by Kim Baldwin
A pale yellow minidress in a very sheer fabric, it showed off as many sexy body parts as possible while still allowing the wearer to avoid arrest for indecent exposure. At least in the West. Here it could certainly get her into trouble.
Ordinarily, this type of garment would have made her extremely self-conscious, but Nazim had been nothing but respectful and polite. And Isa was in her bloodstream now and was enjoying too much the newly discovered thrill of taking risks, being daring, and oozing sexuality. “Okay, I’m ready,” she told them, once she had made certain her breasts were covered by the thin panels of material.
Nazim’s pupils widened and his whole body stiffened. After a moment, he looked away, out over the desert, and kept his eyes averted, his only outward signs that he might find Isabel’s appearance disturbing.
Kash, on the other hand, had quite the opposite reaction. Her gaze was fixed on Isabel.
“How do you want me?” Isabel’s tone was all innuendo.
Over easy. Kash took a deep breath before speaking. It was difficult not to outwardly display how excited she was getting. “I want you to blend with the environment. Make it one with you. I want you to show how being here makes you feel.”
Isabel wet her lips and struck a sexy, powerful pose, face-on to the camera, her gaze smoldering and lustful, as if saying, I’m going to show you how I feel being with you, instead, Kash.
Kash focused as she zoomed in with a long lens from fifteen feet away. Her heart was already beating fast because of the dress, but it accelerated rapidly when she brought Isabel’s eyes into close-up view.
It was as though they were face-to-face. Isabel’s eyes said I know you want me. I want you, too.
If they really had been standing close together, Kash would have kissed her. Instead, she depressed the shutter and enjoyed the painful twitch low in her abdomen. Click. Click. Click. It was doubtful these shots would appear in the magazine, but Kash would refer to them often.
She started to sweat, though the sun was rapidly descending toward the horizon, and she chalked her reaction up to the heat emanating from Isabel. Click. Click.
The next pose Isabel chose was sensually playful, presenting her backside to the camera and looking over her shoulder with a come-hither suggestiveness. Click. Click. Click. Damn, she’s got a nice ass. Kash zoomed in on her eyes again. Now they said You want to fuck me, don’t you?
Her hands started to tremble, so she gripped her camera tight to keep Isabel from seeing. Click. Click.
Now Isabel got down on her hands and knees and struck a pose more Penthouse than Sophisticated Women. Kash did not correct her mistake. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Another, even more provocative, pose. Click. Click. The sweat really poured off Kash now, running down her back in a thick trickle along her spine. Hot weather always made her a little horny anyway, but Isabel was making her insides twist in the agony of acute arousal.
Kash heard a muffled cough from behind her and glanced around. Nazim had put some distance between them and had his back to them. He obviously didn’t want to witness what was going on.
She watched him for a few seconds, and when she turned back around she discovered that Isabel had changed positions again. She was on her feet, and this pose was clearly not intended for the camera. Now, who can be expected to be able to resist that? Not thinking, she stepped away from her tripod to get an unobstructed view in the flesh, instead of through a viewfinder.
Isabel wasn’t really posing at all. She was…casually waiting. Expectant. The invitation in her eyes, even at this distance, unmistakable. Now they said Let’s go somewhere, huh? Enough of this, already.
Damn. Kash couldn’t stop staring. A heavy bead of sweat ran between her breasts, over her stomach, and down to the apex of her thighs. It felt like a tongue, Isabel’s tongue, tracing a path to her clit.
“Isabel, I need you to…” let me take off your clothes. Kash coughed, clearing her throat. “Uh…do something. Pose. We’re not finished yet.” With great reluctance, she returned to her tripod and focused on the image in her viewfinder. Isabel hadn’t moved.
Kash looked around the camera at her. “Isabel?”
“Tell me, Kash,” Isabel said, her tone honey-thick and seductive. “Why are you acting as though we’re not hot for each other when it’s so obvious that we are?”
Kash’s mouth went dry. It was hard to swallow and she wished for the distance that her camera provided. She felt open and vulnerable, certain that Isabel could see, despite her best efforts, how excited she was.
“I’ve told you, Isabel, we had what we had, and it’s over. I’m here to take pictures of you, not to satisfy your needs. Can we get back to work now?” The words were difficult to say because she didn’t feel them, but she was so far out of her comfort zone—crazy with desire and yet terrified, too—that she just wanted to get Isabel to stop looking at her that way. And fast.
“Bullshit, Kash.” Isabel shook her head and sighed. “We could have such a great time together during the next few days, but you’re bent on denying this…this chemistry between us. Not only denying it, but acting completely…well, beyond cool…almost to the point of being rude. Why?”
She sought a suitable answer, but she felt like she was standing in quicksand. None of her pat and practiced responses, which she used when a woman wanted more, would work with Isabel.
There had been a trickle of breeze now and then, but suddenly a hot gust of wind blew through, stirring up the sand and pelting them with it, stinging exposed flesh and making them all turn their faces away. When the long, sustained blow of several seconds was over, they spat out sand and brushed it off their arms, faces, necks. It was in their ears and embedded at the edge of their eyes, and it had made its way into every loose article of clothing.
“That was horrible!” Isabel reached under her dress to brush the sand from her breasts, a sight that Kash couldn’t ignore, so she didn’t immediately remember her camera.
“Christ!” At least all her other equipment was still in her bags. But the Hasselblad she was holding would be a bitch to clean, and the lens was probably ruined.
She heard a grinding noise behind her and pivoted. Nazim was trying unsuccessfully to start the car, which had been pointed grill-first in the direction the wind had blown in from. Oh, fuck.
Another, shorter gust of wind blew across them, and she and Isabel cowered while Nazim tried once again.
“Get in!” Kash yelled to Isabel once the breeze died down. She quickly unscrewed her camera and collapsed the tripod, and made it to the vehicle a few steps behind Isabel. They both scrambled into the back.
It was easy to translate Nazim’s short outbursts as curses. They grew louder as the car’s labored efforts to start got quieter. Another strong gust of wind stirred the sand and obscured their view for several seconds. Neither of them spoke until Nazim slammed both palms against the steering wheel, so hard the little car shook. He cursed again in Arabic, then took a deep, calming breath and faced them. “I will walk for help back to the village,” he said. “You stay here.”
“We should all go,” Kash said, and Isabel opened her mouth to agree.
He held up his hand. “Please. These storms can get bad very fast. It is better if you are here safe. We may get separated, and I can move faster alone.” He partially unwrapped the cotton cloth turban on his head so that part of it could cover his face. He was indeed much more suitably attired to deal with hiking back to the village—covered head to ankle in the traditional long loose shirt, or galabiya, and matching trousers. “I have dealt with this many times before. I will be back as soon as I can.”
“All right,” Kash conceded, and Nazim got out of the car and started off toward the village at a brisk pace. He hadn’t gone twenty steps before another blast of wind obscured him temporarily from view. When he reappeared, he was a good bit farther away, slowed but not stalled by the sand, walking in the middle of the pavement.
“I should change,” Isabel said.
>
“Yes. Right,” Kash agreed, glancing over to find Isabel’s dress open in a way that allowed her a clear view of cleavage and a lot of breast. No bra. She pulled the keys from the ignition to get Isabel’s bag from the trunk. Nazim was making good time, but the village was quite a distance, and she could see mini-sandstorms springing up in the vast desert around them.
She opened the door nearest Isabel and handed her the bag but stayed outside the car, watching Nazim. Imagining Isabel inside, getting naked, was making her feel restless and out of control. A sandstorm began in the distance and gained strength as it barreled toward her, obliterating the sun and painting the sky yellow. She watched it until it got close, then dove into the driver’s seat right before it reached them. She knew Isabel hadn’t had time to fully change.
Kash was able to resist the urge to turn around, but though she knew better, she couldn’t keep from glancing in the rearview mirror. It allowed her only a view of Isabel’s face; those deep blue eyes were watching her intently. And from her expression, Kash knew that Isabel was nude.
Neither of them moved, or even blinked. In the stillness that followed, Kash became aware of how fast she was breathing. Isabel was, too.
She gripped the steering wheel so hard her forearms ached.
Isabel leaned forward against Kash’s seat while maintaining eye contact in the mirror. Kash could faintly feel her warm breath against the back of her neck. Oh, don’t do that. That’s just cruel.
Another powerful gust outside obliterated their surroundings and shook the car, reminding them of their isolation.
All Kash could see in the rearview were Isabel’s eyes…the pupils dark with arousal, the expression in them unforgiving need.
This can’t be happening. She watched in horror as Isabel leaned forward even farther, until her lips were against Kash’s ear. Isabel paused there, her breathing fast and uneven. Then she licked the back of Kash’s ear, and Kash almost went through the roof.
She stiffened, feeling that lick right between her legs, and squirmed in her seat, unconsciously trying to create some friction where she needed it most. When Isabel licked her again, totally against her will she relaxed into the wet caress, the throbbing between her legs growing painfully insistent.
Isabel’s tongue immediately accepted the offering and traced a slow, sensual path along Kash’s neck to her jawline. Kash could feel warm, rapid exhalations against her cheek as Isabel’s mouth sought hers.
She ached to put her hand between her legs, to say fuck it to all the voices in her head telling her this was a bad idea. She was at a crossroads and had only seconds to decide what to do before Isabel’s mouth claimed hers. She knew that if it did, she would be lost, swept headlong toward an unknown destination.
Her terror overcame her lust, and she pulled away. “Get dressed,” she said hoarsely. “Nazim should be back soon.” Grateful for a lull in the wind, she got out of the car, her heart beating furiously. She was so turned on she could think of nothing but how badly she needed to come and how frustrated she was that she could apparently do nothing about it. She was angry at herself, too, for being so out of control and unable to cope with what was happening to her.
*
Isabel pulled on her jeans, her eyes on Kash all the while, trying to gauge what was going on with her. She couldn’t stop what seemed to be happening between them. Her body simply craved Kash’s in a way she felt completely helpless to fight.
A part of her was beginning to feel foolish since Kash had spurned her so often. But she knew in her heart, from the expression in Kash’s eyes and how Kash had kissed her, that there was definite heat between them. The more you feel for her, the worse it gets. But how much longer are you going to keep throwing yourself at her?
Kash stayed outside whenever possible, and when the wind forced her back into the car, she stayed in the passenger front seat, eyes ahead, and made no further conversation.
Isabel, frustrated at being rejected yet again, had nearly decided to make no further moves on Kash. But she changed her mind about the time that Kash returned to the car for the third time. By then, she understood.
Clearly, Kash wasn’t aware she was even humming, let alone that the tunes she chose obviously reflected some of what was going on in her head. The first time she got in the car she was humming Louis Armstrong’s “A Kiss to Build a Dream On.”
When she came back the second time, she had changed to another old standard—Ella Fitzgerald’s “Something’s Gotta Give.”
The third song Isabel considered definitive evidence that Kash was much more affected than she let on. It was a Foreigner tune from the ’80s—“I Want to Know What Love Is.”
Isabel was content to say nothing as Kash came and went, grateful to have these little glimpses into the enigmatic woman and what was really going on beneath her distant exterior. They also gave her an insight into Kash’s musical tastes, which were apparently quite varied. She had never heard Kash burn through so many tunes in such a short period of time before and wondered whether the fast pace was relevant to her stress or anxiety, or something else Kash was feeling.
By the time help arrived, Isabel had also heard snippets of the Fine Young Cannibals’ “She Drives Me Crazy” and Boyz II Men’s “I’ll Make Love to You,” as well as bits of two tunes she couldn’t identify. Oh, how she wanted to identify those mystery songs. So bad she could taste it. So bad she wanted to ask Kash each time what exactly she was humming, but she knew such questions would make her instantly self-conscious and all too aware of what she was doing.
It was after nightfall before Nazim returned with another man in an old wreck of a car with a makeshift cloth bib tied in front of the grill to keep the sand out. They piled in with their bags and set off toward the village. “The road to Cairo is closed,” Nazim informed them. “We will have to stay in the village. This man knows somewhere we can go.”
Kash had frankly been surprised that Nazim had managed to find a car in the village to come get them. She knew the place was too small to have any kind of hotel or other accommodation for outsiders.
“Thank you for your help,” Kash said to the driver, a slight man of perhaps thirty, with dark eyes and stained teeth. When Nazim repeated in Arabic what she had said, the man smiled and nodded.
They had to stop five times on the way back to the village because of the blowing sand, sometimes for several minutes. The situation was definitely getting worse. The driver took them to a small squat home made of mud brick, a short distance away from the area they had explored on foot. He said something in Arabic to them, which translated as “Welcome to my home. May I ask you please to take your shoes off before entering?”
“His home,” Isabel exclaimed as she bent down to remove her sandals. “Gosh, that’s wonderfully generous.”
Though humble, the three-room dwelling was clean and well kept. There were Persian rugs everywhere and low tables, with pillows to sit on. They met the man’s wife, who was wearing what Kash was certain were her best garments, and were shown their room—a small chamber with a mattress not much bigger than a single bed. It was, no doubt, the couple’s own bed, freshly made up for their guests.
“We can’t take their bed,” Kash protested to Nazim. Her objection had little to do with imposing on their hosts and everything to do with the prospect of sharing that little bed with Isabel. Though the occupants spoke no English, Kash’s tone showed that she was displeased, which drew immediate frowns from both of them.
“It is an insult to them to refuse their hospitality,” Nazim said gently.
“Then we mustn’t refuse.” Isabel, standing beside Kash, placed a hand on her arm. “We mustn’t.”
Kash knew she was right. They couldn’t decline the offer or the couple would lose face, so she said to the homeowner, “We are very grateful for your generous offer.”
Nazim translated, and the couple beamed. The man gave a small bow.
The woman began speaking rapidly to Nazim, who nodded. �
�She has been cooking for us and hopes that we have brought big appetites.”
“Yes. You bet.” Kash was indeed hungry, but she was also grateful for anything that would delay lying down next to Isabel.
Chapter Seventeen
“How long are you going to keep avoiding this?”
Kash knew the confrontation was coming. She had seen it in Isabel’s eyes throughout the long evening as they ate the tempting array of dishes and lingered over strong coffee while lounging on the oversized pillows. Their hosts, initially quite reserved, relaxed as the visit progressed and deluged them with questions about their lives, their jobs, and their families. Isabel answered with candor and unexpected humor. Kash, on the other hand, volunteered very little about herself, except for the general information that had been well documented by the media.
She and Isabel had said almost nothing to each other, but Isabel had positioned herself across from Kash and looked at her often with a definite I-have-plans-for-you-later directness that kept Kash on edge.
And now, they were alone together in an eight-foot by ten-foot room, dimly lit by a few small candles.
“Let it go, Isabel.” Kash walked over to the only window and stood before it, staring out, her back to Isabel. It was very warm with the window closed, and there was no view; the swirling sand obscured any lights that might have been visible from neighboring homes. Her blood was racing but she worked to appear unaffected, by trying to have a relaxed posture and putting her hand in her pocket. Go to sleep, Isabel. Lie down and go to sleep and don’t tempt me anymore.
Isabel was disheartened by Kash’s answer, but it wasn’t long before her spirits lifted. There she goes again. Isabel had to strain to even hear the tune, let alone identify it. She crept a few steps closer, so she could make out what Kash was humming this time.