By the end of brunch, and Elliot’s departure on the helicopter, Claire was still struggling to get wide awake. Most of the guests, including Vara, had gone back to their cabins to nap a little longer. Claire changed into a thong bottom and went out on the deck to lie in the sun again. She must have dozed off because she heard a woman’s voice from far away talking to her as she surfaced from her nap.

  “May I put some suntan lotion on you, Claire? Suntan oil, I mean.” Of course, it was Vara.

  Actually, I could use some, Claire thought, still groggy. “Ok, Vara. I’ve spent so much time in the sun that my skin is going to get really dry if I don’t take care of it.” She flipped over onto her stomach.

  Vara began to rub the coconut-scented oil onto her back, shoulders and arms. “Your skin is so soft and smooth, Claire. It glows with health and your tan looks beautiful.” Vara continued down Claire’s back to the top string of the thong. Her slender fingers had short nails which allowed her to work diligently without scratching Claire. “It will be easier if you remove your thong, dear. Could you lift up a moment for me?”

  “Uh … I don’t think …” Claire felt Vara already grasping the string around her waist and pulling it down. She lifted up to keep the thong from getting caught beneath her, and Vara had it off in a second. Oh well, she thought, I’m lying on my front side, after all.

  Vara began to rub the oil onto Claire’s butt cheeks, kneading and rubbing them thoroughly. It felt good and she began to relax again. She felt Vara begin to rub in her crack and circle her anus with oily fingers. Claire pushed her hands under her and started to lean back to get up, then thought that maybe Vara was just being thorough. It did feel soooo good.

  Vara fingertips dipped into the center of her rosebud and slipped easily into her. It was well-stretched from the plug Claire wore much of the time. Claire was about to jump up and tell Vara to stop when Vara interrupted her thoughts of protest.

  “You are very open, Claire. I see that you and Elliot have actively used your lovely orifice here.”

  “Uh … yes, Vara. We do everything with each other. In particular, he does everything to me.” She tried to reinforce her tight relationship with her man by saying, “I like him to penetrate me there – and everywhere, for that matter.”

  Vara’s fingers didn’t stop. If anything, they entered her deeper. “Ah, Claire, I can completely understand that. You are just very sensitive everywhere. That is so obvious to me as I feel the reaction of your body to something as simple as having oil rubbed on it.”

  In Claire’s opinion, what was going on was hardly as simple as just having oil rubbed on her. But if she stopped thinking of it being Vara who was doing this to her, it did feel very, very desirable.

  Vara’s fingers withdrew from Claire, and slid down her legs with more oil. She rubbed the bottoms of Claire’s feet and then lifted them to massage her toes, one-by-one.

  This woman is a real professional, when it comes to massages, Claire was thinking. Her concern about Vara’s familiarity receded into the background again.

  “Turn over, dear Claire, and let me oil your other side. Besides, you promised that I could see your rings.”

  I shouldn’t be doing this, Claire thought as she rolled onto her back. Vara continued massaging more oil up both legs to where they met at her center.

  Vara was genuinely amazed. “Oh my, Claire! These rings in your pussy are so beautiful! I have never seen any done with such artistry!” Then she saw the ring that dove into the flesh just above Claire’s clitoris, emerging below the stiff little organ. The ring that was so unbelievably arousing when manipulated. The ring that had become the source of so much induced pleasure.

  “You have a ring through the base of your clitoris! That is very rare. It’s almost never done because most women cannot accommodate it!”

  “Yes,” Claire admitted, “I’m one of the few lucky ones.”

  Vara lightly touched the ring. Even that movement sent an intense thrill into Claire. Seeing what had happened, Vara oiled her fingers and began to carefully, lightly, cautiously rub around Claire’s inner lips and clit.

  “Ah … Vara … I don’t think … ah ... ooh … that’s so … no, Vara …”

  Vara held a finger to her lips and looked into Claire’s eyes with calm insistence. “Shhh, Claire. Please just relax and allow me to massage you. Nothing bad can happen here.” She continued to manipulate Claire’s inner lips, which were highly sensitive to begin with, and even more so now that they bore the five tight rings in each. Every few moments, Vara’s fingers would brush against and toy with her clit ring.

  The combination of Vara’s mellow, calming voice and the slowly building titillation crept up on Claire. Before she realized it, she felt the undeniable stirrings of arousal. She’d never been so expertly handled. It was as though Vara knew how each touch would affect Claire’s body. She is a woman too, Claire thought. She probably does know.

  The sensations were delicious, irresistible, challenging Claire to give into the pleasure and just enjoy.

  Vara leaned over and, holding Claire’s face in her oily hands, kissed her hungrily. Claire responded in spite of the voice in the back of her mind trying to tell her to immediately run away. Vara’s hands slid down her chest to grasp her breasts and exploit the rings piercing her nipples. Claire’s arousal radiated from her clitoris up her spine in back and to her chest in front and outward again from her nipple rings.

  One of Vara’s hands slid back to her pussy while the other continued to stimulate Claire’s nipples. Claire was past the point of resistance. The feelings were so overwhelmingly pleasurable that she couldn’t have stopped for anything.

  “Do you like this, Claire?”

  “Yes. Oh yes, Vara.”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “Don’t you dare stop now.” Claire couldn’t imagine anything worse than being cut off right then.

  Vara bent her head to Claire’s pussy, while her hand continued to massage Claire’s breasts. Claire felt Vara’s tongue flick around her clit. The woman was surely a magician. No one could be this good. No one could know her body this well after so little time.

  Vara’s tongue continued to flick around Claire’s wet, engorged pussy. The sensations built until nothing could happen but release. Claire came with a dazzling orgasm, moaning in pleasure at the ripples of sensation that spread throughout her body in repeating waves.

  When she could finally open her eyes, Vara was sitting facing her with a look of both satisfaction and undeniable lust on her face. “Come with me, Claire,” Vara requested. She took Claire’s hand and waited for her to sit up.

  Claire didn’t know what to say. The woman had brought her to climax as though it were the most natural thing for two females to do. And Claire had offered virtually no resistance to Vara’s advances. It’s my rings, she thought. They’ve turned me into some kind of sex adict.

  Here was her chance to finally get away. But Vara had so intrigued her that she followed the beautiful Greek to Vara’s cabin, and lay on the bed with her.

  Vara began to rub her hands over Claire’s body again. She took Claire’s hand and pressed it against her breast, encouraging Claire to fondle her while she ministered to Claire. Soon, both women were eagerly feeling, probing and arousing each other. Claire had lost herself in the excitement. She wanted Vara and she wanted Vara to take her.

  Vara knelt over Claire in sixty-nine and bent her head to tongue Claire’s pussy from the opposite direction. Claire’s head was supported by a pillow that placed Vara’s pussy immediately above her face. She began to lick along Vara’s slit, tasting Vara’s wetness. Both women were close to climax.

  As she felt herself about to go over the top yet again, Claire felt Vara’s fingers enter her, hooking within her such that Vara’s fingertips pressed against Claire’s G-spot and moved in and out over it. Each continued to lick the other. Claire’s fingers gingerly entered Vara. Both women moaned with the building arousal.

  Finally, Claire felt the sensations from both her clit and G-spot reach the top at the same time and her orgasm could have moved heaven and earth. She opened her mouth to scream with delight, but instead, tilted her head up farther to take as much of Vara’s pussy into her mouth as possible, her fingers still within Vara’s vagina. Vara came then and the two rocked in orgasm for what seemed like hours.

  When it was over, Vara lay next to Claire with her arm under Claire’s neck and Claire’s head resting on her shoulder. Neither spoke for a long time.

  Claire couldn’t believe she’d just had sex with a woman. Nor could she believe what damn good sex it was. She thought she should be feeling guilty, or dirty, or something other than the serene, pleasurable sweetness that had come over her.

  Vara finally spoke, “I think that was good for you too, wasn’t it Claire?”

  “You know it was – but I can’t believe that happened. I guess you have my femme-femme cherry now, Vara.”

  Vara laughed, almost a giggle. “Indeed I do, Claire.”

  “I’m not gay, you know. I doubt this will happen again.”

  “It may or may not. That is of no consequence to the experience we’ve both shared. I suspect you’ll remember me. I certainly will remember you.”

  “Oh, I will remember you, Vara. I guarantee that I won’t forget this.”

  “And what shall we do tomorrow, Claire?”

  “Let tomorrow bring what it will.”

  Chapter 10: Desert Rose

  Claire and Vara had three more encounters over the next two days before Elliot returned.

  Claire was abashed when she saw him. He immediately knew what’d happened, and smiled broadly at the perplexed and, unmistakably, more experienced Claire.

  “From the look on your face, I’d say that Vara managed to get to you after all.”

  He could see her squirm.

  “And more than once, I’d guess.”

  “Do you hate me?” Claire didn’t think that he would.

  “No, Darling. I told you that I thought the experience would be of value to your growth as a woman of the world. Nothing changes that. I’m totally confident in us.”

  Hearing that, her heart filled with love for him. “I’m glad you’re back,” she said sincerely, as her arms reached around his neck and she kissed him with all her self. She moved his hand down to her pussy. “I need you now.”

  “Then, dear Claire, you shall have me. Besides, I did miss you. And I’ll admit to being a little worried with you in Vara’s crosshairs.”

  Hand-in-hand, they went to their cabin. After their intimacy, Claire reflected on her state-of-mind.

  “I enjoyed the experience with Vara, but this is where I want to be. And I don’t think I’m inclined to do that again, although I’ll admit that I’m not afraid of it anymore, like I was when Vara first showed an interest in me.”

  “You should probably never say ‘never.’”

  “Oh, I’m not. But I’m not looking for a bisexual life either. Besides, you’re not only in me and around me, but you’re in my heart and soul and, most importantly, in my head. I love the way you treat me, and I love the things you do to me. You bring all my erotic desires to the surface, even the ones I don’t know I have.”

  “As your lover should. And that’s the way it should be for two people who want to spend their lives together.”

  Oh, she thought. He’s never quite said that before! I didn’t think this was a short-term relationship, but I wasn’t sure how long it was going to be. I know I want to be with him always. Now, it seems, he wants to be with me too! Her heart filled to overflowing.

  “I love you.” She said, hopefully.

  “I’ve suspected that,” he said. Her spirits drooped a little. “And you need to know, Claire, that I love you too.”

  She leapt up and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him with everything she had.

  “I am so happy right now,” she said, her eyes glistening with tears of joy that she was fighting to hold back.

  “And so am I, Love.”

  It took a while for each of them to stem the tears and regain some semblance of a new normalcy. To break the long silence that had followed their first, shared, declaration of love, Claire thought to ask him, “So … when do we get our camels and head into the desert to visit Ali?”

  He laughed. “No camels. We’ll take a private jet from Athens. Ilias has already instructed the captain to make a port call there this evening. We’ll leave the yacht with Ali and Saida after dinner.”

  “What should I wear?”

  “Probably something long and conservative. Once we’re at Ali’s you can wear whatever you want. But if you go out into the shopping area of the oasis, you’ll probably have to wear a burkha, although it can be white instead of black. Ali will have burkhas for you to use at his palace, for when you go out. I’d suggest it unless you really want to draw a crowd. When in Rome and all that. The sultanate is still pretty conservative. You might want to wear that long, dark brown wavy-curly wig you got from Monique, if you don’t want to stand out with your pretty, hairless look or a blonde or red wig.”

  “Okay. A long skirt, conservative blouse and long, dark hair it is. I can deal with that. It is their country, after all.”

  “Very cosmopolitan of you, my Love.”

  “You’ve taught me well.”

  * * * * *

  It was dark when the little jet leapt from the runway like a startled mosquito and headed toward the southeast. In a few hours, they touched down within the small sultanate near the Red Sea. Their approach had been in total, moonless darkness. The desert below them was equally dark and devoid of any lights from cities or villages. Claire could see nothing until the runway lights at the tiny airport appeared, seeming to rise up at them from the blackness.

  Claire’s first impression was of the late-evening, still-warm, dry wind that left the grit of sand in her mouth and bothered her eyes. Fortunately, they were quickly whisked into a waiting limo, as black as the night, and headed further into the desert, to Ali’s palace. In less than an hour, he and Claire stepped from the car into the lush, softly illuminated oasis, with a glowingly lit Middle Eastern-styled palace right in front of them. In spite of the classical artistry of the edifice, with its walls the color of golden sand and minarets the color of velvety, deep-maroon rose petals, Claire could tell that it was probably only ten to fifteen years old, based on the obviously modern materials that had been used in its construction.

  “Ali, it’s incredibly beautiful!” Claire exclaimed. “It’s like a fairy tale castle from the Arabian Nights.”

  “That was my first impression too,” Saida offered. “When I first drove here with Ali, I thought he was kidding me when he said this was his home. He hadn’t told me he was a wealthy sheik …”

  “Qaid,” Ali interjected, laughing. “I want to insure that a woman is interested in me for who I am as a person, not for my money. In that regard, I’m not so much like my uncle, the Emir. Uncle likes to dominate, and he doesn’t much care about the disposition of the women who interest him. So I dated Saida in a very western way until I was sure.

  “Welcome to my palace – I call it ‘Wordat a Saharat’ – or Desert Rose in English.”

  “This is just magnificent,” Claire was effusive in her praise, as they walked toward the immense entrance.

  Ali was clearly pleased. “As a matter of fact, Claire, I actually had it modeled on a picture in an English-language storybook I loved as a child. I think the book’s illustrator was British. My architect was from Chicago.”

  “You did good, Ali,” Claire was still overwhelmed by the place.

  “You should reserve judgment until you’ve seen the interior,” Ali joked. “For all you know, we keep our sheep in the living room!”

  “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  The soaring entryway didn’t disappoint. Neither did the huge salon, sunken below entry level and surrounded with lovely, slender columns topped with elaborate, palest-gray, frieze-work designs, edged in gold. Thick Persian rugs in reds, greens and golds were arranged on the amber-streaked, Italian marble floor.

  Room after room was equally striking. Ali kept up a constant patter as though he were a tour guide, interspersing comments about his family, particularly his uncle, the Emir, as he chatted on about the architecture, furnishings, and decorating goals he’d set when he’d built his “little desert cottage.”

  The walls contained artwork, paintings and photographs. In that regard, the edifice seemed less Arabic and more westernized. Claire saw a very large painting of an older version of Ali, a man with salt-and-pepper hair, mustache and goatee, and very dark, piercing eyes.

  “Let me guess,” she said to Ali, “your uncle, the Emir?”

  “Ah yes. I had this painted from a photograph, because I couldn’t get my blessed uncle to pose for a painted portrait at all. He thought it was far too western a thing for him to do. So I was rather concerned the first time I showed it to him. I thought he might have me jailed for it. Or take my funds and banish me to life as a pauper in Paris or Brussels. You can imagine my delight when he actually liked it! I offered it to him, but he told me to keep it. It would remind me of his greatness. His words were that he already knew what the great Emir looked like.”

  Claire was trying to understand how Ali’s family fit into the political structure of the sultanate. “So is your uncle subject only to the Sultan?” She asked?

  “It is perhaps not quite so simple as that, Claire.”

  “Oh? Do you mean there’s a difference between the evident political structure and the actual exercise of power?” She asked. Ali was impressed.

  “Very perceptive, Claire. Remind me to never contest with you in any games of intrigue.”

  She smiled, knowing that her comment was truly a WAG, a wild-ass-guess. “I’m not that insightful, really. I think I’ve just read too many books about the old Ottoman Empire. I’ve always been fascinated by sultans and harems and the underlying conflict between East and West.”