Three Rivers (17 page)

He remained in the room and looked out of the window into the inner courtyard, waiting to see Isabel cross it and go into another part of the palace. He watched her, all white and shimmering in the hot sunshine, as she moved across the marble paving and up the stairs with Gamal following faithfully a few footsteps behind. Only when the place below was empty and silent did he move from the window and ring the bell again.

A servant arrived and Alexis gave him instructions; after he had left, Alexis made his way slowly to his own rooms, where he undressed and lay on the bed. He lay there for about ten minutes with his eyes closed, resting. He had at last emotionally composed himself about Isabel; he was in love with her and that was that. He had not composed himself sexually and was as hard as when Isabel had slipped her mouth over him. He closed his eyes again and waited.

There was a light tap at the door and it swung open. He did not have to raise himself from the bed to see who it was, for he knew. He had summoned the three beautiful women who entered the room.

They were Doreya, Maryka and Juju, his sexual servants. Doreya had been with him for twelve years, and was the most accomplished masseuse he had ever had. She also was the more interesting sexually. She was brought to him when she was fourteen by a madam in Alexandria who ran the best bordello in Egypt.

She had been a virgin, which was what he wanted, and together Alexis and the madam trained Doreya in erotic love. He hired her for himself and for his sons who were then growing up. He wanted them taught the art of love as his father had taught him. She was used by them and their friends only, and had the right at any time to leave their employ with a week’s notice.

The same madam furnished him with Maryka and Juju a few years later, but these girls were less erotic and more pornographic. They were at their best in bizarre sex and extraordinary when on exhibition or in orgies. Maryka and Juju were lesbians.

They were all completely devoted to Alexis and his household, and in all the years that they had lived under his roof, not one of the three women had caused a problem. They and Gamal were his personal servants and cared for his every desire. At all times at least two of the women were ready to service him, and most of the time, all three.

He opened his eyes and thought them very pretty in their pale, flower-printed dresses. The only rule that he had about their garb was that they should look and be clean and pretty at all times, and be naked under their dresses. He wanted to be able to take them when and where he pleased and liked knowing they were always
open and ready for him. He would tell them when he wanted them to dress in a special way.

He had them take their dresses off and arrange themselves one on each side of him, with the third across the foot of the bed. He did not care who went where, and no one was to take an active role. He would fuck each of them in turn. While Juju was sent to arrange a few lines of cocaine for Alexis, he had Maryka call Alexander where he was sure he would still be. The madam answered the telephone and Maryka gave the message to tell Monsieur Alexander not to hurry. Mr. Alexis would be an hour late. The madam said she would give the message.

Now all Alexis wanted was to be inside a woman. Nothing gave him more pleasure than fucking women, in every way. He had all three of them, going from one to the other in every position imaginable. Juju begged to be sodomized and the two women prepared her, for Alexis’s sheer size would have ripped her apart had she not been helped.

Before he left the bed he had filled each of them with his sperm. While he had Doreya bathe him he relaxed and thought of Isabel. From his bath, through the double doors to his bedroom, he watched Maryka and Juju making love, on the bed. He always liked watching women; he had Doreya fondle him in the hot soapy water as he gazed at the girls. Finally he told her that he must dress, and she became his valet. He kissed the three girls good-bye and told them to return to their quarters.

Alexis walked very quickly through the palace to his waiting car. By God, he felt good. He realized as the car pulled away that all the time he had been inside the three women, he had fantasized that it was Isabel’s cunt. He thought about Isabel all the way to his office. He did not take her because he wanted to know her better; he was clever enough to know that she was a sensitive, passionate creature and he was taking no chances of losing her.

Alexis meant to be with Isabel spiritually, as well as sexually. They were together in love, but the reality of life is something else, and so he intended to work on that.

Alexander was already in the office, waiting for him. The two men shook hands and sat down.

“Alexis, is nothing sacred in Cairo? However did you know where I was?” Alexander laughed.

“Well, my friend, it was not difficult to guess.” Alexis smiled. “Where else would an English gentleman go in Cairo for a few hours of amusement? I hope that you enjoyed yourself.”

“Almost as well as you did, old boy. An hour late, eh? I’m sure
you spent it well
. That is a very good pun, Alexis!”

The two men laughed. Alexis called for two coffees and then said, “Alexander, we have known each other for many years and have helped each other many a time, but never have I been more indebted to you than I am today. I will never be able to thank you enough for the way you handled bringing Isabel to Cairo. I do not think I have to tell you how much this means to me. Is there any way that I can repay you?”

“No, Alexis. This is the first time in many years that I have been able to repay all your kindness to me. I have never known you to want something so much, and I only hope that you are happy. How is it going?”

“Well enough, I think. I am looking forward to knowing her. After all, I know nothing about her and her life except what the museum man told me and that was precious little. Except that she is very good at her job.”

“Alexis, I know a great deal more than that, but I think it best if you find it all out your own way. Unless, of course, you want me to tell you what I do know of her.”

“But, of course, you must tell me all that you know.”

Alexander did, and what Alexis learned only made Isabel more interesting to him. The two men had no business whatsoever to discuss — that had all been contrived to cover up the fact that Alexander was merely to get Isabel Wells to Cairo the fastest way possible and deliver her into Alexis’s hands, relaxed and happy. He had done his job admirably, as Alexis had been sure he would. As a gesture of thanks, along with Alexander’s first-class Swissair ticket back to London, were the deeds to a large stretch of the most beautiful untouched beach property at Mersa Matruh. There was an old Arab beach house already on it where the two men had spent many a happy time. The sand was like white talcum powder, and the sea the color of the finest aquamarines in the world. Nothing but a few old donkeys and fellahin in tumbled-down houses lived nearby. Alexis owned two miles of the beachfront on either side of Alexander’s gift, and three miles of land from the sea back to the main road.

The only condition of the deed was that if Alexander were to sell it, Alexis would buy it back at any price he asked.

How surprised the two men would have been had they known that Isabel had guessed that she was the main object of the exercise. Now, while the two men sat in Alexis’s office, pleased with themselves about it all going so well, she was still uncertain about Alexis and what he wanted from her, for he had not said anything about his feelings. She knew, but like all women, she wanted to hear it. Until she did, she would never be sure.

From the first shop the heavy scent of jasmine and tuberose carnation and lily of the valley hung in the air, as Alexis’s car carried André and Isabel to the Kan-el-Kalili. Soon they were swallowed up by the Bazaar.

They moved forward between the hawkers, beggars, salesmen and endless mob of craftsmen all working in the street. A mixture of garlic, roast lamb, and spices from all over the East hung in the air. The streets were filled with the fellahin, tourists, shopkeepers, collectors, dealers and vendors of Kan-el-Kalili.

They tried to walk as quickly as possible, so as not to be dragged by the arm, pulled by the dress or tapped on the shoulder by the young runners telling in any number of languages that they knew the best shop for copper, heavily and intricately engraved; inlaid ivory boxes; camel saddles; special erotic ointments; antiques; silver; gold; jewelry; carpets; silks; brocades; of great variety and rarity; elixirs; and fabrics of all kinds.

The Kan-el-Kalili was no different from other bazaars in any of the other Arab countries, Isabel thought. The good things were hidden in back rooms. Those rooms were guarded by heavyset Arab dealers who made their legal money selling the secondhand rubbish to the tourists. But everything changes the moment a real collector such as André Beshawi is spotted. The tourists are all shooed to another end of the small, cluttered shop and the honored visitor is slipped into the back room to view the real treasures. Before people such as André and Isabel are in the Kan-el-Kalili five minutes, word has been passed along to all the dealers.

André told Isabel about the not-so-secret places that you hear about only if you are a Cairene or a friend of one. There is the famous old soothsayer in his eighties
who holds an object of the client’s in his hand and can tell you all. This old man was born in the Kan-el-Kalili and has never lived or been anywhere else. Perhaps, André thought, that is the source of his power.

Another secret place, not far away, has men standing day and night to protect their establishment and its clients. It is the house called Qalawoon, and is a male bordello. Famous the world over for its twelve- and fourteen-year-old boys made up as women and dressed to tantalize. Dressed in ancient Arab diaphanous dresses and antique jewels, they dance, make love and torture their clients with their charms. Almost beyond imagination. Qalawoon produces everything for its clients short of death … but not too far short of it.

The other Qalawoon speciality was the heavy coal-black brutes, famous for their sexual stamina. Oiled and naked, their exhibitions and acts of sexuality drew the most sophisticated, elegant, intellectual, and often depraved, homosexuals of Europe.

Many a famous English baronet, French diplomat, Swedish ambassador, countless princes and even an almost-king have spent days in sexual madness in Qalawoon. But ask anyone in Cairo if they have ever heard of such a place and they will tell you no.

André and Isabel had returned to Alexis’s car, but the vehicle was forced to roll along far slower than the mass of people encircling it. For the last five minutes the chauffeur had done nothing but hang his head out of the window and lean on the horn.

They inched along at a snail’s pace through the masses of people, pushcarts, wagons, horses, three-wheeled vehicles, bicycles and men bent in half with huge loads on their shoulders. In the time they were there, Isabel saw a man carrying thirty bags of charcoal; a coffin floated through the air until she looked down and saw the pair of bare legs running along under it; half a cow with its carcass towards the sun and a swarm of flies all around it was carried on yet another back.

They were but a few hundred feet from their destination: the entrance to the Muski. André suggested that they get out and walk.

They were the last of the guests to arrive at the Sharia el Nil house. It was a thirty-room stone building, designed
by a French architect who had been responsible for many similar to it in the
huitième arrondissement
and on Avenue Foch in Paris.

The iron gates were open to the cobblestoned courtyard. Several cars and their chauffeurs were standing around. The house porter greeted them and spoke to Gamal, who had been with them all the morning, acting as bodyguard to Isabel. Gamal led them through the vast ground-floor hall and up the magnificent winding staircase. André called to her not to be too long, he was starved. He was also in a bad mood because he could not purchase a piece of Pharaonic sculpture for the price he wanted to pay. He went directly to the paneled study where he knew everyone always met before lunch. Isabel went to the powder room to freshen up.

Knowing that they were late, she quickly tended to her makeup, washed her hands and put a brush through her hair. Out of her bag that she had hung on to for dear life all the time she was in the Muski, she took the silver box and removed the necklace that Alexis had given her. She put it on, with the scarab dead center in the front.

Earlier that day, after she had left Alexis and returned to her room, she had bathed quickly and changed into a lemon-yellow raw silk suit. All the time in the Kan-el-Kalili she had kept it buttoned up, but now she opened the jacket, revealing a patterned blouse of pretty pansies in yellow against a brown-and-beige background printed on sheer silk chiffon. The wide oval neckline of the blouse showed a great expanse of neck and chest, almost to her cleavage. She was very pleased with what she saw and only hoped that Alexis would be.

Bending down she adjusted the strap on her high-heeled, open, yellow calfskin sandals, straightened up, took her jacket off and put it around her shoulders. Another check in the mirror and she quickly left the room.

Gamal led her down the stairs and into the study, where she was taken slightly aback by so many people. No one had warned her that lunch at Sharia el Nil was almost always open house for anyone who wanted to come and dine. The greatest surprise of all was the hostess, Alexis’s mother. The woman must have once been an extraordinary beauty, for even now the eighty-two-year-old Sama Genaina Hyatt was exquisite.

Sama was gracious and hospitable to everyone, and
when all went into the dining room, she sat Isabel across from her with Alexis on her right and an old friend of Alexis’s, Magdi Biwa, on her left. Sama had on her right a Saudi Arabian price who had been an admirer of hers for forty years and on her left the Italian ambassador.

The round table when fully laid sat twenty people. Today, in addition to those who had been at Alexis’s breakfast party, there were two of Sama’s grandchildren, the Italian ambassador’s wife and three Cairene beauties. Later Isabel would find out that two of those women had been Alexis’s mistresses on and off for years.