THE  HAPPY  WANDERER - V

PYRAMIDS, TEMPLES, and TOMBS

© 2008

BY:  GERRY YOUNG

ASSISTED BY:  TICKIE

[To Drew in Yorkshire, England, my LOVE and THANKS for all the hours he has spent working and re-working the grammar, punctuation, and points-of-view, particularly making me aware that once or twice or thrice again, I’ve gotten into some character’s head, other than Gerry’s, when I oughtn’t to have done so;  perhaps … SOMEDAY … I’ll learn.  Perhaps!]

CHAPTER  NINE

Scheduled time for leaving the hotel - 5:00 pm.  Scheduled time for arriving at the home-hosted dinner - 5:30 pm.  It was 5:45 pm, already a quarter hour late.  An inexcusable tardiness in the local culture, but rush hour traffic is a bitch, particularly in Al Qahira … Cairo.  That's life in the slow lane.

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A black Mercedes limousine awaited the seven men from the thirteenth floor of the Ramses Hilton Hotel.  Yes, seven.  Muti would also be there, if for nothing more than to interpret.  Muti was once again in his sheer, white galabeyah, leather sandals, and his ever-present studded leather collar.  Ted and Gerry were in smart, light-weight tan trousers, dark-brown lace-up leather shoes, and open-necked dress shirts.

But after the early afternoon poolside fiasco, the McAllister brothers, Waldo, Wayne, Willie, and Waylan (better known as Froggy, Mamba, Wee-Wee, and Spanky), were all spruced up in their Sunday-best formals!  Froggy and Mamba, the biggest and eldest two of the four, were in their newest, slickest, tightest, blackest leather they could purchase;  even their shiny boots mirrored the massive, protruding silver-studded codpieces above.* 

Rising up his furry chest and going around his neck, Mamba's codpiece even had large-linked silver-chain suspenders primarily for the purpose of supporting the massive size and extra weight within.

However … the twins, Wee-Wee and Spanky, younger and smaller than their big butch brothers, were the perfect complement to the formal foursome.  Where the big brothers were all in black with silver chains and accessories, the younger brothers were all in white leather with brass accoutrements, even to the decorative studding around their smaller genital coverings.  Together, the four siblings were stunning eye-catchers … to say the very least!

As the driver saw them exit through the revolving glass doors, he got out of the vehicle and rushed around to open the rear passenger door.  He was wearing a sheer, white galabeyah and leather sandals - the usual attire of Arabic men, though most of the others' garments were of a heavier, not-so-transparent, fabric.  He was also wearing a strikingly similar 'dog-collar' as the one that Muti was never seen without.

Standing beside the opened door, he stood perfectly still, his legs apart.  Not looking at anyone, his head was bowed as if he were studying something on the ground.  Within the garment, his naked dangling maleness was silhouetted on the front of his garment by the brightness of the afternoon sun shining through the sheer fabric and between his legs, from the rear.

Ted looked at Gerry.  Gerry looked at Ted.  "Déjà vu?" they mouthed to each other just before entering and sitting in the back-facing jump seats. 

Next,  Froggy and Mamba entered and sat on the purple plush-velvet forward-facing bench seats, spreading their legs wide.  Then Wee-Wee entered and wiggled down on Froggy's lap, twisting and shifting until both were comfortable.  Spanky followed, mimicking his twin's ASSertive ASSault on his older brother's ASSets.

Finally, the driver opened the front passenger-door for Muti.

After he was comfortably inside, the driver carefully closed the door, hurried to the other side, entered and quickly drove away into the bumper-to-bumper afternoon traffic, with horns blaring and local pedestrians, seemingly without concern, weaving among the slow-moving vehicles.

Forty minutes later, two enormous wooden gates swung open, allowing the limousine entrance into a beautiful desert oasis estate.

Lining the circular driveway, fifty-foot tall palm trees stood erect, their feathery fronds gently swaying in the warm afternoon breeze; enormous clusters of dates hung like pendulous testicles, dangling from wide, flat, arched, wooden midribs with their deadly, outward-pointing spines.  A pair of brilliant blue peacocks strolled idly among the white hibiscus and red pomegranate bushes.  A magnificent fountain splayed its cooling, soothing plumes onto the pastel lotus blossoms in the circular, sculpted, stone-lined pond beneath.  Islands of manicured, verdant grass softened the remaining sand-and-pebble desert landscaping.

The focal point of the entire estate was the building itself!  It couldn't be called a 'house', and it couldn't be called a 'castle', though its immensity certainly brought to mind the latter.  It appeared to be constructed entirely of concrete, and its design reflected the exotic elegance of the temples of Angkor Wat in the country known as Cambodia.

Flanking and guarding the main entrance were two ancient, stone Egyptian Sphinxes with humanized heads and leonine bodies.

The limousine came to a halt, and the driver exited and rushed around to open, first, the front passenger door, allowing Muti to emerge from the car, and then the rear door for the other passengers.

To assist, Muti extended a hand, first to Ted and then to Gerry as they exited.  "If it please, good Sirs…" he motioned toward the entrance.

" 'Good Sirs'?" the four brothers echoed in questioning unison.

Muti nodded toward them in subservience.  "Yes, Sirs."

"Well … I'll … be … fucked!" Froggy and Mamba mumbled softly to themselves.

Before any further comments could be made, Muti ushered Gerry and Ted away from the car.  As they studied his strange behavior, Muti spoke barely above a whisper.  "For the evening, my friends.  For the evening."  Nothing else was said ... for the moment.

As Gerry and Ted entered the portico, Muti stepped aside and stood at 'present and display':  his back, straight as an obelisk, his hands behind his back, his legs apart, and his head bowed.

The faux-stone door opened, and out stepped a man wearing not only an elegant, cream-colored galabeyah, but also a matching, loose fitting, sleeveless outer garment, an over-coat of sorts, full length, and open all the way down the front, called a 'bisht'.  He looked to be in his early-to-mid-forties.  His short ebony hair and his olive eyes contrasted nicely with the golden-date-brown of his weathered face with strong lines around the eyes and the corners of his lips.

"You must be the two Mister Young's," he eagerly greeted them with the customary 'salaam', followed by his outstretched hands.

"Gerry," replied one;  "Ted," replied the other, both returning his gestures as best they could.

"I am Hashim al-Hajjaji.  Welcome to my humble abode.

"Thank you, Sir," Gerry replied, offering his hand.

"Oh, yes ... thank you, Mister Hajjjjj..." Ted stumbled on the man's name as he, too, extended his hand in greeting, still looking about at the beauty of the building.

"Hashim, please, my friends," al-Hajjaji proffered with a smile as he looked back and forth between the two.

"Hash?  Did I hear someone mention hash?" Froggy inquired with his throaty voice, an evil toothy grin spreading across his  face.  He and his brothers had finally joined the three men in the portico of the main entrance to the ornate house.

By his suddenly-cold expression, it was clear to Gerry that al-Hajjaji did not appreciate the question.

"Any substance of that sort is strictly forbidden under Islamic law.  You will not find any of that here, sir," he rebuked, "but for tonight," a slight smile appeared, "I welcome each of you in the spirit of international friendship."

"Shit!  This is fuckin' cool," Mamba said, craning his neck looking around at the house and grounds, as he slapped al-Hajjaji on the back.  "But if there ain't no hash, what's for grub?  I'm starved!"

Wee-Wee and Spanky, the twins, were standing to the side, arms around each other's shoulders, bobbing their heads up and down.  "Yeahhhh!" they agreed together.  Wee-Wee scratched his balls through his codpiece.

"Right this way ... gentlemen," al-Hajjaji said, turning and guiding the six through the doorway.

Once they were all inside, al-Hajjaji turned to close the massive door.  Then, looking over his guests, he asked, "Where is Muti?"

Gerry and Ted shrugged their shoulders.  The brothers were gawking at the severe simplicity of the entry hall.

"Forgive me," al-Hajjaji said. "I shall be but a moment.  Please remain here."  He stepped outside again, closing the door.

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Seeing Muti walking down the portico toward the corner of the house, he called him by name, and the ensuing exchange of words was in Arabic.

"Yes, Master?" he asked, bowing his head as he turned toward al-Hajjaji.

"Where are you going?"

"To the servant's entrance, Master, where this humble one belongs."

"Nooo, my friend," al-Hajjaji said with warmth in his voice, walking toward Muti.  "Tonight, you are a guest in my home -- an honored guest, and my guests do not accept my hospitality by entering through the servants' way."

"But Master..."

Al-Hajjaji held up a silencing hand.  "I have my own orders from your … so-called  Master."  He put a comforting arm around Muti's back, and together they returned toward the main entrance.

"Master ... if I may request..." Muti began, haltingly.

"Yes.  What is it?"

"My Master has instructed that I am ONLY to observe and report to him everyth..."

His host interrupted and said, "Very good, Muti.  You may stand near your two ... friends ... and ... observe."  He winked at the younger man who appeared to be taken aback by the sudden familiarity.  "I must say," al-Hajjaji added," that you DO play your part ... quite well."  He then smiled mischievously.

Muti's eyes grew large.  "You know?"

"Yes.  I know."

Muti swallowed with some difficulty as he rolled his eyes.

Al-Hajjaji pushed the great door open once again.  They entered, and he closed it.

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Again speaking in English, al-Hajjaji announced, "Muti will be joining us this evening."

Ted and Gerry smiled at their new friend, and Ted even winked at him.  Muti seemed to blush a bit.

"A servant?  Eating with us?"  Froggy asked, sounding more than a little prejudiced as he continued with what he was doing.

"Yeah.  Just what we need,"  Mamba chimed in, also continuing what HE was doing.

"Muti is MORE than a 'servant', I assure you," al-Hajjaji strongly emphasized the fact.  He seemed none too pleased with the attitudes of the four leather guys, nor with what had transpired during the short time he was outside with Muti.

More a small room than a hallway, the entry was very formal - a highly polished terrazzo floor inlaid with intricate Arabesque patterns of marble-chip;  on either side, to the right and left as one entered, a single backless Bonaparte-styled entryway bench sat against the bare stucco walls.  The benches were made of dark walnut, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and the upholstered seat cushions and wide arm rests were of damask, in red and black, the national colors of Egypt.  Above the Moorish arched doorway in the opposite wall from the entry itself, hung a large portrait of the, then, President Gamal Abed Al-Nasser in an ornate gold-leafed frame.

What had transpired, was this:  the benches had been pulled away from the walls;  Froggy and Mamba, each, had stretched out on the separate benches, a leg dangling from either side;  Spanky and Wee-Wee were riding Froggy and Mamba's crotches, still clothed, but nonetheless riding … humping … grinding!

"Gentlemen …" al-Hajjaji urged, "… dinner is served.  He took a deep breath and then let out an audible sigh, evidently trying to control his anger.  Gerry noticed that their host was nervously flexing his fists.

Al-Hajjaji led the way without looking back.  Through the archway, down a long hall past a dozen or more closed doors, around the corner, and finally into the dining area, exotically and erotically reminiscent of Scheherazade's Thousand and One Nights.  Thick luxurious Persian rugs were scattered over every single inch of the floor.  Silken pillows of every color, pattern, shape and size formed individual reclining areas in a broken circle very near the large, round Monkeypod-and-Teak table in the very center of the room, barely a foot off the floor.

"Ohhhhhhh," Gerry and Ted moaned in delight on first seeing the ambiance, "it's beautiful!"

"Fuckin' cool," Froggy croaked.

"Where's the dancin' bois?" Mamba wanted to know.  "This is HOT!!!"

From the very center of the ceiling, panels of some exotic kind of light, fluffy transparent fabric, swagged over to the walls of the room, and hung from there to the floor, giving the illusion of a badáwi (Bedouin) Sheikh's tent.  And from the apex juncture of the panels hung an enormous brass light fixture, filigreed with geometric Arabesque openings, casting the patterns of light about the room.

Al-Hajjaji sat and reclined on stacked pillows opposite the door through which they had just entered.  "Gentlemen ... if you please ..."  He extended his hands in a sweeping motion, indicating the pillows around the magnificent table which had already been set with china, crystal, gold-ware utensils, and napkins with golden threads woven through.  "Gerry ... Ted ..." he said, motioning for Gerry to sit to his left, Ted to his right.  The brothers could sit wherever they chose. 

Mamba and Wee-Wee, as usual, sat together, as did Froggy and Spanky.  It was becoming apparent to Gerry that each of the twins showed partiality to one of their bigger brothers.

With some slight but obvious difficulty, each of the guests finally settled into a semblance of comfort on the pillows.

Muti had remained standing at "present and display" near the entrance just inside the dining area.

The table itself, must have been at least eight feet in diameter.  In the center of it (and only three or four inches above it) was another table of approximately six feet in diameter and of beaten silver, a plateaux, or as some would call it, a 'lazy Susan', that could be turned, thus bringing the many different platters and bowls of exquisitely prepared Cairene dishes within reach of each guest.  Some of the delicacies were surely unfamiliar to the visitors, but most were well known to the Americans:  roast turkey, lamb kabobs on golden skewers, a calves' head stuffed with something that looked like pâté, rice pilaf with raisins, a pasta with cheese, asparagus in sesame-seed oil, creamed rice with cinnamon and cloves, a delicate pastry for sopping up juices or eating with the abundant grape, hibiscus, or mulberry jams, and individual bowls of thickened almond-coconut milk with pistachios (to be eaten with the tortoise-shell spoons).  Also on the table were small bowls of anchovies, olives, potted meats, a sort of bitter white sauce, and clotted cream.

Al-Hajjaji clapped his hands twice.  A soft light immediately shone in an alcove that had, until that moment, been hidden by the sheer panels of fabric against the walls.  Five musicians—all male, all completely shaved from top of head to top of toes, and each wearing only a tiny Egyptian kilt of sheer white cotton trimmed in gold—began playing ancient Egyptian instruments:  a flute, shaped like a serpent;  a hand-held harp, the lower body of which, looked like a reclining gazelle;  a long, skinny, weird-looking instrument that vaguely resembled a guitar—the long neck and headstock decorated and carved to resemble the head and neck of a giraffe;  a recognizable panpipe;  and something that looked like an African drum stretched with taut leopard skin. 

The slow, rhythmic tones were strangely intriguing, to Gerry, but delightful, and even arousing.  "Ooooooo," he softly said to his host, "nice."  He adjusted the crotch of his trousers.

"Yeah," Ted added, "That IS nice.  I like it, too."  He grinned and looked back toward the scrimmed musicians.

Al-Hajjaji smiled, nodded his head at them both, and again clapped his hands twice.

Around the room, seven females of diverse nationalities or race, appeared from between the panels, each beautiful and in her late teens.  Red, yellow, brown, black, white, and other shades of skin.  Each wore her hair pulled tightly back and in a long braided pigtail that reached to her waist;  a bright red ball of some kind and of some weight was attached to the end of the braid.

Each young lady was entirely naked -- naked, that is, except for her adornments.  Low on her hips, she wore a belt of several diminishing rows of closely linked gold coins, barely concealing her private parts.  A miniature of the belt hung across her forehead.  Around her neck and firm breasts coiled serpentine ropes of gold (leaving much of the skin exposed between the coils), and from each pert and pierced nipple dangled a large teardrop jewel, the color of which contrasted beautifully with her skin tone.  Her bellybutton was concealed by the same gemstone, though, round, instead of teardrop, and her upper arms were wound round with other golden serpents.

Each carried a bowl of soup with both hands, high in the air as if it were an offering to the gods -- one for al-Hajjaji, and the others for his guests. 

Their steps around the circle were synchronized with the rhythm of the music, and on each step, their heads and spines leaned far back, whipping the weighted balls in complete circles behind them as they kicked one foot high into the air, thereby fully exposing their pudenda (genitals) to the men.

The ancient dance was beautifully choreographed … to the supposedly ancient music … from the ancient instruments … in the reconstructed ancient temple-like palace … from another ancient culture.

Gerry leaned  toward al-Hajjaji and said, "This is all so beautiful, Sir, but ... uhhh ..."  He said no more as he looked around his host at his mate and winked.

Ted leaned in and simply said, "I love it, too."

Looking from one to the other, al-Hajjaji softly said, "It pleases me that you can appreciate the beauty, even though you choose not to partake.  Thank you;  you do me great honor."

"Shokran.  Thank YOU, Sir," they said together.

Ted then added, "I'll never forget THIS dinner!" 

Al-Hajjiji smiled and then, once again, clapped his hands.  The dancers immediately placed the bowls of soup in front of whichever man they were closest to. 

"Shokran."  "Shokran."  Gerry and Ted thanked the young women serving them, but the reaction of the brothers was something else again!

Wee-Wee and Spanky wrinkled up their noses as the females brushed by them to put the bowls on the edge of the wooden table.  Then the twins buried their faces in their big brothers' chests.

Mamba made a disparaging remark to the girl who was placing his bowl down, and Froggy voiced a gruff growl, "Arrrgh!" before saying, "Yuck!  Pussy!"

Again the commanding claps came, and the dancers dashed back through the panels just before seven studs appeared, bare-chested with washboard abs.  Each of the men was wearing a studded dog-collar, similar to the one Muti was wearing.

"Now, THAT's more like it!" cheered the twins, with lusty, agreeing remarks from their older brothers.

Like their female counterparts, the studs also wore coiled serpents on their upper arms;  they, too, were of different colors and races, and they appeared to be in their late teens / early twenties.  But, as could clearly be seen through their ultra-thin, gauzy, pastel harem pants, each was adequately HUNG!  Even in the flaccid state!  And that wasn't all.

There wasn't a hair on any of them;  they seemed completely denuded of any body hair, so far as the eye could see.  Not on their heads, no eye brows or eyelashes, and none on their chests, arms, hands, or feet.  Their skin was as smooth as a baby's butt, and when they spoke, their voices were as sweet as a woman's, without any trace of masculine hoarseness.

An identical heavy-gauged steel ring hung from the fourteen dark brown erect nipples.

Gerry and Ted licked their lips;  then, glancing at each other, they rolled their eyes and grinned. 

Each of the males carried two glass decanters -- one with hibiscus tea, the other with lemonade.

"Get over here, hunk!" Mamba demanded, grabbing his codpiece-covered groin.

"Wanna sit on my face, cutie?" Spanky inquired, wiggling his tongue back and forth.

The soft background music continued.

The aroma of chicken broth wafted from the bowls. 

"Eat now!" Froggy strongly suggested, patting his stomach.  "Eat now, and fuck later," he added.

Al-Hajjaji cleared his throat and nervously tapped the table in front of himself.

Most of the guests began to spoon the liquid, but it was Froggy, with eyes as big as saucers, who asked, none too politely, "What's in this shit?  It's not tapioca, is it?  I hate tapioca, and it looks like that crap's floatin' in there!"

"No, my friend," al-Hajjaji said, obviously playing the gracious host, and no longer tapping the table;  "it is NOT tapioca."  Then he went on to describe it.  "The soup is a delicacy, here in Africa..."

Having just eaten a spoonful, Ted interrupted.  "It's delicious.  I've never tasted anything like it before.  But what are those little things floating in it?  They're so ... so squishy and sweet.  And what are those little crispy things in it?"  He giggled.  "They're wonderful!"

Al-Hajjaji chuckled at Ted's exuberance.  "Those little 'squishy, sweet things', as you call them, are imported from Lake Tanganyika and are eyes of newt, and the crispy things are locusts (grasshoppers), scarabs (dung beetles), and pieces of deep-fried mamba, the deadliest snake on the continent."

"FUCK … A … DUCK!!!" Wee-Wee yelled.  "I ain't eatin' none o' that shit, and I, sure as shitin' ain't eatin' no mamba but this one!"  At that, he ripped off Mamba's studded codpiece, and out popped the reddish-purple monster, as long as a forearm and with a swollen glans as big as a fist.  "I'd rather eat the spit outta THIS mamba than innythin'!" he squealed and bent down to lick the slimy head.

At the same time THAT was going on, one of the cuties had approached Mamba with the liquid refreshments.  Mamba reached up with one hand and groped him through the sheer harem pants, even while placing the other on the back of Spanky's head .  It didn't take long to realize that something was missing from the nearly naked stud-server.  Mamba twisted around a little and yanked down the harem pants.  "Why ain't he got no balls?" he yelled across the table, looking straight into al-Hajjaji's eyes as he squeezed the man's limp penis.

Also during that time, Gerry had just put a spoonful of the soup in his mouth. Cautiously, he forced himself to swallow as he frowned.  Then, when he looked up at the commotion across the table, he saw only what was, to him, an ugly, threatening monster.  What he saw, brought forth a memory he had never wanted to resurface.

A nauseous feeling arose from his stomach, and he jumped up, one arm across his abdomen, and his other hand cupping his mouth.  Al-Hajjaji and Ted, both, jumped up as Gerry moaned, "Where's the bathroom?  I'm gonna be sick."   Muti ran around the table to care for his friend.

"I'VE HAD JUST ABOUT ENOUGH OF YOUR CRAP!" a deep, angry voice bellowed as another man came from behind one of the pastel panels.  "I'll take care of this, Hashim," Tariq Pasha told his friend.  He then said something to him in Arabic.

"Awww, fuck!  We're in deep shit, now," the four brothers mumbled, together.  "Where'n fuck did HE come from?"

Softly, the exotic ancient music continued from the alcove as al-Hajjaji, Muti, Ted, and Gerry left the dining area through a concealed doorway behind one of the pastel panels.

To be continued...

*  FOOTNOTE:  Codpiece:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Codpiece

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Comments welcome, please drop the author a note: 

Posted: 10/10/08