Gordita Conspiracy

by Lyle Christie

  “All right, now please come downstairs whenever you’re ready, as Dolunay would like to give you a tour of our little oasis.”

  “Thank you, and please tell her I’ll be down shortly.”

  I closed the door and laid the rest of the clothes out on the bed. There was a pair of baggy, loose fitting pants, a shirt, and a thawb, with the last item being the long customary robe-like garment that Dolunay and her people had been wearing in the desert. Interestingly, it was generally worn by Arabic men as their outside layer of clothing, so I assume Dolunay used it in order for her and her girls to blend more easily into the male dominated society of Saudi Arabia. There weren’t any underwear, which meant that I was going full commando, though, of course, there wasn’t much need for any western style undergarments around my privates in this kind of heat, and the more airflow I had around my ham and eggs, the better they, and in turn I, would feel.

  I put on my new clothes then looked in the mirror, and three words instantly came to mind—Lawrence of Arabia. Perhaps it would be my destiny to unite the women of this part of the world into one giant all-powerful nation that would at last bring peace and harmony to the turbulent cradle of civilization. I went back to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and headed downstairs to find Farid already there, chatting away with Dolunay, who smiled and waved when she saw me.

  “Ah, hello, Tag. I assume you are feeling much better having been able to freshen up?”

  “I am, thank you, but I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

  “Not at all, as Farid was just filling the time by telling me the incredible story of your first meeting.”

  “Yeah, and it sure had a hell of a surprise ending.”

  “It sure did, but I imagine this one will be much happier.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “Well then. Are you ready for your tour?”

  “Absolutely.”

  We all stood then followed Dolunay into a large wood paneled hallway, where the walls were adorned with art and ancient weaponry. Along the way we passed a series of rooms including the kitchen, formal dining room, library, and the laundry room before stepping down into an open garden about half the size of a football field. It consisted of vegetables and fruits and was lovingly tended to by a number of young women who all smiled bashfully as we walked past.

  “The girls here don’t get to see men too often—particularly ones as handsome as yourselves.”

  Farid and I smiled dumbly at each other, as it was always nice to get a compliment, even more so from a beautiful woman like Dolunay. We continued on into another section that opened up into a large pasture containing livestock. Here they had cows, goats, sheep, and chickens, but fortunately this area was downwind of the main building, so the particularly unpleasant smell of animal dung drifted out towards the desert rather than into the main fortress.

  Moving on, the next building was dedicated to textiles and the manufacture of clothing, rugs, and furniture. Again, the only workers were women, and again they smiled and gushed at our arrival. If only high school had been like this, I might have enjoyed it more. The next room was a long rectangular indoor firing range, and a group of women were expertly shooting Heckler and Koch G36 assault rifles. Their groupings were tight, and I hoped never be on the wrong end of their barrels. The young woman in the closest firing lane finished shooting and glanced at us through the glass barrier as she slid in a fresh clip. She smiled shyly then chambered a round and continued shooting, with her first shot a perfect bullseye. We moved on, and the following rooms included a pistol range and close quarters assault course, and both were crowded with Dolunay’s particularly capable soldiers.

  “The girls spend half of their day training and the other half doing support jobs. All on a voluntary basis of course.”

  “So, you basically have your own private on-call army.”

  “Pretty much, though it’s necessary sometimes, as rescuing these girls often entails using a little force.”

  “So, how do you keep all this under the official Saudi Arabian government’s radar?”

  “I used my father’s political connections to get this piece of desert land deemed a sovereign state by the House of Saud.”

  “Convenient.”

  “Yes indeed.”

  I turned around and saw that directly across from the assault course was a padded floor that was used for training in hand to hand combat. There were heavy bags, pads, and a number of melee weapons on racks around the room. A tall, powerfully built woman overseeing the group noticed us and nodded in our direction.

  “Care to test your skills against Adeela?” Dolunay asked with a smile.

  “Hell no.”

  “Smart answer—she was an Olympic gold medalist in Judo, but she also trained in karate and Wing Chun.”

  “I have no doubt that she can kick any and all asses that stand before her.”

  We moved on back towards the main area, and the last stop was a gym which had state of the art fitness equipment, free weights, and even a fifty foot climbing wall and obstacle course off to the side. Clearly, Dolunay and her ladies did some serious training, and any enemy they faced was in for a world of hurt.

  “This is quite an operation you’ve got here,” I said.

  “Yes, and we even have a hangar and airfield big enough to accommodate commercial jets.”

  “No shit?”

  “Yes, it was originally built on the north end of the fortress by the Allies during World War II, but we have made substantial improvements so it can accommodate our customized Airbus A380.

  “That’s quite a plane.”

  “Yes, and it functions as a mobile command center and assault platform that can reach pretty much anywhere in the world in a matter of hours.”

  “Is that how we’re flying out?” I asked.

  “No, your people have made their own arrangements.”

  “Any idea what they are?”

  “Only that some local air service will be coming tomorrow morning. If my clients prefer to make their own travel arrangements, I don’t ask for any details. I provide complete discretion, which is why your government likes using my services. Well—that’s the end of the tour. Any questions?”

  “Yeah, what are you doing for dinner?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” she said, gazing at me with a mischievous smile.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The Oasis in the Oasis

  ABOUT FOUR HOURS later, I donned my tuxedo and was brushing my teeth when there was a knock at my door. I opened it to discover Farid looking equally sharp with his suit cleaned and pressed, and I joined him, and we walked downstairs to find the dimmed lighting and soft shadows were making the fortress look even more exotic. We reached the dining room to find a fire burning in its stately fireplace, and soft music with a Middle Eastern flare was emanating from some unseen speakers. The table was already set, and its enormous size combined with the room’s ambiance made it feel as though we were dining at Hogwarts. Farid and I walked over to the windows on the other side, so that we could admire the view of the setting sun, though our quiet moment of reverie was interrupted soon thereafter by a lovely young woman in a particularly flattering blue evening dress.

  “Good evening, gentleman. Dolunay has asked me to tell you to feel free to partake of the wine. She and the others will be along shortly.”

  Farid and I walked to the table, and each of us picked up a glass of wine.

  “Here’s to America,” he said.

  “And to you actually making it there this time,” I added.

  We clinked our glasses together then took a sip. It was delicious, and I had to wonder how they managed to get such excellent wine in a dry country, but I imagine it must be easier when you ran your own secret desert oasis with a private army and air force at your beck and call.

  “Good evening,” a voice said, from behind us.

  We both turned to see Dolunay looking sinfully delicious in a long body hugging silk fuc
hsia colored dress. Her hair was now up, and a necklace of large bold rubies and sapphires was hanging above the forbidden fruit that was her bulging cleavage. I had thus far only seen our hostess in loose fitting desert garb, but now I could truly see the full extent of her spectacular figure—everything from her long legs to her curvaceous backside and supple breasts. If there were any air left in the room, I couldn’t feel it, for I was desperately trying to catch my breath.

  “Fuck me!” I said, unable to control myself.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  I smiled.

  “An unintentional request. Sorry, I was overcome by shock, as I didn’t think it was possible for you to look even more beautiful.”

  “Surely you’re exaggerating.”

  “Have you ever heard the term blue balls?”

  Farid giggled and mumbled blue balls under his breath.

  “No, but it sounds like a children’s game,” she said.

  “More like a man’s curse, and I can tell you right now that I’ve got them in a big way.”

  “So, that’s a compliment?” she asked, looking confused.

  “Absolutely.”

  I stepped forward and handed Dolunay a glass of wine.

  “Here’s to Dolunay Khalida, the Desert Fox,” I said.

  “And the Desert Stallion and his Little Gelding,” she added.

  I laughed, then we clinked our glasses together and had a sip of wine.

  “Please, have a seat,” she said, motioning at the table.

  We sat down, and more women started flowing in until every seat was full, then Dolunay stood to address the room.

  “Everyone, please welcome our guests Tag and Farid.”

  The room of lovely ladies lifted their glasses and nodded in our direction, then Dolunay sat back down and leaned over to speak to me.

  “I hope you don’t mind the crowd, but, as I said earlier, we don’t get men around here very often.”

  “I find crowds of women comforting.”

  “Me too,” Farid added.

  Dinner was served shortly thereafter and consisted of chicken over a spicy cardamom rice dish as well as a salad consisting of tomatoes, olives and dates. It was a perfect evening with a full compliment of food, females, and fantastic wine, and I felt like the luckiest man on earth to be in the presence of so much charming female company. Only a few bites into dinner, my attention was drawn to the other side of the table when a pretty woman with long dark hair and inquisitive brown eyes asked me a question.

  “What is it do you do back in America?” she asked

  “He’s a private investigator,” Farid interjected.

  “Does that mean you are like James Bond?” she asked.

  “No, he’s more like Magnum P.I.,” he said.

  “Magnum P.I.? I don’t understand,” she said, looking confused.

  Dolunay laughed.

  “The women here haven’t seen much western television and won’t know about Magnum P.I.,” she said.

  “What does this Magnum person do?” the girl asked.

  “He loafs around like a bum on the beach all day,” Farid said, with a giggle.

  “I help people,” I said, jabbing Farid with my elbow.

  “So, how is it that you are out here with us?”

  “I’m helping this dingleberry get to a new life in America.”

  The girl looked confused.

  “What is a dingleberry? Is it like a raspberry or blueberry?”

  “Not exactly. They’re not sweet, and no one would eat one.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  Farid looked over at me and shook his head side to side to silently chastise me for corrupting these women with terrible American slang.

  “Well, either way, it is wonderful that you are helping this dingleberry get to freedom,” she said.

  “I suppose, but what you all do here is far more meaningful than what I do.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Farid said.

  “Oh don’t fret, Little Gelding. Helping you is also meaningful, just not as meaningful.”

  The final course arrived and consisted of homemade ice cream with fresh strawberries, and I had to wonder where they could find such an un-desert like dessert. We finished the delectable treat and officially came to the end of dinner, and Dolunay invited everyone into the living room for a drink and some quiet conversation. She rose from the table and led the way—her swaying hips and backside providing a most formidable beacon as we navigated the darkened hallways. We arrived in the candle-lit living room and settled into the comfortable furniture to find bottles of port and glasses already sitting on the various coffee tables. Farid sat on the opposite couch with two of the other women while Dolunay sat next to me with her legs crossed in such a way that her foot was touching my shin. I looked down and traced the length of her long tanned thigh with my eyes, and the thought of where it led caused a flutter in my heart and a gentle stirring in my pants. I took a sip of port then returned my gaze back up to her beautiful green eyes.

  “You have an amazing life here,” I said.

  “I suppose—but it can get a little lonely at times.”

  “Anywhere can be lonely—believe me. I live in the Bay Area with seven million other people, and I still feel very much alone at times.”

  “At least you have lots of potential company.”

  “I suppose, but meaningful connections aren’t easy to find.”

  She smiled and innocently placed her hand on my leg, and it caused my pulse rate to double.

  “You know about my life, so why don’t you tell me a little about yours,” she suggested.

  “Where should I start?”

  “You choose.”

  “OK, I’ll start at the beginning, but I’ll try and keep it short and sweet, so you don’t get too bored. Now, I was born and raised in Northern California, where I did a lot of swimming, martial arts, and masturbating—pretty much in that order.”

  Dolunay laughed.

  “Which of the three were you best at?” she asked.

  “The last one, of course—proof that practice makes perfect.”

  “And how about the second one?”

  “Ah, martial arts—well, I was pretty good at that too, though I had an exceptional teacher—a real life kind of Mr. Miyagi.”

  “So, he was like the wise old man from The Karate Kid movie?”

  “Kind of, though he wasn’t an old gardener, but rather a wealthy and mysterious twenty-nine year old businessman from Japan, who I met while he was teaching a self defense class at the local community center. He was some kind of big time investment banker, but his true love was martial arts, and for some reason he took an interest in me and began teaching me privately on the side until I left for college.”

  “What style?” she asked.

  “Kenpo karate, but it was his own unique system that incorporated a number of other things he’d liked in other systems. It was pretty eclectic, and I felt more as though he were training me to be some kind of warrior monk.”

  “Sounds interesting. Perhaps you should have tested your skills against Adeela.”

  “Fuck no! I can tell a good martial artist when I see one, and there was no need to prove that she could kick my ass.”

  Adeela, who was sitting just across from me, smiled and spoke.

  “You flatter me, Tag, but I suspect you are pretty good with your hands and feet, as well as other appendages,” she said.

  “Now, you flatter me.”

  Dolunay gave my thigh a little squeeze to get my attention.

  “Well, Tag, I must say—I’m enjoying your life story, so please go on.”

  “So, for college I went to Stanford and studied social psychology and, of course, continued masturbating until I graduated and joined the military. There, I managed to make it into Pararescue and headed off to various places in the world, with the last being Afghanistan, which came to an abrupt end when I got wounded rescuing a downed pilot.”

  �
�You obviously survived, but did you also manage to save the pilot?”

  “Yeah, I did, and, believe it or not, that asshole is now the vice president of the United States.”

  “How fortuitous!”

  “Yeah, but only if he manages to do something meaningful while he’s in office.”

  “Regardless, it shows that you also have the desire to help those in need. Now, what did you do after that?”

  “I was shipped home and got recruited by the CIA shortly thereafter, and worked for them for about five more exciting years. That ended badly, as Farid already told you, and I decided to get out and become a private investigator. Life pretty much slowed down at that point until I was hired for the job that led into this one, and voila—here I am in the desert with you!”

  “Interesting, and you say your life slowed down when you became a private investigator?”

  “Yeah, it was all divorce cases and lost pets.”

  “You went from the CIA to finding lost pets? You must be joking.”

  “Afraid not, and the most recent one was a morbidly obese house cat,” I said, pulling out my iPhone and bringing up a picture of Mr. Pickles in which he appeared to be in my neighbor Joyce’s arms.

  Dolunay stared in disbelief.

  “How can she possibly be strong enough to hold him up?”

  “She’s not—the little fucker is actually perched on a stool that you can’t see in the photo.”

  She laughed out loud then took a sip of her wine, all the while stifling another giggle as she once again placed her hand on my leg, but this time she looked at me with the predatory zeal of a hunting tigris.

  “What do you think about a midnight swim?” she asked.

  “I think the less clothes we wear, the better this evening will be.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  Dolunay clapped her hands and stood.

  “Ladies! Let us all adjourn to the pool!”

  The women all stood and started milling out of the living room with Farid and me joining in the procession. I glanced at Farid and noticed that he looked as confused as I was feeling. We made a left down a hallway that I hadn’t yet seen and arrived at a massive outdoor patio lit only by a waning moon high above the desert. Even in the minimal light I could see there was a massive swimming pool and smooth tiled patio bordered on the far side by dense green shrubbery and palm trees that created a veritable oasis within the oasis. In the left back corner was a raised area with a waterfall that cascaded down into the pool, and, while I couldn’t tell from here, I had a sneaking suspicion it was the location of a Jacuzzi. The women all fanned out around the massive pool, and I leaned in to whisper in Dolunay’s ear.