Three Wrong Turns in the Desert

by Neil S. Plakcy

  The group followed the perimeter of the ksar, admiring the workmanship of the ghorfas and their accompanying stairs. Belghasem told them that this ksar was over 500 years old; despite being abandoned, it was in remarkable condition.

  Liam and Aidan walked up the stairs for views of the ghorfa across from them. “You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” Liam asked.

  “You bet,” Aidan said. “This place is phenomenal.”

  “I’m glad you came along with me,” Liam said. “When I’m on a job, I’m focused on my objective. I can’t afford the distractions. I’ve been in this country for nearly three years and I’ve never seen it like a tourist.”

  They had a beautiful view of the rough, barren countryside. The ksar was located on a hillside, so they could see anyone approaching the granary from miles around. Several tour buses and taxis huddled around the entrance.

  As Liam scanned the area, Aidan watched a young couple get out of a taxi. There was no reason why he should recognize them; they were Arab, and the woman wore a filmy veil over her head and shoulders. But something about the man was familiar; the way he held himself reminded Aidan of someone.

  He racked his brain trying to figure it out. Someone from Tunis? From the hotel in Matmata? A man Liam might have spoken with in the town? Aidan said, “See that couple down there? Do they look familiar to you?”

  Liam was instantly alert, which impressed Aidan. “There is something about them,” Liam said. “Not the woman, but the man.” He shrugged. “We’re too far away to see much, but we’ll keep an eye out for them.”

  Belghasem led most of the group off through a passageway into another courtyard behind a small group of Italian tourists; Liam and Aidan soon followed. Inside was another plaza of ghorfas, but much more spectacular. They were stacked four levels high, dozens of them, with each side of the plaza at least 100 feet long. It was quite a sight. The Italian tourists were having tea at a small café, as a thin young man sold drawings of the ksar.

  Liam began speaking in Arabic with the young man, translating for Aidan. The man’s name was Ziyad, and he was from the village, but hadn’t been allowed in the ksar when he was a child, because it was reserved as a meeting space for adult members of the tribe, who gathered there to socialize and discuss community matters.

  Aidan was only half following the conversation, killing time until they were ready to return to the bus. He looked across the long plaza and saw the young couple from the taxi enter. They were laughing and holding hands, and Aidan was pleased for them. Probably honeymooners, he thought, and he remembered the way Liam had held him the night before, after he’d dispensed with the scorpion.

  There had been such tenderness and passion in his touch. After they had spent themselves, Liam had talked about what it was like to be gay in the military. “An extra level of vigilance,” he’d said. “I couldn’t let anyone get to know me, because I had such a big secret to keep.”

  Maybe that was the source of his distance, Aidan thought. After spending so much time with Liam, under such stressful circumstances, Aidan felt he’d told him everything about himself that there was to know, and yet Aidan hardly knew anything about Liam beyond some basic facts. Aidan wondered if perhaps Liam knew how limited their time together was going to be, and was determined to avoid being hurt.

  After Liam dozed off, Aidan had wondered about that. Liam was such a big, strong man, and yet Aidan could tell that there was something vulnerable deep inside him. Aidan looked over at him with affection, and then saw the young couple once again, this time close enough that he could see the man’s face.

  It was the pharmacist’s assistant from El Jem. He didn’t appear to have recognized them, so Aidan turned his face away, and leaned forward to Liam, who was laughing about something with the art seller. Aidan whispered, “That couple we saw getting out of the taxi. They’re just behind us.”

  Aidan felt Liam stiffen. “Do you recognize them?” he asked in a similar whisper.

  “The man was behind the pharmacist’s counter in El Jem,” Aidan said. “He chased us with the Libyan man.”

  “How the hell could they have tracked us?” Liam stole a glance over Aidan’s shoulder. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t know the woman, but that’s one of the guys we saw out of the bus window. You think they realized we were on that bus?”

  “I don’t know. Could it be a coincidence?”

  “Whatever it is, we’ve got to get out of here,” he said.

  22 – Hookah Hookup

  Aidan watched the young couple as they walked past. The man who had pretended to be the assistant pharmacist kept stealing glances at them, so he knew that he and Liam had been recognized. His pulse raced and his throat dried up. His quiet life in Philadelphia started to look pretty good, and he cursed Blake for kicking him out and sending him off on this crazy adventure.

  When the older man from the souk had passed the bus in El Jem, Aidan looked out the window and saw his face – implacable, like he would continue to hunt them down until he caught them. And now here was that other man, following them into the ksar.

  Liam was on full alert, and that scared Aidan more than anything. He could see the soldier in Liam—and that reminded him just how ill-prepared he was for anything military. He hadn’t even been a boy scout, as Liam had.

  Belghasem stood up. “My group, you will come back to the bus now, please.”

  Aidan knew that they had to do something to distract the couple, so that they couldn’t see where he and Liam went or who they were with. Around them, several passengers got up. A nice woman from Pennsylvania thanked Ziyad, who had sold her a drawing of the ksar. That inspired Aidan.

  “Ask Ziyad to keep that couple busy,” he whispered to Liam. “Then we can sneak back to the bus without them seeing.”

  “Good idea.” Liam turned back to the young man and said something in Arabic. Ziyad smiled, and Liam gave him a few dinars. Then Ziyad got up and walked over to the young couple, offering to show them his paintings, and while they were occupied, Aidan and Liam hurried after the tour group. It wasn’t until they were safely in the bus that Aidan realized he was sweating madly.

  Liam watched the exterior of the ksar until the driver closed the bus door and pulled out. Aidan saw him looking back, trying to determine if the couple had come out to watch them depart, or if the older man was lurking somewhere on the grounds.

  Aidan settled into his seat, sweat dripping from his forehead and under his arms. He didn’t know how many more of those narrow escapes he could survive. “How could they have tracked us?” he asked. “I thought we dumped them in El Jem.”

  Liam shrugged. “They know we’re heading south,” he said. “It was likely that we’d show up somewhere along the route. We don’t know how many places they’ve staked out where they’ve missed us.”

  “We haven’t seen the girl before, have we?” Aidan asked.

  “Don’t think so. She could be a local they picked up for camouflage.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Hope we stay lucky.” Liam tugged on the brim of his ball cap.

  Aidan was staring out the window, wondering what that meant, when he saw a brown cloud on the horizon. “At least we’ll get some rain,” he said to Liam, motioning outside. “See that cloud?”

  “That’s a sandstorm,” Liam said.

  Aidan watched in fascination. One minute he was looking across the dunes, the ksar receding in the background, and the next they were engulfed in swirling sand. The driver pulled the bus over, and Belghasem said, “Sandstorm will pass quickly. Please to stay in your seats.”

  “I’m glad we’re not out in that,” Aidan said, nodding his head toward the window.

  “We may end up in one like it,” Liam said. “The desert’s a dangerous place, in more ways than one.”

  Not the kind of reassuring words Aidan needed to hear. The sound of the sand pelting against the metal of the bus was worse than any hailstorm Aidan had heard back in Philadelphia
, and he felt fine sand flying around the inside of the bus. He put his hand over his mouth to avoid breathing it in. He felt comforted, being protected inside, next to Liam.

  The storm passed, and after a short drive, they arrived at the Hotel La Gazelle in Tataouine. It wasn’t four-star, but it was less rustic than the Hotel Sidi Driss and had en-suite bathrooms. Aidan hoped the room was scorpion-free, but then again, it was still Tunisia.

  The lobby was decorated with the beautiful tiles Aidan had seen throughout the country, and he wondered if he would be able find a shop that sold them, and take a few home with him. Then he remembered that he didn’t have a home to go to.

  The desk clerk wasn’t as gay-aware as Abbas had been, and he slotted them into a room with two narrow twin beds. Aidan wasn’t going to argue the point.

  “We need to be extra careful,” Liam said as they sat down to dinner in the hotel restaurant. There was a “tourist menu,” but Liam insisted on ordering a la carte, rattling off a list of dishes in Arabic. When the waiter left, he continued. “We’re going to have to rent a taxi tomorrow to keep going south. According to the map, it’s about eighty kilometers to Remada, but I’m hoping that the taxi drivers are accustomed to Americans with a lot of cash to throw around.”

  As they ate, Aidan reconsidered his decision to accompany Liam all the way to the meeting with the Tuareg. Seeing the pharmacist’s assistant at the ksar had spooked him. Was continuing the trip a foolish idea? Was he ignoring the danger just to stay around Liam, because he was handsome and charming and great in bed?

  Liam must have known what Aidan was feeling, because he said, “You can stay with the tour if you want. Belghasem will look after you, and you’ll get back to Tunis in a couple of days. You can stay in my house behind the bar until I get back.”

  Aidan thought about everything they had been through. Was he a handicap to Liam—someone who might slow him down? Aidan didn’t think so. He’d recognized the pharmacist’s assistant. He’d had some good ideas. True, Aidan wasn’t a trained soldier. He didn’t speak Arabic, and he didn’t have Liam’s strength or grace.

  But he had proved to himself over the past few days that he could keep his head in a crisis, that he could think fast and react instinctively. And despite the danger they had gone through, he felt like he’d crammed more living into the past few days than he had in all the years he’d spent with Blake. And he felt a more powerful attraction to Liam than any he’d ever felt before.

  He didn’t want to walk away, face the chance of losing Liam, and losing this rediscovered sense of what he could do. He wanted to stay with Liam and help him. “I’d like to keep going,” he said. “As long as you feel I won’t get in the way.”

  “Aidan.” Liam looked at him. “I’m not Blake. You’re never going to be in the way when you’re around me. But it could get dangerous. We’re up against a guy who has some significant resources. We don’t know what else he’s capable of.”

  “Let’s see. He’s capable of shooting Charles Carlucci and attacking us in the souk. He’s capable of following us this far. I’d say that gives us a pretty good place to start.”

  Liam laughed. “I have never met anyone like you, Aidan. On the outside, you seem like such a lightweight—you know how to cook and arrange flowers, you look like you read The New Yorker and have your shirts custom-made. But underneath that very attractive façade there’s a smart guy with a wild heart. Why do you keep that covered up?”

  “Maybe because it’s never been valued before.” Aidan smiled. “So, on to Remada tomorrow.”

  After the meal was over, Liam ordered them each a hookah. “I haven’t used one of these since college,” Aidan said, looking at the glass pipe and its accompanying hose.

  “It isn’t intoxicating,” Liam said. “It’s a mix of tobacco and herbs. Very relaxing.”

  “I suppose we could both do with a little relaxation.”

  Others around them were smoking, and the atmosphere in the little restaurant was close and convivial. Aidan felt a pleasant sensation rising in his stomach, snaking trails through his brain. With those sensations came a heightened sense of touch, so that when Liam’s leg brushed against his, an electric jolt went right to his groin.

  He could tell from Liam’s lazy smile that he felt it, too. “Shame there are two beds in the room,” Liam said.

  “We can push them together.” Aidan stood up. “The sooner the better.”

  They raced up the stairs to their room, taking them two at a time, laughing and knocking against each other. Once inside the door Liam took Aidan’s hand and pulled him close. They kissed, without the frantic urgency they’d felt before, taking their time. Aidan explored Liam’s mouth with his tongue—the hard surface of his teeth, the slight roughness of Liam’s tongue, feeling an overwhelming desire to know everything about Liam he could.

  Liam pulled him down onto one of the single beds, lying on his back fully clothed, like a country ready to be explored. Aidan leaned over him, nibbling Liam’s full, bee-stung lips, licking his tongue along the edge of Liam’s chin. Liam looked up at him with a beatific grin.

  Aidan would be the first to admit he wasn’t the most dominant man in bed; he could reply with passion when passion was offered, but he usually preferred a strong man to set the pace. That was one of the most erotic things about Liam; he set the erotic agenda and swept Aidan along with him.

  But the hookah had changed him from master to servant; he was more relaxed than Aidan had ever seen him, the most happy, submissive bottom. The change took Aidan by surprise—but once he’d figured it out, he took it as his own challenge—to rise to the occasion, top this sexy Adonis until he drowned in the same passion Aidan felt.

  Sitting back, his legs on either side of Liam’s body, Aidan unbuttoned the bodyguard’s shirt and slipped it to the side. He cupped Liam’s pecs in his hands, weighing them, then leaned down to take the right nipple in his mouth. Liam groaned as Aidan nibbled and bit the sensitive nub. Aidan felt so strong and powerful then, knowing he had the big man totally under his control.

  He toyed with the other nipple for a while, then kissed and licked his way down Liam’s chest, taking his time. He licked the treasure trail of light brown hair that led from Liam’s pecs down to his belly button as Liam ran his hands through Aidan’s hair, petting him, eyes glazed with lust and affection.

  Feeling like he was moving in slow motion, Aidan unbuttoned Liam’s shorts and spread them open. The bodyguard wore another of the jockstraps that drove Aidan crazy, and his stiff dick angled up against the ribbed white fabric. Aidan buried his face next to Liam’s dick, licking at the edges of the pouch, his tongue snaking under the fabric to tease Liam’s sensitive groin.

  Liam thrust his hips up, trying to get his dick toward Aidan’s mouth, but Aidan ignored it, pushing down Liam’s shorts so that he could lick and kiss the big man’s thighs. “You’re killing me,” Liam groaned.

  Aidan said, nothing, just looked up and smiled. He traced one lazy finger over Liam’s hips, and the bodyguard giggled. “That tickles,” he said, squirming under Aidan. He reached up to unbutton Aidan’s shirt, but Aidan swatted his hands away. “I’m in charge here,” he said, and Liam laughed.

  “You think that’s funny?” he said, backing away. He stepped back off the bed, leaving Liam lying there half-dressed, like a lust-choked odalisque in the harem of a gay sultan. He began a slow, seductive strip-tease, undoing his shirt one button at a time, sliding it off his shoulder, then replacing it. Liam reached up toward him, but Aidan stayed where he was, swaying gently to an unheard rhythm.

  He slipped the shirt off, twirled it on one finger, then whipped it toward the empty bed. He didn’t know where this persona had come from, this sexual tease, but he loved it. He undid the top button of his shorts, let them slip a bit down on his hips, thrusting forward. His dick was so stiff it hurt, pressing against the fabric, but he held back from dropping them, rotating his hips as if he was in a nightclub, throwing his head back and clo
sing his eyes, just feeling the rhythm and the sense of anticipation.

  “Aidan,” Liam said, and it was almost a whimper. “I miss you.”

  Aidan opened his eyes and smiled. Liam had shucked down his shorts and slid away his shirt, so that he lay there nearly naked on the bed, only the white jockstrap against his golden skin. Aidan undid the last buttons holding his shorts in place, and they slipped to the floor, leaving him only in his boxers.

  The ones he’d chosen that morning had a pattern of palm trees—a design he’d always found so phallic, the stiff trunks and the cluster of coconuts just under the fronds like a dick with nuts clustered under a thatch of pubic hair. He put his hands on his hips and thrust forward a few times, then turned around, dropping his waistband and teasing Liam with glimpses of his ass and crack.

  “If you don’t get over here, I’m going to blow my load without even touching myself,” Liam warned in a throaty growl.

  Aidan turned back to him, slid his shorts to the floor, and jumped back onto the bed, attacking Liam’s throat with kisses as his stiff dick banged against Liam’s belly. He worked his way back down Liam’s chest, faster this time, pushing aside the jockstrap and teasing down the cowl of Liam’s uncircumcised dick.

  Liam whimpered, and Aidan bobbed up and down on his dick for a moment, then pulled back. “What?” Liam asked. “Why did you stop?”

  “Just messing with you,” Aidan said, grinning. He turned sideways so that his dick was at Liam’s mouth, and groaned as Liam slid his lips around the mushroom tip. Aidan felt like the fog around him had cleared as he sucked Liam’s dick, moving faster and faster as Liam worked on him, and all too quickly his guts began to boil.