Tess Awakening (16 page)

Tess tried not to look annoyed. “As I said, I
am here solely for the little girl. I will leave when arrangements
are made.”

Fadime smiled. “A pity, Tess; Amir could use
a strong woman that is more than a delicate little flower with
dollar signs in her eyes.” A moment of silence. “No matter. I have
arranged a lovely afternoon for you. Let’s go shopping.”

The women rejoined Amir at the table. After
enjoying a little dessert, they walked to the Avenue Montaigne and
started to visit some of the renowned purveyors of couture for the
very wealthy.

Fadime had arranged for private showings. The
models strutted with their familiar gait and presented several
outfits for consideration. The process was repeated at the next
couturier. Tess refused to select a single dress.

Amir and Fadime became annoyed. “Tess, if you
don’t like what you see, we can visit other establishments.”

“I sincerely thank you for doing this for me,
but I can’t accept.”

Fadime finally conceded that Tess was not
going to budge, so she tried another approach. “Tess, just do us
one favor. That horrible watch that you are wearing must go. Let us
go to back to Dior and see what we can find.”

Tess bristled. “This is a fine aviator watch
provided by the Army.”

“I am sure that it fine for its intended
purpose, but while you are with us, you should wear something
prettier.”

Tess gave up, concluding that Amir and Fadime
would not take no for an answer. “Fine, let’s find a watch.”

“Splendid,” was the relieved response.

The car took them to Dior, where the
distinguished visitors were unsurprisingly welcomed like old
friends. The jeweler displayed literally hundreds of watches, but
Tess made a quick decision: a stunning piece with a golden fan that
seemed to open on the top part of the face of the watch. Art Deco
at its finest: a passion she discovered in her trips to New York,
Paris and Barcelona. For the first time, she found herself wanting
an object that was not utilitarian by any sense of the word. It was
a work of art.

Before she could come to her senses, the
purchase was made and the watch was put in its box. Thus relieved,
the group went back to the hotel to prepare for dinner before a
night at the Paris Opera.

Back in her room, Tess again felt a sense of
claustrophobia. She was not allowed to have any say on anything.
Everything was programmed, with no room for flexibility. She poured
herself a glass of scotch and brought it with her while she soaked
in the bath. She was acquiring a bad habit. Generally, she hardly
drank liquor. The last three days, she was concerned that she was
turning into a lush.

At dinner, Tess wore the stunning watch and
an even more spectacular sleek body hugging gown chosen by Fadime
and delivered by a Dior attendant. Amir and Fadime complimented her
on her splendid looks. Tess could not deny that she loved the
watch, but the gown was something she could not even comprehend.
She chose not to think about how much it cost.

The limo dropped the three of them in front
of the Paris Opera.

The impressive old building, also called
Palais Garnier
, defined elegance with the beautifully
decorated Grand Foyer, Rotunda, and salons. Marc Chagall had
painted the ceiling in the Italian-style auditorium. The place
accommodated over two thousand spectators.

Tess appreciated opera, a love nurtured by
her mother. She was particularly fond of Puccini and his
masterpieces: La Boehme, Tosca, Madame Butterfly, Turandot and
Manon Lescaut. Tonight, the program consisted of Saint-Saens’
Samson and Delilah, which she had never heard before.

Amir, Fadime, and Tess took their seats in a
private box. ‘Of course, it would not do to mix with the masses.’
Tess thought.

Much to her delight, the music, and the
singers were superb. Saint-Saens portrayed Samson not as a hero as
told in the Bible, but a practical leader. He succumbs to the
promise of love from a deceitful woman. The soprano in the role of
Delilah masterfully portrayed her as a manipulative, conniving,
ruthless woman bent on revenge. The music was glorious.

Back at the hotel, the trio retreated to the
lounge for drinks. Tess participated in the casual conversation and
discussion on the performance. Her mind was on something else,
however. She was slowly being pulled toward an appreciation of a
life of luxury, and she was trying to resist. ‘This is not who I
am,’ she kept telling herself. I am a helicopter pilot who was
raised as a man. I don’t even own a dress. I never cared for money.
I have no use for this conspicuous display of wealth and
privilege.”

And yet, she conceded that she was becoming
inexorably drawn toward a lifestyle full of privilege and enjoyment
of the best of material things. The downside was the potential
danger of losing her identity, of eventually becoming someone she
would not like at all.

She excused herself, claiming fatigue and
went back to her room. She undressed, put on a nightgown and
started to repeat a new routine. Drinking in the dark, struggling
to understand what was changing in her psyche and body. She felt
again a strong need to be held and touched, not just to satisfy a
desire, but to create something beautiful and long lasting.
Fadime’s dark eyes kept reminding her of Aara.

She was too unsettled to go to sleep. She put
on a pair of shorts and T-shirt and decided to take a run around
town.

She rapidly walked through the Hotel’s lobby
and hit the Paris streets. She never jogged, but ran at a fast pace
and this time was no exception. Rapidly, she made her way to the
Arc de Triomphe
. She hardly noticed the lights projected on
the iconic monument. She proceeded up the steps to the
Trocadero
, site of the
Palais de Chaillot
. From any
open balcony, one could get a splendid view of the gardens and the
Eiffel tower.

She stopped to catch her breath when two men,
dressed in black, saw her as an easy mark. One of them had a knife
in his hand. Menacingly, they told her in French not to resist.
Tess was not in a mood for such annoyances, but she smiled at them.
The men accosted her, smirking. Tess kicked the first in the groin.
The man fell and did not scream due to the intense pain that
practically paralyzed him. The second man ran toward her with fury,
only to be treated to Tess’s trademark pirouette, at the end of
which she planted a kick to his head. The man joined his friend on
the ground.

Tess was not done. She kicked both men off
the pavement and grabbed them by the scruff of the neck like two
puppies. She hustled them along and administered assorted
corrective kicks and punches when they tried to resist, finally
hurling them through the door of the Gendarmerie. The policeman on
duty was reading the evening newspaper and looked up, clearly
annoyed about the disturbance. Tess kicked one of the men again
since he was trying to avoid an inconvenient dialog with the local
authorities. In perfect French, she declared that she wanted to
press charges for assault. The desk sergeant witnessed the unusual
scene of two notorious perpetrators cowering from an angry female.
Gendarmes dragged the men away and Tess spent the necessary time to
file a formal complaint.

She then hit the streets again, completed her
run as planned, and headed back to the hotel. Rain started, and
rather than complaining, Tess enjoyed the refreshing downpour until
she reached the hotel, treating the plush establishment to the
unusual sight of a dripping water rat on the way to the elevators.
The few people in the lobby feasted their eyes on the pleasant
sight of a gorgeous woman in skimpy wet clothes. The staff
immediately brought her a towel, which she gratefully accepted.

After a shower, Tess downed a brandy and went
to bed, refreshed and pleased with the exercise and what she called
a little bit of ‘street cleaning’.

She tossed and turned. She dreamt of babies
with soft, fair skin and big black eyes. More children appeared —
big blue eyes and green. The kids were surrounded by puppies, a
group of magnificent Cavalier King Charles Spaniel puppies. All
were happy, wanting to be picked up and held in her arms. She sat
on the floor in their midst, picking them up, smelling their scent.
She felt the warmth and innate joy of holding puppies, bouncing
them on her lap, making the children giggle and the pups lick her
face.

She woke up, soaked in sweat. Her pelvis was
pulsating inside. She was no longer the Tess that she used to
know.

Chapter 23

Fadime and Amir ordered more drinks. It was
obvious that Amir needed to talk. His sister was fifteen years
younger, but she was close to him and often served as his
confidante.

“Amir, something strange is going on. You say
that you haven’t slept with the girl. That’s very unusual for
you.”

“Yes, I want Tess, but not in the way you
think. She is different and as you observed, she is also stubborn
and difficult. She does not act like other women. She is obsessive,
impervious to flattery and she does not care about money or
luxuries. She really is a soldier and as tough as they come. You
don’t want to be near her when she reverts to her warrior
ways.”

“That’s interesting,” Fadime smiled. “What do
you mean by that?”

“Back at the house in Iraq, she practically
flew into the air and kicked me close to my temple. I passed out
and had a headache for days.”

Fadime laughed. “Do tell me more. It sounds
like she resisted your advances. Amir, you are losing your
touch.”

“I have never failed to seduce the women I
wanted. Once I possess them, I make them delirious with pleasure.
It never fails.”

“And yet this time it looks like you can’t,
as the Americans say, get to first base with Tess. Amir, I thought
that our father had made sure that you were properly schooled in
the arts of love.”

Amir was annoyed. “How do you know that?”

“It’s not a secret that when you reached
seventeen, father had several of his favorite courtesans in
Istanbul educate you in the amatory arts. You were gone for a month
as a boy, and you returned a man. I wish that I could have
benefited from such an experience myself.”

“Fadime, you are a woman and a Muslim. It’s
unthinkable and deplorable to have such thoughts. Soon you will
marry an important man, and he will expect you to be a virgin.”

“How boring,” she responded.

“Fadime, you know that I have always
endeavored to meet your needs in such a way that you would not be
compromised.”

Fadime light a cigarette. “Well, my future
husband, whoever he is, will be disappointed. I have lovers, and I
cherish most of them. I refuse to live in the past.”

Amir could not believe his ears. “You must be
out of your mind!”

“I am quite sane and a modern woman.”

“We will talk more about that at an
appropriate time.”

Fadime continued: “You may want to consider
that your problems with Tess have a lot to do with your living in
the past.”

“I need her. And all I have to do is to make
love to her; she will be overcome with ecstasy like my other women
have been, and she will be begging for more.”

“It’s not going to work this time because you
love her. That changes everything.”

Amir felt like he was hit with a
sledgehammer. “No. It can’t be! It can’t be!”

“Yes, it can be, Amir. You know it is true,
and being in love eliminates all of the weapons in your arsenal. If
you want Tess, you have to look at her as a living, breathing and
thinking person that demands to be treated as an equal.”

Amir silently looked at his drink. “You are
right, Fadime. I am in love for the first time in my life, and I am
lost. I am terrified that she will walk away from me. I need
her!”

“That’s better, Amir. You said that you need
her rather than want her. You are finally acting like a grown man.
What you do next will bring about either heaven or hell.”

They finally retired to their own rooms.
Fadime kissed Amir good night at her door.

She put on a short nightgown and lay down in
bed, feeling the effects of far too much liquor, but couldn’t
sleep. The thought that Amir would soon possess Tess aroused her.
She would have loved to witness him make exquisite love to her.

Slowly, she moved her hand between her legs
and gently spread the soft petals. She felt the moisture. She
lightly began to knead her flesh, wishing that a lover would come
to her and inhabit her body.

Amir entered her room from a door connecting
their suites. He dropped a damask robe to reveal his muscular naked
body. Fadime, without a word, spread her legs as Amir climbed on
the bed. He kneeled in front of her, bending forward. He exhaled a
breath between her open thighs. His sister moaned and grasped his
head, begging him to provide a release for her craving.

She felt light, feathery touches of his
tongue on her most intimate self. She moaned with delight and urged
Amir to increase pressure. He started to move his tongue in her.
She quivered when he licked her sensitive little nub; so blissful,
irresistibly delightful, so exquisite. She was dissolving into
ecstasy.

Amir raised his head, put his mouth on one
breast, then the other, his fingers now manipulating between the
legs. “Do you feel the pleasure, Fadime? Do you feel it?”

“More,” she begged him hungrily.

He flicked his tongue back and forth against
her little jewel, stirring her hot, sweet wetness to a climax.
Fadime convulsed a final time and cried out. Raising his head from
between her quivering thighs, he hungrily gave her a deep kiss,
plunging his tongue, still wet with her juices, into her mouth. His
hard body covering her soft one, he marveled at the beauty of her
body. Not daring to remain atop her lest he lost control, Amir
rolled to one side. “There, my sister, was that what you wanted?
Did you like it?” Fadime opened her eyes and looked at him. “Yes,”
she said softly. “I liked it very much, Amir. But I wish you could
visit me inside.” They kissed once more.