Chapter 5               Harem Girl Dance

The sky in Toronto darkens early in January. As the gloom increases streetlights cast an orange glow in fan patterns along the streets, transforming the snow from white to amber. Christmas decorations on doorsteps and apartment balconies glimmer red, blue, green and yellow some flashing, others not, all trying to cast a cheerful light on a dreary night. Balcony lights on high-rise buildings appear as constellations in the black sky.

            Road traffic is always heavy as commuters rush home seeking refuge from the dark and cold. Most people keep their Christmas decorations for a few days in the New Year but I had not decorated the condo and in fact had not done so for many years preferring to be any place but home for Christmas. My living room is dark this time of year with a particularly gloomy corner where the sofa chair that I had kept in memory of my previous life is located. It had been Catherine’s favourite and I never sat in it. The black leather lounge beside the coffee table in front of the large screen television was my place even though I seldom used it. I preferred the digital wide screen surround sound system in the bedroom, particularly when entertaining ladies. It was angled to provide comfortable viewing from a relaxed position on the wide bed that was the main item of furniture in the room.

            I arrived home tired and anxious. The possibility of bankruptcy weighed heavily on my mind but concern for Sylvia was greater and I wondered how I would convince Carol and Robert to be tested without explanation. Maybe I’ll be the perfect match and wouldn’t have to tell them anything. I decided to be tested as soon as possible. 

            “Hi dad.” Carol was hidden in the dark, folded into her mother’s old chair. She had a cup of tea.

            “Hello, honey, I didn’t expect to find you here at this hour.”

            “We just got in. Tracy is in the bedroom fixing a surprise for you. I want to see the expression of your face when you see her. She’s a strange woman, but fun to shop with.”

            “Ya, she is full of surprises. I better have a look.”

            “No, she’ll call when she’s ready. I’m the gatekeeper. Would you like a cup of tea?”

            Carol stepped behind the serving bar and plugged the kettle into the outlet beside the stainless steel side-by-side refrigerator as I hung my coat and slipped out of the jacket and shoes.

            “Was it rough getting back to work?”

            “Ya, there are problems that will take time to sort out. I sure would rather be sailing on the Caribbean Sea. I should be enjoying the good life right now.”

            “You seem to have found another prize, daddy. You have a way with the ladies but I think Karen is really the one for you.” She brought a cup of tea.

            A voice from the bedroom, “Okay, folks, I hope you’re ready.”

            Silhouetted in the hallway, backlit from the bedroom, a figure appeared dancing provocatively into the living room. Turkish music played in the background as a gyrating body took shape and approached with jangling bells and snapping castanets. Carol put on a light to illuminate Tracy dressed in the skimpy costume of a belly dancer. She maneuvered her way to me and leaned over my face shaking barely covered breasts against my cheeks, leaned back and pressed her thighs against mine. It was provocative and too much for Carol who slipped into the kitchen.

            “You like?” The words came with heavy breath between gyrations.

            I stood and took her into my arms, partly to end the performance for Carol’s sake and partly to feel the heat of her body. “I like. Now scamper and put something on or we’ll never eat supper tonight.”

            “I’ll let you eat something special if you like.”

            “Get out of here before I take you up on that.” She retreated to the bedroom with a pout.

            Carol reappeared. “She’s too much for you daddy. I’d better go home and look after my husband before he gets his own ideas.”

            She called goodbye and left.

            “Come here, honey, I want to show you something.” The bedroom light was dim. Long shadows darkened the corners drawing my eyes to the figure on the wide bed crouching in the lotus position still dressed as a harem girl. She pointed to a blue green caftan on the chair beside the closet door. “Put that on, master, and we’ll stay home and play sheik. We don’t need to go out.”

            Resistance was futile and I became a Turkish sultan complete with a turban. The silk robe caressed my bare skin sensuously. I felt myself relaxing, encouraged by the sweet odour of incense glowing crimson in small bowls on the dresser and end tables. She rose and drew me to cushions carefully placed on the floor in front of the television. My problems melted away with the rhythm of the music as she danced and slowly shook herself, piece by piece, out of her costume. It was a private dance, provocative and personal, the kind that can only be performed by a slave for her master.

            The music became faster. She danced more quickly. Every part of her body moved like water streaming over pebbles. Dim lights sparkled on the beads wrapped around her hips casting diamond flashes on the walls and ceiling. The aroma was narcotic taking me into a world of fantasy and orgy. She was on me, pressing her soft breasts to my mouth, and then rising to bring her slim waist to my tongue. I lay back as she danced over my head and lowered her swaying hips against my face and her sweet clitoris tantalized my nose. My eager hands caressed her smooth skin, fingers tracing the tight slit between her firm buns. Musky moisture between her long slim legs teased my senses and I felt an overwhelming desire to taste her sweetness. I pulled her and she collapsed breathing heavily, hot from the exertion.

            Gasping, “Where did you learn to do that?”

            She panted. “Never mind, just come to me. What do you wish of your slave, my Sultan?”

            Her Sultan wished a lot and partook of all of the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. The cushions on the floor scattered, as Sultan and slave were lost in passion to the music and the fragrance of incense and musk. Loving Tracy was not an event. She made it a total experience.

Time was irrelevant and we didn’t eat dinner that night. Later, who knew when, we huddled together teasing each other’s taste buds with tongues laced with old cheddar and the champagne that I had kept for special occasions.

            It was the phone that broke the spell. She held my hand as I reached for it as if to keep me from picking up the receiver. Something told me not to but I did.

            “Hello.”

            A gruff voice on the other end of the line demanded to speak to Tracy using expletives and hard language.

            “Don’t speak to me like that. You don’t have to be rude.”

            Tracy grabbed the phone and listened. She said nothing and hung up. A tear glistened in her eye.

            “I must go back to LA. Please come with me?” Her lips trembled.

            What on earth could he have said to her to make her react like that?

            “What’s wrong dear, what did he say to you? You know I can’t go, not now. Stay here with me a bit longer. It can’t be that bad.”

            “It is dear, I must go. If you don’t come now I don’t know when we’ll be together again.”

            I held her tightly. She shuddered as I kissed tears from her eyes.

Chapter 6

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