Chocolate Dove (6 page)

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Authors: Cas Sigers

BOOK: Chocolate Dove
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“The land is being used to build a plant. Everyone complained but there is nothing that can be done. Remember Mr. Gaalid? They burned his house.”
“Where are you going to go?”
“Me and Khalid are going to Mogadishu to stay with Abukar until we get another place. Dad got a job in Ethiopia for the next three months and Mom ...”
“Mom what? What's wrong?”
“She just cries all of the time, Basra. She doesn't want to leave the neighborhood and she doesn't want the family to become broken. I don't know where she's going to go. She won't come with us to Abukar's house. She said there's not enough room and she doesn't want to be a bigger burden than necessary.”
Amina began to cry and Basra spent the next hour trying to figure out a plan of action.
“It's going to be okay, I promise,” Basra expressed.
“No, I don't want to go there. Can't I come there with you? I can stay with you and apply for my visa.”
“You can't leave Khalid right now.”
“I can bring him,” Amina suggested.
“I can't take care of you both. Khalid is only twelve. And if you left right now, think about what that would do to Mom.”
“I know. I just hate this.”
“I'll do what I can, I promise,” swore Basra.
The sisters spoke a few more minutes and then disconnected. Basra's stomach was churning and her eyes were red from crying. She stretched her long body across the bed for a few minutes while tossing and turning. Eventually, she rose and knocked on Lucia's door. Basra knew what she had to do, and for the first time, no longer cared what anyone thought.
“What's wrong?” Lucia asked.
“I really hope it's not too late for the horseshoe party.”
Chapter 5
Lucia, Basra, and three other ladies arrived by boat on Isla de sa Ferradura on that Saturday morning. Basra was overwhelmed by the beauty of the island.
“It looks like a painting,” she kept commenting to Lucia, who was also in awe.
As Basra walked on to the property, she was overcome with joy, feeling so blessed for the opportunity. Yet, in that same breath of gratification, she wondered about the consequence and questioned whether this good fortune was indeed good. Her mom used to say a great fortune can be a great slavery. Was she tangled in a weave that would be impossible to escape?
Basra glanced at Lucia, who was chatting with the other girls about the beauty of the mountainous cliffs. They seemed totally blissful with no worries or cares. But was it all an act? Were they any different from people who worked a nine-to-five and hated their jobs, but had to come into work each day with a smile so they could make ends meet? Everyone had to pretend at some point and time just to get by, and this was her moment on stage. Basra wandered a few feet away, gazed into the waters, and said a quiet prayer.
“God, let your will be done, protect and watch over me,” she whispered.
Over her shoulders she heard more voices on the pontoon. The staff was coming to escort them into the hacienda.
“Come on, Basra,” called Lucia.
“Welcome to paradise,” said one of the ladies.
The private island, which was situated just off Ibiza in the beautiful bay of San Miguel, had a beautiful hacienda, accommodated fourteen people, and was equipped with a spa, fitness center, elegant dining quarters, and a beauty salon.
Each of the ladies placed their bags in their rooms and walked on to the north terrace.
“My name is Yasmina, and I will be your maidservant this weekend. These are my assistants, Annisia and Sofia. If you need anything, feel free to call upon one of us. We have made appointments in the beauty center for each of you, so please enjoy, and welcome to paradise.”
The ladies followed the staff to the salon where Basra was treated to a facial, manicure, and pedicure. Lucia opted for the spa and relaxed with a warm basalt stone massage. In a few hours the ladies were primped and prepped to meet their hosts, a group of international steel magnates who rented the island that weekend. The women were asked to meet the men in the laguna garden and so they changed into swimsuits and lounge attire.
“This looks like the Garden of Eden,” said Lucia to Basra as they gazed at the cascading waterfall that emptied into the huge lagoon-shaped pool.
“And those must be the serpents,” Basra whispered while pointing to the steel moguls sitting around the pool.
“Stop it. Be pleasant,” Lucia said.
The women were introduced to the five men and for the first hour they all had fun mingling and dipping into the cool waters. Basra didn't want to dip in the pool because she wanted her straight hair to last as long as possible. However, the Mediterranean mist was already curling her edges. She continued to look at the beautiful waterfall and finally couldn't resist any longer. She untied her sarong and splashed into the blue waters. For a second, she almost forgot about the purpose of her trip. However, as she was swimming from underneath the cave and through the cascading waters of the waterfall, she saw the men gathering at the far left side of the laguna. With lustful, leering looks, they pointed like overzealous ranchers eyeing their new herd of cattle. Basra quickly swam over to Lucia, who was lounging by the side.
“Hey, look over there,” she said, pointing to the men.
Lucia looked up, glanced at the men, and then stretched back across her chair.
“They're talking about us.”
“I'm sure they are. I hope I get the young one with the mustache.”
Basra looked at the men again. The short one caught her looking and smiled. Basra quickly looked away. Lucia could feel her anxiousness.
“Basra, don't flake on me. You asked to come here, and you need the eight grand.”
“I'm not flaking, I just feel like property.”
“At two thousand a night, you are property. Rental property. After Wednesday, you never have to see them again.”
Basra frowned and plopped deep down into the water. Lucia sat up to see that her friend had disappeared completely into the pool. Lucia bent over and looked into the crystal blue water.
“You better not be trying to kill yourself,” she called out while smacking the water with her hand. “Basra, come up here! Basra!” she called again.
Within a few seconds, Basra bobbled up and exhaled deeply. She pulled her body from the water and propped it up on the sandy edge.
“Listen—” Lucia started, only to be halted by Basra.
“I don't need a lecture or a speech. I'm fine.”
“Good, 'cause they are calling us over.”
Basra and the girls walked over to the deck. Yasmina and the staff handed the women towels and ushered them into the salon room, which was beautifully decorated with pristine white furnishings. The men soon followed. The youngest man, Fahad, spoke first.
“Once again, we want to thank you beautiful ladies for joining us this week. We work very hard and it's nice to be able to come here, relax for a few days, and forget all of our worries. Helen, would you join me for drinks.” He held out his hand and he and the tall, blonde Swiss escort walked off.
Basra quickly whispered into Lucia's ear. “Do we stay with one man for the week or do they switch? How does this work?”
Lucia ignored Basra and smiled at her next man of choice. Since she didn't get the young one, she was hoping for the tall, thin guy who appeared to be in his forties. Seconds later, he walked over and picked her. One by one, the women were carried off like abandoned pets at a rescue shelter. Basra was last. She tried to smile as she stood with sad puppy-dog eyes when her date approached. Earlier by the pool, he'd explained that his birth name was Daiwik, which means by the grace of God, but he changed it to Derrick for ease of doing business in America.
“Would you like some food?” he asked. Basra quietly nodded. Derrick motioned for Annisia to bring them a menu. “Why don't you look at the menu, order, and then go change.”
“Okay,” Basra said softly.
Rummaging through her suitcase, Basra found a long salmon-colored halter sundress. She returned to the dining area and joined Derrick. Upon her presence, he stood and was the perfect gentleman, even pulling out her chair and waiting before he sat. He avoided direct eye contact, as did she, and Basra could tell he was just as nervous. Their meal was served within minutes of her return and Basra felt it would ease her nerves if she simply broke the ice.
“Am I your girl for the entire week, or will you trade me off after a few hours?” she delivered with a quirky smile and a slight chuckle so as to not come across too brash.
“Well,” he slowly responded. “I do believe that you will stay with me this week. I do hope so,” Derrick said with a pleasant smile.
I can do this, I can do this.
Basra continued to burrow this phrase in the base of mind. Derrick placed his hand on top of hers and rubbed it gently.
“Are you all right?” he questioned.
Basra nodded and continued to eat.
“You should think about changing your name. Are you Muslim?”
“I was raised Muslim,” she replied. “I no longer practice the religion.”
“Interesting. Why is that?”
“I just don't. No reason. By the time I became a teenager, we stopped going to the mosque and when I moved to the U.S., I went to a Presbyterian church with a friend. Islam can be very confining.” Derrick stared pensively. “I don't mean to offend you. But it's not for me. I loved how we grew up and I believe it was what I needed as a child.”
“None taken. Islam has its place in society, but it is not for everyone,” Derrick commented.
“Why should I change my name?”
“You should choose something easier, sexier. Basra is very traditional for such a nontraditional girl.”
“I'm traditional. I mean, my lifestyle doesn't necessarily reflect that, but I still have a lot of traditional ways.”
“I'm sure,” he replied.
They ate for a few more minutes in silence, but Basra couldn't resist revisiting the name conversation once more. “So what would you name me?”
Derrick paused and stared quietly at Basra. “I don't know, Rebecca maybe?”
“Uhghh. I look like a Rebecca to you? I'm certainly not a Rebecca. I need something more exotic, and unique.”
“Okay, how about Sandy?”
“I said exotic.” She chuckled as the tension began to dissipate.
“I'm from India, they are all exotic names to me.” He laughed.
The two chatted over a few more names, finished lunch, and went into the parlor room to listen to music. As the hours progressed, Basra only saw one other couple. As the sun set, her nerves grew.
“Where is everyone?” she asked Derrick.
“In their separate quarters, I would imagine.”
Basra grew very quiet, for she knew that they soon would be heading to their private suite, and that she'd start the performance of a lifetime.
 
 
They made it to the Bamboo Suite close to eight that evening, and Basra was surprisingly calm. Derrick didn't seem to be a pervert or a crazed sex maniac, and she had psyched herself into the idea that this would be similar to having sex on the first date with a man she genuinely liked. Truthfully, she'd had a good time with Derrick and if it weren't for the looming sexual proposition hanging over her head, it would have been a great time.
“Is there music in here?” she asked, sitting on the foot of the bed.
“I'm sure,” Derrick replied, looking around the room. He discovered a remote to a satellite radio and found a station playing ambient tunes. Derrick removed his shoes and lounged on the chaise. Both he and Basra were like quiet school kids, each waiting for the other to make a move.
“This is weird. Is this weird?” she asked. Derrick grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “I'll be back,” she expressed.
Basra walked into the restroom and quickly removed her dress. “I'm going to just get it over with, and then fall asleep.” She took a deep breath and exited, wearing matching dark blue undergarments. Basra posed against the bamboo posts of the canopy bed. Her body looked absolutely perfect, like an airbrushed lingerie ad. Derrick stayed seated and stared. Basra thought he'd make a move, but since he didn't, she strutted across the floor and draped her body across his. He continued to stay still and so she leaned up and kissed him. He indulged in the lip lock for a few seconds and then pulled away.
“I'm sorry,” he said.
“What's the matter?” she asked, lifting off his body.
“Could you just have a seat? I just want to look at you.”
“Oh,” Basra responded softly and walked back to the foot of the bed.
Derrick rose and poured a glass of wine from the chilled bottle on the table. “Would you like some?” he asked.
“I'm good.”
Derrick walked back to the chaise and took a seat. An uneasy feeling came over Basra as he continued to stare. She was now more nervous than before when she thought they were just going to have sex.
What is he going to ask me to do?
she wondered.
 
 
In the Laguna Suite, Lucia certainly was not wondering what was on the mind of her date, as he was very verbal and demanding.
“Dance, strip, and then come over here and please me orally,” he insisted.
He also asked that she continue to shower him with compliments while demoralizing herself with distasteful, derogatory comments. This display of gratuitous behavior had been going on for two hours, and even Lucia was growing tired of his antics and questioning the value of the gig.
“Dance harder!” Ahsan called out.
Lucia jutted her hips to the right and slightly rolled her eyes.
“You make faces at me?” he asked in anger. Lucia didn't respond and continued to dance.
“Turn around, you slut, and swing your hair.” Lucia made another small gesture of dislike. This time Ahsan clearly saw the disgust. He hastened to her side while yelling.
“You will love this! You will do it with pleasing eyes. You are filthy and you have no say!” Ahsan wrapped his long, skinny fingers around Lucia's neck and began to choke her. At first she went along with his force, for she was familiar with men who used force as foreplay. However, when she began feeling lightheaded, she struggled to break loose. He continued to choke her until her body went limp. Lucia collapsed on the floor. Ahsan stood over her body and grinned.

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