More than ready

I spend the next hour preparing the lamb, couscous and a side dish of thinly sliced cucumbers marinating in olive oil and lemon juice. It is impossible not to think about the lovely blonde teenager waiting for me upstairs. Mostly, the appeal is simply because of just how damn sexy my tenant is, but I am a little intrigued by the unlikely scenario laid out by the romance novel.

What would it be like to be an absolute ruler of some Arabian emirate and have a harem of concubines to sleep with? And what if, either by accident or with deliberate intent. I brought into this collection an innocent American woman with smooth pale skin and soft blonde hair... with her modern Western sensibilities, it might be hard at first to accept that she was my property to be used for my sexual pleasure. In this particular Harlequin, the demanding Emir's intent was to avenge the blow to his honor; his own pleasure was of secondary concern and making this American whore enjoy the experience was not even a consideration.

By now, the lamb was roasting in a cast iron pot, the couscous simmering on the lowest setting in its covered pan and the cucumbers were marinating in the refrigerator. It was a little early, but I could wait no longer.

“Your Majesty!” Alison was wearing the many veils and bangles that covered her even more than her typical clothes. The difference was that these scarves could be pulled off one by one until her lovely young body was exposed. “I demand you return me to my hotel immediately.”

“Who are you?” I demanded in my best Desert King accent, surprising myself by remembering the name of the Arabian Princess “Where is my Amyra?”

“She's not yours, your Majesty.” Alison's voice rose with a fierceness that made me want to strip away her dress to tame her a little. “She called off your stupid arranged marriage over a year ago, Sire. I can't believe you thought you could kidnap her, bring her to your bedroom and ... OMG you are a twisted, sick man ... this is the twenty-first century, not some Arabian Nights legend!”

“I can do what I want, this is my land, and my people obey me absolutely.”

“What do want from me? I'm an American citizen - if you try anything you'll create a diplomatic crisis that will crush your country.” The words are to the best of my memory taken exactly from the book, but coming from her dressed as she is they sound even sexier. Unlike my tenant, I did not bother to memorize the lines from the book, but I did my best to follow the rough outline laid out by the author.

“Ah, you are the college roommate, no?” I take a step closer to where Alison stands trembling. “You are the one who convinced my Amyra to forsake her oaths.” Another step brings me even closer, “You have much to answer for, I think.” Alison doesn't answer, but I can see her defiant stare from just above the veil that covers her face. “Well, if I can't have what is rightfully mine, I will take her whorish bridesmaid instead.”

“What?!” The word comes out as a panicked gasp, “I don't care what clothes you make me wear. I'm not some pleasure **** to serve your needs!” It's a bold statement, but I am not deterred. She freezes when I reach for her face, lifting the headscarf and attached veil to expose her beautiful face and hair.

“We've gone over this before Miss ...” I hesitate, allowing her to provide a name.

“Miller, your majesty. Alison Miller.”

“Well, Miss Miller. As I've explained before, this is not some emasculated Western Democracy, this is my fiefdom and here, I am the law.” I take a step back and settle on her bed, “Take off your clothes, Miss Alison, show me your whorish body. That is my word.”

“Please, I can't. No man has ever seen me naked.”

“Camel droppings!” I don't even know if anyone would say that, but I follow up the colorful language with a clear threat. “Take off the damn dress, or I'll cut it off you myself!” Ever so slowly Alison removes the outer layer of blue silk until she has only one final formfitting piece left covering her flesh. First one gold shoulder strap and then the other, but she catches the dress before it slides to her feet.

“Don't make me do this, Sire. I'm begging you.” She really is beautiful, and I just can't wait any longer.

“You're not begging me yet, but you will be by the time I'm done experiencing your decadent American body.” I pat the bed by my side, “I want you out of that last layer and on this bed. Now!”