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Subject: {Kellis} "Hidden Journal: The Meshir" ( MffF) [1/2]
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Hidden Journal: The Meshir [Part 1 of 2]
NOTICE: The following file is one of an ongoing series, transcriptions
of files decrypted from the hidden journal of Harrison Everett Stone.
For a summary of their provenance see the initial file, D910412.ZEN,
included in the release, "Hidden Journal: First Files."
--Kellis. Copyright 1998
File D9104160.ZEN
<Wednesday, September 20, 1972>
Guess what: <Some> Iranian women will fuck strangers!
A curious time yesterday and today, the first here that needs these
curlicues. The rest of the hidden journal is at home. I leave it to the
open journal to show how I managed to arrive in such a comfort-forsaken
place as Fellavi, Iran.
I got tired of trying to fix the bugs at Advance Camp Two by remote
control and made the trip down there yesterday for some personal hands-on.
Found the problem that same afternoon. "Problems," I should write, though
they all stemmed from Shelton's insistence on counting from one instead of
zero. People who can't break that habit shouldn't be programmers, but
that's another story.
Got in the jeep to return home -- that is, to the main camp at Fellavi
-- after a lot of trouble finding Rejik. He had taken up with a couple of
local kids. He retorted to my chewing out that I'd told him to show up at
bedtime -- not that he required telling to do <that>! And he was right.
Even so my apology appeared to surprise him.
I had taken him along for his company and to translate in case I had
to deal with natives. My cram course in the Farsi language was a total
waste. They don't speak a word of it here in these mountains. I'm told
this language is a predecessor of Farsi. The racial type of the people
seems the same as the rest: Arabic dark.
In the seven miles from Fellavi to AC2 the average slope seems about
25 degrees, first up then down. Both camps are on riverbanks but the pass
is 6000 feet above the rivers. About half way up dusk closed in and it
began to rain, slowly at first, then harder. I stopped, put the jeep in
four-wheel drive and proceeded very cautiously, hoping that no other
vehicle would meet me, though that didn't worry me excessively. I'd
passed none on the trip down.
I've never seen thicker rain. The headlights gave me only glimpses of
the edges of the road: a sheer cliff rising on my right, another dropping
2000 feet on my left. The dust turned to mud immediately and the mud was
slippery. Without four wheel drive I'd've never made it. As it was I
scraped the right side of the jeep more than once.
At the top of the pass, recognized by a wider ledge and a rock cairn,
I stopped the jeep close to the cliff on the right and told Rejik we'd
have to wait. Rejik, as best we can determine, is twelve years old, at
the age when waiting is hard, especially considering that this jeep's
heater was out. He sat with me, listening to the rain drumming hard on
the canvas top. It wasn't long before he began to shiver nor much longer
before he said, "Go to <meshir>."
"Meshir? Where's that?"
"Not where. People." His dark eyes glinted at me in the light of the
dash.
I shook my head. "We're staying here until this rain let's up."
"Rain no let up."
I chuckled. "It has to let up sometime."
"Tomorrow, maybe. Rain long time up here. Sometime wash out road."
"Great! Where are these Meshir? Behind us? I'm not sure we have
room here to turn around."
"No." He pointed ahead. "Road to <meshir> past first curve. Very
close."
"The road or the Meshir?"
"Very close."
I thought for a minute. The Air Force had warned us not to get too
thick with the natives, telling the story of a contractor who had wandered
off in search of pussy, only to be found dead and dickless. "To these
people adultery is a capital offense," Captain Smith had told us. "And
adultery means screwing anyone but your wife." He grinned. "Or maybe
your sheep."
I looked at Rejik, a small boy in truth, shivering harder beside me in
his coats made of reworked military uniforms. "Where'd you learn your
English, Rejik?"
"From mother. Dead now."
How remarkable that his native mother spoke English! I wanted to ask
him about his father but decided his story was probably pretty standard.
The American Air Force has been in northern Iran for nearly two decades,
opposing and spying on the Soviets. Plenty of Vietnamese kids speak
English for the same reason. One wonders how Rejik's mother avoided the
fatal charge of adultery -- but then, she was a native and could probably
find a way. Though if Rejik's father was Western the lad showed no
evidence of it, which meant nothing either way.
I restarted the jeep and pulled slowly ahead, hugging the cliff wall.
The kid was right. A cut loomed black past the next curve. I turned off
and followed it for a mile or so in low gear, the engine growling above
the drumming rain. The road, curiously flat, inclined slightly, water
sluicing towards us in the tunnel of the headlights.
"Just around curve," the lad called, pointing to the left.
Gingerly I negotiated the curve and the headlights passed over what
looked like an oversized fireplace, mantel and all. I straightened the
vehicle and brought it to a halt, lights full on the structure. I
recognized a large door, rudely made with interlaced boards, under a flat
roof, all built right up against the cliff face. I saw no motion but the
rain, now falling at an angle due to the moderate wind.
"What is that, Rejik?"
"<Meshir>."
"No. I mean, that's not a building. What is it?"
"Building in rock."
"A cave?"
"Cave." I could see him tasting the word. His eyes glittered at me.
"Old time people."
"Moslems?"
"Not Moslems."
"Do you think you can get in?"
"You bring pistol."
That was ominous. I thought it over. The boy was cold. We had one
can of coke plus two candy bars in my coat pocket. I had expected to
arrive at the base by this time. I reached behind the seat, took the
military-issue .45 from its holster, worked the slide, made sure the
safety was on and shoved it into my belt. Maybe they'd let us in and
maybe not, but it wouldn't be healthy for the boy to sit in a cold jeep
half the night.
"You think we'll have to shoot our way in?"
"No shoot. Run if shoot."
Did he mean I should carry it for show? In my earlier experience, if
you showed a weapon you'd better be ready to use it. Another item from
that experience: I am pretty good with a .45. For me it is a pistol of
fortuitous design. I shoots where I want it when I point it in my hand.
>From the hip I can hit a 25-cent piece across the room. That gives me
confidence. Too much, maybe.
I pulled the jeep close to the door, killed engine and lights and
stuffed the ignition key into my pocket, sitting for a moment to let eyes
adjust. It was pitch dark and the rain on the canvas sounded like a
waterfall. Soon I perceived a very faint glow outlining the door.
Someone was operating a light behind it.
I found the flashlight clipped under the dash where it was supposed to
be. A push of the button and light stabbed out. Bless you, Sgt. Downs!
"You ready?" I asked.
"Yeh."
He opened his door as I did mine. God, the rain was cold on my face!
I pulled the military cap down close over my eyes and dashed under the
mantel overhang, the boy beside me.
The door had no knob. "Should we knock?" I asked.
The boy pointed above me. I saw a piece of wood sticking out from an
upper corner. "Pull down."
I reached up, grasped and pulled and felt something release. The boy
put his shoulder to the door and pushed hard. It opened inward
reluctantly, with creaking hinges.
We were looking into the corridor of a natural cave, generally of
round cross-section, extending back into the hill about 100 feet, where it
curved to the right. The light, not very bright, was reflected around
that curve. Aside from the light the only sign of human habitation was
the smoothness of the floor, which had been recently swept. I could see
brush marks in the sprinkling of sand on the rock.
I closed the door behind us with surprising difficulty. The latch, a
simple inclined lever operated by gravity, fell into its groove about even
with my head. I had the impression of a draft into the cave, shut off
when I closed the door. The reflected light began oddly to vary. I
realized the variation was due to the shadow of someone walking towards
the bend in the passage. I looked at Rejik. He watched the shadow but I
detected only curiosity in his face.
I thought we could stay right there beside the door until the rain
quit or day dawned. It was dry, out of the wind and warmer than the
outside. But the person approaching beyond the bend might have other
ideas.
"Come on," I said, starting toward the bend myself. Rejik scampered
after me.
We had made half the distance when the silhouette of a head popped
into view -- not the whole body, just a head, long hair falling from it.
The head disappeared. The shadow began to dance and a long, wavering cry
--
words, not an inarticulate scream -- reverberated in the cave. Our
inspector was obviously female ... or a child the age of Rejik.
He had his own opinion. "She say, 'Devils come.'"
"She speaks your tongue?"
"<Meshir> tongue. My mother's tongue."
"Is that different from the other people in the mountains?"
"Very different." He chuckled, pulling slightly ahead of me, throwing
out his chest. "Look like devil." He actually laughed.
"Is that good?"
"Good <vorsh>."
"What is vorsh?"
"<Vorsh>. Don't know English."
A contralto voice came faintly around the bind. Even I could tell
this one belonged to no child. It was not too faint for Rejik. "Big
mother say hide treasures." He chuckled again and looked back at me.
"Means no man here."
I stopped. "Wait a minute."
He turned around to look at me but made no move to reverse his steps.
"What matter?"
"I'm not going to bother a bunch of women. We can stay here by the
door."
"They know what do." He studied me. "You have fun. Leave first
light. Womans not tell."
I turned the flashlight on the floor, making enough light to see his
expression. "What do you mean?"
"You see. Have fun."
"How do you know this?"
"Mother live here." Suddenly he came close, looking up at me
beseechingly. "You not tell, Hahree?"
"Tell these people? I don't know a word of their tongue."
"No. You not tell camp. Please, Hahree?"
That was easy. I'm no gossip. When I reassured him, he smiled,
whirled and hurried on ahead. I could do nothing but follow.
Around the bend the air on my face was warmer. The corridor ran
irregularly another 100 feet, about. At the end was a bright light. The
air grew steadily warmer as we approached it. At last we debouched into a
large cavern, at least fifty feet across. Two other places opened darkly
in the rock across the flat floor. The room was high domed but exhibited
none of the stalactites one usually associates with natural caves,
suggesting that this was an <un>natural cave.
But the center of attention was the sheet of yellow flame that rose,
accompanied by a slight hissing, two feet above a crack in a rise near the
middle of the room. The crack itself was irregular, about a foot long so
far as I could guess from twenty feet away, with the flame rising above
it, blue at the bottom, yellow at the top, wavering very little in the
still air. A natural gas flame? It had to be. Though it's the plains of
Iran that float upon a sea of oil, accompanied by natural gas, it's not
too far fetched to believe a vein might conduct natural gas into the
mountains. I wondered how long this fire had burned. Surely the frequent
earthquakes must affect it!
So I asked Rejik. He shook his head. "Ask big mother."
Carpets and cushions were scattered about the fire. An iron pot hung
from a tripod nearby. I thought to study these items when motion
attracted my eye.
Two naked women came into the light from one of the far openings. I
thought of the pistol, wondering who might be behind them, but nothing was
visible down the dark corridor.
They came slowly forward, heads hanging, eyes looking down at their
path. They were nearly identical with black hair behind them down to the
hips, olive skin, slight breasts, plump buttocks and short pubic fuzz.
Both had fine dark hair on arms and legs. Both were very young.
"What is this, Rejik?"
"Girls for us."
"For us? Why are they naked?"
"So not get hurt."
It depends on what is meant by "hurt." At the sound of Rejik's boyish
voice the girls stopped short, still beyond the fire. They spoke briefly
to each other. The one on Rejik's side pointed directly to him and called
something in a shrill soprano.
He drew himself up, hands on hips, and snarled a deep answer, though
his voice broke in the middle of his oration and ended on a squeak. Both
girls laughed and Rejik immediately turned his back on them, blushing
furiously. The accuser's laugh failed. Her lip curled in disgust and
perhaps frustration. She stamped a foot and stood with arms crossed over
her belly.
The other girl said something to me in a taunting tone. I took a
breath and asked Rejik, "What's going on?" Though I was beginning to
guess.
"They say ... me too little." A tear rolled plainly down his cheek.
"Well, aren't you?"
He sighed. "Maybe. Don't know."
"What did she say to me?"
"She ask, can you make baby?"
"Is that what they want?"
He spoke to "my" girl over his shoulder. She answered. He said, "Big
mother want."
I nodded. "As I thought. I'd like to meet big mother."
Suddenly he grinned and turned fully around. His voice rose
scornfully. Both girls, especially "mine," reacted as if he had struck
them. "His" girl spun around and ran like a deer back into the far
corridor. "My" girl's shoulders sagged along with her face.
"What in the world did you tell them?"
He grinned around at me. "You say they too small for you."
"Damn it, Rejik, that's not what I said at all! I want big mother."
"Tell that, too."
I walked slowly forward, skirting the fire, toward the remaining girl,
Rejik following, no longer leading me. Her eyes rose impassively as I
approached. Standing near her I smelled a faint odor of jasmine. I took
off my cap and pointed to myself. "Harry," I intoned.
Rejik spoke, including my name as he says it: Hahr-ree. The girl
said one word: "Melki."
Rejik looked at me. "She say name Melki."
"I am pleased to meet you, Melki," I said gravely, putting out my
hand. Rejik spoke again and she extended hers to meet mine, palm down.
Was that instinctive? In any case I lifted it to my lips and kissed the
back. She snatched it away, eyes widening, which surprised me. Surely
she must expect worse than that!
Rejik looked at me in horror. "Boss, why you do that?"
I shrugged. "Why not? It is how westerners often greet women. What
does it mean here?"
"<Meshir> man do to new wife."
"But not to other women?"
"No. Only wife."
"What does he do to other women?"
He shrugged. "Fuck them."
"I see." The girl was hugging herself and blushing over half her
body. She refused to meet my eyes. "He just throws them down and gets on
with it, does he?"
The lad nodded. "Fuck them."
"Well, I'm not Meshir, Rejik. Tell her that."
He and the girl spoke at length. Her blush faded and her eyes turned
up to me in curiosity. He said, "She ask if you love her."
I thought about that. Her question could have many meanings. Trying
to pin it down with Rejik's poor English and lack of experience would only
skewer it. At last I said, "Tell her yes, but not here at the fire." I
prided myself that such an answer, putting off any consequential action,
was the best I might do in those circumstances not to antagonize her.
She said something else, grinning at me, and extended her own hand,
the one she had snatched away.
"She want hand," Rejik announced unnecessarily.
I put mine in hers. She immediately raised it to her lips and kissed
the back, just as I had done, adding a secret swipe of the tongue. She
threw it down, laughed, spoke a few syllables, turned and ran into the
corridor after her friend.
"She says come to her bed."
"Down that passage?"
He shrugged.
"Where is big mother?"
"She come to Melki."
An invitation into a trap? I'd've thought so except for Rejik.
He's been at the camp far longer than I, knows everyone and is both
liked and trusted. It was doubtful he'd lead me deliberately into
harm's way. I looked around. Persian carpets hung from the wall in
several places. Everything was reds, browns and blues with a few
creamy yellow spots in cushions or carpet. This place made me
curious. Perhaps big mother could satisfy my curiosity.
"Okay. Can you find her bed?"
"Can find," he answered confidently and stepped off toward the far
corridor.
This passage showed even more evidence of human attention. Though
curving left and right, the width, a good six feet, remained nearly
constant. Walls were nearly plumb to the floor.
The light grew dimmer as we left the fire but not so dim that I failed
to recognize Melki waiting for us at a fork. No, it wasn't. Melki had a
mark, either bruise or birthmark, on her left hip that was missing on this
one. And she regarded Rejik with a familiar sneer. She said something to
him when he stood before her. He rattled back at her, clearly nettled, to
which she replied briefly, flicking me a grin.
"What's the question?" I asked.
"She say me stay."
"And what do you say?"
"I say you need me for talk. She say you no need talk."
"She's wrong. Put out your hand to her. Tell her to take it and come
with us."
His eyes flashed at me in what I took to be gratitude. He extended
his hand and spoke to her, his voice lower by at least an octave. She
sniffed and turned up her nose.
"She won't take," he reported, dropping his eyes.
I grabbed her hand, forcibly put it into his, staring into her eyes.
"Do as he says!" I commanded gruffly.
Her eyes widened. She snapped an interrogative at the boy, who
explained with a touch of satisfaction. She lowered her eyes submissively
with a word I didn't catch.
"What was that?"
"She ... Don't know word. She do what we say."
"Good."
I gestured down a corridor but Rejik indicated the other one. He and
the girl led the way, holding hands: that is, Rejik holding her wrist.
She walked slightly behind him, not resisting. She was the taller of the
two by half a head, nearly up to my shoulder.
I followed them, beginning to sweat. It was <warm> in these caves,
definitely warm enough for girls to run around naked, far too warm for my
winter coat. I parted the front zipper, letting it swing on either side.
The girl looked back at the sound. Her eyes widened on the pistol butt in
my belt, then rose to my face before turning back. She said something to
Rejik, her tone worried.
He grinned back at me. "She ask if you kill her and Melki."
"Tell her I want to talk to big mother."
They spoke again. "She ask if you love Melki."
"Rejik, do you understand that I think Melki is nice but I want to
talk to big mother?"
He thought about it. "You not fuck Melki?"
"Don't tell her that!" A woman scorned is bad enough, but in this
case they might construe it as scorn of their entire establishment!
"What is 'nice?'"
"Nice is ... Do you know <pretty>?"
"Ah, yes."
He spoke again. When he was silent she looked back at me
speculatively but said no more.
We came to an oval hole in the wall, literally that, about four feet
in width. An opaque curtain hung over it on the inside. The girl
stopped beside it and gestured for me to climb in. I said to Rejik, "She
and you first."
He spoke. The girl shrugged, put her knee on the ledge and levered
herself through the hole. Rejik followed without hesitation. After a
moment I followed, too -- onto soft warmth in pitch darkness. A female
body. It squealed. I backed against the curtain and unhooked the
flashlight from my belt, turning the beam downward when I flipped it on.
The four of us, Rejik, myself and the two naked girls, were in a
cubbyhole large as two or three double beds laid parallel. It was well
padded on the "floor" -- a bed cave, if you will. Melki, she of the
bruised hip, sat up on her heels and blinked madly in the light. She
shielded her eyes and regarded the other girl. They engaged in a brief
argument, to which Rejik contributed a few words.
At last he turned to me. "She no fuck if we here."
I understood him to mean with Rejik and the other girl here. I said,
"That suits me fine. Send one of them for the big mother."
While they spoke I removed my winter coat and folded it to sit on.
Melki helped me at the last, then leaned against me and began to unbutton
my shirt.
Rejik grinned. "She say yes."
"Yes to what?"
"She fuck if we fuck, too." He began to undo his coats, the other
girl attending, her face impassive.
A smaller cubbyhole had been cut in the wall above Melki's head. I
evicted her from beneath it and laid pistol and flashlight there, pointing
the light inward so that only a reflected glow illuminated our little
party. My clothing, neatly folded, went into a corner of the bed space.
Rejik's went to the other. Boots went out through the curtain.
"Rejik, will I have to walk barefoot out of here?"
"No woman bother," he said confidently. I let them lie.
When I was down to underclothing and finally comfortable, I removed
the girl's hands from my body and took up the candy bar, a Butterfinger,
saved from my pocket. I broke it in half, tearing the paper, and offered
a piece to each girl, who took it reluctantly. Melki sniffed hers and
made a face. She started to put it into the cubbyhole with pistol and
flashlight, but I stopped her hand.
"It's all right," I intoned soothingly, pulling back the wrapper and
taking a small bite. "Do you see? Tell them, Rejik."
He spoke briefly. Each girl took a doubtful bite from her piece. The
whites of their eyes gleamed in surprise. They took larger bites, chewing
with expressions of fascination. In 'Nam the army called candy "poguey
bait." Close enough.
Except that I was after neither poguey nor pussy. "Rejik, I'll wait
here for big mother, however long it takes. If she doesn't come, I'm
going to sleep."
I found the sealed matches in my military shirt pocket and raised up
on my knees as far as I could without bumping my head on the rock ceiling.
"What you do?" he asked while I fumbled on the ledge above the middle of
the room. As expected I found stumps of candles with fresh ones behind
them.
The match head popped and flashed in the tiny room. Both girls
twitched. In a moment I had two of the candles lit. When their flames
were steady and the odor of grease supplanting that of chocolate and
peanut butter, I turned off the flashlight and laid it beside my britches.
But I left the pistol in the cubbyhole.
Finally I stretched out on the bed, ignoring Melki as she pressed
herself against me, and directed, "Tell them what I said."
"Okay." Something about his tone caused me to raise my head. He lay
on his back, sideways to me. The girl knelt over him. His arm extended
under her buttocks. Her hand cupped his testicles. Clear in the
candlelight his boy's cock stood straight up though not yet man sized, the
plum head exposed. As I watched, her other hand encircled it. She looked
up, smiled at me and licked her lips.
Melki tugged at my shorts. I took her hands away from the waistband.
She sighed and slipped her fingers through the fly. I thought to stop her
but it seemed less complicated just to let her play.
"Rejik, tell them what I said. Now."
He took a breath and spoke briefly. Neither girl reacted. "You told
them I want big mother?"
"She come after fuck."
A bit later Melki said something. I raised my head inquiringly but
realized she was talking to one or both of the others. She had opened the
front of my shorts to bring me out into the air, then opened her hands for
the others to see her prize. Rejik took one look and turned his head
away. The other girl's eyes narrowed and Melki laughed deep in her
throat. She bent and sucked me into her mouth. Again it seemed less
complicated just to let her play.
I heard the others moving around. It had been a long, hard day. But
who can sleep while a pretty girl sucks his dick? A pretty child, that
is, or little more than one. But I'd discovered no "age of consent" here.
Apparently full grown dicks in this land were accustomed to taking
virginities young as six. But this girl had pubic hair, as I verified
with an exploratory finger, plus the unmistakable odor of woman.
I reached under her, took her by the shoulders and reversed her until
she lay atop me. As she moved I glimpsed Rejik atop his girl, fucking
like mad, her legs wrapped passionately around his butt. The boy was
proving a man tonight. Then Melki's hand was upon me and I had to
surrender to the inevitable. I helped her remove my shorts.
I kissed her while we fucked, tasting secondhand Butterfinger. She
resisted my tongue at first, then opened to it, in a moment daring to
chase it with her own. My juices rose soon; I was always quick the first
time. I reached behind her, took a cheek in each hand, and forced my
deepest penetration. She had begun to clip me, so perhaps it was not
entirely unpleasant to her. Certainly it was sweet for me. I left a wad
of semen under her womb, my first in a female in a month.
She put her chin down on my shoulder and let me and my produce linger
in her belly. I heard girl and boy talking softly across the bed. I
drifted in and out of sleep, not quite daring to succumb all the way.
A deeper female voice spoke from the direction of the curtain. Melki
sprang up and I raised up, realizing that indeed I had fallen asleep and
that both candles were out. But the flashlight was where I left it. I
took it up and held it dark, but with thumb on the button.
Both girls spoke swiftly, one after the other. Their voices were
appeasing. Melki's, which I could now recognize, also held a note of
pride.
A command sounded unmistakably. Melki's hip left my side. The
curtain opened, revealing a beshawled face holding some kind of oil lamp
in the opening, its light whiter than the candles, bright enough to make
me blink. Melki scooted toward the light on her back, feet and hands
supporting her. At the light she spread her knees so far apart that I
heard her hips creak. The beshawled head held the lamp higher, then bent
to sniff the girl's crack. I saw a flash of pink. Had she actually
licked it?
The woman issued another order, this one longer and louder. Melki
backed away to crouch at my feet, still facing the light. To my surprise
Rejik took her place. He hustled forward, sat Indian style in the light
and began to talk with the woman.
I interrupted. "Rejik, what are you telling her?"
He glanced over his shoulder. "She ask why bring you here."
I pulled a blanket over my lower body and sat up, careful not to bump
my head.
"And what do you say?"
The woman held her lamp higher. Glittering black eyes stared at me
from an uncovered face. I realized that this was probably the first
native mature female face I'd seen yet in these mountains. It displayed
no wrinkles except a few around the eyes. My immediate judgment took her
to be fortyish.
She spoke a question to him as she regarded me. I recognized my name
in his response.
"This is the big mother, I take it."
"Yes. She say tell you her name 'Moreti.'"
"Moreti. Tell her I cannot fault her hospitality."
"Huh?"
"Tell her, 'Thank you.'"
After another exchange he translated, "She say she like you in her
house."
"How about in her servant?"
Trust the boy to understand that! He spoke. She smiled and
responded. He said, "She like you in girl, too. Hope for baby." He
grinned at me hugely. "Me make water in Tuanti. First time!"
"Good for you," I responded, whether the first time was Tuanti's or
his own. "Ask Moreti when we can talk."
Another exchange. "She say talk better at breakfast."
After barking a command to the other girl, who drew near, Moreti
withdrew a candle from somewhere in her robe and lit it in her lamp. The
girl, Tuanti, took the candle and crawled across the bedding, mounting it
carefully on the ledge beside the stubs that I had burned. I checked my
wristwatch. It was only 0100. Did she mean to leave us no sleep?
Moreti had company. Melki reached past the opening and returned
inside, carefully holding a ceramic basin that I gathered was full of
water. She swung about and laid it near my hip while Tuanti was accepting
an identical basin. I smelled raw soap. Moreti withdrew her lamp,
letting the curtain fall over the opening.
Melki said something to me in a tone of entreaty. I asked, "What was
that, Rejik?
He replied from the dimness across the bedding, Tuanti crouched beside
him. "She ask you lie down, give you bath."
"Tell me again when it is that Moreti will talk to me."
"In morning. With tea."
"Tea. Is 'morning' to the Meshir the same as it is to me?"
"Sun come up."
"Who can know that in here?"
"Moreti know. Take bath, Hahree. You like."
Melki spoke again. Rejik translated, "She say take off shirt."
She began to pull off my T-shirt. With a shrug, I let her. In for a
penny, in for a pound. She folded it atop my other clothing, reached back
against the wall and returned with large pillow for my head and shoulders.
I hadn't noticed it before.
She dipped her hands into the warm solution and began to stroke my
body, wiping me with a soft cloth whose advent I hadn't noticed. Often
she used her tongue, licking my nipples and navel. She laved groin,
testicles and rectum with gentle hands, but to my disappointment mostly
ignored the half-erect dick.
She spoke to me sweetly, hands urging my back to rise up. When I
understood and rose to my knees, head bent below the ceiling, she put the
basin down in front of me, took dick in hand and pointed it down to the
water. Again her voice murmured gently. Did she want me to piss into the
water? I could certainly do it by this time, but also by this time I was
willing to go far not to offend her.
Her tone grew impatient. She ostentatiously gathered a mouthful of
saliva and spat it into the water. All right. I let fly. From her smile
and firmer grasp I understood that she was pleased, not offended. I have
a dim memory of some curious older girl using my dick so in childhood.
Boys commonly do it with each other, of course.
She promptly handed the basin out through the curtain. Apparently
other servitors still waited. While she was busy at the opening, I sat on
my haunches and watched Rejik and his girl, who lay in mutual embrace on
the far side of the bedding. I decided the boy was asleep between her
legs. But she remained awake. Her eyes glittered at me unblinkingly over
his shoulder.
Melki returned, waddling on her knees, with a small handleless cup in
either hand. She took a sip from one and handed it to me, raising the
other to her lips. I sipped also. Licorice! It seemed mildly alcoholic.
Pernod? These people were not Moslems, then, which I had already surmised
when the "big mother" showed me her face. Somehow I couldn't believe they
wanted to poison me. Willing females engender such trust, despite the
ample historical precedent for its invalidity. I tossed it down,
gathering from Melki's sigh that I should have sipped it as she was doing.
She knelt between my legs and poured the last few drops of her drink
carefully onto the glans penis, holding that wilted organ up, foreskin
withdrawn, with the other hand. She sat the cup aside, bent deeply and
sucked the liquor back off the glans before taking the entire shaft into
her mouth. Tongue and lips worked it top to bottom, more than ample
compensation for the earlier disappointment.
When it was hard enough to suit her, she mounted me as before. But I
had another idea. I turned us over, took one of her heels in either hand,
forcing her knees together under my chest, and fucked her at maximum
penetration. She grunted; it may have hurt her at first. But as I
learned in 'Nam, if a woman will endure it, the cervix will soon begin
cheering instead of bitching, which I understand is nearly the ultimate
thrill. As it may have been for Melki. She was moaning and humping madly
when I left my second deposit.
I rolled off her and did what men have always done in such
circumstances: went fast asleep.
--
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