Chapter 38: Stanford Days

The news that Princess Sharifa Abdullah of Kobekistan had accepted Stanford’s offer led to a flurry of excited activity among the academic staff. The President of Stanford called an extraordinary meeting of his staff to brief them all on how he expected each of them to behave towards and treat their new and exalted student.

The President also had meetings with the local Police Commissioner to discuss and coordinate the level of security required for the Princess. This had to include Stanford’s own security personnel, police detail and of course, the Princess’s own bodyguards, which the Emir of Kobekistan had insisted on.

Being a man of precision, the President was quietly confident that after these meetings all possible contingencies had been covered and was satisfied that nothing would go wrong with the arrangements in place for the Princess’s arrival. Nothing was to prepare him or his staff, however, for the chaos that would ensue upon her arrival.

The first thing that struck the President was the fact that the media, local, national and international, gathered from early morning vying for the best possible position to get the photos for their respective TV or radio stations, or newspapers or magazines. Some even hoped for a possible interview with the Princess. All in all, the tension was enormous and, for the President, at least, almost unbearable.

The cameras started flashing and the reporters began to speak to their respective stations as soon as the convoy of the Rolls carrying Princess Sharifa and various escorting vehicles was sighted as it turned into the campus of Stanford. The police and security staff kept the members of the media at a distance as the Princess’s bodyguards got out to open the door. There was much photography and excited commentary as the Kobekistani bodyguards stood close to the Rolls with scimitars in their right hands, blades flashing in the autumn sunshine.

What happened next shocked the President and his staff as the Princess, who was dressed in a much decorated abaya, was getting out of the Rolls. The abaya had a long slit to the waist that revealed a long smooth leg with an expensive looking shoe on the end.

The abaya hid Sharifa’s amusement at the discomfort and embarrassment of the President and some of his staff. She had caused the reaction she wanted. Her intention was to shock and it worked like a dream. Recovering quickly from his initial reaction, the President moved forward and tried to introduced the senior faculty members, who were in a line as Sharifa acknowledged them. As the President had ordered, the male faculty members bowed and the first one or two offered to shake the Princess’s hand, but that was ignored, and the female members tried to make a curtsey, with varying degrees of success. Sharifa passed quickly along the line, speaking to no one, as if she were inspecting a guard of honour...

When the ceremony finished Sharifa was ushered inside the main building, flanked by her guards, leaving the media a little disappointed they had not been given a statement by the university or any of the Princess’s entourage.

As time progressed the hype finally settled down, though this took several weeks, and Sharifa got on with the work at hand, earning her D.Sc.

Just like Oxford, Sharifa, of course, was the centre of attention. She was certainly looking forward to a good sex life at Stanford and judging by the amount of attention she received, there was no shortage of potential candidates for her first semester. She was determined to keep them on tenterhooks; she, and only she, was going to decide whom she would entertain in her bed. She skilfully manipulated her popularity, playing one graduate student off against another. On at least one occasion it even ended up in a fight between them as the competition to bed this Arabian Princess heated up, but Sharifa was in no hurry and in the end chose a most unlikely individual for her first sexual encounter.

Sharifa had been intrigued by a young mathematics undergraduate who was clearly intellectually gifted. He spent almost all his free time in the library studying. He was shy and very unassuming. In some ways Sharifa was reminded of her first meeting with Nicola. Sharifa thought he was quite handsome, though she doubted he thought he was. It was because he had never shown any interest in her that Sharifa was determined to bed him and set a trap to ensnare him.

It was a Friday evening and Sharifa walked into the library carrying a large number of books. This was unusual for her as she was usually accompanied by a bodyguard, one of whom carried anything needed. As she expected the young man was there as usual. It was as she passed him that she set her trap when she dropped her books, ‘accidentally’ of course. As she expected, the young man moved from his chair instantly and began to pick the books up. “Oh, your Highness, let me help you,” he said as he did so.

“Thank you very much,” said Sharifa, “I’m afraid I don’t know your name,” she lied, trying to sound embarrassed.

“Martin, Martin Hamilton, your Highness.”

“Well Martin. I’m in your debt.”

“Oh, it was nothing, your Highness...”

“Nonsense, Martin. I’d really like to repay your kindness. Tomorrow being Saturday perhaps you might join me for lunch at my residence?”

Martin was stunned, “Well, I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.”

“Yes then,” replied a bewildered Martin.

“Good, where do you live? I’ll send a car for you.”

Martin wrote down the address.

“I’ll have the car pick you up at one o’clock. See you then, Martin and thank you.” The Princess kissed him on the cheek before leaving.

Martin Hamilton stood awe struck and pinched himself to check that he had not been dreaming. He returned to his apartment somewhat stunned, and still only half believing that he had not dreamt the whole incident.

The following day at precisely one o’clock, the Rolls pulled up outside Martin’s apartment. The uniformed chauffeur got out, opened the door and bowed respectfully as Martin got in.

When they arrived at the former hotel he was shocked when he realised that the whole building had been converted to a single residence and was occupied by Sharifa and her staff.

As they sat facing each other at the table Martin couldn’t help staring at Sharifa’s breasts that were quite visible through the sheer robe she was wearing. She was well aware of this but said nothing.

For Martin, this “lunch” was more a major feast than anything else. Servants came and went with food, some of which he recognised, some of which he eventually decided was well known food prepared in a totally non-American way, and some of which he did not understand at all. Each course was accompanied by a suitable drink, some of which were alcoholic.

After the meal Sharifa suggested they retire to her living room for coffee and brandy while the staff cleared the table. Two of the male servants who had simply stood and watched them eat also came into the luxurious sitting room, where they served no obvious purpose. Then Martin realised that they were Princess Sharifa’s bodyguards, there to prevent him doing anything untoward.