THE  HAPPY  WANDERER - V

PYRAMIDS, TEMPLES, and TOMBS

© 2008

BY:  GERRY YOUNG

WITH THE MUCH APPRECIATED ASSISTANCE BY:

TICKIE

CHAPTER  ELEVEN

After a quick bite to eat, Gerry, Ted, and Muti returned to the thirteenth-floor hotel room.

A quick romp in the hay with Muti getting it from both ends—twice!—followed by a sensual shower, the threesome headed to bed, knowing that they'd have to be up by 4:30 a.m.  That's the time Gerry's private trip to the Great Pyramid was to begin.

Once asleep, Gerry had another out-of-body experience where his old friend and mentor, Michael [Part III, Chapter 5] strongly suggested that he cancel his early morning trip because, "Through the centuries, people have defiled the sacredness of the once Holy of Holies, now called the King's Chamber.  The chipped sarcophagus, the scent of urine throughout the stone passageways, the graffiti upon the walls, the removal of the golden capstone and the smooth white facing-stones … they have all defiled the beauty of the ancient temple," he told Gerry.  "No longer is it what it once was."

Gerry's sleep was fraught with twisting and turning.  He slept very little, and waking Muti during the middle of the night, he told him to cancel any arrangements that had been made for the private visit.

And it was done with a phone call.

The next day, the tour group visited the Sphinx and pyramids of Giza and Saqqara.  International scientists were working with delicate instruments they had set up that morning in the different chambers and passageways in the Great Pyramid, so none of the common folk were allowed inside.  Period.

Once again, the tour boarded the four busses and traveled about twenty miles to the south of Giza to the Step Pyramid*, the oldest in all of Egypt.  There, in the area known as Saqqara, Tariq Pasha and Muti had Gerry and Ted get down on all fours, asses in the air, and … no, you horny readers, they didn't do THAT! … and then all four crawled through the low, narrow tunnel into a ruin that the two Egyptian men knew the American lovers would enjoy seeing. 

It was a Mastaba, a relatively small ancient tomb (for nobles or Pharaonic officials) with a rectangular base, sloping sides, and a flat roof that was sorely in disrepair.  The interior, however, was magnificent in its bright wall paintings.  The spectacular hieroglyphs were sharp and clearly borne in both bas-relief AND intaglio artistry.  It was remarkably beautiful.

Walking through the seven rooms (chambers) of the tomb, Tariq pointed out many depictions of Niankhkhnum (on the left) and Khnumhotep* (on the right), "Chief manicurists in the Palace of King Niusserre (Nyuserre Ini)", the sixth king of the Fifth Dynasty.  "That was about 2453 to 2422 B.C.," he added.

"Some have called it 'the Tomb of the Hairdressers', and others have called it 'the Tomb of the two Brothers', he said.  "Whatever their sexual orientation—gay, bi-sexual, or straight—we will probably never know."

"What do you mean?" Gerry asked, looking at a painting of the two, one with his arm around the other's shoulders who, in turn, had an arm around the waist of the first.

"Of all the portrayals of the two," Tariq indicated another painting, "here is one that indicates that—as so MANY men today— they had wives and children, and the names of all are inscribed here.  But take a look at this one," he went on to explain as they progressed through the tomb.  The hairdressers were shown with a chaste—not passionate—kiss on the lips.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Ted.

"Yes," Tariq agreed with a grin as he adjusted the mound in his trousers.  "Do so-called 'straight' brothers kiss on the lips?" he posed the question, an eyebrow arched.

Ted, Gerry, and Muti all wriggled their brows to each other in response, but no further comment was made except for Gerry's remark:  "Well, I guess guys of our persuasion had to protect themselves then, just like many men do now".

All nodded in agreement as Tariq said, "Right, you are."

Soon, they left the Mastaba and joined the other tour members, as they explored the funerary temple of the 'Step Pyramid', said to have been built by King Djoser (Zoser) of the Third Dynasty in 2630 B.C.

Then it was back to the Cairo Hilton for a little rest or maybe some stimulating relaxation before the tourists hustled to the restaurants, nightclubs, bazaars, or off-the-beaten-tract places of individual interests.  But Muti had a surprise for his two American friends.

Through the lobby and to the elevators they went, and suddenly Muti retreated into his subservient role once more, head bowed, brow furrowed as he bit his lower lip.

It was obvious to Gerry that Muti was thinking about something serious.

"What's wrong, Muti?  Something's bothering you.  What is it?" he asked.

At that instant, the elevator doors opened.  Muti's attention returned, he snapped his fingers as he remembered.  "Please, good Sirs," he begged (for the benefit of his fellow Egyptians who were also awaiting the lift), "I must first attend to something for my Master.  If it pleases you, may this lowly servant suggest that you return to your room, and this one will attend to a certain matter for his Master, and then quickly return for your pleasure?"

Gerry and Ted looked at each other in surprise;  Ted's lips were firmly pressed together, thus preventing a chuckle or any laughter from bursting forth, but Gerry, quickly picking up Muti's demeanor and going along with the game, brusquely snapped back to Muti with, "Very well.  Just be quick about it."

Muti quickly knelt down, ass in the air, and kissed Gerry's and Ted's shoes.  Then, in an instant, he was up and gone.

"The nerve of that slave," said a woman to the man standing next to her.

"If he were my slave, he would receive at least twenty lashings for that kind of behaviour," said a brown-skinned man dressed in a black Western-styled business suit with light blue pinstripes.  His speech was colored with a stern British accent.

The elevator filled, the doors closed, and Gerry and Ted were soon in their room, stripping out of their sweaty tourist garb.  The day had been interesting, and with their crawling around in the ruins, they were dusty, dirty, and sandy.  Once they were nude, they tossed back the duvet and top-sheet, and plopped onto the bed.

Only moments later, a knock was heard.  This time Ted jumped up, and, hiding his nudity behind the door, opened it.

Muti entered and immediately went to the ornate wardrobe and hung up something like a garment bag.

"What's that?" Gerry queried.

"Something for all of us from … from my Master," Muti responded in submissive obeisance as he began removing his rather soiled galabeyah, pulling it over his head.

"Come on;  let's see," Gerry urged.

"Yeah," Ted agreed, briskly rubbing his hands together, "wha'dja get?  Wha'dja get?  What'dja get?"  He gleefully sounded like a little kid anxious to open a present.

With an almost silent snicker, Muti turned his back to them, bent over, and pulled his ass-cheeks apart.  "I got this for you … good Sirs, should you care to use it.  The other …" he indicated toward the wardrobe, "… you'll get, just before we leave for your … DATE."

"There's that word again!" Gerry scowled.  "What the fuck's going on?  Why all the suspense and secrecy?"

"Forgive me, Sir," Muti pleaded;  "I am only following my Master's orders.  Soon, all will be made clear.  It is a surprise for you, good Sirs.  But now, we must all rest for a while … it's going to be a long night …" 

Once again, Muti had returned to his subservient role.  But it would not last for long.

With a sigh of resignation, Gerry said, "All right, all right already.  We'll play along.  Just wish we could meet this … Master … you keep talking about." 

Muti struggled to barely refrain from a huge grin. 

"But rest?" Gerry continued.  "I don't think so.  Get your ass over here … BOY!  You're gonna get skewered royally…"

"Skewered?" Muti asked.

Realizing that Muti was not familiar with the English word, Ted explained with a single word:  "Fucked…"

"… from both ends at once," Gerry added.

Muti's eyes sparkled.  He dashed across the room, took a flying leap from the foot of the bed, and landed, ass up, between the two Americans, his arms across their chests.  Quickly looking back and forth at both of them, he added, "We can play, but—as I've been told…"

"… by your … "Master" … no doubt," they both added, as with one voice.

"Yes … by my Master.  I've been told that we are not to spill our …  our essence … until … well … until we're in the shower.  We all can … edge … as you call it, as many times as we are able to sustain it, but we are NOT to spill our seed until later, when I'll instruct you in a technique popular in the Middle Eastern world.  I think you will truly enjoy it."

With a bit of excitement and wonder, Gerry and Ted asked in unison, "What is it?

"Later, my friends."  Muti had finally emerged from his subservient role and was once again speaking as a friend.  "And now …" he looked at the filigreed clock on the wall, "… it's fuck and suck time.  Who wants which end of me?"  He retrieved both pillows and stuffed them beneath his groin, raising his ass to be used.

"I'm gonna fuck the living shit outta ya," Gerry glaringly said, suddenly jumping up and moving between Muti's wide-spread thighs.  He then dived forward and aggressively licked Muti's ass-crack and probed the pink little access to heavenly, erotic delights.

"Well, I guess that just leaves those soft, delicious, educated lips and  talented throat to me," Ted said scooting over, leaning back onto the headboard, so that he could straddle Muti's head.

"I love your uncircumcised head," Muti cooed.  "You know, every boy and man in the Islamic world is circumcised, and it's rare that I get to taste and enjoy the thrill of sliding my tongue inside the folds of skin like yours.  Ummmmmmm."

With Ted's manual encouragement, Muti engulfed the rising tumescence in front of his face, voicing a grunt as Gerry painfully, yet pleasurably, dry-thrust into his derrière.

* * * * *

And so it went—Ted being sucked with passion; Gerry fucking like a rabbit—each of the three, several times, very nearly bridged the boiling river of no return.  But true to his instructions, time and again Muti encouraged them to refrain from cumming.  "The rewards," he promised, "would be well worth the emotional turmoil of withholding until later." 

During their time of 'bath-house gymnastics', Gerry and Ted switched holes each time Muti reminded them to prevent their climaxes from spewing forth.  For the three, their nerves became frayed and frazzled from the near-explosions of imprisoned pools of sexual release.  But "hold back", they did, to the torturing chagrin of all.

After the threesome rollicked on the sheets for an hour or more—none of them soiling the sheets nor spilling into SOME slick, hot, moist, needy orifice—Muti jumped off the bed, turned to face them, and then suggested they all shower together, making certain to clean each other from head to toe, inside as well as out.  Evidently, he knew something they did not, because, seeing his grin, Ted asked, "What have you got planned for tonight?  You look like the cat that ate the canary."

"What does that mean?" Muti asked with a scowl, obviously unfamiliar with the American idiom, but then, maybe he was trying to avoid the question.

Gerry jumped into the conversation.  "Oh, it's just an expression—nothing to worry about—but what IS it that's going on in that little head of yours, pray tell?"

Grinning, Muti looked down at his naked still-hard protrusion.  After a moment, he replied, "It's not what's 'going on', but what's gonna be 'cumming off' … good Sirs."  Suddenly, he had once more switched back into his subordinate role;  then he wickedly giggled like a little mischievous boy.

Truly, in the short time they had known each other, the three had become friends … or else, Muti was putting on a VERY good show!

Ted and Gerry laughed, then grabbing Muti by his hairless ballsac and tumescence with one hand, Ted countered with, "No, no.  Not THAT little head … THIS one…"  He released his hold and then swatted the back of Muti's head—the one on his shoulder.  "What have you got planned for us tonight?"

"Oh, you'll see," Muti teased.  "You'll see.  Now, let's go shower and get dressed for your … your … DATE!"

"Date?"  Ted and Gerry asked at the same time.

Nodding his head in the affirmative, Muti proclaimed, "You can hit me, whip me, beat me, torture me … but I'm not saying another word about it."  With his dark, sparkling eyes, and a cock that was throbbing with each heartbeat, it was obvious to Ted and Gerry that SOMETHING was UP, and that Muti was doing his damnedest not to smile, giggle, or laugh.

It was then that Muti added, "My Master has forbidden that I tell you ANYTHING about what he has planned for you this evening."

"Your Mas…" they began to ask in unison, but were cut off my Muti's raising both hands while looking away in silence.  Gerry and Ted looked at each other and just shrugged their shoulders in resignation as Muti headed toward the shower.  "All right," they both said, again in unison, "lead on … SLAVE."

On hearing the word, Muti froze.  Slowly turning his head, he saw from their expressions that they had said it in playfulness.  He relaxed, then 'led on', as he had been 'ordered', pulling both of them by their throbbing cocks.

Once the water in the shower was set at a comfortable level, all three entered.  Muti turned Gerry and Ted to face and embrace each other, then he began soaping down Gerry, washing his back, glutes, legs, and feet.  Then he did the same to Ted.

By this time, all three had dripping hardons, and Gerry and Ted were stroking each other. 

"Keep doing that," Muti suggested, "and bring each other almost to the point of climaxing, but don't cum yet—you will, in a few minutes, I promise."

Finishing their backsides, he turned them to face him.   Then with both hands, he soaped their fronts at the same time, occasionally abandoning one to work on a specific area of the other—necks, pecs, arms, pits, abs, thighs, and calves.  Then and only then did he return to the pulsing, throbbing, fleshy rods so close to his face.  A kiss here, a lick there, and soon Ted and Gerry were dripping in all their tumescent, throbbing, nearly exploding glory.

"Now, I'm going to ask you to do something that neither of you have probably ever done…" Muti began.

"WHAT?" they asked together, interrupting him.

"Gerry …" he began his interrogation, "… would you be willing to fuck me again, and then release your sperm into my ass?"  He smiled.

"Yeeaaahhhh?????" Gerry answered, drawing out the word quizzically.

"And then, Ted, after he's finished, would you be willing to do the same to Gerry?" Muti asked, his smile becoming a grin.

"Oh, yeah!" Ted replied, wrapping his arms around his lover and intended recipient and then kissing him.

"And after YOU'RE finished … " Muti began his final question, to which Ted jerked his head away from Gerry, "… would you then allow me to … how do you say … 'drop my load' into you?"

"Well … SURE!" Ted answered with a little hesitation before adding, "We've done it before.  We can do it again—especially now!"  He began slowly stroking his hardon, easing the foreskin back and then returning it over his very sensitive, purple flared head.

"All right, then," Muti said, turning and leaning into the tiled wall of the shower with his ass toward Gerry.  "Let me have it, and you, Ted, let me pleasure you at the same time.

Using a little shower gel, Gerry began stroking himself, and soon his erection was as hard as it ever had been, and his balls were aching to be relieved.  Ted, having moved between Muti's out-stretched arms, was now leaning his back against the wall while being sucked, as Gerry greedily thrust his dripping ramrod through Muti's twitching sphincter.  In and out, in and out;  faster and faster;  harder and harder.

Ted's legs began shaking from the sensations Muti's delightful lips and tongue were slurping on his super-sensitive prick-head.  His own balls had drawn up into his scrotum, forewarning Muti of his impending gusher.

He pulled off, looked up into Ted's eyes, and mouthed, "Don't you DARE cum yet!"  Then he slapped Ted's cock rather hard, returning it to a flaccid state, however brief it might last.

"Ow, dammit all to hell!" Ted cried out.

Obviously, Gerry was deaf to Ted's grief, as he continued to pound and swivel and probe his rampant organ in and out of Muti's sensuous innards.  And then his testes hardened even more and moved up into his groin.  "Arrghhhhh," he groaned as his fingers gripped Muti's waist and slammed the Egyptian's hips onto his own pile-driver and held him there, flooding the young man's rectum with spurt after spurt after spurt of hot lava from his aching balls.  Soon, he collapsed on Muti's back, gasping for needed oxygen.

"Don't pull out," Muti uncharacteristically ordered after pulling off Ted's dripping cum-tube.

"Gotta take a piss," Gerry moaned.

Muti's arms swung back.  His hands clinched Gerry's ass-globes, and held him there.  "So go ahead … fill me with your hot piss."

"WHAT?" Gerry exclaimed, standing upright again, but was unable to draw away.

"Give me a piss-enema—there's nothing better to clean me out.  Master's orders."

"You really want me to…" Gerry began.

"I knew you'd never done it.  Just DO it!  You'll love the feeling it gives you."

"Well … if you're sure."

"I'm sure.

Ted was just an observer though shocked at the suggestion.  He looked straight ahead at his enshrined lover, and then down at his talented fellator.  Could it be that he was imagining himself following Muti's earlier questions?  Fucking and then pissing into Gerry's nether regions?  And then … being fucked by Muti before feeling the hot, yellow liquid filling his own rectum?

Gerry's tumescence had finally dwindled to barely a semi-flaccid condition.  With concentrated effort, he felt the first trickles of his bladder emptying into Muti's bowels.  As the flow continued, it became stronger and faster.  It wasn't long until, not only was he feeling the strong continued flow, but he also felt as if his cock was ensconced in a soft tube of hot, back-flowing liquid.

"My God!" he exclaimed.  "What a sensation!  I've never felt anything like it!"  He moved his hips forward as he felt his flaccidity naturally slipping from Muti's tunnel of new-found pleasure.

Muti tightened his sphincter, thereby forcing out Gerry's foreign probe, while at the same time retaining all the different contents of his lower intestines. 

Still dripping from the shower, Muti slid open the door and quickly perched himself on the American-style toilet, emptying his bowels.

With a gleam in his eye, Ted looked at Gerry.  Gerry looked at Ted and slowly shook his head from side to side, but with continued encouragement from the other two, Gerry finally conceded to let Ted—the love of his life—to do to him, what he had just done to Muti.  Ted glanced through the clear shower-door at Muti and winked with a lascivious grin.

Muti moved from the toilet to the bidet [pronounced: be-DAY], turned on the water, adjusted the temperature, then sat facing the wall with his anus directly over the warm fountain, and, pulling his ass-cheeks apart, used the foot-pedal to increase the pressure, thereby allowing the water to enter a few inches of his rectum, cleaning it even more. 

Then he returned to the shower.

Ted had already begun pounding away in Gerry's ass, when Muti pulled the door closed.  Using a little shower gel, he lathered his hands and sensually rubbed their backs for a few moments, thus increasing the pleasure for both.

He added a little more gel and then he gently, sensually began massaging Ted's anal cleavage.  His middle finger slipped in.

"Yesssss," Ted moaned in exquisite pleasure.

Another finger.  Another moan.  And yet a third finger entered as Muti moved slowly behind Ted's contracting and relaxing hips.  As Ted lovingly slipped once again into Gerry's ass, Muti barely pressed his own throbbing cock to Ted's opening.  When Ted pulled back for another thrust, Muti's fingers also withdrew as Ted's ass swallowed Muti's stiff member.  Another moan, more intense this time.

Gerry stayed bent over and Muti remained standing upright as Ted set his pace, fucking and being fucked at the same time.  It couldn't have been choreographed better—each man caught up in his own lust-filled world.  One sensation ended as a different one began. 

The Americans had been quick studies—each, a fast learner as they had absorbed the Egyptian's technique.

Soon, Ted climaxed to his normal, soft, flaccid state.  And then came the resting and the flowing of Ted's urine as Muti began his own thrusts into Ted.  Gerry's sphincter forced out Ted's flaccid rod, and he dashed out of the shower to the toilet to let loose.

By the time Gerry was ready for the bidet, Muti had completed his two offerings into Ted.

Once everyone had used toilet and bidet, they returned to the shower for three-way hugs, kisses, gropes, and a final quick rinse.

Each dried himself with the huge, fluffy, white Egyptian cotton towels abundantly provided by the Ramses Hilton.

"Sooooo …" Ted began, "… that was fun … at least PART of it was."  He and Gerry were getting clean underwear from one of the drawers in the dresser.  "Now what do we do?"  He started to step into his tighty-whities.

"No, no!" Muti said, grabbing the briefs from both guys.  "Tonight, you won't be wearing any of those."  He tossed them back into the drawer and closed it.

"And why not?" Gerry asked, placing his fists on his hips.

"Because you'll just be wearing these," Muti replied as he went to the wardrobe and removed the garment bag.  Laying it on the bed, he removed three new white galabeyahs, trimmed in gold around the bottom hem of each garment and around the hem of each sleeve.  Then he removed two pairs of gold sandals, one pair for each of them.  "This is all that we are requested to wear for the evening …" he said, pausing, reaching again into the garment bag.

"They're beautiful," Ted commented as he examined the ivory-on-white embroidery encircling the collarless neckline.

"… all … that is … except for these," Muti finished his last statement.  He retrieved three small white boxes bound by gold elasticized cords and handed one to Gerry and one to Ted and kept one for himself.

"What's this?" the two others asked as in one voice, looking at their individual boxes.

By way of answer, Muti went on:  "About a week from now will be your Christmas holiday—a time of gift-giving, I believe.  These are my Master's gifts to you … something by which you will always remember your visit to Egypt, and when you wear them, you will remember some of the marvels of our ancient heritage—the tall, tapered, shaft-like stone obelisks!"  He mischievously grinned while saying those last few words.

The two happy wanderers quickly discarded the gold cords and removed the lids of the boxes.  They stared at the contents in surprise.  Ted picked up his gift, tossed the little box aside, and scrutinized the triple conjoined circles of shiny black leather with red-jeweled snaps.  "What is it?" he asked, first looking to Gerry and then to Muti.

"I believe the American term is … 'cock-and-balls strap'," Muti answered, still smiling.

"They're cock rings with ball-separators," Gerry corrected with a hearty chuckle.  He recognized them for what they were, since he had used similar restraints for alone-time self-pleasuring, and during the few orgies he'd been involved with … BEFORE meeting Ted.  'Ohhh … those were the days,' he thought.

Muti continued with his explanation.  "The black and red are the national colors of Egypt, and the red jewels are Rubies from what is known as Solomon's Mines in the Libyan Desert of Upper Egypt near the border of the Sudan."  He stopped short of saying that the three cabochon cut** rubies were fashionably on display as silent statements of their true type—BLOOD rubies. 

"Wow!" they both remarked.

In a more serious tone, Gerry asked, "But who the hell is this so-called 'Master' of yours … if you are, indeed a slave, which I've come to doubt that you are?  And why has he taken an interest in us?  We've never met him."

Muti only smiled in silence, but answered with:  "You … 'WE,' I should say … will meet and dine with him tonight, and many questions will be answered, though there are more surprises to come … in time.  That is all I'm permitted to say at this time.  Please don't ask for any more information.  Just enjoy the evening and … and … anything else that he … that he … GIVES you."

Muti seemed beside himself—wanting to say things his Master had warned him NOT to say, daring to toss out hints of what was yet to come, and wishing to…

"Now let me help you put those 'obelisk builders' on—that's what I like to call them."

"We're expected to wear these tonight?" Gerry asked.

"Oh, yes," Muti answered as took Gerry's cock ring, knelt before him, and snapped the larger circle of leather around the base of the entire genital package.  Then each testicle was similarly restrained by its own smaller leather strap.  By the time he had finished, the warmth of his hands and the movement of his fingers had begun to revive Gerry's own tumescence.

"Aww, shit!" Gerry exclaimed.

"Not to worry, my friend," Muti said, "these are not as tight as the ones that REAL slaves wear.  It'll go down soon."  He then leaned forward and in a single gulp, swallowed the growing member to the hilt.  He bobbed his head only two or three times before completely withdrawing and moved over to adorn Ted's uncircumcised maleness with his own 'Christmas present.'

"Awww fuck!" Ted responded to the proximity of warm hands, tantalizing fingers, and hot breath afforded him … not even taking into consideration of the stiffening from the brief little blow job he was given.

Having finished, Muti rather painfully flicked the sensitive head of Ted's outstanding penis, instantly dispelling any degree of erection.

"Owww!" Ted cried out.  "Wha'did you do that for?"

Standing up, Muti looked down with a crooked smile and a chuckle.  "Isn't it obvious that it WON'T be obvious once you have the galabeyah on?

"Welllllll …" Ted moaned, while protectively grabbing his genitals;  "for a few minutes, anyway."  Gerry and Muti laughed together.

"And now, for the finishing touches," Muti suggested as he handed them their galabeyahs and sandals.

"You sure we won't…" Gerry began to ask, but was cut off by Muti.

"It is what my Master requested, and that is final!" Muti reminded him of their earlier discussion.  For the first time since Gerry and Ted had met him, Muti's tone and facial expressions ALMOST had an authoritarian aura about them, but it quickly passed. Jovially, he said, "And even if it…" he lowered his lusty eyes to Gerry's crotch, "… DOES stick out … how do you say … 'like a sore thumb' … it's a common sight around here.  No one will even notice."

"Well, thanks a lot," Gerry feigned disappointment at the comment.

Muti guffawed.  "Sorry.  My English is not so good," he tried to cover his possibly disparaging remark.

Gerry looked down as he drew his hand away.  "Well … kiss it and make it feel better."  He snickered.

"We don't have enough time for that … not right now, anyway," Muti shot back, but licked his lips as a retort.  "Now, both of you … slip the galabeyahs over your heads, and get the sandals on.  We don't want to keep your host and my Master waiting;  do we?"

Muti hurriedly snapped on his new cock-and-balls strap (considerably tighter than either of the other two), and the three were dressed for dinner in no time at all.  They looked like angels—all, in white and gold.

"OH … MY … GOD!" Gerry exclaimed, looking into the mirror over the low dresser.  He then gave a quick visual examination to Ted and Muti.  "YOU CAN SEE EVERYTHING!!!  I didn't realize these were so sheer!  I sure as hell ain't wearin' this thing outside this room!"  He started to lift the galabeyah over his head.

"GERRY!"  Muti said with a louder, stronger, more authoritarian voice.  "It will not matter to the common tourists.  It will not matter to the hotel staff—they see this every day.  Believe me.  And besides … we won't even be leaving the hotel."

"What?" came the stereophonic response.

"Just relax … and trust me," Muti said in a calmer voice.

"I've heard that one before," Gerry barely said aloud.

"Now, come on … just act like you dress this way every day … even WITHOUT the slave's collar," Muti said, sliding a finger between his OWN studded collar and his neck.

Soon, the three men were in an elevator descending to the floor of the main lobby.  All too soon, the motion stopped;  Gerry's hands were sweating.  The door opened, and a throng of loud, boisterous tourists were awaiting entry.  Quickly, silence reigned as dozens of eyes gawked at the three men dressed in white and gold.  Gerry's hands flew to cup together in front of his groin.  But it was Muti who first stepped forward and announced, "We're musicians, and we'll be strumming the strings of hearts tonight."

The shock was dissipated from the crowd.  "Ahh!"  "Ohhh!"  "Where?"  "Which restaurant?"  "Which room?"  "What time?"

The three could have been totally naked;  the crowd didn't care;  the three were performers and in costume!"

Gerry and Ted quickly followed Muti to the far left … to a beautifully handcrafted brass door with depictions of the Pyramids and Sphinx in the distance, and with riders on camel-back in a desert oasis of palms loaded with dates in the foreground.  Instead of pressing a button, he placed the palm of his hand against a small black-glass 'window' to the right of the "Gateway To Heaven", as the artistry had been named.

The door slid open and the three men entered.  Only two paneled buttons could be seen—one above the other—no indication in Arabic or any other script.  Muti pressed the top one, the door slid closed, and the elevator began its smooth but speedy ascent.

The private elevator took them to the thirty-sixth floor penthouse of the Ramses Hilton.  Few people had access to the penthouse, but Muti was not just … well … not just a slave. 

As the doors opened, a man greeted them.  He was dressed in solid white—from the gutrah (formal Egyptian headdress) to the dishdashah (formal galabeyah), and the gold-trimmed bisht (outer cloak).  Securing the gutrah in place was a golden ogal (headband), and on his feet were golden sandals.

Gerry's first thought was, 'He looks so familiar.'  He scratched a finger to his left temple in thought;  'I just can't place him.'

To be continued...

* FOOTNOTE:  http://www.touregypt.net/featurestories/niankhnumt.htm

** FOOTNOTE:  Cabochon cut:  a jeweler's term for a gem or stone that is cut in a convex curve and polished, but not given any facets or sharp points.

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Posted: 12/12/08