Aliya Baban and the Cave of Pleasure

by Melinda Barron

  “Aliya, the charts say a woman who is five foot eight should weigh at least—at least—one hundred and twenty-six pounds, if they have a small frame, which you don’t. Your medium frame makes the starting weight one hundred and thirty six pounds. Since you weighed one hundred and twelve pounds when we started, we have a long way to go to get you to your optimal weight. Twenty-four pounds to be exact.”

  When she narrowed her eyes at him, he turned toward the refrigerator, opened it, and bent over to peer inside. “Shall we cook together? We can try the sauce again, or—”

  Something cold hit him in the back. When he stood, he felt it slide down him, landing in a puddle at his feet. He stared down at the blob, then turned to Aliya, who held the spoon in front of her. It was loaded with sauce again, which she launched at his face.

  He wiped it away from his cheek, then grinned at her. “You know, it just occurred to me that you were never punished for throwing that bottle of chocolate sauce at me in the store the other day.”

  She reloaded the spoon. “What are you going to do, spank me?” This time the missile landed on his chest.

  “You don’t want to start this with me, Aliya. I’m warning you.”

  “Don’t I?” She moved quickly, dipping the spoon and flinging its contents at him. In response, Matuse filled the counter with baskets full of messy fruits, eggs and flour. He picked up a handful of the white substance and tossed it Aliya, her laughter as she danced away making his heart jump with pleasure. He’d never heard her laugh before, and the sound was musical.

  He tossed an egg at her, then picked up a handful of raspberries and smeared them across her chest as she reached for the eggs. Before long, there was a mess of eggs, flour, spaghetti sauce and fruit on them. The food coated the appliances and the counters as they threw it back and forth, laughing like children.

  When Matuse put his arm around her waist and pulled her to the floor, Aliya tried to push him off. He got on top of her, sitting on his knees and holding her hands on either side of her face.

  “Are you ready for your punishment?”

  “This isn’t it?” She giggled and turned away from him, making a minimal effort at struggling against his body. “Let me up.”

  “No.” He stood, then laughed when she tried to stand too, but found herself still bound to the floor.

  “This isn’t fair!” But she was still laughing, so he stepped around her and went to the refrigerator.

  When he found what he wanted, he walked back to her. “You won’t be needing those.” Her clothes disappeared and he studied her in appreciation. “Your hips are a little fuller, and it looks so very lovely.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you about my size. Please, let me up.”

  In response he held up the bottle of chocolate sauce. “Recognize this?”

  “Matuse!” The warning tone of her voice made his smile widen. “Don’t you dare!”

  He popped the lid off the bottle, then turned it, using his power to warm the sauce just enough so it would flow easily.

  The stream hit her breasts and her stomach, and he moved it around to her shoulders and arms. She admonished him as he coated her from head to toe, making sure that every inch of her was covered in chocolate. When the bottle was empty, he conjured another one and started the process all over again.

  When her body was covered in the sticky substance, he knelt down and ran his tongue over each breast, swirling the chocolate around her nipples. He lapped his way down her stomach as she wiggled in appreciation, her giggles making him smile.

  Matuse worked his tongue into her bellybutton, then traced it down to her mons. Her swollen lips were easy to part, and he ran his tongue along her slit, reveling in the hiss of pleasure that escaped her lips. When the hiss turned into begging moans of “please,” he sucked her clit into his mouth. He sucked her until she came, her hips bucking into his face. He got up on his knees, pushed the hood back with his index finger and flicked at her exposed clit with his tongue.

  “Matuse!”

  She came again as he lazily licked the quivering little bud. Only after he’d started and stopped a few times did he allow her to come again, her body jerking as she whispered, “too much, please, so good.”

  He sat back on his heels and caressed her thighs. “Very tasty.”

  “You’re wicked.”

  “Am I? You don’t know how much I enjoy watching you squirm, then come.” He ran his hands up her stomach, cupping her breasts. “Would you like to come again? I know I’d love to watch you soar one more time before I fuck you.”

  They both groaned when the intercom bell rang, indicating someone was outside wanting into the building so they could come visit her.

  “Ignore it,” Matuse said.

  “Can you see who it is?”

  He closed his eyes, then shook his head.

  “Darling, I’m sorry.” He stroked her sticky cheek. “It’s your mother.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Make her go away. Please.” Aliya shimmied out from under Matuse and stood quickly, glancing around at the mess in her kitchen. Food was everywhere, and her naked body was coated in chocolate.

  When the bell rang again, the buzzing was more insistent, as if the woman held the button down.

  “Go away!” she hollered.

  “She can’t hear you down on the steps.”

  “Maybe not, but it’s the middle of the day, which means that she knows I don’t have a job anymore. I can’t face her. I can’t.”

  “You can, and you will. You’re a grown woman, Aliya. She has no hold over you anymore.”

  The buzzing sounded again and Aliya slid over to the intercom. She looked at Matuse before pushing the button. He nodded and she whispered, “Yes,” into the speaker.

  “Aliya Marie! Open this door right now, do you hear me?” Her mother’s disembodied voice sounded very angry.

  Aliya pressed the button to release the lock, then turned to Matuse. “I can’t do this. Please, make her go away. Send her to Africa or something, on a safari maybe. Or maybe even up to the International Space Station on a one-way ticket.”

  “I won’t let you run from her.”

  “She never comes here. What is she doing here?”

  Her mother’s knock reverberated through the hall and Aliya looked down. Her body was clean, and she wore a soft, flowery skirt and blouse combination that fit just a little snuggly. She glanced back at the kitchen to find all traces of their food fight, and subsequent lovemaking, gone.

  “Open the door.” His voice was gentle.

  “Don’t leave me. When she sees I’ve gained weight, she’s going to go ballistic.” Aliya walked to the door, reached for the handle, pulled her hand back, and then opened the door.

  Her mother stood there, impeccably dressed in a designer suit. She stepped inside without looking at her, then strolled toward the living room. Before she got there, she turned toward her daughter.

  “Would you mind telling me why… good Lord, you’re pregnant.”

  The disgust in her mother’s voice made Aliya cringe. “No, mother, I’m not.”

  “You’ve gained ten pounds, at least. That could be the only reason. Aliya you look horrible.”

  “Thanks, mother. I really appreciate it.” She pushed past her mother and crossed the room to where Matuse stood. He took her hand and stroked it gently.

  “It’s going to be fine, she-devil. I promise.”

  She nodded, keeping her face turned away from her mother.

  “Plus, I can’t believe you’re out of a job, again. I mean… oh, excuse me. My daughter didn’t tell me she had company. Hello.”

  “Mrs. Davies. Hello.”

  “Have we met?”

  “Not officially. My name is Matuse. I’m a friend of Aliya’s.”

  “Are you French? Well, your name is French, but your accent isn’t very strong.”

  “Indeed. I’m from Lyon, but I have lived here for many years now.”

  Ali
ya bit back a laugh. She wondered what he considered many years, and made a mental note to ask him later. She turned to her mother, who had pasted on her “be outwardly pleasant, but inwardly seething” look.

  “I see. And you’re last name?”

  He grinned at her. “Aliya and I were thinking about having some afternoon tea. Would you care to join us?”

  “Thank you for the offer, but I would like to speak with Aliya alone, if you don’t mind.”

  “Actually, I do.”

  Aliya wished she had a camera to capture the startled look on her mother’s picture-perfect face, courtesy of the best plastic surgeons in New York.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “There’s no pardon to beg, for I think the answer is clear. I said, I do mind, and so does Aliya. We have no secrets from each other.”

  “Since when? I’ve never heard your name before today.” Her mother’s voice held the familiar tone Aliya was so used to: arrogance mixed with a hint of indignation.

  “May I ask how long it’s been since you’ve talked to your daughter?”

  “That’s none of your business.” Her mother’s eyes were flashing daggers now, and Aliya’s palms started to sweat.

  “Matuse, I’ll…” Aliya turned to whisper in his ear so her mother couldn’t hear.

  “No, you won’t,” he whispered back. “We’ve made too much progress to let you slip back, and that’s what would happen. Do you trust me?”

  He stroked her cheek and she took a deep breath. “Yes.”

  “Then things will be fine. I promise.” He turned his gaze back to her mother. Then, he took Aliya’s hand and headed toward the kitchen.

  Her mother hissed out her name, sounding much like a snake. Aliya turned to her and shook her head.

  “Matuse is right. We’ll talk in the kitchen, mother.”

  “Aliya, get over here.”

  If it hadn’t been for Matuse’s hand holding firmly to her own, Aliya was sure she would have done exactly as her mother asked. As it was, he squeezed her hand gently and continued to lead her to the kitchen.

  Aliya wasn’t surprised to find the table set for afternoon tea. A gentle stream of heat escaped from the teapot, which was surrounded by various finger sandwiches and bite-sized cakes. Matuse held a chair for her, and then did the same for her mother, who sat down and continued to stare at her daughter.

  “Shall I pour?” Without waiting for an answer, he filled both their cups, then took a seat and filled his own. “I love afternoon tea. Such a fun way to break up the day.”

  When neither woman answered, he took a plate and piled it high with sandwiches and cakes, and then placed it in front of Aliya.

  “Shall I?” He took another plate and gestured to her mother with it.

  “No, thank you. And Aliya shouldn’t either. She needs to be dieting.”

  It was as if her mother had slapped at her hand. Aliya stared at the food, then thought about all the years she’d denied herself because of what her mother had taught her. She picked up one of the sugar coated cakes and popped it into her mouth.

  “According to the charts, mother, I’m underweight by about fifteen pounds.”

  Her mother stared at her, then turned an evil glare on Matuse. “Is this your doing?”

  “I should hope so,” he said. “I think she looks absolutely beautiful. Another ten pounds and she’ll be stunning. I hate to see a woman that looks like a stick figure.”

  “She wasn’t a stick figure, she was svelte, as a woman should be.”

  “Svelte? She was starving herself to death.”

  “Nonsense. She looked wonderful. Why are you filling her head with nonsense about gaining weight? Do you want people laughing at her for being fat?”

  “Stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” Aliya said. “Both of you. You know, mother, at first I disagreed with Matuse. But now, I know he’s right. I was starving myself, and for what? Being a size two hasn’t helped me to keep a man, has it?”

  “Or a job.” The venom behind her mother’s words pulsed through Aliya’s veins. “Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to call your office and be informed you didn’t work there anymore?”

  “It’s always about you, isn’t it? You couldn’t say, ‘I’m sorry, darling, that you lost your job.’ You have to center on how it looks on you. And you can’t say, ‘Darling, you look better now that you know you can eat more than carrots and grapefruit, as long as you don’t take it overboard.’ No, the fist thing you say is ‘You’re pregnant! You look horrible!.’”

  “How dare you say those things to me? I’m your mother!”

  “Yes, you are. At some point in time, I would like you to act like it instead of belittling me for everything I’ve ever done, or for how I look.”

  She could feel Matuse’s hand stroking her back, even though he still sat in his seat. His breath was heavy in her ear as he told her things would be fine, that he would be there for her.

  “Do you know what it was like to be sent to a fat farm when I was twelve? And then, at the end of the week, the other parents were praising their kids for what they’d done and all you could say was, ‘can she stay longer?’”

  “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this.” Her mother stood quickly, then straightened out her skirt. “When you get rid of him, you let me know.”

  “Why? It’s Matuse who opened my eyes, who’s shown me that people are more than their bodies.”

  “So, he’s taught you it’s fine to be fat and unemployed?”

  “As a matter of fact, Aliya has a job,” Matuse said. “She’s doing some consulting work with a few friends of mine, Anya Bartholomew and Jessica Simmons. They’re designing an advertising campaign centered around clothing for larger sized women.”

  “At the rate she’s going, she could be the model.”

  “Mother!”

  “Don’t you use that tone with me. No matter what garbage he’s filled your head with, I’m still your mother. And in the end, it will be me you come crawling back to when you weigh two hundred pounds and he’s left you. Then, you’ll be begging me to pay for the fat farm.”

  “I wouldn’t leave her,” Matuse said. “It matters not to me how much she weighs. What matters is what’s inside of her. And we’re working to exorcise the things you planted. Perhaps you, too, need a lesson on looking for the good, and not the bad, in people.”

  “I’m leaving now. Aliya, I’m sorry if you think me such a horrible mother.”

  Aliya stood and tried to take her mother’s hand, but she pulled it away. “I don’t think you’re horrible. But I do think your preoccupation with looks and weight colored my judgment, and affected some of the things I’ve done in life. I was terrible to certain people, and I know now that I was acting out because I was unhappy with myself. I can’t undo what I did, but I can change, and not let it happen again.”

  For a moment, Aliya thought her mother might smile at her, might take her hand and tell her everything was going to be fine. Instead, she sniffled and said, “Well, if that’s the way you see things, I can’t change it. But don’t come begging for my forgiveness when he’s left you fat and alone.”

  She stormed out of the kitchen and Aliya started after her. The front door slammed and Aliya stopped in the doorway. “I hurt her.”

  “Yes,” Matuse said. “But it wasn’t intentional, and it wasn’t done out of spite. You needed to say those things. I was happy to hear you come to the conclusion about hurting others because you were unhappy with yourself. You’re not an evil person, Aliya, you just couldn’t cope with what you were feeling. Now, you can.”

  “Can I? What happens if I can’t?” She turned back to him, tears streaming down her face.

  “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

  He stood, crossed the room and gathered her in his arms. Her tears soaked into his shirt as he held her close and caressed her back.

  Her shoulders heaved as she cried, her eyes burning. He held her close, s
troking her, whispering that she would be all right, that things would be fine for her. Finally, when the sobs had turned to sharp intakes of breath, and the tears had stopped, he turned her face up to his.

  “My little Aliya needs a night at the Cave of Pleasure.” His lips were on her neck now, sliding up and down as she shivered under his touch.

  “Are you doing to fuck me on a pool table again?”

  “Would you like me to? I know you would, but tonight, I think something softer, and sweeter.”

  “No, I don’t like sweet. I want you to fuck me hard. Please.”

  The room shimmered and Aliya glanced down. She wore a diaphanous gown of green, her feet bare. Her hair was longer than normal, hanging down her back, stopping at her buttocks. Matuse wore a matching robe, but he was naked underneath, his chest bare, his erection prodding against her barely-clad stomach.

  His fingers teased her arms as he held her close. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not,” she said, even as her nerves jumped. “But this isn’t what I want. If this is the Cave of Pleasure, then I should be able to pick my pleasure. I want it hard, not soft.”

  “This is what you want, Aliya. I can see it in your fantasies. You’ve dreamt of this, but you buried it deep inside you. You want me to make love to you, softly and sweetly. Admit it.”

  “No.”

  “Aliya, I couldn’t make this scene happen if wasn’t in your mind. I can feel it, feel your need, your desire. Let me make love to you.”

  When she didn’t answer, he put his fingers under her chin and lifted her gaze to his. He smiled at her, then gently licked away a single tear that snaked down her cheek. He then picked her up and carried her to a huge bed covered in pillows.

  A fire burned in a fireplace that took up a whole wall. He placed her on the bed and quickly took off his robe before lying down next to her, leaning on an elbow and gently caressing her stomach and breasts.

  His touch was gentle, and sent shivers through her body. She moaned and undulated under his touch, closing her eyes and drinking in the feel of his fingers. No one had ever touched her so gently, caressed her so softly. It felt amazingly wonderful, and when he leaned over to lick her nipples through the soft material, she arched upwards into him, begging for more.