What the Hell was that?
I had just fallen asleep. The cranky old noisy hotel A/C window unit had kept me awake most of the night. At the crack of dawn, someone shouted through a loud speaker right outside my hotel window. This call to prayer happened throughout the country, five times a day, every day.
I had arrived in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, around 10 P.M. the night before. There were no Jet ways, so the airplane parked on the ramp to deplane. As I departed, my breath was sucked right out of me. It felt like I had walked into an oven.
Although I had visited many foreign countries, this would be the first time I lived in one. I was in for a cultural shock. The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia was the largest state in the Middle East by land area. Most of the land was desert and deserted. The country was founded by Abdul-Aziz bin Saud in 1932. The government had been an Islamic monarchy since the country’s inception. Saudi Arabia had the world’s largest oil reserves and was the world’s largest oil exporter, thanks to American oil companies. Because of the oil revenue, every Saudi citizen was provided free health care and education. They paid no taxes.
The Saudi government was their religion. The laws of the land came from the Quran. Even the Royal family had to adhere to the law of the Mutawa (bearded religious police). They patrolled the streets with long sticks, ready to beat anyone not praying at prayer time or any women not properly dressed. Saudi women could show no skin in public, especially on their face. They wore a face veil called a ‘niqab’, which covers the lower half of their face, only revealing their eyes.
They had to be accompanied by at least one male relative and had to walk behind that relative. They were not allowed in the front seat of a car. They were stoned for adultery. Saudi males could marry any woman of any nationality or religion, but Saudi females could only marry Muslim Saudi men. Only Saudi males could divorce by just saying “I divorce you” to the woman. Saudi females could not have a job that put her in the public eye.
Western males could mingle with Saudi males, but Saudi females were strictly off limits. We could be kicked out of the country for giving one the eye. Apparently, we were thought to be a bad influence on them.
During this tour, I was sent to Miami, Florida to train on the L1011 Auto Flight Instruments. After the training, I had a few days before I had to report back to work in Jeddah, so on my layover in London, I headed to the Heathrow Hilton Hotel discotheque lounge. The disco lounge was a great place to relax, meet interesting people from all over the world, and let your hair down. Most American Saudi Airline personnel traveling to and from the States hung out there on their layover. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined who I would meet there that night.
Sure enough, as soon as I walked into the lounge, I spotted a familiar face. It was Susan, a Saudi flight attendant and wife of an American pilot who lived in the same apartment building as I in Jeddah. She was there with another flight attendant, both on their way to the States for a vacation.
As we sat there visiting, a couple Arabic men came over and asked the girls to dance. The girls turned them down, since they weren’t really there to fraternize, especially with Arabic men. Well, Arabic men were embarrassed to take no for an answer, so they kept coming back. I had heard that their attitude was that all foreign women were easy scores. I guess they were thinking to make an easy score. The girls got a little irritated with them and left.
Sitting there alone, I noticed that the Arabic men had come from a booth where they were sitting with three very attractive Arabic women. The more I focused on the women, the more I noticed that all three were absolutely glorious. Especially the one sitting on the end. There seemed to be a spotlight shining on her.
Suddenly, she looked my way and our eyes locked. She had electric eyes with long lush eyelashes that I could not ignore. She gave me a flirtatious smile that enticed my mojo. She swayed to the sexy and provocative beat of the disco music that was playing, all the while keeping her mysterious and sparkling eyes locked onto mine. Her look suggested I was a Tiger she wanted to tame.
Why weren’t the Arabic guys dancing with these lovely Arabian princess, I wondered.
Okay, I thought, I know an invite when I see one.
The beat of Donna Summer’s Hot Stuff inspired me to seek some adventure. After all, I was in search of a good time. So I strutted over to their booth and greeted the lovely Arabic beauty who had been giving me the eye.
“Assalam Alaikum,” I said, having picked up a few words in Arabic.
“Wa Alaikum el salaam,” she replied, with a pleasant smile.
“Do you speak English?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said, in a British accent.
“Would you like to dance?”
“I’d love to,” she replied, extending her hand.
She didn’t know it at the time, but she had me at “of course.”
As I escorted her out on the dance floor, my eyes had a hard time staying in their sockets. She was one sexy lady! Petite with a model’s figure. Dressed in a very tight and revealing evening gown. She looked to be all dolled up for the prom. I got a whiff of her perfume and it did to me what it was advertised to do. I was totally mesmerized.
As we danced, I could feel a vibrating electrical current keeping in step and dancing with us. We danced as one, as she was completely in tune with the disco beat.
“My name’s Tom.”
“I’m Fiza.”
“Nice to meet you Fiza,” I said, as I smiled and looked her straight in the eye.
“Nice to meet you too Tom,” she replied, looking back at me with piercing dark, sexy eyes.
“Where are you from?” I asked, keeping the conversation flowing.
“I’m from Saudi Arabia.”
Holy Shit! Did she just say she was from Saudi Arabia?
“I’m going to school here in England. I’m here tonight with my brothers and sisters,” she replied.
All of a sudden, it felt like someone had pulled the plug or short-circuited our electrical connection. Oh-My-God. This juicy peach was forbidden fruit!
Common sense told me I had better escort her back to her booth. But, since when did I have any common sense, especially when it came to beautiful women and forbidden fruit? I had figured that she was of Arabic culture, but I had no idea that she would be from Saudi. I’d heard stories, however, that Saudi women liked to let their hair down when outside their country. The disco lounge was an ideal environment for doing just that. I was about to experience it firsthand.
She must have seen the shocked expression on my face, as she asked, “Is something wrong?”
After recovering from the shock, I gathered my thoughts and quickly replied, “My eyes are having a difficult time focusing on your beauty.”
That brought a big smile my way and started the current flowing again.
Hey, no guts, no glory.
We talked and danced for what seemed an eternity. Time stood still. I was in seventh heaven and on cloud nine.
“I’d better get back to my booth; I think my brothers are getting upset with me,” she suddenly said, as she looked over my shoulder toward them.
To say they were upset would be putting it mildly. A Western male had touched and conversed with their forbidden fruit. Her brothers started scolding her in their native language as soon as we approached their booth. The glare from their evil eyes was a message for me to skedaddle. I headed for the bathroom in the hotel lounge, figuring that was the end of a wonderful encounter with an Arabian princess.
Darn, she was such a beauty!
When I came out of the bathroom, there stood Fiza. I felt my face light up like a firecracker and my blood pressure spiked as she handed me a slip of paper and whispered in my ear, “Please call me in the morning.”
She then turned and walked back into the disco, leaving me in a trance. I could only stare at the phone number in my sweaty palm as I slowly made my way to my hotel room.
Is this for real?
I tossed and tu
rned all night. Could not sleep a wink. I thought morning would never come. I had never before gotten this hot and bothered over someone. Whoa, baby! I was on fire! Or was I playing with fire?
Oh, hell, Tom. Will you stop rationalizing? Just go for it. What have you got to lose except maybe your nuts or maybe even your life?
I was adventurous, but I wasn’t faster than a speeding bullet. Still, what the heck, it would be an exciting way to go! Her beauty and our dazzling vibes made me feel invincible!
Ok, time to get some sleep lover boy.
I tried counting sheep. I twiddled my thumbs. I tried meditating. Nothing worked. I was still wide awake when the sun peeked through the window. Finally, it was time to dial the number she gave me.
Shit, what if she wrote it down wrong?
Jesus! Would you stop thinking and just dial the number.
My hand shook as I picked up the phone to dial the number. Didn’t know if it was from excitement or fear. I could hear in my head one of the songs we had danced to the night before: Disco Inferno, burn, baby, burn. The anticipation was nerve wracking.
“The number you have dialed no longer exists. Please try again.”
Shit!
I must have dialed it wrong? I tried again. This time with a steadier hand.
Ring-ring. Ring-ring.
“Marhaban” (hello), a male voice answered right away.
Shit, what am I going to say?
My heart skipped a beat and then started beating a mile a minute.
May I speak with the doll who knocked my socks off last night?” I wanted to say. Luckily, reality set in.
“May I speak with Fiza?” I said, in as high-pitched voice as I could muster.
“Hold on,” he said, to my surprise.
All right! I pulled it off.
“Hello,” said a female voice.
“Fiza?”
“Yes, who is this?”
It’s that handsome devil you met last night at the disco, I thought to say.
“It’s Tom. We met at the disco last night.”
“Oh! Hi, Tom. I was wondering if you would call.”
Wondering if I would call? Jesus! If only she knew what she had put me through all night long.
During our conversation, she told me she would be taking the bus that afternoon to Cheltenham, where she was attending school. It was a small college town about eighty miles outside London. It was a perfect opening.
“No need to take the bus. I have a rented car and would gladly give you a ride,” I said. “It would give me a chance to see more of the English countryside.”
And maybe see more of that beautiful body, too.
After what seemed an eternity, but in reality, was only a couple seconds, she replied, “That would be nice.”
“YES!” I whispered, as I pumped my fist.
She told me where I could pick her up, and we ended our conversation. After I hung up, it suddenly dawned on me: What the hell are you doing? Am I setting myself up for another heartache?
She had told me to pick her up at a specific location inside Hyde Park. I circled the area a couple of times to see if anyone was with her or maybe hiding close by. I was fearful I might be falling in some sort of a trap. Keep in mind; this peach was forbidden fruit that I was trying to pick.
I finally determined she was alone and pulled up beside her. She was looking just as gorgeous as she had the night before. She wore a simple white blouse and painted-on jeans. Her happy smile, electric brown eyes, and seductive perfume erased all my doubts. I could sense she was pleased to see me as well. During the drive to Cheltenham, we talked up a storm.
She told me she was studying for an architecture degree and had been living in England for a couple of years. There were no architectural colleges for women in Saudi Arabia, so she had convinced her father to send her to England to further her education. Apparently, she had daddy wrapped around her little finger. She wasn’t letting her culture prevent her from fulfilling her dream.
Her father had four wives, like most Arabic men. He had gotten wealthy building apartment complexes in Jeddah. It was a small world, and I explained that I was now working and living there. What a coincidence!
I could sense her adventurous spirit. She told me that my boldness in asking her to dance, plus my baby blue eyes and radiant smile, left a grand impression on her. The more we talked, the more I became infatuated with her. We definitely had a spontaneous connection. Amazing how two individuals from completely different cultures could click the way we did. I realized she was indeed a unique woman and that maybe I had just found a real live story book princess.
She lived at the school dorm on campus, so I checked into a hotel room. She planned on showing me around town for the last two days of my vacation. I never did get to see the town on that trip, because we never made it out of the hotel room.
As soon as I laid my suitcase down, we fell into an embrace. No matter how hard we tried, we just couldn’t seem to get close enough to each other. There was no letting go. Her touch made me as hard as a rock and set my body on fire. I thought I knew hot, but this heat reached a crucial boiling point in a New York minute. Our chemistry was explosive as fireworks at a Fourth of July celebration.
We couldn’t get out of our clothes fast enough. They went flying in every direction, as we ripped each other bare. In a heartbeat, we were naked as jaybirds as we dived onto the bed. The force of our love making soon knocked us onto the floor. We scratched and clawed like two wild animals in heat. We made love in every imaginable position we could think of and then some. When we attempted a pause to eat and bathe, they too became part of our activities. Passion cloaked and soaked our bodies and absorbed our souls.
I can’t continue describing our out of this world love making. It’s that PG-13 rating thing my editor put on me. I can say that we became one body, one mind, one heart, and one soul. We learned everything there was to know about each other, both emotionally and sexually. We became soul mates, as our hearts beat as one. We fell, head over heels in love.
After two incredible, exhausting days that I will cherish for the rest for my life, we had no other choice but to finally come to our senses and snap back to reality. She had classes to attend and I had to return to work in Jeddah.
Actually, it was a blessing in disguise, because I don’t think either of us could have physically survived another day at the pace we had set. It was exceptionally difficult to part, but we both knew I’d be back and that this was only the beginning of something very special.
We exchanged steamy love letters over the next few months. She would tease me by dabbing her perfume on her letters. It was agonizing to smell but not to be able to see and touch her. Needless to say, her letters had me climbing a wall. She was constantly on my mind. I had to keep quiet about her, even though I felt the urge to shout to the world that I had found my princess and soul mate. I was able to share my glory only with my brother Mike. Of course, he warned that playing with fire could cause severe burns, but my body and soul were already burning. No amount of water or common sense could douse the flame that burned within.
About a month later, I was playing softball and hurt my left big toe while sliding into home plate. X-rays at the hospital revealed it was broken, but the x-ray also showed a small metal object implanted in the tip of my toe. What it was and how it could have gotten there had the doctor and me baffled. Since it didn’t seem to be bothering me, he couldn’t see any reason to remove it.
I would eventually discover the object to be a tracking device. I would also learn there are many abductees with tracking devices implanted within them. Years later, when the tracking device implanted in my toe finally was removed, careful analysis determined that the device was made from material substances not known to exist on this planet.
Now who would these devices be known to, and who could be tracking me?
That summer, Fiza and I were missing each other so much that she decided to take a gamble. I wasn’t eligible
for any more vacation for several months. She was on summer break, and as much as she hated coming back to her country, she decided to come see me.
This was a risky decision, because it would be very dangerous for us to be seen or caught together, but forbidden love hath no sagacity—or, more properly said, love hath no brains.
Fiza’s father had divorced her mother and she was living alone in an apartment in Jeddah. She was tickled pink when Fiza told her she would be coming to visit for the summer.
When Fiza arrived, she told her mother about us. Well, even in other cultures, mothers are very protective, but also compassionate, about their daughter’s feelings. I was surprised to learn that her mother was thrilled to meet me, but, of course, our relationship must be kept from her father and step-brothers.
The Abduction Chronicles Page 5