Operation Burlesque BBW Romance

by Michelle Fox

  At my appearance, a warm smile appeared on Blake’s face. “Ferrid, this is my assistant, Ruby Smith.”

  I opened my mouth to correct my last name, but quickly shut it when I caught the warning look on Blake’s face. Recalling his team had called Ferrid obsessive, I decided it was a good idea to make it harder to find me after this leg of my Moroccan kidnapping tour was over. “Hello,” I said, looking the man directly in the eye in an attempt to show I had nothing to hide.

  Ferrid’s eyes were amazing. The color of chocolate with flecks of honey gold, they were framed with thick sable lashes that gave him a dreamy look.

  The tall man took my hand and lifted it to his lips, his thumb caressing my knuckles in a too-intimate touch. “Welcome to the Sahara. Do you like it?”

  Heat flushed my cheeks as he stared at me, his eyes bold. “Thank you. Yes, it’s beautiful.”

  Ferrid smiled, pleased at my answer. “You make it even more so.”

  My blush burned even hotter. He held my hand longer than was appropriate I froze, unsure of how to handle it. Should I pull away? Would that be rude?

  I was saved by Nassim who bustled into the tent carrying a tray with a tea pot and cups. At his appearance, Ferrid finally released me.

  “Let’s sit, shall we?” Blake gestured to the plump cushions set on the floor.

  Ferrid sank to the floor in a fluid motion while I just tried not to fall over and disgrace myself. He’d probably been sitting on the floor all his life, but I was more accustomed to chairs.

  Nassim poured the tea and we all drank. I listened as Ferrid and Blake made small talk. They didn’t seem to know each other that well. At least from what I could tell. I couldn’t actually understand them because they spoke in what sounded like a strange mix of French and Arabic, but they paused a lot and their laughter was strained. After the traditional three cups of tea, Ferrid stood with a little bow.

  Switching to English again, he said, “Thank you for the tea. I must take my leave now. I look forward to your performance Mr. Cannon. You have a reputation for innovative magic. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.” His gaze then focused on me. “Ruby, you are a jewel of beauty. My heart is lighter for having met you.”

  Stunned at the depth of his words, I flushed. “Th-thank you, Ferrid. It was nice to meet you.”

  Ferrid lifted an eyebrow. “Only the innocent can blush and yet you say she is your assistant, Mr. Cannon? How unusual.”

  He didn’t wait for a response, but swept out of the tent after that.

  “What an interesting man,” I said. “Who is he?”

  “He’s the competition organizer...among other things.” Blake’s expression was sour. “And no matter how he bats his pretty eyes at you, don’t be fooled, Ruby. He’s nice as a sharp knife across your throat.”

  I frowned and began to collect the tea cups to make the clean-up easier for Nassim. The old man had seemed to have a hard time bending down to serve the tea. “Are you serious?”

  Blake nodded. “Dead serious.”

  “So what did Ferrid want?” I asked, curious to know what they’d discussed.

  “It was a meet and greet. He was checking us out.” Blake helped me gather up the remaining tea cups.

  “He’d heard about you. That’s good, right?”

  Blake shrugged. “Yeah, but it was you he wanted to see. He has a thing for curvy girls.”

  I nodded. “I noticed.” And I’d overheard as much back at the Riad.

  “Just remember, he’s not a friend, okay?”

  “Got it,” I said putting the last of the tea service on the tray.

  Blake helped me lift the tray, catching a cup that threatened to topple off. “All right. I’ve got to go talk to my team. You all right alone?”

  “Sure. I wondered if I could go for a walk, though.” After so much time in a plane and then a car, I ached to stretch my legs. Also, I feared I had reached the point of being over tired. I didn’t think I could sleep just then. Besides, I wanted to see this fantasy city in the middle of the desert for myself. I needed to do something besides navigate lies, deceit and danger for once.

  “We don’t have to worry about Frankie here, but you can’t go alone.” Blake called out for Nassim.

  The man quickly stepped into the tent as if he’d been standing on the other side of the flap just waiting for someone to call his name. He took the tea tray from me with an expression of disapproval, as if he didn’t like that we’d cleaned up. “Oui Monsieur?”

  They spoke in French and at the end Blake said to me, “Nassim will arrange for an escort.”

  I beamed. “Thanks.”

  “Just be careful. Don’t talk to people. Don’t tell anyone anything.”

  I gave him a little salute. “Yes, sir. Mum’s the word.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  My escort turned out to be a charming teenage girl who shyly told me her name was Amiyah. She was Nassim’s eldest daughter and wore the black robe and veil of a devote Muslim, keeping her face covered except for her eyes. She also spoke excellent English.

  When I asked her how she learned English, she explained in a soft, but earnest voice, “I have studied English all my life. My dream is to attend university in America.”

  “You’re English is perfect,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll do well in the United States.”

  She ducked her head at my praise. “My father does not want me to go.”

  My father had died when I was twelve, but I remembered well how over protective he was, especially once I grew breasts. I smiled at Amiyah. “No father wants his baby girl to grow up. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll realize it’s a great opportunity for you.”

  “I hope you are right, ma’am.” She swept her arm toward the entrance to our tent. “Shall I give you a tour of the city?”

  I winced at the use of ma’am but let it pass. “Yes, please.”

  My purse tucked under my arm, we took off to explore the tent city. The first thing I noticed was how cool it was. The air had the chill of fall in New York, not the smoldering heat I’d expected to find in the Sahara desert.

  I rubbed my arms as we walked, trying to soothe the goose bumps prickling across my skin. “I thought this was supposed to be a desert.”

  Amiyah laughed. “It gets cold at night still, ma’am.”

  Imagining a night full of ma’am this and ma’am that, I said, “Please call me Ruby. Ma’am makes me feel like I’m too old to live.”

  “Yes, Ruby.” She tugged on my arm. “Here, go this way. There’s a souk and you can buy a shawl.”

  “Souk?” I asked unfamiliar with the word.

  Amiyah thought for a moment, trying to think of the correct English translation. “Market. A place to shop, yes?”

  “Oh that would be awesome.” I grinned and put a hand in my purse to touch the cash Frankie had given me. I had money, there were things to buy and some retail therapy after the last few days sounded grand to me.

  The souk consisted of tightly packed stalls filled with not just goods, but the smell of strange spices. Middle Eastern music played in the background and the sound of several different languages make my head spin. While I could pick out some of the French words--merci, bon soir, bien-- I couldn’t really understand much of anything.

  “I never expected to hear so much French,” I told Amiyah. “I thought it would be all Arabic.”

  “Morocco is a country of the world,” she said with pride. “We speak many languages here. French, English, Arabic.” She waved a hand, loosely pointing at a cluster of men wearing long robes. “The nomad dialects.”

  They looked our way and I lifted my hand in a friendly wave. Amiyah quickly batted my hand back down.

  “Women here do not talk to men, Ruby. It is asking for trouble.” She locked elbows with me and neatly side-stepped down another section of the souk, leaving the men behind.

  I flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

  She patted my forearm. “Do not worry. I know it
is different in America, but here you do not seek out men you do not know.”

  I nodded. “Noted. Thanks.”

  “Here, this way.” Amiyah led me to a stall featuring an assortment of jeweler. “This is a good place. They don’t cheat.” She exchanged a greeting with the stall owner as I looked over the items for sale. Gold gleamed and silver shone bright as the moon. After picking up several pieces, marveling at their intricate delicacy, I settled on a silver bracelet.

  Amiyah did all the bargaining, speaking with emphatic authority for a girl her age. The vendor tried to counter her offers, but she shouted him down. Amiyah, I decided, was a force to reckoned with. When she closed the deal, I handed the money over to the now sour faced vendor.

  After the bracelet, we moved on to a stall with leather goods were I bought a wallet. Both items were traditional crafts of Morocco according to Amiyah. I then bought a warm shawl and, with Amiyah’s advice, a few scarves in different colors.

  “This way you can cover yourself if you need to.” She took one of the scarves and wrapped it around my head.

  “But I’m not Muslim, Amiyah. Why would I need to cover myself?” Goodness, what would she think if she knew I was going to take my clothes off as part of Blake’s act? That led me to wonder if any women would be in the audience at all. How did performances like mine work in a Muslim country? I guessed I would find out tomorrow.

  “If you visit a mosque you will need it and,” she leaned in and lowered her voice, “there are some men who will not accept Western women. It is good to be prepared.”

  “All right. If you say so.” I doubted I would have time for any real sightseeing. At this rate, if I ended up in a mosque, it would probably be at gun point. The souk was likely the most I could expect from my visit to Morocco. Things would only get more dangerous from here; we were in Ferrid’s sights now and Frankie still waited for us.

  Amiyah haggled a good price for the scarves and I handed over a twenty dollar bill. The vendor smiled broadly at the sight of American money.

  “Why is he so happy?” I asked Amiyah. The guy at the airport coffee place had been just as excited about my money.

  She shrugged. “The US dollar is worth more than our money. He can hold it until the exchange rate goes up and make even more money than what you paid.”

  “Oh.” Well that made sense. Spotting a food stall, my stomach clenched wanting to be fed. “Is it safe to eat the food here?”

  “Yes, of course.” Amiyah took me to a kebob stall and we feasted on spiced lamb as we strolled through the souk.

  There was an absolute crush of people in the souk now, jostling us from side to side. After someone elbowed me in the shoulder, I said, “Isn’t it late at night for so many people to go shopping?”

  Amiyah shook her head. “The desert is too hot during the day, so people do their shopping after the sun goes down.”

  I frowned, puzzled. “But it’s past midnight.”

  Amiyah just shrugged as she led me around a large group of Bedouins who seemed unable to decide which direction they wanted to go first. “Competition hours.”

  “Oh, so it’s not like this everywhere.” I finished my kebob and dropped the wooden skewer in a nearby garbage can.

  “No. The souks here are open later.” Amiyah finished hers as well and tossed her skewer into the garbage after mine. “It’s like a holiday.”

  The succulent meat warming my stomach, I said, “Well, if it’s a holiday we should celebrate. Let’s go on the Ferris wheel.”

  Amiyah’s dark eyes crinkled as she smiled behind her veil. “That is my favorite thing to do here.” She slipped her small hand in mine, and together we ran toward the ride.

  As I’d suspected, there wasn’t much of a view. The desert spread out under our feet, dark as an inkblot, but the sky above was lit up as if all the planets in the galaxy had set off fireworks at the same time.

  “So beautiful,” I breathed, resolving to try and catch a sunrise or sunset from the Ferris wheel if I had the chance. I wanted to see the sands of the Sahara from up high.

  Amiyah nodded. “The stars look like diamonds. I always try to grab one.” She reached up with one hand and it did look like she could almost touch the stars. I put up a hand too and we giggled as we pretended to pluck stars from the sky.

  After the ride, weariness hit me along with the return to gravity. “I think I’m ready to go back. It’s been a long day.”

  Amiyah hooked her elbow with mine again and guided me toward our tent. I was grateful for her navigation because all the tents and roads looked the same to me. I had no idea how to get back to our temporary home.

  We’d only been walking for a few minutes when a group of burly men stopped us.

  “Ruby Smith?” one of them asked. My name sounded exotic courtesy of their thick accent.

  “Yes.” I stopped short and tugged Amiyah back a few steps. She seemed unconcerned, so perhaps she knew these men, but I was suspicious. Lately all the men I’d met had been trouble.

  “Ferrid Abdul would speak to you.”

  Ferrid? What did he want with me? Nothing good, said a small voice in the back of my mind. I took a step back, increasing the distance between me and the men.“But I just saw him.”

  The men shrugged and advanced on us, spreading out to better block any attempt at escape. Awesome. I could see it now, I was going to be the James Bond girl who got herself tragically killed.

  Amiyah frowned and looked at me, worried. “My father forbids me to go to his tent.”

  “I don’t think it’s an invitation,” I said quietly. “It’s a command. Do me a favor, go back to our tent and tell your father and Blake what happened.”

  She nodded and whirled around to run away from the latest trouble that had found me. A few of the men made to chase after her, but I raised my hands. “She’s a servant girl, nothing more. She has no business with this.”

  They relaxed a bit.

  I smiled brightly, putting bravado on like war paint. “So where is Ferrid Abdul’s tent?” I wanted to run, but I wasn’t stupid. I was a woman in a country dominated by men. Not only that, I was in the middle of the fucking Sahara desert. Exactly where was I going to run to? Nowhere fast. So I played along and counted on Blake to save me.

  The men didn’t answer me, but circled round and herded me away from the souk to a quiet, dark section of the tent city. Ferrid’s tent was on the outskirts of the camp and easily three times as big as any of the others. Potted palm trees stood in front of the main entrance, and, somehow, a fountain had been installed, gurgling as it rained water down into a little pool. I glanced at it as we passed by and was surprised to see koi fish swimming in languid circles.

  The interior of the tent was similar to the one Blake had been given. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling while ornate oriental rugs covered the ground underfoot. There were divans and pillows as well, but I was not allowed to linger. The men hustled me deeper into the tent, back into a shadowed room.

  “Sit,” one of the guys said gruffly.

  I obediently settled into the first cushion I found, wondering what strange turn events would take now.

  I didn’t have to wait long. Ferrid ducked into the room a moment later followed by a servant carrying a tray of steaming tea service. We waited in silence while the servant poured the tea, speaking only when he left.

  “Ruby,” Ferrid said, my name rolling off his tongue like poetry.

  “Ferrid.” I kept my voice cool even though my heart beat so hard, I could feel it hitting my ribs. “Why the surprise kidnapping?”

  “You were not kidnapped.” A hint of stiffness crept into his voice.

  I gave him a skeptical look. “Like your men would’ve let me walk away.”

  “If they were rude I apologize.” He made a point of gulping his tea and I realized I was breaking custom by not drinking mine. I raised the cup to my lips and sipped it, grimacing at the scalding bitterness inside.

  “I wanted to talk
to you, Ruby. Alone.”

  “So talk.” I set my cup aside.

  He fell silent for a moment, staring at my cup. “How well do you know Blake?”

  “Well enough to work for him, why?” I knew I should drink more tea, but I didn’t have the stomach for it just then. Ferrid would just have to cut me some slack. I was a foreigner after all.

  The slender man leaned forward, his eyes intent.“Are you close on a more personal level?”

  I frowned. What was he getting at? Why did everyone seem to care if I had sex with the guy? “That’s none of your business,” I said sharply.

  He gave a small, unhappy smile. “I’m sorry to hear that. I had hoped for something different for you and I.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I started to climb to my feet, intent on bowing out of our little meeting.

  Before I could even get my feet under me, Ferrid snapped his fingers and rough hands grabbed me from behind. Ferrid spun his finger in the air. “Wrap her up and put her in the Jeep.”

  I fought the hands holding me and screamed until Ferrid slapped me in the face with a sigh of exasperation. “Screaming will not save you, Miss Smith. I’m afraid nothing can.” His eyes studied me, searching my face.

  “I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m here to work. Why are you doing this to me?” I couldn’t keep fear from filling my voice as I spoke. Pain rang through my cheek, the hands on my elbows were rough enough to bruise and once again I was in trouble.

  “Unfortunately, Miss Smith, you are too close to Blake for me to let you live. Innocent women don’t tell me to mind my own business.” He smiled, but the expression was sad. “I had hoped to spare you this fate. You are beautiful.” Ferried touched my cheek with a finger. “We could have had something, but you are a risk I cannot take. I am not a man who can put his heart first.”

  He switched to Arabic, barking out orders. My hands were tied behind me, my feet bound with rope after which I was dumped onto a large rug and rolled inside. I screamed and kicked but the carpet was as effective as a strait jacket. It also muffled my voice.

  I was carried for several long minutes and then dropped onto a hard floor that hurt even through the carpet. A door slammed shut and I was alone. I survived the dark, sweaty prison I’d been stuffed into by getting angry. Really angry. I’d been mauled and hauled for the last time. From here on out I was going to kick men in the balls first and ask questions later. No more snatch and grab.