Mirage (12 page)

So she let him do most of the talking as they picked up her things. He told her about his cousin’s research, his ride from Palmyra, and his dinner the night before. But he seemed to be deliberately avoiding the only subject Julie cared about. How did he happen to find her? Obviously, if she wanted him to talk about it, she’d have to come right out and ask him.

On the way to his guesthouse, they stopped to buy a couple of bottles of wine and some groceries. “Did you miss me?” she said, finally, as she watched him sort through a basket of apricots. She was due to leave for Jordan at eight the next morning, so she didn’t have much time. She wanted him to tell her why they were standing side-by-side in a Damascus mini-market shopping for groceries.

He flashed her a brief, expressionless look but didn’t stop filling a plastic bag with fruit. “Miss you?”

“Yes. Miss me.”

“I have been thinking about you. Yes.”

“So you planned to meet me here?”

“Planned?” He straightened up and looked down at her. “Let’s just say it was a happy coincidence that we met again.” The tone of his voice was ambiguous, his face unreadable.

Julie’s stomach lurched in protest. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Even if they’d be spending only one more night together, a little love talk wasn’t too much to ask for. Was it?

Then she remembered how she’d managed to alienate Richard. Through her tireless attempts to get closer, she’d effectively ended up doing the opposite—pushing him away.

Okay. Lesson learned. I’m going to hold off with the questions. If he likes me he’ll let me know without being prompted. I have to be patient.

Pleased with her new-found maturity, Julie accepted that whatever would happen, would happen.

The landlord of the Mirage Guesthouse turned out to be little less liberal than Tor had led Julie to believe. It took a lengthy discussion, and rather a lot of cash, before he managed to get Julie into his room, with the door locked securely behind them.

When Tor first introduced Julie as his girlfriend, just arrived from Palmyra, the old man frowned and shook his head. For himself, he explained in broken English, handing Julie’s passport back to her, it was not a problem. Foreigners lived by different rules—he understood that. But his wife, he said, was a devout woman. No unmarried couples would sleep together under her roof.

For a moment Julie felt a crushing disappointment, and even a little shame. But when she saw Tor reach for his wallet, she knew everything would be fine. She caught his steel grey eye as he counted the bills into the landlord’s hand and felt a spike of desire.

As she picked up her hastily-packed bag and turned to follow him up to the room, she saw the landlord’s wife standing in the doorway. There was no doubt the woman had witnessed everything, and although she probably didn’t understand the words it was clear she knew what was going on. Prim and silent in her black headscarf, she looked up and down at Tor’s body as he greeted her. Then, with her eyes bright as jet beads, she looked at Julie, nodding her head in acknowledgement, a positively wanton smile on her lined face.

Julie almost broke into a giggling fit.

Tor pulled her into his room, slammed the door shut, and turned to her with a wanton smile of his own. “What’s so funny?”

She walked into his big hard body and reached her arms up to wrap them around his neck. Burying her face in his shirt, she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, knowing she could recognize it anywhere. It was the best man-scent she’d ever smelled. It made her want to lick him, bite him, suck him dry.

“I think I was just given permission by the lady of the house to have my way with you.”

She felt his arms encircle her. It was like being wrapped in heaven. He kissed the top of her head. “Well it
is
your turn, remember.”

“I absolutely remember. When can I start?”

He pulled away from her. “Right now.” He crossed the room and closed the louvered shades on the windows. It was near noon, and the sun was already at its peak and hot. Then he turned on the overhead fan and began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving hers. The look on his smooth, tanned face caused her stomach to flip a little. She didn’t have to work very hard to convince herself that she had never desired a man more.

“Let me do that.” She walked up to him and put her hands on his chest, parted his half-open shirt, kissed his sternum and breathed him into her lungs.

She didn’t need any more persuading to know that this man was meant for her. It seemed she’d been waiting her entire life for him, and here he was—by some miracle she wouldn’t dream of questioning.

His scent, his particular odor, entered more than her lungs. It filled every part of her body—every cell stirred in response. It was more persuasive than the mere sight of his smooth skin stretched over muscled shoulders, the multi-colored tattoo fully visible now as she pulled off his shirt. The smell of his breath and body was more powerfully persuasive than even the sound of his voice—deep and strangely hypnotic with its Nordic lilt. And this scent mingled with, and was complemented by, the salty musk taste of his skin when she put her mouth on his chest, his nipple, his biceps, and then traced the contours of his tattoo.

It was an intricate, provocative image of a Viking ship under full sail, cutting through the curling sea beneath like an ax. And at the helm stood a Nordic prince who looked much like Tor himself. Feet planted widely apart, a lion skin slung across his chest, he had a majestic bearing, gazing ahead as if he would conquer the entire unknown world that lay ahead of him. It was a purely masculine image, evoking strength, danger, a thirst for adventure and a desire for a life lived to the fullest.

It was the perfect adornment for her lion man.

Julie was hungry for more of his body. Intoxicated by the musky smell of his underarms, she reached for the buckle on his belt, and managed to loosen it with one hand. The button on his waistband gave her a little more trouble, and she had to use her other hand as well, her impatience growing. Then the zip was down and she crouched in front of him, pushed her face into his groin and sucked in a lungful of air.

She was hit full in the face with his scent times ten, and it made her stupid with lust. He was damp, hot, dark, musty, animal sex—a flood of saliva filled her mouth and a gush of warmth wet her panties. Down came his shorts and out sprang his cock.

She looked at it greedily, studying its smooth, shiny, purplish head, the deep slit provocatively crowned with a glistening drop. It was even larger than she remembered, long and wide, thick veins running along the sides.

She could hear his breath coming in short bursts, but he held himself still as she nudged his scrotum with the tip of her nose and sucked in another lungful. Then she lifted her head and sniffed the entire length of his swaying cock, then the gold-colored hair at its base.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low, almost a growl. He bent down and lifted her by the elbows. “You’re just asking for trouble, aren’t you?”

He picked her up and carried her to the bed. In a flash he was on top of her, his weight almost knocking the wind out of her. He smothered her in hot kisses, and she returned them with equal force. Together they wrestled her out of her clothes and then he was inside her, filling her completely, his aura of animal sensuality enveloping them both.

Words were redundant—it was all about hot, wet skin sliding on hot, wet skin, the smells, tastes and sounds of their pleasure. Julie opened her mouth, her legs, her heart to take him, to consume him. And he kept giving and giving and giving her more. Then more again—until she felt herself exploding, falling, turning, hurtling through space, stars whizzing by her head as she cried out.

When the
adhan
woke Julie a few hours later, she saw the sun’s rays slanting through the shades at a softer angle. One of her arms was asleep, and she extricated it from under Tor’s neck, causing him to stir. But he didn’t wake up.

That gave her a chance to study him. His hair had come loose from its tie, and the evening light made it glow in golden strands. His lashes were long and dark, the smooth skin of his face brown against the white sheets of the bed. She sat up and pulled away a little to admire his long back, the dimples on either side of his tailbone, the symmetry of his round buttocks. His legs were long, too, but well-defined, and covered with downy hair.

She shifted again so she could get a better look at the front of his body—she wanted to look at his belly, the hair between his legs, and the now-flaccid penis. Then she looked up to his abs and chest, the symmetrical pattern of soft hair, his corded neck, and then right up into his open eyes.

She blushed.

“And what do you think you’re looking at?” He rolled onto his back, raised his arms and bent them back behind his head, lacing his fingers together. A playful smile teased her as he exposed himself fully to her scrutiny.

She licked her lips. “I have to tell you again. Get used to it. You really are a beautiful piece of man-flesh.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He flexed his biceps and gave her a provocative smile. She could see his cock beginning to grow larger.

Getting up, she moved to the foot of the bed and sat cross-legged. From that position she could look at his entire body, and he could see pretty much everything she owned.

Silently, they stared at each other. Julie felt herself getting warmer, almost as if her heart was pumping blood more rapidly through her body. She watched his cock move around in a one-hundred and eighty degree turn as it filled with blood, the color changing from pale to dark in a matter of moments.

He was watching her face intently, moving his gaze down along her body, then back up to her eyes, a little smile crooking up one corner of this mouth.

She was beginning to sweat.

A trickle ran down between her breasts. Then she felt another at the back of her neck. It was like being in a sauna. Her nipples were pointed, hard, sensitive. She kept swallowing, and her underarms prickled. She felt his eyes heating every part of her body. She was as hot inside as her skin was on the outside. The bedspread was damp underneath her and she licked away the wet film of salt that formed on her upper lip.

But she didn’t speak. She just looked at him, adoring him with her eyes. Catching the scent of his body’s heat, almost able to feel his pulsing energy.

Time was suspended as they made love to each other without a word, without a touch. And ever so slowly Julie realized that she was in fact engaging in a sexual act every bit as erotic and exciting as what they’d done to each other two nights before. Looking at the smooth planes and rounded angles of his body, watching his eyes change from pale to dark, from fiery to soft, raised her to a state of arousal that stunned her. She felt her body begin to thrum, beginning somewhere deep inside her core and radiating outwards to the tips of her fingers and toes. Her vagina pulsed, wetting the bed even more. Her belly softened and she felt the beginnings of soft contractions of pleasure pulsing upwards, outwards.

Her face must have registered her surprise because all of a sudden Tor took her in his arms and rolled her onto her back. He slid into her so effortlessly it was as if her body was pulling him inside. They fit together perfectly, and Julie almost wept with joy as she shuddered and rocked and sucked her lover in through every pore.

* * * *

Tor wiped up the last of the olive oil from the bottom of the plastic carton with a bit of bread. Then he crammed it into his mouth and looked at Julie, who was once again sitting cross-legged beside him on the bed, wearing nothing but the honeybee panties. She’d finished eating and was watching him with those haunting eyes of hers. Most of their food was gone, but he was still hungry.

No surprise. We’ve been at it for almost nine hours straight.

He was feeling great. They’d polished off the wine, too, and gone through three liters of water between them.

He scratched the stubble on his chin and decided it was time for a shave. Julie had complained she was getting sandpapered. Another shower wouldn’t hurt, either, before they went to bed.

We should try and catch some sleep, this time.

He hadn’t thought much about what he’d do once she left in the morning. He should spend some time sightseeing. Visit the mosques. He knew he probably wouldn’t be back to this part of the world any time soon. Political dissent meant that anything could happen at any time.

Julie stretched out languidly on the bed beside him, like a cat, and sighed. She really did have a marvelous body. Strong and fit, but completely feminine. Completely, outrageously sexy. And hot. He couldn’t remember when he’d last fucked a woman who was so hot. So eager and willing and ready to come like a firecracker. A whole chain of firecrackers.

It’s a wonder she’s still conscious. By rights she should have passed out from exhaustion hours ago. But there she is, looking like she wants it again. I wish I could, but I’m done.

“You took some pictures of that ceiling in the museum, didn’t you?” she asked.

Instantly he was on guard. “Uh. Yeah.”

“I was thinking that maybe you could send them to me. After you get home, I mean.”

He looked at her, as if considering her request. The look on her face told him that they both knew she wasn’t so much interested in the pictures as she was in exchanging email addresses. And all he wanted was a clean break. Anything else would be ridiculous, given their situation.

He didn’t know what to say.

“I’m going to take another shower, and then I’ll shave for you.” He rubbed his bristly neck. “I don’t want your last memory of me to be tainted by the pain of whisker burn.”

He hoped for a smile, but she was looking down at her hands, worrying a cuticle. She looked sad.

Maybe he was a little sad, himself. He really liked her—and he absolutely loved fucking her—but they were getting ready to part company. It was inevitable, therefore didn’t bear thinking about. So he didn’t.