The Shiekh's Virgin Mistress (4 page)

He leaned back again and chuckled, “You shall call me what you’ve always called me.  My name on your lips is as close to heaven as I can imagine.” He waved towards his huddled mass of muscle, “They call me Highness, as do all my subjects, but you Anna; you shall always say my given name of Omar.”

I grinned and then felt silly, and the entire thing seemed ridiculous to me.  Just wrong.  Here was one of the highest born men on the planet, dressed in a spectacular three piece suit that might have cost more than my entire wardrobe, sitting in a Starbucks, talking to me.  Lowly little me, the bookworm schoolgirl virgin. 

He leaned in again, and through habit, I did the same, our faces were just inches apart.  My breath hitched.  I licked my lips and then his hand came from nowhere and he put a meaty index finger under my chin.  He said nothing, although his eyes on mine said a multitude. I stood and braced against the small round table as he drew me to his face. 

He handled me with just that finger under my chin and I ended up almost crawling up onto the table, I was helpless under his power.  I think I might have died, I don’t remember taking a breath for hours.  His velvet lips met mine and if not for the table between us and my hands planted on it, I would have indeed fallen down. 

He whispered at my lips, “You do taste of wild honey.  I thought I’d imagined it.  Come back to my lap Anna.  I will not accept one of your crafty evasions yet again.  I insist.”

He dropped me, and I did kind of fall.  I staggered backwards and into my seat and he pushed away enough to make room on his lap for me.  I stared at him, still mindless and wordless.  He patted his lap and gave me this look.  I knew exactly what it meant, and fuck my legs for knowing too.  Even though they felt like Jello, they worked enough to get me to him.  He grasped at my dangling hand and then he jerked me roughly into his lap.  I relaxed into his embrace.  I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself.

He wrapped one arm around my waist from the back, and then the other hand caged me in as he pulled me tighter to his front.  I leaned into his broad chest and I swayed.  My bottom felt his hardness as he slowly rubbed it against me.  My body went all a dither on the inside.  He again took my chin and I didn’t even fight the pull as he met my lips and kissed me.

I kissed him back with all of me, and despite my former mortification at feeling his erection, I found myself slowly lifting my hip and rubbing my butt cheek against him.  He held me tighter and kissed me with an intensity I’d never felt in all my short lifetime.

“Female, you are my undoing.  No other –Anna, I need you to look at me –no other has ever affected me this way.  You are a temptress and a goddess and I must know more of you.”

I leaned into his chest and nodded.  “Yes Omar, me too.”

“Tonight you will dine with me.” He announces, and then adds, “I will hear no arguments from you.  I have decided that tonight is ours and ours alone.” He waves his hand in the air and I see one of his guards take out a blackberry and immediately make a call.  I hear him request reservations, there is a pause and then he says for whom he is making them.  He nods once and tells them it’s for two at eight.  I don’t know where he’s arranged this instant dinner.  Getting reservations in New York is darn impossible on the spot. 

I scowl at Omar and he nods knowingly, “None of your concern.  I will pick you up at seven thirty.  Wear a dress, do your hair, only eye makeup, I love your freckles, and high heels.” He stands and lifts me, righting me on my feet.  I sway as his hand glides across the swell of my hip.  His men gather around him in a semi-circle.  He gives me a final nod and they leave Starbucks in formation.    

CHAPTER TEN

I plop down alone at my little table that now seems enormous and empty.  I look to where he’d just been sitting, and I once again mourn his loss as if it is substantial.  Why am I so drawn to him? What is wrong with me and why does he affect me the way he does? My mind is still gone, as if it evaporated at the mere thought of him, then being in his company, feeling his lips, feeling his arousal, just feeling him, and I’ve suddenly forgotten my own name.

I sip at my mocha and then at the thought of our dinner, I panic.  I don’t have the right dress, or shoes.  I need to get my hair straightened; I am hopeless at styling my own hair.  I hastily call a friend that has a salon and he agrees to come in on his day off and do me up.  Thank God for Steven! He and I have known each other for years and he’s helped me with my long hair on occasion.  Although I rarely do anything with it, he can always make me look fabulous.  I think he can help me with my eyes too.  Maybe even my dress and shoes.  I really need a gay friend for this kind of thing.

I rushed home and called a car so I could go downtown and find an appropriate dress and shoes.  I used my dad’s black Am Ex card, and hoped he wouldn’t care.  He was out of town till Monday anyway, so I figured he wouldn’t notice till then.  Even though we had, or rather, he had a lot of money, he was not as generous with it as one would think.  He was happy to pay for my Ivy League education, but aside from that, he expected me to make my own way.  I knew he would balk about a dress and shoes costing more than a grand, but I was desperate, and right now my mindset was;
easier to ask forgiveness than permission. 

I’d decided Omar was my dream man, and I wanted to please him and follow his instructions the best I could.  Now I was going to try, but hopefully not look as if I were. Steven worked his magic that afternoon and by the time I was heading out of the salon I looked the part to a tee.  My hair was trimmed and highlighted and straight.  It draped around my face and tickled at the tops of my breasts, which where shoved into a push up bra so my creamy skin fluttered with each breath.

“Oh honey! You could have your own TV show! Look at you!” Steven said as he leaned on his heel and put his hand under his chin. 

I smiled and tried to walk in the heels, something that always gave me trouble.  Steven to the rescue again.  He pretended the salon was a catwalk and he showed me how to really flaunt my assets without looking like a klutz.  I did okay, but I knew I needed more practice.  I was hopeful we wouldn’t be doing much walking. 

I wore the small one carat diamond studs my mom gave me at my graduation, and also a string of pearls my grandmother had given me directly from the waters of Korea that granddad had commissioned while he’d been in the war.  I was ready, and anxious, but also excited.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Omar buzzed me, or rather, one of his guards did, and then he waited and escorted me out to the waiting limo.  I stalled and gaped.  I’d seen big cars, but none this long, or this lavish.  It was most definitely a Rolls Royce and it seemed to take up the entire block in front of our building.  I was careful as I walked to it and the door was opened.  Omar was seated and waiting for me.

He put up his hand, so he could see me before I sat down. He took his time and I grew uncomfortable, but I stood there, waiting for his command to enter the spacious interior of the car.  He took me in from head to toe and the nod of approval he gave me was all I needed.  I knew I’d pleased him, and I was thrilled on the inside. 

He patted the soft leather seat and I settled in next to him.  He leaned to my ear, and he sniffed me, then he made a sound best described as immense delight.  He whispered, “You are beautiful, Anna.  You cause me to salivate.”

If he only knew! All of me is watering at the sight of you
. My voice was much too breathy, “Thank you, Omar.  You are stunning.” I blushed; I didn't mean to say that to him directly.  I amended with, “You always look so handsome.”

He grinned and said something in a language I didn’t know, then the car pulled out into traffic and we were off.  His battalion of men must have been in a separate car because we were alone.  He settled his hand on my stockinged thigh, and then he slid it to the hem of my dress, which was much shorter than I was used to wearing.  Thankfully I had on, not only the pantyhose, but I’d also bought a really nice lace bra and panty set.  My breath hitched at what his hand was doing to my inner thigh, and my décolletage jiggled seductively.

“Where are we going?” I asked, trying to hide what my body was doing in preparation for this hulking man with his hand on my leg. 

“Les Salons Bernardin.”

My hand flew to my mouth and I gasped, “There is a two year wait!”

He smiled and tipped his head, “I am a very powerful man Anna, very powerful.”

I know, I feel you, I’m putty in your hands
.  “Omar, you overwhelm me.”

“As it should be my dear, as it should be.” He petted at my leg and pulled me closer to his side.  I complied.  “I fear my dear that you affect me deeply as well.”  His hand travelled up and under the hem of my dress.  I grabbed his wrist, which was immense and I felt his heartbeat.  I pushed his hand down closer to my knee. He grinned again, but minded my unspoken decree.

When we arrived at the restaurant it was as if he were the president, or royalty.  I again felt dazed at the display of wealth and influence, along with his continued undivided attention, as his men gathered in formation around us and escorted us inside the building.  We were taken upstairs to a private area meant for one large party of people.  A private setting with what appeared to be our own private chef.  After his men took up positions around the room, it was just me and Omar.

There were four waiters just for us and Omar did all the ordering.  Wine was brought, and then appetizers, and then more wine.  There was also a honey colored liquid in a beautiful glass decanter, and after eating a few items from thehors d'oeuvre tray, he asked if I wanted any Jura.  I didn’t know what Jura was, but it sounded good, and looked tantalizing, so I indicated just a little with my index finger and thumb. 

He gave me twice that much, and then told me it was an exclusive Scots Whisky with anise overtones.  I sipped mine and instantly loved it.  It only burned a little on the way down and the smooth after burn was something I knew I could get instantly addicted too.  He poured me more, and I sipped it down faster the second time.  Within moments, I was feeling it, but it was a good kind of high, and I kind of softened and started giggling at random intervals.  He seemed to like this and then he stood and moved over to sit directly next to me, the four waiters went into motion and his table settings and drinks were instantly in front of him.  He picked up his chair and sat as close to me as he could.  Our legs touched.

His left hand again went between my legs and he leaned to my ear, his warm breath at my ear caused gooseflesh to run down my arms, his scent was intoxicating too and reminded me of cinnamon and citrus.  His hand tickled at my hem again, and without thought, I parted my legs.  It wasn’t like he could do anything through my pantyhose anyway.  He took that as an open invitation, and his hand slid way up my inner thigh.  His pinky finger tickled at the area just to the outside of my vagina lips.  This time my entire body ran with shivers.  I didn’t tell him no, or change my open leg stance. 

Without preamble, Omar told me a short story.  I listened, but it was difficult to hear him for the rushing of blood behind my temples; 

“When I was a boy, my grandfather would take me to the oasis my family owns.  He kept honey bees out there and whenever he took me, I was permitted to taste the wild honey from the desert oasis hive.  There is no other flavor on this planet as delicious, it is an indescribable pleasure.  It is the most intoxicating flavor I’ve ever put to my tongue.  That honey signifies great wealth to people who live in sand, it is nearly as priceless as gold.  It alone could sustain, hydrate and nourish a man for days without another food or water source.”

I wondered why he was telling me this story, but I listened and watched his lips as he talked, and of course, his hand was now gently stroking up my thigh.  I no longer had legs, but I didn’t plan on moving anytime soon, so I refocused on Omar and asked.  “Didn’t the bees sting you?”

He nodded, “Excellent question.  Grandfather told me that only some men are welcomed by the hive.  It is a certain vibration that a man must have to be allowed in, he of course had these vibrations, as did his father, and his before him.  My father was not allowed entry by the bees and when he was a small boy, he almost died from stubbornly attempting and insisting he could master this ancient secret.  My grandfather thought it was the sign of a King, the mark of a leader, a man worthy to lead the people.”

“And you were—allowed in? By the bees? The bees let you take some of their honey without stinging you?”

Omar smiled and pushed harder between my legs.  His eyes went half-mast in delight at what he discovered.  He removed his hand and scented it, and he again made that sound of immense pleasure.  I almost withered in mortification.  “Yes my lovely Anna. Yes, the bees not only allowed me in, they welcomed me as if I were returning home.  I was only ten at our first visit, and the hive was so immense that the bees were able to cover most of my body.  I’d known that if I grew afraid, they would identify me as an intruder.  There weremany that tickled against my skin.  Millions perhaps.”

“How weren’t you afraid?”

“I knew they only intended to protect their queen, and I meant them no harm.  In return, they welcomed me.  I was not afraid, I felt greeted.  What is the word? I felt as if they were calling me home?”

“Like heralded?”

“That is a good word, but no.” He waved it away with his other hand and picked up his wine, sipping it before going on.  “I will think of the word soon.” He sipped again, and then his eyes twinkled, “Are you not curious why I told you that specific story?” I gave him a demure nod and his smile once again slew me on the spot.  “I told you that story my alabaster goddess because when I kiss you, I am reminded of my wild oasis honey and that feeling I am finally home, and with my kind.”

My eyes grew the size of saucers and I blinked at him, “Me?” I squeaked, “Like honey?”