Three Rivers (16 page)

There was the promise of talking to his wife in time, and once Ava had him ninety percent in the bag she and William started a sexual life together. He fucked her as no other man had ever done in her life, giving her orgasm after orgasm, and Ava reveled in it.

They made plans for what they would do when they were married. Dreams of a new future together were their life and their hope. Ava wanted him, and she believed that it would happen. For the first time in her life it was because of sex that she wanted a man. The rest was, of course, important, but it was the sex that was the great new thing for Ava.

She became more sweet, more gentle, more compassionate. She was able to get closer to people. All who saw the change prayed that it would stay that way. How could they know that Ava was merely sexually satisfied for the first time in her life?

There was only one thing wrong: He was not moving fast enough for her to leave Alfred. After all, Ava was not an adulteress; it was to be a new marriage. But things were not moving; something was going wrong.

Finally he told her that he could not bring himself to leave his wife. He was working on something big, and uprooting
the family at this time was more than he could handle. Could not they go on the way they were?

No, they could not. A promise broken to Ava was a promise never mended. She left him and this time it was more difficult than ever before because it meant leaving her sexual happiness as well. It was not going to work out, and she would not take the chance of losing the security she had with Alfred for a lifetime of good sex on the side.

The years passed by, and that was the stage that Ava was in now: sexually frustrated, but never acknowledging that any more than the other frustrations in her life.

On Sunday Ava prepared to visit her mother. It had been a lovely week. As usual Ava and Alfred’s life had run smoothly, organized and on schedule. She had been to Siphnos, explored the island, stayed in a dismal concrete hotel in Hora. She’d talked to the islanders and visited their private chapels and whitewashed churches, with their domed roofs and dark interiors smelling of beeswax, candles and incense. The churches were sparsely fitted with mediocre icons and an occasional tall, heavy brass candle holder. The gold icons, silver church fittings and best little domed churches were all locked up and waiting for the owners and their families to return to the island for Easter, Christmas and the summer holidays. She talked with the potters who had been born on Siphnos and worked there all their lives, as did their fathers and their fathers before them.

The weather had been bad; the sort of rainy, windy cold that eats into the bones and never lets one get warm, no matter how many sweaters one puts on. The boat never even docked, but merely anchored just outside the small harbor, dumping the ten islanders and Ava into a small caïque, amidst a great deal of shouting, pushing and endless instructions on how to jump from the last step of the rickety ladder hanging on the side of the large ship, into the bobbing wooden boat, with its “putt-putt” motor, belching smoke.

Except for a young boy, eighteen years old, with whom she flirted outrageously and who followed her around like a puppy dog, and an old man of eighty who spoke to her of the days of old, the people turned out to be rather dull.

Ava looked at her watch — it was time to go to Mother’s.
Alfred was taking his afternoon siesta after their Sunday lunch at a friend’s house. Ava, very pleased with her article, had a copy to take to Kate. Come Monday, she would send another copy to London for Isabel. The copy to the
Reader’s Digest
was sent out from the main post office, registered, that very morning.

Along with the five pages of the article in the post to New York were two photographs. One of Ava between two young men from the village on Siphnos. They were dancing an old Greek dance, with arms over her shoulders. The men looked dark, swarthy and deeply into their dancing, Ava was staring straight into the camera, head tilted, mouth all smiles. The other photograph was of her in a black leotard standing in the village square with half a dozen children in assorted scruffy clothes, teaching them push-ups in an exercise class. The two photographs were representative of the article: embarrassing and boring.

Anyone who has ever lived in Greece, especially on a Greek island such as Siphnos, should know that there is little that a foreigner can contribute to the community. Still, Ava had gone in like a bulldozer and in three days was sure that she had won them over and made a great contribution to their life-style by organizing gym classes and donating a bicycle to the school, for thirty-six children to fight over.

Ava’s article was boring, embarrassing, untrue, dishonest and well written. She was on a lovely high, thinking her new profession was working out just fine.

When Kate’s doorbell rang she ran so as not to keep Ava waiting. They greeted one another warmly and were obviously happy to be together, but did not kiss.

Ava handed Kate a shopping bag with two oranges, an apple, two pieces of roast chicken and lettuce. Kate smiled, thanked her and wished she had the courage to tell her not to clean out her refrigerator before she came for a visit. Kate hated having to smile over Ava’s garbage.

Kate gave Ava some flowers that she had bought when she went out early in the morning. Ava refused them flatly, saying, “You keep them, Mother. I have flowers from the garden.” Kate took them and put them in a vase, setting it on the table in the dining room.

They had a really good time. Ava told her all about her three days on the island and gave Kate a copy of the
article, making her read it while Ava was there so that she could get Kate’s reaction. Of course Kate loved it. Why, it almost made Kate want to go to the island, only to be told, “Don’t bother. It’s not worth it, and anyway, the article covers everything.”

Kate’s turn came, and she told her daughter about her week. She could not resist telling that she had turned down a proposal of marriage from the Greek admiral. Ava was furious, but then both women had a good laugh when Kate described his sexual ardor.

Ava’s good mood was infectious and it put Kate in good form. She thought that maybe it was a good time to put out feelers concerning her plans. She asked if Ava had heard from Isabel. No. Neither had Kate.

Somehow, as was usual, the story of her plans got twisted as she told them. The new version was that Isabel had sent a letter from Egypt inviting Kate to London for a long visit, and before she was to travel to England, Isabel would arrange a cruise up the Nile for her. Ava had no objections. She thought it was about time that Isabel did something nice for Kate and the timing was very good because Ava would be very busy with planning more articles for the
Reader’s Digest
.

“When will you go?” Ava asked.

“I don’t know, I suppose as soon as I can get things together here, and Isabel is in London,” Kate mused.

And so the afternoon went on with the two women talking about their different plans and projects, oblivious to what Isabel was doing or might be doing in the future. Before they parted, one thought of herself as the female Lawrence Durrell, and the other was split between the Queen of the Nile and the Queen Mother of Berkeley Square.

They kissed each other good-bye on the cheek and went their happy ways, waiting for tomorrow and to hear from Isabel.

V

Isabel followed Gamal from the house down some stone steps into the garden, and along a narrow path between giant papyrus plants. The tops were in blossom and looked like great white puffballs two feet in diameter. There were other flowering water plants of strong yellow and white, and as the path wound on, they came to streams on either side, filled with lotus flowers and huge red-and-pink water lilies. There were large, fantail goldfish from China that swam amidst the flowers.

Slowly the path widened and led up to a grass verge. There, sitting in the sunshine among bright red flowers, were André Beshawi, Anthony Moressey, Alexander Spencer-Gordon, Alexis Hyatt and an extremely beautiful woman called, as Isabel soon discovered, Anoushka Malek.

They were sitting around a table laden with flowers and food; a proper English breakfast in a love garden in the middle of Cairo.

Approaching the table, Isabel saw Alexis watching her. He did not smile or make a sign of welcome to her, and she was glad she’d decided against wearing her new necklace in front of all these people. When the other men rose to greet her, Alexis raised himself from his chair, went forward and took her by the hand, seating her on his right. He introduced her to Anoushka, who was completely at ease, charming and sweet. The two women exchanged greetings, taking an instant liking to one another.

There was an atmosphere of camaraderie in the light-hearted conversation between the group at breakfast. Isabel had no sooner sat down than she too was drawn into the party and was swept along with the fun of it all.

When everyone was busy eating or in animated conversation and laughter, Alexis slipped his hand under the table to take Isabel’s hand in his. He did not once look at
her but went on talking and laughing with his guests. Playing with her long, slim fingers, he finally slipped his fingers between hers and their hands were locked together in a firm grip.

The warmth and flow that passed between them gave so much pleasure that without a word the two turned and looked at one another at the same moment. Their eyes met and so did their hearts. It lasted only for a short time before André Beshawi drew Alexis’s attention away with a question. The answer made everyone laugh and tease André.

No one at the table was aware of what was going on between Alexis and Isabel. Only Gamal, who was standing behind Alexis’s chair, could see them holding hands. There had not been a personal word between the two since she had sat down, and Isabel was aware that she was being treated with great discretion by Alexis in front of the guests. She was also aware that she and Alexis Hyatt were together. She could not remember ever having felt such bliss, such ease, such peace.

It was Anthony Moressey who posed the question of when he could leave to go and look at the paintings he was going to work on. It was finally decided among the group that Anoushka would go with Anthony to the house on Sharia el Nil, where the paintings were hung. She would help him to settle in since he would be sleeping there, and see that he had everything necessary to get on with his work.

In an hour’s time André would take Isabel to the Muski while Alexander and Alexis had a meeting. They would all meet at Sharia el Nil for lunch at 2:00
P.M.
, and after that Alexander would fly back to London.

Alexis slowly released his hand from Isabel’s, looked at her and said, “Isabel, that will give me an hour to show you some of the rooms in the house.”

Everyone rose from the table and started wandering through the gardens. Anoushka went to Isabel, kissed her on the cheek and told her how much she had enjoyed meeting her. She hoped they would see a great deal of each other while Isabel was there. Turning to Alexis she said, “Alexis, I would like to take Isabel around to meet some of my friends and show her Cairo. Please, will you call me when she is free?”

It was a charming gesture. Isabel knew that it was an invitation given with sincerity.

Anoushka and Anthony entered the car that was waiting for them, and smiling, they waved good-bye. André quickly went up the stairs and disappeared somewhere in the palace to make phone calls, promising to meet Isabel in an hour’s time in the palace mosque. He told her that he considered it one of the loveliest of the palace buildings and he wanted to see her face when she saw it for the first time. “Oh, Isabel, by the way, you cannot outbid me for it. It is not for sale, so you can not have it.”

As he went on, Alexis whispered in her ear, “Yes, you can. I give it to you.”

Alexander excused himself, saying he would meet Alexis in an hour’s time in the office in Garden City, said good-bye to Isabel and hopped into another waiting car and sped off towards central Cairo.

Isabel and Alexis walked up the stairs together. When they were in the house, Alexis explained that the house was so marvelous that there would be little that he could show her in an hour, that she would have to spend months seeing it all. He had no doubt that she would return many times.

“Since time is short, I will show you only one thing,” he began. “I think I will take you to the reception quarters of the women, in the east wing. It is Syrian in design. Its walls and ceiling are covered with wood taken from El Azm Palace in Syria and fitted by Syrian artisans brought to Egypt for the purpose.”

They traveled through room after room of such beauty, sensitivity, opulence and purity that Isabel was overwhelmed by the time they arrived at their final destination.

It was indeed a wonder of craftsmanship. The muted colors of red, gold, mauve and rose marvelously set off the walls and ceiling of ancient wood paneling. A square fountain, recessed in the marble-inlaid floor, bubbled slowly. The sound in the stillness of the room was sheer music. Great bronze birds from Persia stood near the fountain as if ready to drink. Bright shafts of sunlight were filtered by the windows to a sweet soft glow the color of amber.

Huge cushions and bolsters covered in exquisitely embroidered material were piled on the floor. Isabel, so sensitive
to surroundings, could not help but feel the aura of warmth and sensuality.

She was aware of Alexis watching her and her reaction to it all. Flushed with excitement, she went up to him and kissed him gently. “Oh, Alexis, it is so very beautiful. Thank you.”

He touched her cheek and put his arm around her, then walked her to the fountain in the center of the room. There were some very large, two-foot-thick cushions lying at their feet. A shaft of amber light seemed to fall over them like a theater spotlight. They stood there for a few minutes in silence, arms around one another, listening to the music of the fountain.

“Thank you for my wonderful necklace,” Isabel whispered. “I love it and wish I had it on for you now.” She kissed him again, only this time, when their lips met, their kiss was more passionate than gentle.

They parted a few inches. Alexis began to unbutton her dress, while she, in turn, started to unbutton his shirt and remove his jacket. He knew that she had nothing on under the dress except a pair of bikini panties. He could tell by the way she walked and moved; after all, he had been searching for her from that first moment in Chicago. He knew even then that she was a sensual, passionate woman who had been made for love.

Her dress was completely unbuttoned now and he held it open and wide away from her body. He gazed at her wonderfully large breasts with their pointed nipples, hard now from the passion and excitement aroused between them. He slipped the dress off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. With sensitivity and gentleness he caressed her neck, her shoulders, her breasts.

He took her nipples between his fingers and pinched them, then bent his head to take one in his mouth, biting and sucking on it as his tongue went round and round. Only when Isabel let out a whimper of pain, mixed with pleasure, did he withdraw his mouth to the other breast.

He could feel her tremble with excitement as he moved his mouth between her breasts and down over her stomach. When he straightened to kiss her hard and deep her mouth opened wide. He kissed her more deeply and ran his hands down her back and around her narrow waist, then over her hips.

His hands found the two little hooks on the sides of the
bikini pants. He undid them and from the back he slowly drew the tiny triangle of beige silk away from her crotch, letting it fall on the floor on top of her dress. His hands now wandered over the wonderfully full and rounded cheeks of her ass as he pulled her even closer to him.

He held her like that for a time and then released her, moving back a few paces to look at her standing in nothing but her high-heeled, open white sandals, with her long slender toes tipped in bright red nail varnish peeping out.

Isabel’s whole body was voluptuous and aroused with such passion that he almost felt it oozing from her. Her face was flushed pink, and her eyes seemed larger and sparkled brightly.

He placed his hands on her pubic hair and ran his fingers through it and then down between her legs. She moved her legs apart as wide as she could, and now his fingers were underneath her, playing with her labia.

Isabel took his trousers down, then his shorts. She bent forward and lifted his foot, removing one leg of the trousers and shorts and then the other. She unlaced his shoes, took off his socks. She stood back and looked at him. In the amber light they found each other wonderful.

He had a marvelous body for a man his age, and his handsome face, with its sensitive and sensuous look, was not unlike the rest of him. He had a fair amount of hair on his broad chest, and it was far more gray than that on his head. He had a great deal of dark brown pubic hair, and his penis was long and thick. She held it in her hands, caressed it. It was hard and seemed to throb with a life of its own.

He was so big that she could not reach her fingers all around him, and so she moved one hand up along one side of his penis and followed along at once with the other hand; that way she encompassed him completely and continually with her hands.

He was lovely, like the life-size bronze statue of Poseidon in the museum in Athens. Sometimes, as she moved her hands over him, she would squeeze, and feel him almost burst out between her fingers as he expanded that little bit more. She reached underneath him to his testicles. They were large, and she played with them, touching every part of their roundness, stretching and plying the sack that they lived in with her fingers.

He spread his legs as far apart as he could while standing,
and she reached around behind his testicles to his ass. They stood like that, the two of them, and played with each other.

He had brought her to orgasm a few times just by playing with her, and the thrill of touching him brought her close again. It was when she thought of having that large cock inside her while he manipulated her clitoris that she shuddered with a huge wave of orgasm.

At that moment they both fell on top of the large embroidered cushions near the water fountain, and lay in each other’s arms. She was everything that he thought she would be and more. He fondled her breasts, spread her legs wide and played with her pubic hair and the outer lips of her vagina. He found the clitoris again and teased it into a series of orgasms. He rubbed her everywhere with the tip of his huge cock until he was at the very edge of pushing into her and then he removed it, turned her over onto her stomach, and worked his fingers and his cock on her anus. Afterwards he turned her over and spread open her cunt to see the wetness covering those inner pink layers.

All the time this was going on she was touching him wherever she could reach. Now that he had her wide open and wet, he knew that all she wanted was him to take her. As much as he desired her, he could wait. He wanted to have her in bed all night when he took her, so that he could go deep inside and linger there, to fill every bit of her slowly and with a pleasure neither one of them had ever known. No, he did not want to take her quickly in this room.

He cradled her in his arm, and with her clitoris between his fingers, he told her that. She begged him to fuck her, and he kissed her deeply and slipped one finger high up inside, then another and then a third. He felt the strong contraction of her cunt around his fingers and then the release of a huge warm rush of wetness as she came again, calling out. He put her gently down on the cushions and lay on his back next to her, watching the water in the fountain as it bubbled up and ran down into the pool.

Isabel rolled over and kissed him. She turned him over and drove him almost to the point of orgasm by playing with his anus and testicles until he begged her to stop. He reminded her that he wanted her in a special way, not just in an erotic wonderful hour while André waited for
her down at the mosque. Isabel knew that he was right, and so she pulled herself away from him, got up and bent over to pick up her bikini pants. Her legs were wide apart and when Alexis saw her in that position, naturally erotic and open, he moved his shoulders and head along the floor to look up between her legs. She laughed because now all she could see was his wonderful erection and balls as he lay on the cushions with his legs splayed.

Still straddling him, she dropped to her knees and kissed him on the face, ears, lips, one nipple, biting hard into it, then the other; down on his belly she bit him and then, taking him in both her hands at the very base of his hard throbbing penis, she slipped her mouth over him.

“I could not stand that, Isabel,” he moaned, stopping her. “I would never be able to hold back. Please, let us wait.”

With that he started to get up, but she pushed him down again and started to dress him. He finished dressing himself as Isabel finished doing up the last button on her dress.

Alexis put his arm around her tenderly and told her that he was in no condition to take her down to André, that he would ring for Gamal to come and show her to her room. He was sure that she wanted to go and have a wash. When she was ready, Gamal would take her to the mosque.

He went to the wall and rang for his servant. Then he returned to take Isabel in his arms until Gamal knocked at the door. He had managed to cover his erection, which had not gone down, but could not do up his trousers. Gamal entered the room but stayed a good distance from his master while Alexis gave him instructions on what to do. He told Isabel that if she became bored or wanted to leave André and go somewhere else, she only had to tell Gamal. With that he picked up her hand and kissed it and they parted.