"I suppose you have passed her on to your associates, as usual?"
"Yes, she went rather reluctantly, but I. am a businessman and cannot let my investments sit too long without making a return on them…I have some excellent movies made of her that will go well on the American market."
The King grinned broadly. Tell me, Mahguib…would you be interested in making an additional purchase?"
"Perhaps,.. my dear King. But, you know of course, that I do not carry such money with me when I travel in this damnable jungle."
"Yes, I understand, my friend. Why do you not look her over anyway? Perhaps on your next visit "
"Tell me about her then," the Arab brightened. "When I see so much enthusiasm in your eyes, I know it must be something special!"
"First, my friend, you know I provide only the best, yes?"
"Indeed, my dear King…but I have had problems with some of them," he added the last quickly, sensing that the bargaining was beginning. "You know, they are young and so unworldly, I must often do much training to prepare them for my clients."
"Mahguib, you desert pimp," the King laughed, "you know very well that is why you are in this business; so you can sample these tender packages before you pass them on to your friends."
"My dear King," the Arab objected, raising his hands, "it is not for I, Mahguib, that I do these things. I must do them to make certain my reputation as a businessman is respected. My clients are the wealthiest in Mauritania, and I dare not send them, packages that I myself have not trained to perfection."
"Yes, my friend, but do you not fear that you will train them until they lose their fire?"
Mahguib shuffled nervously before the King's throne. "There are ways of restoring lost fire," he said. "Your pitchi is one…the lash is another." He managed a feeble smile. "Let us stop this depressing bickering. You know I am a sincere man and an honest one. I am in a very competitive business and profits have not been good for the last several years. Do not take advantage of my helpless position, I implore you."
The King smiled sympathetically. These Arabs are all the same, he mused. They never grow away from the rug-sellers mentality. It didn't matter if they were dealing with one franc or a million, their approach was always the same business was bad and the price too high. But, because you are a friend, they will sacrifice and give you half the price you ask, even though it will drive them to bankruptcy!
The King knew enough then to ask exactly double the price he expected to get if they were to eventually arrive at that figure.
"Mahguib," the King said at last, "this package is American."
There was a moment's silence as the pudgy Arab slaver let the thought sink into his mind. "I would like to see this package," he said, wetting his lips.
Penny fretted nervously as she sat on the edge of the bed which had been moved to the adjoining room in anticipation of the Arab's arrival. She could hear every word of the conversation taking place between Mahguib and King Jabavu, and the very thought of them discussing her as if she were a side of beef caused her to sicken in fear. Dear God, she prayed silently, let me die…please, let me.
"On your feet, American pig! I have a buyer who wants to look you over!"
***"What the hell are Arabs doing in Djambulu country, Major?"
M'Bonu shrugged noncommittally. "I cannot say for certain, monsieur Glasser, but my guess is that they are providing the Djambulu with the Russian made rifles and sub-machine guns that have been turning up lately."
Doug's face pinched in concern. The Major's suspicions sounded all too plausible. Worse, it could mean extra guns to contend with if there happened to be samples in the back of the truck. "What do you think, Major?" he queried.
The Major's thoughts were running along the same track. "I think it would be foolish to attack now," he said. "I think the Arabs will be leaving soon, or they wouldn't have parked their vehicle right in front of the door."
Doug swallowed tightly and studied the thin line of Senegalese troops fanned out belly down along the crest of the hill. Christ, it was a pathetic-looking outfit. He looked at his watch. It was six-fifteen and just now dark. "Let's give them till seven-thirty, eight at the latest," he suggested.
The Major nodded reluctantly. He was willing to wait all night if necessary. "Yes, Eight, I think, monsieur Glasser," he agreed.
It was settled.
They would wait.
***Penny dropped the blue raffia robe from her trim well-tapered body on the command of this short dark Arab standing in front of her. His name, she learned, was Mahguib, and he controlled with an iron hand the sale of all the fresh young European women that passed through this part of West Africa. What she did not know was that his own government did not forbid his trade completely as they knew the tribal chieftans who now supported the government would take a dim view of their supply of white girls being cut off. They did require that he do it more discreetly than it had been done when the French were there. After all, this was one of the new socialist societies and must protect their world image as such in the United Nations and before the world press. One never knew when an Interpol agent might penetrate the mother organization and blow the whistle. If this happened, then the Socialist State needed a scape-goat and Mahguib knew very well who that scape-goat would be. A firing squad was the only acceptable penalty for disgracing the state and he did not have the slightest inclination for ending his term here on earth in that brutal manner. None of this was any help to Penny.
"Now turn for Mahguib, Penny," the King coaxed threateningly. "Show him what you have to offer his clients!"
Penny followed the African Monarch's commands as obediently as a well-trained show bitch. She had learned enough already to know that even the slightest resistance would not be tolerated. She looked down at the Arab slaver studying her. Instinctively, she knew she must please the sickening little man, and with a sudden unprompted movement of her hands she brought them up under her breasts, cupping them into twin rounded peaks of firm white flesh.
Mahguib choked back a gasp and his eyes widened behind his mirror-finish glasses to take in the milky-whiteness of Penny's succulent blue-veined, pink-nippled breasts. His penis began pulsing strongly, visibly beneath the trousers of his white suit. Then, Penny felt her stomach muscles tighten into a knot and she thought she would surely faint when she saw the Arab slaver lift his pudgy fingers to the tips of her breasts.
"Why don't you taste them, Mahguib?" the King suggested lewdly.
To her utter horror, Penny saw Mahguib's glistening baldhead dip, his mouth go for her nipple. Oh dear God, she sickened, there wasn't a thing she could do but stand there and hold her naked breasts while the obscene slaver slobbered and sucked her strawberry-size nipples into quivering, glistening stiffness!
"My Arab friend, this fresh young American girl is almost a virgin. She is worth at least ten thousand dollars. Come take a look at her ass."
The King led the squat Mauritanian behind the still stiffly standing girl. "Now, Penny, bend forward and let Mahguib explore the petals of your rose!"
The frightened young wife bent over, spreading her legs about two feet apart on the floor. She could hear a slight gasp of approval from behind her as the Arab bent to look up between her slightly spread legs like some perverted meat inspector.
"Now reach behind and open it for him! Let Mahguib feel how tight you are."
Obediently, Penny reached back with both hands and spread the lips of her vagina slowly and tantalizingly apart. The moist pink flesh of her tiny narrow slit became visible slowly as she gently parted the soft dark pubic hair covering the plane between her legs.
"Go ahead and touch her, you Moslem whoremonger," the fat King laughed. "She is not pork to soil your fingers!"