by Andres Mann
“I am more on the search and rescue side.” Tess declined to elaborate.
The food arrived, and the trio engaged in a casual conversation about Paris and its many pleasures. Fadime knew the city very well. “I like to come here often. Hotel Plaza Athénée is surrounded by Paris’s most exclusive designer shops on Avenue Montaigne. You can go to Christian Dior, Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Prada, Céline, Valentino, and Hermès. This location is also close to Rue Faubourg Saint-Honoré and several Paris museums and galleries including the Louvre, the Musée d’Orsay, the Grand Palais and the Eiffel Tower. I just love it.”
‘This woman has no clue that there are real people out there,’ Tess thought.
Eventually, Fadime suggested that the ladies should freshen up their makeup.
Seating on beautiful upholstered chairs in the splendid ladies’ lounge, Fadime lit a cigarette. “I am impressed with you, Tess. Usually, Amir’s women are very interested in beautiful things; acquisitive I suppose.”
“Fadime, I am not one of Amir’s women. I am a friend that will help Aara, the little girl, find a permanent home.”
“I apologize. Amir did not explain your relationship very well. I just assumed that there was a romantic vibe between the two of you. Many of his conquests look the same: tall, thin and blonde.”
Tess bristled. “Well, I am not one of those women. I am a soldier.”
Fadime continued as if Tess said nothing. “Turkish men adore foreign girls, even today. It must be in their genes. The Ottoman sultans always had foreign women. They took beautiful girls as slaves from the lands the Ottomans conquered, which at the time was practically half of the world. The prettiest and smartest of these girls ended up in the Ottoman Palace and became concubines and mothers to Sultans.”
Tess tried not to look annoyed. “As I said, I am here solely for the little girl. I will leave when arrangements are made.”
Fadime smiled. “A pity, Tess; Amir could use a strong woman that is more than a delicate little flower with dollar signs in her eyes.” A moment of silence. “No matter. I have arranged a lovely afternoon for you. Let’s go shopping.”
The women rejoined Amir at the table. After enjoying a little dessert, they walked to the Avenue Montaigne and started to visit some of the renowned purveyors of couture for the very wealthy.
Fadime had arranged for private showings. The models strutted with their familiar gait and presented several outfits for consideration. The process was repeated at the next couturier. Tess refused to select a single dress.
Amir and Fadime became annoyed. “Tess, if you don’t like what you see, we can visit other establishments.”
“I sincerely thank you for doing this for me, but I can’t accept.”
Fadime finally conceded that Tess was not going to budge, so she tried another approach. “Tess, just do us one favor. That horrible watch that you are wearing must go. Let us go to back to Dior and see what we can find.”
Tess bristled. “This is a fine aviator watch provided by the Army.”
“I am sure that it fine for its intended purpose, but while you are with us, you should wear something prettier.”
Tess gave up, concluding that Amir and Fadime would not take no for an answer. “Fine, let’s find a watch.”
“Splendid,” was the relieved response.
The car took them to Dior, where the distinguished visitors were unsurprisingly welcomed like old friends. The jeweler displayed literally hundreds of watches, but Tess made a quick decision: a stunning piece with a golden fan that seemed to open on the top part of the face of the watch. Art Deco at its finest: a passion she discovered in her trips to New York, Paris and Barcelona. For the first time, she found herself wanting an object that was not utilitarian by any sense of the word. It was a work of art.
Before she could come to her senses, the purchase was made and the watch was put in its box. Thus relieved, the group went back to the hotel to prepare for dinner before a night at the Paris Opera.
Back in her room, Tess again felt a sense of claustrophobia. She was not allowed to have any say on anything. Everything was programmed, with no room for flexibility. She poured herself a glass of scotch and brought it with her while she soaked in the bath. She was acquiring a bad habit. Generally, she hardly drank liquor. The last three days, she was concerned that she was turning into a lush.
At dinner, Tess wore the stunning watch and an even more spectacular sleek body hugging gown chosen by Fadime and delivered by a Dior attendant. Amir and Fadime complimented her on her splendid looks. Tess could not deny that she loved the watch, but the gown was something she could not even comprehend. She chose not to think about how much it cost.
The limo dropped the three of them in front of the Paris Opera.
The impressive old building, also called Palais Garnier, defined elegance with the beautifully decorated Grand Foyer, Rotunda, and salons. Marc Chagall had painted the ceiling in the Italian-style auditorium. The place accommodated over two thousand spectators.
Tess appreciated opera, a love nurtured by her mother. She was particularly fond of Puccini and his masterpieces: La Boehme, Tosca, Madame Butterfly, Turandot and Manon Lescaut. Tonight, the program consisted of Saint-Saens’ Samson and Delilah, which she had never heard before.
Amir, Fadime, and Tess took their seats in a private box. ‘Of course, it would not do to mix with the masses.’ Tess thought.
Much to her delight, the music, and the singers were superb. Saint-Saens portrayed Samson not as a hero as told in the Bible, but a practical leader. He succumbs to the promise of love from a deceitful woman. The soprano in the role of Delilah masterfully portrayed her as a manipulative, conniving, ruthless woman bent on revenge. The music was glorious.
Back at the hotel, the trio retreated to the lounge for drinks. Tess participated in the casual conversation and discussion on the performance. Her mind was on something else, however. She was slowly being pulled toward an appreciation of a life of luxury, and she was trying to resist. ‘This is not who I am,’ she kept telling herself. I am a helicopter pilot who was raised as a man. I don’t even own a dress. I never cared for money. I have no use for this conspicuous display of wealth and privilege.”
And yet, she conceded that she was becoming inexorably drawn toward a lifestyle full of privilege and enjoyment of the best of material things. The downside was the potential danger of losing her identity, of eventually becoming someone she would not like at all.
She excused herself, claiming fatigue and went back to her room. She undressed, put on a nightgown and started to repeat a new routine. Drinking in the dark, struggling to understand what was changing in her psyche and body. She felt again a strong need to be held and touched, not just to satisfy a desire, but to create something beautiful and long lasting. Fadime’s dark eyes kept reminding her of Aara.
She was too unsettled to go to sleep. She put on a pair of shorts and T-shirt and decided to take a run around town.
She rapidly walked through the Hotel’s lobby and hit the Paris streets. She never jogged, but ran at a fast pace and this time was no exception. Rapidly, she made her way to the Arc de Triomphe. She hardly noticed the lights projected on the iconic monument. She proceeded up the steps to the Trocadero, site of the Palais de Chaillot. From any open balcony, one could get a splendid view of the gardens and the Eiffel tower.
She stopped to catch her breath when two men, dressed in black, saw her as an easy mark. One of them had a knife in his hand. Menacingly, they told her in French not to resist. Tess was not in a mood for such annoyances, but she smiled at them. The men accosted her, smirking. Tess kicked the first in the groin. The man fell and did not scream due to the intense pain that practically paralyzed him. The second man ran toward her with fury, only to be treated to Tess’s trademark pirouette, at the end of which she planted a kick to his head. The man joined his friend on the ground.
Tess was not done. She kicked both men off the pavement and grabbed them by the scru
ff of the neck like two puppies. She hustled them along and administered assorted corrective kicks and punches when they tried to resist, finally hurling them through the door of the Gendarmerie. The policeman on duty was reading the evening newspaper and looked up, clearly annoyed about the disturbance. Tess kicked one of the men again since he was trying to avoid an inconvenient dialog with the local authorities. In perfect French, she declared that she wanted to press charges for assault. The desk sergeant witnessed the unusual scene of two notorious perpetrators cowering from an angry female. Gendarmes dragged the men away and Tess spent the necessary time to file a formal complaint.
She then hit the streets again, completed her run as planned, and headed back to the hotel. Rain started, and rather than complaining, Tess enjoyed the refreshing downpour until she reached the hotel, treating the plush establishment to the unusual sight of a dripping water rat on the way to the elevators. The few people in the lobby feasted their eyes on the pleasant sight of a gorgeous woman in skimpy wet clothes. The staff immediately brought her a towel, which she gratefully accepted.
After a shower, Tess downed a brandy and went to bed, refreshed and pleased with the exercise and what she called a little bit of ‘street cleaning’.
She tossed and turned. She dreamt of babies with soft, fair skin and big black eyes. More children appeared — big blue eyes and green. The kids were surrounded by puppies, a group of magnificent Cavalier King Charles Spaniel puppies. All were happy, wanting to be picked up and held in her arms. She sat on the floor in their midst, picking them up, smelling their scent. She felt the warmth and innate joy of holding puppies, bouncing them on her lap, making the children giggle and the pups lick her face.
She woke up, soaked in sweat. Her pelvis was pulsating inside. She was no longer the Tess that she used to know.
Chapter 23
Brotherly Love
Fadime and Amir ordered more drinks. It was obvious that Amir needed to talk. His sister was fifteen years younger, but she was close to him and often served as his confidante.
“Amir, something strange is going on. You say that you haven’t slept with the girl. That’s very unusual for you.”
“Yes, I want Tess, but not in the way you think. She is different and as you observed, she is also stubborn and difficult. She does not act like other women. She is obsessive, impervious to flattery and she does not care about money or luxuries. She really is a soldier and as tough as they come. You don’t want to be near her when she reverts to her warrior ways.”
“That’s interesting,” Fadime smiled. “What do you mean by that?”
“Back at the house in Iraq, she practically flew into the air and kicked me close to my temple. I passed out and had a headache for days.”
Fadime laughed. “Do tell me more. It sounds like she resisted your advances. Amir, you are losing your touch.”
“I have never failed to seduce the women I wanted. Once I possess them, I make them delirious with pleasure. It never fails.”
“And yet this time it looks like you can’t, as the Americans say, get to first base with Tess. Amir, I thought that our father had made sure that you were properly schooled in the arts of love.”
Amir was annoyed. “How do you know that?”
“It’s not a secret that when you reached seventeen, father had several of his favorite courtesans in Istanbul educate you in the amatory arts. You were gone for a month as a boy, and you returned a man. I wish that I could have benefited from such an experience myself.”
“Fadime, you are a woman and a Muslim. It’s unthinkable and deplorable to have such thoughts. Soon you will marry an important man, and he will expect you to be a virgin.”
“How boring,” she responded.
“Fadime, you know that I have always endeavored to meet your needs in such a way that you would not be compromised.”
Fadime light a cigarette. “Well, my future husband, whoever he is, will be disappointed. I have lovers, and I cherish most of them. I refuse to live in the past.”
Amir could not believe his ears. “You must be out of your mind!”
“I am quite sane and a modern woman.”
“We will talk more about that at an appropriate time.”
Fadime continued: “You may want to consider that your problems with Tess have a lot to do with your living in the past.”
“I need her. And all I have to do is to make love to her; she will be overcome with ecstasy like my other women have been, and she will be begging for more.”
“It’s not going to work this time because you love her. That changes everything.”
Amir felt like he was hit with a sledgehammer. “No. It can’t be! It can’t be!”
“Yes, it can be, Amir. You know it is true, and being in love eliminates all of the weapons in your arsenal. If you want Tess, you have to look at her as a living, breathing and thinking person that demands to be treated as an equal.”
Amir silently looked at his drink. “You are right, Fadime. I am in love for the first time in my life, and I am lost. I am terrified that she will walk away from me. I need her!”
“That’s better, Amir. You said that you need her rather than want her. You are finally acting like a grown man. What you do next will bring about either heaven or hell.”
They finally retired to their own rooms. Fadime kissed Amir good night at her door.
She put on a short nightgown and lay down in bed, feeling the effects of far too much liquor, but couldn’t sleep. The thought that Amir would soon possess Tess aroused her. She would have loved to witness him make exquisite love to her.
Slowly, she moved her hand between her legs and gently spread the soft petals. She felt the moisture. She lightly began to knead her flesh, wishing that a lover would come to her and inhabit her body.
Amir entered her room from a door connecting their suites. He dropped a damask robe to reveal his muscular naked body. Fadime, without a word, spread her legs as Amir climbed on the bed. He kneeled in front of her, bending forward. He exhaled a breath between her open thighs. His sister moaned and grasped his head, begging him to provide a release for her craving.
She felt light, feathery touches of his tongue on her most intimate self. She moaned with delight and urged Amir to increase pressure. He started to move his tongue in her. She quivered when he licked her sensitive little nub; so blissful, irresistibly delightful, so exquisite. She was dissolving into ecstasy.
Amir raised his head, put his mouth on one breast, then the other, his fingers now manipulating between the legs. “Do you feel the pleasure, Fadime? Do you feel it?”
“More,” she begged him hungrily.
He flicked his tongue back and forth against her little jewel, stirring her hot, sweet wetness to a climax. Fadime convulsed a final time and cried out. Raising his head from between her quivering thighs, he hungrily gave her a deep kiss, plunging his tongue, still wet with her juices, into her mouth. His hard body covering her soft one, he marveled at the beauty of her body. Not daring to remain atop her lest he lost control, Amir rolled to one side. “There, my sister, was that what you wanted? Did you like it?” Fadime opened her eyes and looked at him. “Yes,” she said softly. “I liked it very much, Amir. But I wish you could visit me inside.” They kissed once more.
Amir and Fadime were long time lovers. She was very much like him; intensely sensual, craving the pleasures that only the men in their society were allowed to partake. Amir had started to make love to her without penetration to keep her away from men whose admiration would likely lead to her loss of virginity before marriage. He hoped that his ministrations would be enough to sate her until she married, still a virgin. He succeeded in preserving his sister’s honor for years until he could not be with her due to his military commitments. Now she had lovers, and he blamed himself for not being available to her.
Fadime had recovered from her orgasms and took Amir’s swollen shaft in her mouth. How she craved having him inside her, but it could never ha
ppen. She used her expert tongue to give her brother release.
Chapter 24
A House in the Country
Amir, Tess, and Fadime met for breakfast. He announced that they were going to fly to London and go to the manor house one hour outside the city. Tess inquired about Aara.
“Aara is already there with her nurse,” Amir said matter of fact.
The boarded the plane later in the morning and arrived in London where a black Mercedes S600 Maybach met them on the tarmac. They swiftly proceeded to the Surrey countryside until they reached Guildford. The car drove through High Street, paved with granite setts often referred to as cobbles.
Surprisingly, the town was lined with expensive stores. No roughing it here.
They passed by the relatively small Guildford Castle and the town’s indoor swimming pools. The helpful driver acted as a guide, explaining that Guildford has an Olympic size Lido, built in the 1930s, which is open for public swimming or corporate entertainment.
They finally arrived at the manor house owned by Amir’s family for over a century.
As usual, the house staff was lined up at the main entrance to welcome the Master. Tess recalled that Amir was very fond of English lordly mores.
Tess left the car, only to see Aara running toward her. The child practically flew into her arms, giggling. “Miss Tess, you are here!”
Tess hugged the child, who as usual refused to be put down. Tess did not mind and followed Fadime, who showed off the house. There was a classic reception hall with a finely carved staircase, three reception rooms, a kitchen and breakfast room, a conservatory, twelve bedrooms and eight bathrooms. Fadime added that Amir had managed to buy the property next door. It had a cottage, outbuildings and a splendid 17th-century Flemish brick barn, all part of the original manor. The barn sheltered six riding horses.
Tess was more interested in nuzzling the agitated child with the incredible eyes.
She was shown to her own suite, predictably splendid. Her clothes were already hung in closets and fruit on a platter provided a refreshing snack.
