17

  Jamal looked in on Thursday. “Hey, Chad, we’re going out tonight. Are you in?” Chad was in, and they once again went night-clubbing together. He had scarcely had any time to himself, the past week, and so he went out, that night, with intent.

  Bashir came along, rather unusually, but left early. “A comrade to make arrangements means arrangements will be well made indeed. An old jungle saying,” said he, when leaving.

  The partying, too, concluded earlier than usual, but just as Chad commenced making a deal with a stunning Lithuanian blonde, the boys pulled him away. “Let us give a girl to you tonight,” said Larry.

  “Hey,” protested Chad, “this babe’s a stunner, and coming cheap. I think she likes me. Who have you selected?” he asked, casting an eye at girls nearby. “That one?” he indicated, with a tilt of his head.

  “She’s not here,” said Larry, as they walked out. “She’s a good girl. Nice, young, and almost new. You’ll have the best time of your life. Ever.”

  “Expert?”

  “No, my friend,” said Larry, in mock weariness, “not expert. Inexpert. Like a virgin. Wise up, Chad; we’re giving you a good girl. That’s where the fun is.”

  They drove him to the hotel where they had their shared apartment. “Your best night, Chad. Tonight’s gonna be the best night of your life,” said Larry. “It’s your entry into the Little Sheikhs’ Club.”

  She was sitting motionless at the bar in the living room, the light of overhead spots on her. She had an Arab dress and headscarf on, and she was young, beautiful - and Arab.

  Jamal, who had come up with him, went to the girl and spoke in Arabic. He called Chad over and said, “She’s yours tonight. Do whatever you want. She will not refuse.” He bent down and lifted her dress sufficiently high to get his hand inside. Her thighs exposed, she sat unresisting, as he caressed her vagina. “Look at her tits, man.” Jamal tugged at her upper garments and popped her breasts out, firm, but nipples red and swollen, like someone had been at them a long time. “All yours, my friend,” said he, leaving. “Enjoy.”

  She cooperated in every way with Chad’s demands, and he kept her busy a long time, enjoying her in the living room. He had never had a girl so clean and beautiful, but so remote and cold that, try as he might, he could not extract a single gasp of pleasure from her. He turned her over and sodomised her. He figured his friends would ask if he had, and he did not wish to be found wanting.

  Finally, done, he lay sated on the sofa, as she made her way to the bathroom. He shut his eyes and wondered about her. Perhaps she was a first time whore, and he was her first trick. Maybe that was the quest of the club. She was in the bathroom a long time. He could hear the shower running, on and on and on, and sounds of vigorous soaping.

  He became aware of her handbag on the floor, by his side, and absently reached out to rummage through it; a lipstick, a hairbrush, a tube of petroleum jelly, a little cash, for a taxi perhaps, a few tissues - quite a bare handbag. Then the back of a photograph in an inside pocket caught his eye. He pulled it out, turned it over, and became breathless in shock.

  It was a wedding photograph taken barely four months ago, the date at the bottom. She was the bride, beautiful and joyous, resplendent in a white wedding dress. But Chad had scarcely any eyes for her. He was transfixed by the face of her bridegroom, white suited, young and happy.

  It was the meek, tormented Arab - the one at the Referrals Cell, a few weeks ago!

  He slept.

  He was roused, shortly after dawn, by the sound of revelry and laughter in the apartment. As he hurriedly got out of bed, he saw the girl’s side was vacant.

  In the living room, he came upon a shocking scene. There were five in all - the girl, Larry, Jamal, a white guy he had not seen before, and Bashir - everyone naked! Bashir’s ass faced the bedroom door, the girl almost lost to view under his bulk.

  Jamal noticed Chad first, and greeted him joyfully. “Good morning, brother, welcome.”

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  Larry, always the stickler, said, “Hey, Chad, meet Chuck. Chuck Harkin. One of us.”

  Chuck took a few steps to the bemused Chad, and proffered his hand. “Hi, Chad, I’ve been hearing about you. We seem to always bypass each other. Nice meeting you.” It was so civilised. Chad would never again in his life be formally introduced to a stark naked man, while himself stark naked.

  “Hey, guys, you could have told me you were coming,” complained Chad.

  “I’m coming,” roared Bashir. He began to heave and lose control, and the troop became anxious for the girl, as he put his entire bulk on her, pumping away furiously, flaccid black belly squeezed against her back. They all watched, entranced.

  They took turns with the girl, and it went on all morning. Breakfast was delivered by the hotel service, which they signed for outside the door, and wheeled in themselves, because the rape was still going on. All sodomised her.

  “They don’t give ass to husbands even; consider it a sin, Muslim women. It’s great fun buggering them,” said Chuck, with a satisfied sigh, on finishing. “You’d better have your morning shot too.”

  Chad declined, suspecting an erection would be hard to come by, as he had drunk far too much alcohol after discovering the girl’s identity. “I’ve done her ass already,” he boasted. “I’ll screw her again later.”

  “No you won’t. Enjoy her now; this is our last session with her,” said Larry. “Her husband’s flying out on a visa run tomorrow. Our deal is done.”

  What, wondered Chad, could that have to do with this?

  “Let Chad have the power shot,” said Bashir, grinning.

  “Yes,” agreed Chuck. “He’s the new member. It’s his privilege to have the power shot.”

  Jamal was up the girl’s ass at that moment. “Hey, Chuck,” he complained, “I wasn’t planning to finish. It’s my turn to have the power shot.”

  “Fuck off, Jamal,” said Chuck, laughing. “A new member always gets the power shot on his first venture. The rule cannot be broken. You’ll get the next one.”

  “New member? First venture?” argued Jamal, doing his business, giggling. “Yes, first adventure, I think. First new member I have seen. Okay, let him have the power shot. What’s the time? I guess I better finish.” He changed gear and started working at it.

  After Jamal, Larry went at the girl’s ass again. He took his time, but when he was done there was still a while to noon. The lull gave the girl a chance to go to the bathroom and clean herself up. She actually showered. Chad realised she did not know about the power shot, whatever that was.

  The girl was clearly fatigued. She came out, wrapped in a towel. Chad wondered, as he observed her covering her modesty, about human dignity. Here they were, five men, and she had been had by all, yet given half a chance, minutes, she had reverted to type, covering herself.

  She had lost track of her clothes, and hunted about anxiously. When she found them, tucked under a sofa, creased and unwholesome, Jamal intervened. He spoke to her in Arabic, a few words, and she became tense. She went behind the counter and first tried to use the defective iron, then got hold of a wire hanger, and arranged her clothes as neatly as she could. She tugged here and there, trying to remove creases, and wetted a corner of a towel and scrubbed and straightened, to be able to depart in whatever minimal dignity she thought was still available to her. Finally, unable to improve on her wretched efforts, she draped her clothes on the hanger and went back into the bathroom, to hang it on the shower rail. They followed her every move. Bashir began snoring, covered in cushions, sprawled across a sofa. Then she sat, wrapped in her towel, waiting at the bar, face averted from her lovers, gazing sightlessly, out of the full-length windows, at the brilliantly bright day outside the apartment.

  She did not have long to wait.

  “Your turn, Chad,” said Larry. “It’s the power shot.”

  “Hey, you want me to do her at noon precisely? What for?”

  Bashir had woken up. “At noon, planets get perfectly aligned,” said he. The others began giggling. “At noon, when you put your dick inside a woman’s asshole, you unify the forces of the universe, and sexual balance is re-established. For you, your powers peak, and your enjoyment is that of which the ancients dreamed. For us, we get to watch and have some rare, extremely rare fun. When a termite has fun, the mound has fun. Old African saying.”

  The others dissolved into hysterical laughter.

  Jamal gestured to the girl to remove her towel. He went up to her and cupped her breasts, squeezing. “Come, friend, enjoy,” said he.

  As Chad screwed her, the doorbell rang. Jamal went, peeped out before opening the door - and let the poor husband in! The girl gasped and turned her face away, her limp body going stiff.

  “Sit down, please. Tea, coffee?” asked Jamal, mockingly polite.

  He did not want. He could not possibly want. He went breathless and white in shock, shrieked, burst into tears, and ran into the bathroom.

  Chad lost his erection, and gave up. The others were spent, so they let the girl be.

  She went into the bathroom, surprising her weeping husband who fled again, with no sanctuary but the living room, where they all were. His sobs shook his frame. Chad thought it might be a good time to advise him to take a taxi, rather than drive, but Bashir said, “When a crazed impala gets behind the wheel, let him die. Old native saying.” And that was that.

  She came out of the bathroom almost immediately, having hurriedly washed and put her clothes on, looking at the floor as she walked. “It’s over, my friend,” said Jamal. “You kept your side, we’ll keep our side. We are honourable men. Carry on with life. Go in peace."

  They left after that, husband and wife, a silent exit.

  The room was quiet a while. Chad got himself a beer from the fridge.

  “And that, my friend, is the power shot,” said Larry. “It’s not about the girl. It’s about the one who delivers her to us.”

  “That was quite cruel,” said Chad.

  “Anyone who acquires power over other humans becomes cruel,” said Bashir. “That’s the fun of it. But there is reasoning behind our cruelty. He will be out of our power tomorrow, and we must ensure he stays quiet. You see, she was sent by him. When the sender sees the deed, he knows his own guilt.

  “After all, she has given her ass to save his.”