Thursday, April 10, 2008

A Short-Short for you

Izo stretched voluptuously under the firm hands of the masseuse. As the dark-skinned woman’s hands circled her breasts, Izo’s nipples tightened. She squeezed and re-squeezed the muscles of her inner thighs, her eyes closed, giving herself up to the melting pleasure. The woman’s hands went lower and lower, circling, stroking. Izo moaned and opened her legs, an invitation. Would the woman be pleased with her willingness? But she ignored her and mumbled something in her harsh, native language as she went on to massage Izo’s legs, her feet. When she was finished she bathed Izo again.

Izo sighed as the woman poured warm water from the brass jar over her head and then dried her off. It was months since Izo had been captured at the village well and brought to this place, with its high walls, lush gardens and soft, scented women. She had been poked and prodded, made to learn how to pluck the strings of an instrument she’d never seen before, taught to dance, taught to speak their common tongue. In all that time, no-one had spoken a kind word to her or looked at her with anything except detached interest. But today was special, the bath and the massage made that clear.

The woman opened the door of the hamman. Someone outside handed her a silk robe the deep blue color of a peacock’s feather. Izo shrugged it on, marveling at the softness of the cloth. Beaded, matching slippers were passed in next and fit her feet exactly.

The woman motioned her to follow and Izo hurried to catch up as she turned down first one corridor and then another. Izo thought she knew where she was going but it was only when she saw the guards in their white robes, their daggers hanging at their hips, that she became sure. She was in the sultan’s quarters. He had called for her. She’d suspected she’d caught the eye of his Chief Eunuch last week when he’d seen her in the pool and here was the confirmation. The guards opened the huge, double-doors and the woman pushed her inside.

To be continued…

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