by Sahara Kelly
“I guess that means this coffee will go to waste.”
She turned her head to see Hari leaning against the doorjamb with a cup of something steaming and fragrant in his hand. To judge by his arousal, he’d been watching Sami as he ate his way into Alana’s record books.
Alana drooled. Okay, so maybe it was Hari rather than the coffee, but there was only so much a girl could take first thing in the morning, and Sami had already pushed her over the edge once.
“Oh. Coffee. Hmmm…Well, that’s another thing altogether.” Alana rolled slowly out of bed, embarrassed by the stickiness coating her thighs. “You know, hold that coffee for five minutes. I really need a quick shower.” She looked firmly at them both. “Alone?”
Two grins met her gaze.
“Of course, Alana. We will prepare some food in your kitchen. Enjoy your shower.”
Standing beneath the pounding water, Alana rested her hand against the shower wall and closed her eyes. What a wild night.
For someone who had previously considered herself frigid, to come so frantically with two men she’d never met before was a revelation. Yet, she was suffering no ill effects, other than a few odd twinges in muscles that hadn’t been used in years.
And another thing, neither Hari nor Sami had given a thought to their own satisfaction, yet she knew they had both been aroused. Knew it? Hah. How could she miss it? Or them, rather. Thick and proud, those guys boasted cocks that could probably make the Guinness Book of World Records for beauty. There seemed to be areas of this sensuality school that hadn’t been covered yet. Hmmm.
Questions flooded her mind as she soaped herself back into a state of relative un-stickiness, the scent of the lather bringing vivid memories of her erotic bath to mind.
The bubbles dribbled over her newly shaved mound, and she smiled to herself as she remembered Sami’s face while he tidied her hair and then raised her aching clit to his lips. Amazingly, her nipples pebbled under the stream of warm water as she relived the feel of Hari’s hands caressing her. Her body pulsed, nerve endings trembling—just the memories of that experience were turning her on.
Helplessly she slid her hands down over her breasts, cupping them and holding their soft weight in her palms. One hand slipped further, moving down past her navel to her pussy, where her juices were now mingling with the warm fragrant water.
Alana raised one leg and rested it on the side of the tub. Imitating Sami’s tongue, she allowed her fingers to flick against her sensitive clit as her other hand pulled and rolled her nipples. Her buttocks clenched, and in a completely abandoned manner, she thrust two fingers into herself as the tension mounted within her and she knew she was about to come.
This was something else! She was astounded at the feel of her own spasming muscles that were pulsing around her fingers, and blown away by that sensation as much as by the orgasm she was enjoying.
Leaning against the wall, she caught her breath and allowed the shower to cool her overheated body. What was happening to her? What magic had these two Djinns performed that had turned her into a sexually obsessive woman? And should she be feeling so good about it?
Blushing, she rushed through the rest of her shower.
A remarkably tidy room greeted her. The bed was made with fresh linens, her clothes had been picked up, and that coffee was now smelling like flowers on the doorstep of heaven. Wrapped in a bath towel, she hunted for her robe.
“Dammit! What did they do with it?” She peeked under the bed, in the closet, and even checked her dresser drawers. Nothing.
She strode into the kitchen with a frown on her face. “Hey, guys. I want my robe and I want it—I want—oh, lord…”
The fire went out of her as she got her first look at Hari and Sami with clothes on. Either one could have modeled for Calvin Klein and tripled his profit margins within the week.
Sami had chosen a pair of jeans, which looked comfortably worn, and hugged every inch of his magnificent body. His butt cried out to be cupped by a pair of hands (hers would do quite nicely), and the denim had faded to nearly white over the crotch where a very nicely lumpy package was obviously tucked away. In a very typical male gesture, he had not fastened the top button. Why did guys do that? Did they know it turned her on?
Hari, on the other hand, had gone for leather. Not the Harley-dude leather, but the soft suede leather of a very well worn pair of pants. The shiny knees and gleaming crotch told of days spent working and playing in these clothes, and he too had omitted buttoning his last button. God, she didn’t stand a chance.
Gathering her rather scattered thoughts, she yanked her towel more tightly around her and glared at her guests.
“My robe seems to have disappeared. Would either of you gentlemen happen to know where it is?” A raised eyebrow accompanied this question, and Sami and Hari turned equally innocent faces towards her.
“Robe? You would like a robe, Alana?” asked Hari, with his best butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth look.
“Oh cut out the wide-eyed puppy bit. Yes. My robe. The one you said your eunuch wouldn’t clean his windows with or something.”
“Actually, there are no windows in the harem, in your sense of the word, therefore our eunuchs would not require rags to clean them,” said Sami thoughtfully.
A sound that quite closely approximated the growl of a wolf about to strike down its prey emanated from Alana’s throat, surprising even her.
“My robe was not a rag. It was MY robe. I loved that robe. I have watched TV in that robe, gotten drunk in that robe, been sick in that robe, and spent whole sybaritic days hanging around in that robe. I have a deep sentimental attachment to that robe. Now where is it?”
The men looked at each other, guilt written in very large letters across their handsome faces. Alana was hard pressed not to smile, but bit the inside of her cheeks firmly and continued to glare angrily at them. Let’s see them squirm out of this one, she thought.
Hari rose to pour her some coffee. “Well, Alana, it was like this…cream, sugar? Perhaps a little rosewater as well?”
“Just cream. Don’t change the subject.”
“I—er—it ended up near our home and I took it with me last night—and I forgot that it was trash pickup day today, and the camel sellers took everything. Including your robe.” Hari looked uncomfortably down at his cup.
Alana’s lips twitched. She couldn’t help herself. Hari looked so apologetic, and obviously hadn’t a clue that he was so gorgeous she’d forgive him just about anything.
“So that would be your third century BC version of ‘the dog ate my homework’?”
Hari’s eyes met hers and a twinkle started deep in their brown depths.
“I would say that is an accurate assessment, yes, Alana.”
“What happened to ‘Mistress,’ by the way?“ she added, sitting carefully at the table while trying to hold up the towel. “Not that I mind, you understand, but I was sort of getting into the ‘slave/mistress’ thing.”
The coffee was unusual, dark yet sweet, and Alana sighed with pleasure as she replaced the mug on the table.
“Once we have brought you to your woman’s pleasure a sufficient number of times, we usually dispense with the term, Alana,” answered Sami from behind her. “You trust us now, and know we mean you no harm or disrespect.”
She turned, realizing in a flash that he was right. She’d known them for only a few short hours, and yet she’d put her life into their hands if necessary. It was an odd moment of awareness, and she welcomed the distraction that Sami was making with a large show of producing something from behind him.
“Your robe, Alana…” he said, bowing and holding out a garment towards her.
She couldn’t help it—she gasped.
It was pure white silk, such a soft and slithery silk that she could hear the folds as they brushed against each other. She carefully reached out and took it from Sami’s outstretched hands. Holding it up she saw the exquisite red embroidery that circled the neck and the sid
e slits. It was a caftan, but more luxurious and magnificent than she had ever seen.
“Oh guys…” she breathed, holding it against herself. “This is too much…”
“And also this…” Sami was holding what looked like a handful of fairy dust.
He moved his hands slightly and the sparkles turned into a finely wrought chain. A small chime came from a little bell suspended at one end.
“What’s that?” she asked, fascinated by the soft sound.
“It’s your cushi bell,” said Sami, moving the chain so that the delicate ringing could be heard more clearly.
“What’s a cushi bell?”
“Let me show you…” and Sami moved to the table and pulled Alana to her feet, incidentally leaving the bath towel on the chair behind her.
“Cushi is a Sanskrit word,” began Hari, as Sami pulled her arms out to her sides and put the chain around her naked waist. “It means ‘ditch’ in a literal sense, but has been associated with the Greek kunnos and the Latin cunnus. So actually, this cushi bell is a cunt bell. Now, we are aware that your society frowns on that word, and frankly we agree that it’s an ugly kind of word and sadly used for a most beautiful body part. So we prefer to call it the cushi bell—same meaning, better sound.”
Alana watched as Sami adjusted the chain. He took his time with the teeny links, and when he was finally satisfied he stood back, motioning to Alana to walk across the room.
She took a step and froze. As she walked, the surprisingly heavy small bell swung right against her clit. Each step was an exercise in arousal.
“Dear God! I can’t stand this. I’ll be completely insane by the end of the day.” She looked helplessly at Hari and Sami, who were smiling at her.
Hari reached over to the counter for something.
“This is all part of your beginner’s classes, Alana. The function of this bell is not to bring you to orgasm every time you walk across a room, but to remind you of your own sexuality. You will see that if you walk a little more slowly and sway your hips slightly, the bell will not fall directly on your lovely clit, but just swing from side to side. The sound is also to remind you that you are a woman—bells are closely associated with everything female in our culture.”
Alana tried a few more steps, following Sami’s instructions. To her amazement, it worked. She turned with a smile and was suddenly blinded as Hari snapped a Polaroid of her standing there in her cushi bell, a big smile and absolutely nothing else. Not even mascara. She was horrified.
But Sami forestalled her before she could begin the rant she felt building up inside. “Forgive us, Alana,” he said apologetically. “We take a picture of all our students—and we ask you to write your name on it too. You see—“ He paused and glanced at Hari. “When we go, we will leave more than our teachings behind, we will leave our memories too. As soon as we both re-enter the vessel and seal the top, it will be for us as if we were never here. We will not remember you at all.”
Chapter 4
Alana cradled her coffee mug in her hand as she sat at the table, looking at the two handsome faces across the expanse of white tile. It had taken her a few moments to grasp the significance of what Sami had told her and place it into context. She felt a wave of sadness for them sweeping over her.
“I think it’s time we talked, you two,” she said. “I have a lot of questions.”
Hari and Sami exchanged brief glances.
“Alana, not many of our students wish to talk very much. Are you sure you would not rather work some more on your lessons?” asked Hari, a look of puzzlement on his handsome face.
“Well, this is me, and I want to talk. I need to understand some things here, and if I’m to accept that you are going to hold the future of my sex life in your hands, I think it’s only fair that I get to check out your references, so to speak. Look at this as an on-the-job interview.”
“Very well, Alana,” agreed Hari. “What do you want to know?”
Alana narrowed her eyes slightly and fixed both of them with an unyielding stare. “How did you end up in that bottle?”
There was silence for a moment, then Sami looked at Hari. “Perhaps I will leave this story to you, my brother,” he said.
Hari shrugged slightly and leaned back, the expanse of his chest a definite distraction.
“Sami and I met while campaigning in Gaul,” he began.
“So you’re not really brothers?”
“No. I am from a small town in what used to be Persia, while Sami is Thracian.”
“Well that explains the coloring, I suppose…”
“Alana, are you going to keep interrupting or do you want to hear the story?”
“Sorry. Go on, go on…”
“Sami and I attained a somewhat dubious reputation within our phalanx. There were few women who could resist us, and we certainly took advantage of it. I make no apologies, Alana. It was a different time and we did not expect to survive the campaign. In fact, few soldiers made it home in one piece, and Sami and I were unfettered by family or loved ones. We knew that we could fight and die as free men.”
Alana swallowed, struck by the stupidity of the things men could do to each other.
“We did not know at that time, but our actions were observed and reported to a kind of ‘Supervisor’—one who watches for those people who possess an unusual amount of sexual skill. This man, our guide, visited us in our tent one evening and proposed that we leave our lives as soldiers and join his organization instead.”
“Of course, once he told us what it was, we were convinced that we had been killed in that afternoon’s fighting, and he was a messenger of the gods come to take us to the other side,” added Sami, a wry twist to his lips.
“Sure enough, within moments he had us traveling with him through strange places until we ended up in Anyela—the place where we were to be trained.”
“Anyela? I’ve never heard of it. Was it around the Mediterranean?”
Two smiles answered her question.
“Yes and no,” continued Hari. “It is around the Mediterranean, but it’s also around several other planets in different areas of this local cluster.”
“Hoo boy, you’re getting beyond me now. Is there a ‘Dimensional Travel For Dummies’ version to this bit?” Alana frowned and tried to remember all those public television specials she’d dozed through.
“Just imagine that time is a bunch of ribbons, all streaming pretty much in one direction,” said Sami.
“Okay. I got that.”
“There are places where the ribbons become tangled and lines cross and knot, almost like a station; the ribbons come into this knot and go out again the other side, but not always on the same track.”
“So you’re saying that Anyela is one of these knots?”
“Anyela is actually within one of these knots—a place where time holds still, and many wise men gather to assess the progress of the universe.”
“Oh my.”
“And the people are very beautiful, the flowers bloom eternally, and there is no want or pain or disease,” added Sami.
“It sounds like heaven,” breathed Alana, trying to imagine such a place in her mind.
“It may well be what your religion describes as heaven,” agreed Hari. “To us, it is simply home.”
“Do you have a family? Wives, kids?”
Sami looked down at the table. “Because of what we do, Alana, such things are forbidden to us. We must remain unfettered in order to love our students.”
“Love your students? What does that mean?”
“It means, Alana, that each student is carefully selected for us. She must be someone whom we can love. That love is what enables us to give her the pleasure and the self-awareness she needs.”
“You mean you’re both going to fall in love with me?” squeaked Alana.
The full lips curved into identical smiles.
“We already have. Our minutes are filled with your thoughts, your scents, the feel of your skin next to
our bodies…we are eagerly awaiting the moment when you are finished with this talking and we can get back to our lessons,” murmured Hari, stroking her wrist with butterfly touches of his thumb.
Ignoring the chills running up and down her spine, Alana doggedly continued. “Back up the truck there, buster. I have plenty more questions yet.”
Hari sighed. Sami rolled his eyes.
“Cut that out, both of you. A few more minutes won’t hurt.” Alana couldn’t help but wonder if any of their “students” had taken the time to get to know them before now.
“Don’t you ever wish you could settle down? Have a family? Age normally?”
Silence fell for a moment as both men considered her words.
Sami was the first to answer. “I suppose if we were given the choice, we might elect to stay in one place with—with one woman—but because we never remember our last student, it would be pretty much impossible for us.”
Alana was beginning to get a picture, and wasn’t too sure if she liked what she saw.
“So—let me get this straight. You two have been traveling through time, being assigned to women with whom you can’t help falling in love. How is that calculated, by the way?”
“Something to do with pheromones and their DNA constituents, I believe,” answered Sami.
Hari raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “Did the Guardian tell you that?”
Sami colored slightly. “Nope. Saw a special on The Learning Channel.”
“Hah.”
“Excuse me. Save the squabbles, I’m pursuing a train of thought here. After fulfilling your mission of awakening her sexual identity, you two blast off into the ether and have no memories of her—just arriving back at home with a suitcase full of dirty laundry and a photograph? No recollection of the love you’ve shared or anything she’s said and done?”
“As long as our mission has been successfully completed, that is correct. And we’ve not had an unsuccessful mission yet, have we Sami?”
