tongue that were better unsaid. The
emotion was there and told it all. Sometime later the two sons kissed me and cautiously slipped out of the room. That afternoon a large bouquet of flowers arrived without a card. And Rashid came back a few hours later.”