"She was there when I left. I have no way of knowing if she has since departed."
“Did Abdul ever mention her name to you Teska?"‘
"No "
“Do you think he knew it?"
“Probably. But I can’t be sure."
I thought for a long moment and then drew a deep breath. Teska, I told her, “I have to get into that harem. How can I do it?”
“It is impossible. The flowers of Sheikh el Atassi are very heavily guarded. The only way to get into the harim is by his invitation."
“And it isn't likely that he'd invite me," I mused. “But there must be a way."
“This is very important to you, Steve?" She looked at me penetratingly.
“More important than I can tell you, Teska. It means everything. Not just to me, but to-—well, to a whole lot of people."
“I see." She sighed. “Well, then, there is a way.”
“How?"
“By returning me to the harim. You see, to the sheikh, I am his property. If you brought me back, Arab etiquette would demand that he welcome you with the greatest hospitality."
“But you don't want to go back, do you, Teska?"
“Sooner or later they would catch me and bring me back anyway.” She shrugged. “If I can help you by letting you bring me back sooner, then it will only be an expression of the appreciation I feel towards you."
“Appreciation? You mean for trying to chase away those Arab kids that attacked you?"
No. She smiled warmly. “I mean for the joys I have found in your bed."
Arab girls! They’re wonderful! “That's a feeling I reciprocate one hundred percent," I told Teska, meaning it.
“Thank you."
"Now," I said, getting down to business, “how far is it to the harem oasis?"
“It’s a good ten-hour ride by horse.”
"By horse? Not by camel?"
“Horses would be better. They are faster and more comfortable. There is no point to camels unless you are planning to carry many things with you."
“Just me and the clothes on my back," I told her.
“No,” she said. “The clothes you are wearing will not do."
“Why not?"
“For a European-—or an American, which is the same thing to an Arab—-to ride in the desert in the clothes you are wearing would be asking to have his throat slit. There are many Arab bandits between Damascus and where we are going. They would gladly kill you just for the money in your wallet. To them, alive or dead you would be the same—vulture meat. No, you must pose as an Arab out riding with his woman. Then they will take us for Arab lovers and you won't be worth their trouble.”
I saw the sense in what she said and agreed. We went out to dinner then, came back, made love, got in a good night's sleep, woke up, made love again, and finally got dressed and went out shopping. I bought the outfit I described for Anna and some Arab clothes for myself. I made arrangements to rent a pair of horses and we started back to the hotel. On the way, Teska insisted I buy a small pail. I did as she asked and the rest of the way back to the hotel she kept stopping to fill it with various kinds of mud and dung.
Her reason became clear when we were in the room. She took the filth in the pail and spread it over my nice new Arab clothes.
"Hey!" I protested. “What's the big idea?"
"If you don't want to be killed for being a European," she explained, “then you certainly don't want to be murdered for your new clothing.’
“That makes sense."
“After Teska finished filthying up my robes, she turned her attention to me. "Strip!" she ordered.
“Teska, I'm really not in the mood. I'm still tired from before and I've got things on my mind—”
“No,” she said, bursting out laughing. “You don't understand. I don't want to make love. I want to make you into an Arab. Take off all your clothes and I will show you."
When I'd stripped down, she produced a vial and began smearing the contents on my body. “What's that?” I asked, wrinkling my nose. It had a mildly unpleasant odor.
"Betel nut juice,” she said. “You have fair skin. This will make it brown as an Arab’s."
"Sure beats a sunlamp," said, studying the results. When she was done, I got into my filthy Arab clothes. "Well, let's get started," I said.
"We must wait for nightfall," she told me. "The afternoon sun in the desert would fry the juices right from our bodies."
So we waited. And it wasn't until shortly before dusk that we picked up our horses, mounted up and started out. We d been traveling about five hours when Teska's mount threw a shoe.
"Hell," I said, "what do we do now?"
"There is an oasis about a half-mile that way.” She pointed to the left. "Perhaps we can get help there."
Some oasis! That's what I thought when we reached it. A few wooden boards and a hole in the ground, that's all it was. But the water in the well was cool and I appreciated it as we sat there trying to figure out what to do.
“If it were not for the elaborate deposit you left on the horse, the solution would be simple," Tcska remarked.
“I don't give a damn about the deposit. “All I care about is getting to that harem."
“Then leave the horse here and I will ride double with you. Your animal is sturdy and I am light. It isn't that far. Your horse can carry both of us with ease."
“But what about your horse? We can't just leave him here to die."
"Tether him beside the well. Don't worry, this oasis is much used. Some Arab will find him and count himself lucky to make off with such a fine beast."
That’s what we did, and now here we were, almost five hours later, getting close to our destination. I saw the walls of what looked like a stockade looming up in the distance. As we drew closer, I made out palm trees clustered outside it, their tops dancing in the breeze. Still closer, and I could see turrets and minarets. Now I could even distinguish sentries pacing the walls.
I woke Teska gently. “I think this is home-sweet-home, baby," I told her.
She rubbed her eyes and looked. "Yes. That is it," she confirmed.
“What now?"
"Stop the horse and tie me up with the ropes I bade you bring. This will let the sheikh know what trouble you took to return his property. Then ride up to the wall and call up to the sentry that you are bringing back the houri who ran away. He will let you in."
“But as soon as I open my mouth, they'll know I'm no Arab."
“That can't be helped. The disguise was never meant to fool the Sheikh. You'll just have to tell him who you really are."
“All right," I agreed. “I'll own up that I'm an American from O.R.G.Y. investigating Arab sex customs and that my reason for bringing you back was that I thought he might return the favor by allowing me to study his harem. Do you think he'll buy that?"
"Perhaps. We shall soon find out."
Those first few minutes worked out pretty much as Teska had said they would. Once inside, I was ushered to a lavish room with my trussed-up bundle, of pulchritude and motioned inside. I stood in the doorway blinking a moment. I'd never seen anything like it before.
The closest had been a Hollywood movie in wide-screen Technicolor. But, when it came to lavishness, even Hollywood hadn't been too close. The place was a riot of colors—red velvet drapes, purple tapestries, woven, multi-colored mats, deep, rainbow-hued rugs, green and yellow silken wall-hangings, and everywhere little cushions in every color under the sun. There was a long table spread with the most exotic foods and another loaded with a variety of carved wine-jugs and sparkling with delicate glassware. And strewn around the room like so many pieces of decorative sculpture was a collection of the most beautiful girls I'd ever set eyes on. Smack in the center of all this sat a little, wizened old man, his legs crossed, his thin gray beard hanging down over a small pot-belly, sucking contentedly on an opium pipe connected to a large, ornate water-bag.