The Last Harem

by George P. Saunders

  By Tina's telling, it seemed all very straightforward.

  And, in fact, it was.

  I spoke to a few of the girls who had "been with the Prince." None of them had any complaints. The prince, according to one and all, was a gentleman. A lonely man, by all accounts, despite his wealth, but appreciative of great beauty – and of sincere affection and kindness.

  In a way, I wanted to meet Prince Jefri. If only to discover what kind of character he really was. Of course, I had no interest in having sex with him. But I was curious as to the man himself.

  My wish was to be shortly realized.

  And with the most unexpected consequences.

  ***

  Kayla had been gone for two days. I missed her terribly. While I spoke with the other girls routinely at the parties, I had yet to really bond with anyone, save Tina, who was my roommate, and Sue, who remained fascinated with my cleavage. My other roommate was a very quiet girl named Patty. Patty disliked me right from the beginning. To this day, I don't know why. In a strange way, because I knew I threatened her, I felt sorry for her. She was also, quite frankly, as dumb as the proverbial dove.

  I suspect her antipathy toward me was also because she was afraid that one day, Prince Jefri would ask to sleep with me, and not her.

  So, on my thirty-second day in Brunei, I had no close friends. I sang nightly at the parties, and continued with my routine by day. But I connected with no one.

  On that thirty-second night, Mr. Jan came over to the table where I was sitting during the party, and smiled.

  "Ms. Dorian, may I have a word with you?" he said.

  I smiled and nodded. But inside, my heart began to gallop. Was this going to be the preamble to "the call" made by the Prince? Had my day finally arrived?

  I followed Mr. Jan over to the bar, where he sat me down and leaned over to whisper into my ear.

  "Robin would very much appreciate the pleasure of your company at tea tomorrow morning," he said. "That is, if your schedule permits."

  The words were exactly as Tina had described them to me just before her initial encounter with the Prince.

  I felt instantaneous panic. This was it. I was momentarily amazed by what came out of my mouth next:

  "Please tell the Pr–, er, Robin, that I would be delighted to join him for tea."

  Mr. Jan made a slight bow. "Shall we say, 10 a.m.?"

  "That would be fine," I said.

  Shit, this was the moment of truth. You don't get invited to tea with the prince, and not expect a sexual demand. You don't put on a condom unless you're gonna fuck, right?

  Mr. Jan turned and departed my company without another word. I watched him go outside the party room and simply nodded to the Prince, who was alone that night, at the base of the stairs.

  He turned to me, made a slight bow, then went up the stairs.

  My legs were like water. I excused myself from the party room for a moment, and went to the bathroom, where I promptly vomited from nervousness. When I returned, I declined a glass of champagne from the little Thai waitress.

  "Tequila," I said. "A double."

  She smiled benignly and pattered off to get my order.

  Tina came up to me, again kissed me on the lips, and put her hand on my knee.

  "You're up, kiddo," she said with a giggle. "Tomorrow, right?"

  I smiled anxiously and just nodded.

  Tina did not talk further. She continued to rub my knee, and at one point, she took my hand in hers, and just held it. For a moment, I felt that I was twenty years old, not Tina; she seemed the older, more experienced woman, providing comfort to the young nervous thing about to meet one of the richest men in the world.

  For the remainder of the night, I nursed Tequilas and watched HBO Asia.

  It was the one and only night I did not sing.

  It was, in fact, the one and only night I did not sleep a wink during my entire stay in Brunei.

  ***

  At 9:45 a.m. the following morning, Mr. Jan arrived. I was already dressed in a modest summer dress, with the hem just above the knee. I wore flats and put my hair back in a pony-tail. I put on very little makeup. When Mr. Jan met me in the lobby of our house, he regarded my appearance with approval.

  "You look radiant, Ms. Dorian," he said simply, then held the front door open for me.

  It was a ten minute walk from the house to the palace gardens. It was my first time in the inner sanctum of the palace, and it is like no other place on Earth. The flowers that lined the perimeter of the palace, and grew in the huge gardens were the most beautiful I'd ever seen. Most were orchids, the others I did not recognize. Peacocks chortled and walked freely along the walkway and on the lawn. Funny little monkeys with long tails hopped about, allowed to roam freely on the palace ledges. White doves kept company with the peacocks, along with smaller finches with bright red bills called Java Love Birds, I believe.

  Servants passed us, involved with their daily chores, and each and every time they bowed our way. I was not sure if it was in deference to Mr. Jan – or to me. The courtesy level in Brunei continued to amaze me.

  The Prince sat under a canopy, near a fountain that gushed green water. He was sipping champagne, and dressed completely in white. Gone was the natty little suit that he wore nightly to the parties; that morning, he was attired in sport pants and a button down shirt, left modestly buttoned up to his neck.

  He stood with my approach, and extended his hand.

  Mr. Jan whispered quickly to me: "Remember, address him as Robin."

  For no reason in particular, I curtsied. I had seen the musical, Oklahoma, several months ago (one of George's favorite movies), and I remember all the girls curtseying. It was an old-fashioned custom, but it seemed right at that moment.

  I think the curtsey surprised the Prince.

  "Good morning," he said to me and smiled.

  "Hi, Robin," I said after the curtsy.

  "Please, sit down," he said, then nodded to Mr. Jan. This was the signal for Mr. Jan to politely take his leave, which he did.

  There was an awkward moment of silence.

  "Champagne?" he said at last.

  I thought this was a tea thing, but no matter. I preferred a shot of alcohol.

  "Please," I nodded, perhaps too fervently.

  He poured the champagne – Chrystal – into a glass.

  "It was kind of you to join me this morning," he said.

  "It was kind of you to invite me," I replied.

  He smiled again. There was something intensely likable about this man, though I felt no real sexual attraction for him. My stomach was still in knots at the expected "invitation" for later nocturnal activities. But I had prepared myself with an appropriate reply. I planned, of course, to decline a cocktail later. I had already begun packing earlier that morning; I imagined that day would be my last full day in Brunei.

  "And how, may I inquire, is your friend? Kayla, I believe is her name," he said.

  "I don't know, Your Highness –"

  "Please. Call me Robin," he said.

  "Okay. Uh, Robin. I haven't spoken with her yet. I think the funeral was yesterday. I imagine she's heartbroken," I said. I sipped my champagne, and saw that my hand was trembling.

  "It is a tragedy what happened to that young woman," the Prince said, referring to Linda Sobek. "I hope the murderer is appropriately punished."

  "So do I, Your Highness," I said. "I mean, Robin."

  He smiled and for a moment we just looked at a few peacocks meandering in the garden, near the fountain.

  "Well, I invited you here this morning because I wanted to tell you that I was impressed with the way you handled your friend that unfortunate night," Robin said slowly. "I am told that you stayed with Kayla until morning."

  "It was the least I could do," I said, looking down.

  "You are also a marvelous singer," Robin said, pouring more champagne for me.

  "Thank you," I said.

  "You will sing often, I hope," he sai
d.

  "Of course."

  "I understand you are sharing a room with Tina, yes?" Robin asked.

  I cleared my throat. "Yes. She's been very kind to me."

  "She is very much a little girl, no?" he said.

  "In some ways," I replied. "But in other ways, she seems very mature."

  "Agreed," Robin said. "I hope you will be staying with us for some time, Ms. Dorian."

  "For as long as I'm welcome," I said with a smile.

  "I like your rendition of 'Material Girl.' Also, 'I Will Survive,'" Robin chuckled. And then the Prince did his own rendition of 'I Will Survive.' It made me laugh. The Prince had absolutely no ear for music, and an awful singing voice, but he realized this and enjoyed making fun of himself.

  We spoke for an hour, about my family, about his family, about the weather. And about astrology, of all things. I learned he was a Capricorn,. I think he was born in January, but I do not recall the exact date. And he mentioned my movie, Dinosaur Island.

  "Very funny movie," he said. "But tell me something."

  "Sure," I said.

  "When you do those love scenes, I must know: Is it for real?"

  I laughed, genuinely amused. "You don't know how many people ask me that same question," I admitted. "But, no, it's all fake. In the business, we call it 'simulated sex.'"

  "Like make-believe?" Robin asked, clearly fascinated.

  "Exactly. It's all in the facial expressions," I giggled. I was, frankly, a little embarrassed.

  "But wait. I know there is an industry in Hollywood that has the real thing happening on camera," Robin persisted. "Triple X, I think it is called."

  "That's very true. It's also called Hardcore. But that's not what I do, and that's not what you were watching in Dinosaur Hell. In fact, I wore a little patch over my –" I searched for the suitably modest word to describe my genital area. "Over my private parts. Not all the girls wear one, but it was my first love scene, and I was nervous."

  Robin smiled, shaking his head. "I could never imagine doing such a thing in front of a camera. And with all those people around."

  "You mean the crew," I said. I nodded. "It's a little nerve racking. I was more worried what my dad would think when he saw it."

  "He did not approve, I trust," Robin inquired.

  "Actually, he didn't say anything to me after he saw the movie. I guess that translated as disapproval," I said.

  Robin digested this and nodded.

  "Very interesting," he said at last. "Do you think you will be a movie star one day?"

  "I doubt it," I said.

  "Well, you are a movie star here," Robin said politely, then glanced at his watch. "You must forgive me, but I have business to attend to now. May we speak again sometime?"

  I was flabbergasted. Was there to be no sexual proposition whatsoever?

  "Uh, sure," I stammered, caught off guard.

  "Wonderful," Robin said standing, and extending his hand. "I trust you can find your way back to the house?"

  "Sure," I said. "Just follow the Yellow Brick Road."

  He smiled. "Ah. The Wizard of Oz. Very amusing," he said, then made a slight bow, and entered the palace.

  And that was it.

  I felt like I had just made history. The prince had invited me for tea – and there was no talk of later sexual calisthenics. Believe it or not, I also felt a momentary pang of self-doubt. Was I that unattractive, that I was not worth the effort of a good old fashioned proposition? Had I said something wrong? Was there food stuck between my teeth?

  I resolved to speak to Tina when I got back to the house.

  I walked alone through the gardens, on my way back to House Number Four. I glanced at the far walls; guards were positioned every hundred yards or so, armed with what appeared to be semi-automatic weapons. They glanced at me, but never stared for too long.

  I wish the same could be said for the next creature I encountered on the way home.

  It was one of the long tailed monkeys. It was near a tree, about five feet from the road I was walking on. When I noticed the monkeys on the way to meet the Prince, with Mr. Jan, they had been farther away and looked smaller. Up close, I could see the monkey was about the size of a large terrier.

  And its face – well, its face was definitely not friendly. It stared at me, and barred nasty little fangs my way. I stopped. "Hi, boy," I said, treating the damn thing like a puppy. "How are you, Mr. Monkey."

  The monkey hissed. My speaking to it apparently infuriated it. Suddenly, it was running toward me.

  I screamed, turned, and began to run myself.

  "Help," I screamed up at the guards. "Help me!"

  I must have made an incredibly stupid and funny sight; a blond girl being chased by a long-tailed monkey in the most beautiful garden in the world.

  The monkey was gaining on me, and I remember I started to cry. I stopped, breathless, and turned to face my attacker.

  The monkey lunged at me. I swatted at it, and caught it mid-air. It squealed and fell to the ground, but rolled gracefully and faced me again, hissing.

  Suddenly, one of the guards materialized behind me, and shooed the monkey away. The guard was clearly more intimidating than me, because the monkey retreated immediately, screaming as it scurried up a nearby tree.

  "Thank you," I said, clutching the guard's shirt. I tried not to notice the weapon he was carrying, a thing that looked like an Uzi.

  "It would not have hurt you," the young guard said.

  "I don't think it was lunging at me to kiss me," I said.

  The guard laughed.

  "What kind of monkey is that?" I asked.

  "Ah. They are aggressive monkeys," the guard said, then bowed, and jogged off to his position on the wall.

  I looked around myself. No more monkeys were in close proximity.

  But I did not take my time getting back to the house.

  I broke into a healthy jog – and got out of the gardens as fast as I could.

  ***

  Tina was flabbergasted.

  "He didn't ask you for a cocktail tonight?"

  "Nothing," I replied. "He was a perfect gentleman. He seemed more interested in my B-movie career and how I made love on screen."

  Tina ruminated on this for around five seconds, and nodded, as if perhaps the answer had suddenly come to her and it all made perfect sense.

  "He's in love with you," she said simply.

  What!?

  My mind screamed the word. But I just looked at Tina and smiled, almost maternally. "Sweetheart, men don't fall in love with women over tea. Certainly not within the span of an hour."

  "He's in love with you," Tina reiterated. "He respects you. And he doesn't want to screw it up by trying to sleep with you immediately."

  I found the entire notion of Prince Jefri desperate for my affections absolutely ridiculous. But I patiently listened to Tina as she prattled on. "Look, he always asks a girl he has tea with to sleep with him. It's just the way he works. I've never heard of a girl he just talked with and didn't expect something further. He's nuts about you."

  "But how? Why? He doesn't know me!" I indulged in this silly train of conversation.

  "Well, Aphrodite, you're not exactly an ugly girl. And you're funny as hell when you sing the Karaoke songs. And . . . the Prince is a very special man. He's not like just any other guy. He thinks differently, acts differently. Besides, who can explain why someone falls in love or not?"

  She had a point there. I fell in love with George, the prototype of man I swore I would never involve myself with, ever.

  "There has to be another explanation," I insisted.

  "Maybe he's interested in your opinions on the affairs of state," Tina said.

  I smacked her in the arm, and she laughed. But I stopped giggling first, and she could see that I was concerned.

  "This is horrible," I said, just shaking my head back and forth. I looked up and said: "Now what?"

  Tina smiled, leaned in, and again kissed me on the l
ips. Which I allowed. And I'll explain that later, but right now, I'll tell you what she said: "Just go with it, darling. This may be just a fluke. Or it could be the greatest thing to ever happen to you. Just take one day at a time."

  Sage advice.

  But I was still fearing the worst.

  Prince Jefri, one of the richest guys on the planet, the man in charge of importing beautiful women from abroad for the express purpose (so I was told) to either party or have sex with, had not requested my sexual company for the evening. I should have been relieved, even grateful.

  Instead, I was more nervous than ever.

  And more than a little frightened...

  Birthdays and Plots

  As Aphrodite remembers...

  For several days after my first meeting with Prince Jefri, my terror factor was high: when would he finally ask me to join him for a late night cocktail?

  No call came. Days passed. Then weeks.

  Apparently, that was it. No follow up to our initial "tea meeting" was initiated by either the Prince, or his point man in these endeavors, Mr. Jan. I continued to attend the parties, dreading Mr. Jan's inevitable approach and his vapid overtures regarding "meeting the Prince for cocktails or tea." But no such overtures were forthcoming. December rolled around, nearly a month after Prince Jefri and I had shared tea together on the palace verandah - and still no invite (or command) had buzzed my way.

  I turned 27 on December 4, 1995. I had heard that special gifts would be given to me. That night, at the party before the festivities that would star me – all the girls danced together, singing jointly. Prince Jefri arrived, and was, as usual, positioned on the steps. He stared at me, without expression. I was drunk and not thinking very clearly; my horror at being propositioned by the Prince (or any other member of the royal entourage) was blissfully anesthetized by scotch and a fair number of Cosmopolitan cocktails. When the Prince looked my way, my heart thumped; but it was a feisty thump...

  I waved and winked.

  His mouth broke into the smallest of smiles.