The Happy Wanderer by Gerry Young

THE HAPPY WANDERER – V

PYRAMIDS, TEMPLES, and TOMBS

BY: GERRY YOUNG

ASSISTED BY: TICKIE

[To Drew in Yorkshire, England, my LOVE and THANKS for everything you do for me; I so appreciate it all."]

[To Tickie, our beloved Webmaster of Tickiestories.us, what can I say? You're very dear to me. When this ol' brain of mine refuses to give me the word or phrase for which I'm searching, you always come through. If my continuity doesn't stand up to par, you let me know. And for ALL you do for me, my LOVE and THANKS I also send to you.]

CHAPTER SEVEN

With puzzled expressions, the two men looked at the four at the next table for a moment, and then, lo and behold, the pieces began to fall together – at least for Gerry. His eyes grew large with excited recognition. He became ecstatic at seeing some friends from California.

Hurriedly pushing back his chair – which just happened to fall to the floor – he jumped up, threw his arms open, and loudly called them by name. "Wayne! Waldo! Willy! Waylan! Wow! I don't believe it! All four of you! What are you doing here, half-way 'round the world?"

They, too, jumped up and rushed from their seats to hug him; suddenly, chaos reigned in their clumsy eagerness.

Huge, REALLY huge, burly Waldo was the first to reach Gerry, shocking him in the public display of a suffocating embrace – his arms squeezing the smaller man while planting a sloppy kiss full on the lips. Like his three brothers, Waldo's lips were thick, and his coloring hinted that he might be part Mexican with a little Zulu or two thrown in from somewhere in his distant past. [The author refuses to use the derogatory terms with which the bikers would likely have described themselves with absolutely no shame.]

Scruffy ol' Wayne, a little younger and a little shorter than Waldo, then sneaked in from the rear, sandwiched Gerry between himself and his big brother, ground his rapidly growing, leather-covered 'Mamba' [in reference to one of the largest, longest, and deadliest snakes in Africa] into Gerry's ass, and kissed him on the back of the neck.

"Ohhhhh, the McAllisters! * … from the commitment ceremony in Joshua Tree!" Ted exclaimed with delight, as he finally recognized them, jumped up, and joined the free-for-all mêlée.

Immediately, the twins, Willy and Waylan, smaller and younger versions of their big brothers, were upon him, hugging, kissing, touching, squealing – all to the point of drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the restaurant.

A galabeyah-attired waiter had suddenly appeared to right the chair.

Tariq Pasha, too, seemed to appear from nowhere. "Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Please! Such outward displays of affection are frowned upon here in our … our …" he stumbled, probably searching for just the right word or phrase, but then simply continued with, "… our country. We want you to enjoy your stay, but try to keep your … your passionate exuberance confined to the privacy of your rooms," he said with a wink and a grin. "Some people just will NOT understand," came his softly feigned rebuke as he put his arms around Waldo's and Wayne's shoulders and leaned in to them.

The four leather-boys looked at each other upon Tariq's final response, their eyes fiendishly darting between themselves and the tour director. Wayne openly tugged at his crotch that was slithering around his right thigh, probably trying to escape up and out of the confines of the tight leathers; "Oops," he said with the innocence of a young boy, shrugging his shoulders and licking his lips at the same time. All the others tried to hide their snickering.

Still standing, sickeningly-sweet apologies and promises of maintaining 'proper decorum' were ever-so-solemnly and reassuringly given by the McAllisters (who probably had their fingers crossed behind their backs), and echoed by the Youngs.

Changing the subject, Tariq commented, "I was not aware you men knew each other."

Ted jumped in and asked, "Are we all on the same tour?"

"Yes," Tariq answered, rolling his eyes in what could only be interpreted as his concern for the other tourists under his care. Then, he further explained, "Your friends arrived quite late last night from the pre-trip extension in Alexandria, and will be joining us for the ten-day Nile River Cruise, before continuing on to the post-trip extension in Petra, Jordan.

"Great!" Gerry hollered.

"Wow!" Ted exclaimed; "Ya think maybe we can get on the extension to … what'd you call it, Tariq … Petra, wherever that is?"

Gerry gave his lover a questioning look as Tariq answered, "If you really want me to, I'll check to see if it's completely booked or not?"

The duo looked at Tariq. Gerry shrugged, and nodded his agreement. Ted, however, was adamant in his enthusiastic nods, much like the little boy-dolls stuck on many a car's dashboard.

Exclamations of joy followed, as did slaps on the backs and butts, and high-fives all around the six of them.

Surely, Tariq knew he was going to have his hands full with the foursome. 'Ahhh, crazy Americans!' he must have thought.

The waiter, Mustafa, had remained after righting the fallen chair, presumably to take any further food-orders, and Muti reappeared just then, after supposedly having made arrangements for Gerry's and Ted's private, early morning visit to the Great Pyramid.

"Mustafa. Muti," Tariq instructed, "why don't you boys put these two tables together so that these … friends … can sit together and finish eating?"

"Yes, Sir," they said in unison, and immediately went about obeying the requested … order.

Soon, the six were jabbering away and stuffing their faces.

"Gentlemen …" Tariq interrupted the chatter while looking at his wristwatch, "… please be down at the main entrance of the hotel within the half-hour, so that we can board the busses for the Museum."

They nodded and returned to their prodding and teasing like little kids -- all six of them.

"Mon dieu!" Tariq barely uttered aloud as he turned to leave.

Gerry then noticed the interaction between Muti and Tariq.

"Muti …" Tariq spoke quietly, drawing the servant's attention; with a nod and tilt of the head, he told him to follow. As they meandered through the somewhat crowded tables, and moved toward the elevator, Gerry could see them talking to each other – Tariq's mouth close to Muti's ear, and then, Muti's mouth close to Tariq's ear, again and again. 'What are they talking about?' he wondered. 'Did he make the arrangements? About my going over to the Pyramid … with Ted … by ourselves? About the McAllisters? Or is it 'cause everybody in the restaurant's talking so loud to each other? Ahhh, well.'

Turning his own attention back to his friends, Gerry said, "Strange meeting you guys here. So, what did you do up in Alexandria?"

Waldo, at thirty-five, the eldest and biggest of the four, looked around the room, then leaned forward and, in the deep voice that had given him the nickname, 'Froggy', croaked lecherously, "We all went skinny-dippin' in the Med't'ranian and ended up fuckin' THAT tour director." He wriggled his eyebrows.

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The morning went fast and furious. With a hundred and twenty people on the tour – the majority from the United States, but others from Canada, England, France, Germany, Brazil, Chile, and a very few from various other countries – they boarded the four busses and arrived at the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities about a half-hour later.

It was soon discovered that the Ramses Hotel and the Cairo Museum were on opposite sides of the same busy intersection. There, three streets came together – Corniche El Nil, 6^th October Street, and Galaa Street with its twelve lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic (six in either direction), and with no traffic lights of any kind. Pure ear-splitting bedlam! Surely, the Americans had never heard so many horns blaring at the same time.

Afoot, Cairenes dared to dodge through the accustomed slow-moving cars, trucks, and busses, but few tourists appeared to be willing to brave the risky venture across the congested thoroughfare.

The climate-controlled museum, however, was a haven of quietude, almost with the reverence and respect of visitors to libraries. Hundreds – maybe even a thousand – gawkers and lookie-loos ooo'ed and ahhh'ed at this and that and everything else. Then, too, researchers and students carrying notepads wandered among the glass-case-enclosed relics. More than 120,000 magnificently preserved artifacts were displayed, artifacts dating from the Prehistoric Period of Egypt through the end of the Roman Era, artifacts as small as a bead from an ancient necklace, or a tiny scrap of brittle hieroglyphics-inscribed papyrus, to thirty-foot tall limestone or granite statuary, and everything in between. Furniture, royal chariots, battle implements, alabaster goblets, surgical tools, game boards – the list went on and on. And of course, the mummified remains of centuries-old Pharaohs and their Queens, and the paraphernalia garnered from secretively hidden tombs and mastabas.

Singularly, the high point for every visitor to the world-famous museum was the Tutankhamen Gallery, one of forty-seven such rooms on the second floor. Except for about a hundred items on world tours, nearly all of the 3500 items found in King Tut's tomb were on display. The larger items, each one cordoned off in the Grand Hallway separating the observation rooms, or the smaller ones (including the mummies in their glass cases) in the Gallery itself, which included the young king's famous Golden Funerary Mask. ** Weighing approximately twenty-four pounds, it was crafted of solid & cloisonné gold, lapis lazuli, obsidian, green feldspar, translucent quartz, carnelian, dark blue faience, and blue, turquoise & horn-colored glass – truly, a remarkable example of the artisans of the time.

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After a quick bus ride and lunch at KFC – yes, Kentucky Fried Chicken, that great American restaurant! – at Tahrir Square, on the opposite side of the Museum from the Ramses Hilton, it was back to the hotel for a leisurely afternoon.

The bikers decided on using the swimming pool for a little fun in the sun. It was located on the roof of the two-storied annex building, adjoining the main lobby, overlooking the Nile, and with a view of the T.V. Building. But the pool was immaculate, and the water, refreshing, as they would soon learn. They were the first of Tariq's tour group to be poolside after the little morning excursion.

Causing quite a stir among the dozen or so other bathers, the four arrived en masse, wearing their motorcycle caps, sunglasses and hotel-supplied white terrycloth robes. Once they had discarded the robes, it became obviously plain that their swim suits were little more than black leather jock straps barely containing their masculine ASSets.

One couple – a quite attractive, though somewhat over-weight, white-haired lady, obviously sun-burned in her one-piece skirted bathing suit, with her cellulite-laden thighs; and a bald-headed, sweaty-chested man with an obese pot-belly and such chalky-pale skinny legs which looked unable to hold him up – jumped from their lounges, grabbed their towels and robes, and scurried away into the lobby. She, with one hand shockingly placed over her prudish, puckered lips, and, with the other hand, tugged at her … her financially stable and legally bound, henpecked husband who, apparently, kept sneaking peeks at the studly foursome, a faint grin crossing his lips.

About that time, Gerry and Ted entered the pool area wearing flip-flops and non-descript, long, baggy, 'straight' swim trunks, with towels slung over their shoulders. Immediately puppy-dogging them was Muti, apparently wearing nothing more than a thin white galabeyah; it hid very little when the bright desert sun hit it just right.

Probably having just run a few steps toward the pool, Froggy (aka Waldo) was sailing through the air and, with his knees tucked to his chin and his arms wrapped around his lower legs, was at about mid-pool toward the duo and their shadow, when Ted gave a wolf-whistle at seeing the scantily clad foursome.

"Ge-RONNN-eee-MOHHHHH!!!" he was yelling as Ted was whistling. In a split second, he looked up, and recognized his friends; he raised one arm from his legs to wave at Ted and Gerry. His 'cannonball' was distracted just enough to make his arms and legs splay in awkward positions as he hit the water, flat on his back! The resultant tidal wave and gigantic splash spread out in all directions, inundating everyone around the pool.

Obviously, many of the remaining bathers showed signs of being more than just a little disgruntled at the shenanigans of the almost-nude foursome; with voiced objections, most left the poolside and disappeared into the hotel.

Froggy fought his way back to the surface, sputtering and spluttering something awful. His three brothers dived in and guided him back to the shallow end of the pool where he could stand. Gerry and Ted dropped their towels and kicked off their flip-flops; quickly they jumped in and joined the four, trying to help as best they could.

As soon as Waldo regained some sense of normalcy, the six of them playfully began dunking each other with a little grope here, a big grope there, everywhere a grope-grope, and a group attack against Willie and Waylan, the younger, smaller twins. A tiny black leather jock strap was thrown toward a poolside table, only to be joined, almost immediately, by a second tiny one.

Froggy and Mamba disappeared below the surface, and a moment later, amid flailing arms and squeals of laughter, Willie and Wayland rose from the water, sitting on their big brothers' shoulders, bare asses gleaming in the bright early-afternoon desert sun. The four were poised to play 'Horse and Rider'.

Caught up in the spirit of gaiety and roughhousing and just plain ol' adolescent chicanery, and not to be outdone, Gerry ducked into the water behind his lover, spread Ted's legs, maneuvered his head between those familiar thighs, flipped himself upside-down, and, none-too-gently, bit down on Ted's cock and balls, bouncing around but within the loose confines of his commando baggy trunks.

Ted yelped in surprise and tried, repeatedly, to jump away, but Gerry's arm-lock around his thighs prevented any escape.

When Ted stopped jumping and twisting for a moment, Gerry flipped himself again so that the back of his neck was snuggled in Ted's crotch. It was then that he, too, stood up, raising Ted out of the water, astraddle the back of his neck.

Thus began the three-way six-some to see who could unseat his opponent. Water splashing. Open palms shoving or slapping shoulders, chests, backs, or bare asses. Fingers tickling ribs or assholes. Shouts of "Giddy-up, horsey!" They were having fun. But it wasn't to be long-lived.

Ted tumbled from Gerry's shoulders as Big Mamba unexpectedly thrust his foot into Gerry's crotch, unbalancing him.

"La' la' la' la' la' … No no no no no!" cried a man rushing onto the poolside from the hotel, hastily shaking his up-raised finger back and forth. He didn't seem any too happy. He was wearing a light western-styled suit, his dress-shirt open at the neck, and above his left breast-pocket was what appeared to be a plastic name tag, identifying him in both Arabic and English: 'KHAYRI, MANAGER, RAMSES HILTON". He was accompanied by two other men.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Tariq Pasha, one of the two, scolded, a frown covering his face, red and shaking with anger.

Near the two, stood a white-uniformed Egyptian Tourist Police Officer, his right hand gently wielding his shoulder-hung Uzi Submachine gun.

For a moment, Tariq and Khayri talked between themselves in Arabic.

Meanwhile, Muti, who had not been involved in the water-sporting at all, very quietly and unobtrusively went about gathering the two discarded towels, four terry-robes, and the two pieces of … 'sexy swimming attire'. He then, slowly, moved to the edge of the pool-decking, and turned to face the … 'inquisitors', his back to the bare asses slipping quickly from their lofty perches into the still rough and rippling water. Both hands were behind his back, thrusting his elbows out to the sides. Across his left forearm, the robes were draped, and across his right, the towels, which, in combination with the full length of his galabeyah and the robes, hid quite a bit of the area behind him.

Then, calming himself with a deep breath, Tariq translated when the Manager paused with his speech: "This is a respectable hotel … Public nudity is not allowed … "

A barely perceptible sound was heard behind Muti, as if a ripple had splashed against the coping of the pool. As Tariq went on, Wayland slowly edged his way over to pick up the two leather jocks that Muti had just dropped. After he moved back to his brothers, he and Willie inched themselves behind the bigger two, and tried, with great difficulty, to put them back on. But eventually they succeeded.

Tariq continued: "… Neither is diving, jumping, or splashing which can upset others … We have just received a number of complaints from several guests … We have the legal right to dismiss you men – to kick you out…"

"Sayyid Khayri! Sayyid Tariq! Master Khayri! Master Tariq! …" Muti uncharacteristically jumped into the conversation.

They jerked their heads toward Muti's direction, and the Tourist Policeman fingered his Uzi.

Probably for the benefit of the men in the pool, Muti continued in English with Tariq again translating for the other two Egyptians: " … Please forgive this humble servant for speaking without being spoken to, but on behalf of Sayyid, my Master, cannot some arrangement be made…"

"Tayeb, Yes, we know of your Sayyid, His Excel…"

"BUT! …" Muti dared to interrupt by thrusting his open palm toward the men – the universal symbol, meaning, 'Stop!' The towels fell to the decking.

The man in the white uniform palmed his Uzi, his finger on the trigger, but Tariq likewise held up his own open palm toward the policeman. The gun was lowered a little, and the finger was withdrawn.

Muti rushed ahead, lowering his hand, "… Sayyid wishes, for now, to remain unknown to … to these men," he nodded toward Gerry and Ted.

At the same time, Khayri, the manager, asked, "Wi?" and Tariq asked, first in French, then in English, "Et?" "And? … what does that have to do with us or the hotel?"

"Sayyid has appointed this humble servant to be their … their protector. If you, good Sirs, wish to … as you say, 'kick them out', perhaps this one…" he tapped himself on the chest, "… can arrange, in HIS name, for other immediate accommodations, not only for the four, but also for Sayyid Gerry and Sayyid Ted, and also for my Master." With that said, he submissively closed his eyes and nodded his head in bows to each of the three.

"La' la' la' la' la' la' la'!" Khayri hurriedly exclaimed before leaning into and whispering something to the tour guide.

Tariq then translated again. "No, no, that won't be necessary." He shook his head. "But something must be done," he scowled at the four 'troublemakers', and then directed another questioning look toward the Manager who gave a curt nod before a huge, pained, but toothy grin was extended to the men in the pool.

Tariq continued. "You may all remain as guests of the Ramses Hilton for as long as you wish to stay in Cairo, BUT … without pool privileges! You may use and enjoy the several restaurants here – at no expense to yourselves, of course – so long as you are … properly … attired." He then paused once again, looking around at everyone. "Is that agreeable to all?"

There was no answer. Actions speak louder than words.

Muti looked directly into Tariq's eyes and gave forth a slight smile and a nod.

With exasperated sighs, each of the brothers looked to the others as if for unspoken answers. As one, they began moving toward the steps at the shallow end of the pool: Waldo, looking down into the water in front of him, shaking his head, his flexing fists on his hips; Wayne, scratching his balls and rearranging his 'stuff' in the less than adequate black leather jock, nervously throwing angered glances at the three 'storm-troopers'; and Willie and Waylan, hip-to-hip, each with an arm across the other's shoulders, quietly whispering to each other. Gerry and Ted simply followed along behind.

Muti once again picked up the towels, and he, too, went to join the men as they came out of the water. Being the good servant that he was, it was seemly that he would dry each of the men – or at least offer to do so – and provide some modicum of decency, if for no one other than the three who had stormed the patio.

The Tourist Policeman was dismissed, and Khayri and Tariq remained behind. Khayri ushered the robed foursome to the lobby and accompanied them on the elevator to their rooms on the thirteenth floor.

As they left the pool area, Tariq motioned for the remaining duo to join him at one of the umbrella-covered patio tables. Immediately, they were joined by an attendant, who took his order for four Hibiscus-flavored iced teas and then hurried away.

The servant was standing some distance away at 'present-rest'. Tariq called to him; "Come join us, Muti."

"Good Sir???" he began to question.

Wriggling a finger for him to approach and be seated, Tariq called again, "Don't argue. Come over here and sit down."

He quickly obeyed. Sitting, he placed his palms on his thighs, sat up straight without leaning against the back-rest of the chair. His head was bowed. He said nothing.

"Gerry. Ted. The 'no pool privileges' condition does not apply to you. The complaints were against your friends – not you. Feel free to use the pool area whenever you want to."

The conversation that followed showed that Gerry and Ted had been surprised that their 'acquaintances', not 'friends', had taken such liberties and had gotten so carried away. Tariq understood.

Soon the Hibiscus refreshments were served – with small complimentary reddish-brown Hibiscus pastries.

When Gerry inquired about his request to visit the King's Chamber in the Great Pyramid, Tariq informed him and Ted that Muti had made arrangements for a 5 A.M. visit … the next morning. They would have to awaken at about 4 A.M. in order to arrive on time, and that they could re-join their tour group at about 9 A.M.

"But tonight," Tariq continued, "you and …" he cleared his throat, "… your friends … the six of you … will enjoy a visit with a local family in their home as they share their evening meal with you. I think you'll be surprised and delighted with your hosts."

"Does everyone on the tour get to go to someone's home tonight?" Ted asked.

"Yes. It's part of the pre-arranged plans, but remember – don't stay too late, as great as the temptation may be, because you've got to get up early."

"Will the host family speak English?" Ted asked.

"Most of us Egyptians speak, at least, a smattering of English, so, there should be no problem. But if there is, Muti will be there to translate for you; won't you, Muti?" he asked, turning his attention to the servant who still sat, straight-backed, hands on thighs, and with head bowed.

Then, Tariq slapped his hand on top of Muti's nearest hand, and proclaimed, "BY ALL THAT IS SACRED IN ISLAM, MUTI … WOULD YOU PLEASE … JUST … RELAX? YOU'RE AMONG FRIENDS. I KNOW THE GAME THAT YOU'RE PLAYING!"

To Be Continued…

* FOOTNOTE ONE: 'McAllisters': See Part V, 'P,T, and T', Chapter 1.

** FOOTNOTE TWO: Not wanting to extinguish the readers' interest with minutiae of details, the Author would direct you to the hundreds of Web-Links to The Egyptian Museum of Antiquities, also referred to as The Cairo Museum. And he would add, that as much as he loves the USA, the country that has nurtured him and given him life and sustenance for nearly seven decades, he wishes only that he could afford to spend the last years of his life in that wonderful, beautiful, ancient yet modern, country, with a side-trip or two to Petra, Jordan; Lhasa, Tibet; and Angkor Wat, Cambodia. This planet, with its history and diversification of cultures and life-styles, is truly an exciting place to live, provided we don't poison and destroy her further. As the River Nile has been called the 'Mother' of Egypt, so, too, this planet is the 'Mother' of us all. Unless you're an Extraterrestrial – and then the allegory can be expanded ad infinitum. But please forgive the Author for getting so carried away. [Signed: The Happy Wanderer (or is that, The Gay Traveler?)]

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Posted: 08/15/08