by Cat Shinier
Seeing that I have this very special invitation and will be going out with a man like Shamar I am going to try and look as beautiful as possible. I put on more make-up than usual and apply kajal and eye-liner, which accentuate my dark eyes. I put some gloss on my lips, because I am not really a fan of lipstick. When I leave the bathroom, I find a beautiful dress on my bed. It is made of dark blue silk which really matches the color of my eyes. Then I spot the lingerie which perfectly matches the color of the dress. Wow, I am in awe of this stunning ensemble. So while I spent all this time in the bathroom someone has snuck up here and put out all of these stunning clothes.
I take off the robe and slip into the set of lingerie, which fits like a glove. The brassiere is covered with dark blue lace which frames my cleavages to maximum effect. The matching thong clings to the contours of my body. The next garment I put on is the dress, which I first hold up against myself to see what it looks like on me, gazing into the mirror. The color is perfect for me.
The dress is dazzling. Dark blue with a really deep cleavage in front and in back. It is fastened in the back with a sapphire-colored band that hangs down my back. I try it on carefully.
And just like the lingerie the dress fits as if it has been tailor-made, as do the matching shoes that are standing right there waiting for me to slip into. When I look at myself in the mirror I gasp at the woman I am seeing.
Is that me? I think to myself. I barely recognize the woman staring back, yet it is me, no question.
I turn around and decide to pin up my hair seeing that the glittery rhinestone clasp in the back is hidden by my hair. So up it goes. Then I pull out a few loose strands.
I have two Swarovski earrings in the shape of a sea star in my luggage that I take out and clasp to my ears. I never take very much jewelry with me when I’m traveling, and I actually do not own very much jewelry anyway.
One last look in the mirror and then I am on my way. When I reach the staircase, I see that Shamar is standing at the bottom waiting for me.
He is wearing a dark blue matching suit, and a white, starched shirt. A tie in the color of his suit makes his outfit look quite formal. He is wearing black, shiny shoes and a silver wristwatch over his wrist that seems to have a dark, shiny face. I stop and wait for a few seconds.
He is so handsome, and I know it is only a question of time before the two of us will land in bed. Shamar beams at me and walks up the stairs toward me. He takes me by my right arm and swivels me around once.
“Darling,” he whispers. He obviously likes what he sees.
“Presents from you.”
“They are so becoming on you.”
“Thank you so much. Everything is just beautiful. I don’t think I have ever worn a dress as elegant as this.”
He kisses me gently and waves of desire ripple over my back. But he pulls back immediately and licks his lips with his tongue. I detect some of my lip gloss on his lips.
“Hhmmhh – tastes like strawberries,” he smiles. “We can go, if you are ready?”
Of course, I’m ready. I feel like a princess. Someone should pinch me so that I wake up and know for sure that I am not dreaming. Shamar is so attentive. He puts his hand on my back, and the warmth of his hand immediately travels through the dress and onto my back, sending shivers down my spine again.
He walks over to the elevator with me and presses the button next to the door. While we stand there waiting, his fingers stroke my back and then my cheek. I close my eyes. When I open them again, Shamar’s dark eyes are staring at me intently.
“This evening’s going to be tough,” he says hoarsely. As if he was the only one under a spell. During our elevator ride down he has his arm around me the whole time.
We leave the elevator on one of the floors and walk along the hallway, at the end of which there is another elevator with which we continue our ride down. Shamar does not interrupt our body contact once, and when we arrive downstairs we are greeted by one of the hotel’s butlers, who leads us to something that vaguely resembles a stylish looking miniature submarine. We take a seat, and it starts out, gliding through a tunnel of blue glass, surrounded by water that is illuminated by floodlights. The floodlights attract schools of fish that swim towards us in wave-like movements, suddenly turning away when they reach the glass. Some of them swim slowly, others look downright hectic.
I am sitting right next to Shamar. He has his arm wrapped around me like before, but now I lean in against him to be able better to enjoy the spectacle that is around us. The feeling of anxiousness that overcomes me when someone is too close has disappeared completely. It is just not there. I love to feel his body next to mine. I love his fragrance, and I love to feel his breath on me. Right now, Shamar is breathing quite heavily at my proximity and he is stroking my arms.
“Darling, are you cold?” And it actually is a bit colder here in the tunnel, but seeing that Shamar exudes such heat I am far from feeling cold.
“No, I’m not cold at all. Your warmth is marvelous and quite enough for both of us.”
I could sit with him forever, but of course, I try to hide that. The tunnel swerves to the left as we arrive at the entrance of the restaurant. Shamar is the first to clamber out, and then he helps me. While Shamar is talking to the maître who is holding various lists, I am quietly amazed while I inspect the room that has little tables that are nestled into individual alcoves.
* * *
Surrounded by quiet music, the whole restaurant resembles an air bubble in a huge, surreal aquarium. We start moving again, with the maître leading the way. We pass through the restaurant and are led into a separate room.
Our table has been decorated with a gigantic bouquet of flowers. It has also been set – cutlery, glasses and plates are awaiting us. Shamar leads me to my chair and helps me sit down while he moves the chair towards the table gently. Then he sits down himself. The maître retreats and sends a waiter who starts nestling around inconspicuously.
“Shamar, this place is like a dream,” I gasp, awestruck.
He takes my hand and holds it tight.
“You’ve never been here before.” That was not a question, but a statement.
“In my world, going to an Italian restaurant for pizza is a highlight. I have never been to a place like this before. It is a completely different world than the one I live in.”
“Yes, it is a truly unusual place. But not only the surroundings. The food is pretty remarkable, too.”
“Do you think it is too soon for me to eat all of these delicacies, seeing I was so sick until just yesterday?”
“Don’t worry, Luna, we’ll select things that are light and easy.”
That calms me, as I had already been worried about what I was going to be able to eat. I sure didn’t want a repeat of what I went through. The waiter approaches our table and asks us what we would like to drink. We decide on a light sparkling mineral water with a bit of lemon.
Then the waiter hands us menus that are in Arabic and English. Some of the things listed on the menu look fantastic, even though I am not really familiar with any of them.
Shamar has absolutely no problem understanding both parts of the menu, seeing that he can speak English as well as Arabic, which must really help in an environment like this. The only thing I can understand is the prices that are listed behind the various items.
Even though they are listed in Dirham, I can figure them in dollars, and the amounts seem astronomically high to me. Well, Shamar lives in a different world than I do, and I don’t even want to know what the suite costs that he lives in.
We live in, I correct myself mentally.
I peruse the menu, but I honestly don’t know what I should choose. Shamar has been watching me and jumps in to help me.
“Do you want me to choose for both us?”
“Yes, please. Thank you,” I answer because I don’t have a clue what to select. The waiter returns to the table with our water, and Shamar doesn’t take much time telling him what to bri
ng. Actually, it consists of one sentence.
“A Taste of Al Mahara, plus wine.”
What on earth is that, I ask myself and start paging around in the menu.
* * *
Then I see it:
A Taste of Al Mahara
Amuse Bouche
Poached Tsarskaya oysters
Fried scallops
Roasted baby pumpkin filled with cream of pumpkin soup
King prawns from Alaska and Ravioli a la Foie Gras
Poached codfish in cream of coconut milk
Baba Exotic
Carmelized hazelnut desert cake
* * *
“Ahem, is this light?” I look at him because in my mind’s eye I see vast foods piled high on our table.
“Luna, you just eat what you would like to, and leave whatever you don’t.”
“It looks like a lot of food. I’m not sure I can eat that much yet.”
Shamar grins and grabs for my hand across the table. “But you’ve hardly eaten the last few days. Just wait and see, things here taste delicious and while you eat you will develop an appetite.”
And right he is. Each course is served on elegant plates that are covered with silver hoods, hiding the deliciousness within.
Two waiters, whose moves seem to be staged, lift the hoods simultaneously so that we can have a look at the delicacies, and then enjoy them. The portion sizes of the delicacies aren’t very big, yet they look exquisite. I savor the taste with my eyes closed while Shamar watches me, slightly amused.
“Do you dine here often?” I ask him. I know so little about him, and I hope that I will find out more. Shamar uses the heavy white linen napkin to dab his mouth and reaches for his glass of wine.
“So the interrogation begins?” he says, leaning back and gazing at me. The look he gives me does not betray what he is feeling. I nod my head.
“Yes, I am here on business frequently,” he answers my question.
“So that means that you live somewhere else…”
“Luna, that is not a question. Try again.” He takes another sip of wine.
“Oookaaay,” I answer and rephrase my question. “Where do you live when you are not traveling the world?”
“I have an estate near Houston, Texas.”
Sure, Matthew had told me that already. And Houston is also where the headquarters of his company is, which is also something that Raoul had mentioned in his presentation. He said that there were subsidiaries all over the world.
New York, Dallas, Paris, Dubai, Perth, Tokyo and London – and that probably does not include all of the subsidiaries, there must be a lot more.
“Are you an American citizen?”
“I was born in the United States and have US citizenship, yes. But apart from when he studied in England, my dad lived in the United Arab Emirates until he married, so I am a child of two worlds. I grew up in the United States, but my roots are Arabic.”
I use my fork to spear a piece of the delicious cheese gnocchi, but I forget to put it in my mouth.
“Don’t forget to eat, Luna,” Shamar says, so I quickly let the presumably most expensive cheese gnocchi in the world disappear in my mouth.
“Tell me more, please. Do you have sisters and brothers? Are your parents still alive?”
Despite the fact that Shamar has probably talked more than I have, he is finished with the gnocchi faster than I am.
“Both of my parents are still alive, and they don’t live very far from me. They live on the north side of Dallas where they raised three children. I have a brother and a sister, and both are younger than I am. My brother is in construction, as is my father. My brother specializes in unusual hotel construction, and when I am traveling I try and stay in one of the hotels he’s built. He is very talented in what he does. My sister is studying architecture and will probably work in our family’s business someday.”
In the meantime, I have managed to polish off my gnocchi and my stomach is beginning to feel really full.
“And so you are the black sheep, seeing that you went into the oil business. Was your dad disappointed?”
“No Luna, my parents did not try to influence us when we started considering what we wanted to do professionally. They didn’t need to influence us, everything fell into place all on its own. But my father is very grateful that all of his children went to university to get degrees. The oil business is a kind of family tradition, and so that is probably why he was not disappointed. When my father married my mother, Zoe, who is French, he automatically left the sphere of control to his brother, who is an Emir. That is when my father and mother decided to emigrate to the United States. He founded a construction business there and became very successful in a short period. But his turning away from his Saudi family was something that caused a lot of pain to him all of his life. Through me, he tried to get back to the roots of where he came from.”
The next course is being served, and an exquisite little portion of king prawns with foie gras raviolis appears under the silver hoods that are being whipped up into the air. I try a bit of both, but I am already too full to eat the whole portion. Instead, I continue my interrogation.
“Which country to you feel closer to? That is probably something that can be pretty unnerving at times, isn’t it?”
Shamar continues eating the tender meat of the king prawns and takes a sip of the white wine that the waiter has served with this course. It is a Chardonnay Vintner’s Reserve from California and while it is the perfect accompaniment to this course of the meal, I can feel myself getting tipsy, and we have not yet reached the end of our dinner by a long shot.
“I’m a child of two worlds,” he continues. “I was raised with Arabic values and Arabic customs in a world that was American. All of my friends at school were American, and that is why I consider myself to be a mixture of both cultures.” The waiter removes the plates without making a single sound. “I studied geology, just like you did. My focus was on research methods in petrology – magmatiet and metamorphes.”
That is the subject I really know a lot about. “My focus is on geologic science and current topics of petrology and analysis.”
Shamar lifts his glass for a toast.
“I know, Luna.”
Of course he knows. He saw my application. Half my life is listed in there. “Please pardon me. That was not polite. I know more about you than you do about me.” He puts his glass back down. “While I was at school I was already working as a consultant before I started my own business. I made a series of right decisions that made me very wealthy in a short period. That is how the other shares were acquired. And I have not finished yet.”
When I see his grin, I realize that he may not only be referring to his business so I decide to change the subject as fast as I can.”
“How about the other participants who were invited here with me?”
“Why?” He looks slightly alarmed.
“Well, I didn’t see any of the others around the hotel recently.”
“And are you referring to anyone specific? Like the guy you went to the bazaar with?” Abruptly he is reserved, and his face becomes hard to read. I have said the wrong thing.
“No, Shamar, I don’t miss anyone. But I am part of the group and the others have probably noticed that I am missing.”
“They were informed that you became ill. The guy you went to the bazaar with asked Raoul how you were doing. Apparently he was worried about you.”
I take another sip of the red wine that is being served with the next course. I was surprised that none of the others asked about me. But now that question seems to have been solved.
“And so how do you continue from here? Do I join the rest of the group again?”
Shamar takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “No, you won’t be returning to join the others. The event ended today. It was only supposed to last three days. Raoul and I conducted the last interviews today.”
Now they are serving Baba Exotic, but I have a hard
time enjoying the fruit and the color composition.
“Hold on Shamar. I thought the invitation I received said that this would be lasting one whole week and could be extended by a second week, if necessary.”
Shamar nods his head and reaches for one of the delicious looking pieces of fruit. “Yes, that is correct. That is what your invitation read. The others were only invited for three days.”
I exhale the breath I have been holding while he talked.
“Then you not only planned my attendance, you planned everything else, too?”
“Yes, that is correct. Luna, don’t forget to eat.” Quickly I push a piece of fruit into my mouth.
“How did you know that I would stay, and we would get to know one another?”
And momentarily his boyish grin returns.
“I did not worry about that. I would have thought of something. But when you opened the door, and I realized you were sick, everything fell into place, and I made my plans from there.”
“Shame on you Shamar,” I say quietly. But I smile, which takes away from the acrimoniousness of my words.
Shamar takes me by the hand. He toys around with my fingers and looks at me. I am submerged by his eyes and am barely able to swallow.
“Fate is being kind to us.” He strokes my hand and continues: “Let’s make the best of it.”
“Yes,” I answer gently.
Chapter Eight
Without speaking, we decide to skip the last course. Shamar gets up and walks around to my side of the table. Then he helps me get up in an old-fashioned and gentlemanly way. We leave the room. Shamar has his hand on my back, seemingly signaling a claim of ownership. We do not exchange a single word during our return to the hotel and his suite.
Kissing and other physical displays of affections are looked down upon in Arabic countries, and that is why I am not surprised that he is so reserved in public. Finally, we have arrived at our elevator. After the doors have closed behind us and the elevator picks up speed, Shamar turns the black switch on the panel to the left. The elevator stops immediately.
