Chapter 8

I acted as if I hadn’t heard her when Basheera talked about me marrying and deflowering her daughter. I mean what the hell was I going to say?

“Sure, Sheba, I’d love to poke you daughter.” Or, “I don’t think so, Basheera, I was just fooling when I said I’d do anything for your family.”

I don’t know what conclusions Basheera reached, because she kissed me again, and then threw me another curve.

“Neeko, why do you not like Tahani?”

Where was she getting this stuff?

“I like Tahani just fine, why do you think I didn’t?”

“Because you don’t treat her as you do Jamilah, Fatima and me. You have not taken her in your bed, so she thinks you find her unattractive. If you care for her, then you must let her experience this, after all, she is a wife, too.”

I looked at Basheera in disbelief. If I remember correctly this was the first time that I had asked one of the women into my bed, the other times were pretty much command performances.

“Basheera, I think that Tahani is scared of men, and me in particular. She seems so shy and aloof around me.”

Basheera shrugged. “That is just her nature, ask Fatima about her, they are very close. Fatima will tell you what needs to be done. Enough talking about other women, Neeko, you are with me now. Do you think your mighty zakar can return to life?”

I was agog at the woman Basheera was turning out to be. As she became more comfortable around me, she fell back on eons of female logic to make her points, logic that absolutely had no connection to my reality, and you know what? I thought it was adorable the way she offhandedly tried to manipulate me. Well, maybe it was time to wring some concessions of my own out of our so far one-sided negotiations.

“I think my zakar would do exactly as you wanted if my Desert Queen kissed him,” I said.

Basheera’s eyebrows arched up and she gave a little frown.

“I will try, Neeko, but I’ve never done anything like that, I will not be skilled with my lips as you are.” As she talked, she dipped her head under the cover and took my shaft delicately in her hand. “You will have to guide me, Neeko, but the thought of this is very exciting to me.”

It was exciting for me too. As blowjobs go, it wasn’t the best I’d ever had, but I have to admit there is a real thrill at instructing a willing woman as she tries it for the first time. Basheera had no idea what felt good to some other guy so she was all for anything I told her felt especially good to me. The whole situation had me as hard as a hickory stick almost immediately. Basheera pulled her mouth off me and flashed me a grin of triumph. I tangled my hands in her long hair and guided her back down. I had to physically pull her off me in a couple of minutes because she was definitely a fast learner.

When my dick exited her mouth with an audible pop I figure what the hell, since we were in the learning mode, I’d teach her about doggie style. Of course, that turned out to be one thing she was familiar with. In a moment, she was on her knees, swishing her pretty ass around. When I had a good rhythm going, I reached under her and stroked her little clit. We huffed and chuffed to orgasm almost at the same time, and fell to the side winded. When I had my breathing under control, I cleaned us up and snuggled in behind her. Basheera didn’t seem in any hurry to leave, so I wrapped my arms around her.

“Leila Sa’eeda, Habib (good night, beloved),” she said softly.

“Thank you, and good night to you, my sweet Sheba,” I whispered back.

I woke up in exactly the same position I fell asleep in, Basheera still in my arms. Damn, it felt almost too good to be real waking up like that. I was still lying there when she woke up a few minutes later. She rubbed her butt against my morning wood, then hopped off the pallet with a snort.

“Not this morning, my stallion, you must save yourself for Tahani tonight.”

She grabbed her shift off the chair and slipped it on. With a toss of her long black tresses, she scampered happily out the door. I got up much slower, but my ankle and knee loosened up quickly as I did my morning business. It was six o’clock by the time I dressed and wandered upstairs. I stood at the back door and watched as the sun broke across the desert. It was funny that the desert didn’t appear so bleak and inhospitable that morning.

I was sitting outside on the step, when Adara brought me out a cup of strong, sweet coffee. I liked the potent Turkish brew but decided that tomorrow I would try to cook up a pot of regular old GI java. Adara sat down beside me and snuggled under my arm. I didn’t say anything when she pulled my hand down over her chest so I could hold her tighter. We sat there for about ten minutes, until we heard the rest of the gang milling around in the kitchen.

After breakfast, I went out to the greenhouse with the women. Jamilah explained to me that they had only a few more plants to harvest. While Fatima and Basheera cropped the buds from the remaining plants, Jamilah explained how dealing with the hashish traders worked. The traders would show up and after looking at the product and quantity, they would make an offer. The offer was always low and negotiations would begin. After agreeing on a price for the resin, the dealers would go through the same process for the kilos of dried flower buds. She explained that the dealers mixed the flowers and resin in a small amount of water to make a thick gummy paste. The paste was pressed into one hundred gram squares and smuggled to Europe.

That day I also toured the area where they kept their livestock. The Hassans had about a dozen goats, a disinterested looking donkey and a few scrawny chickens in a fenced area about an acre in size. There were three of the acre-sized plots side by side. The plots each had a gate that led into a front area that had a lean-to building with a few stalls and a chicken coop. Each of the plots was irrigated and the grass in them was thick and healthy. Jamilah explained that the goats were rotated between the plots every four days. I was interested in the chickens more than anything because I figured that chickens would be easier to raise and produced eggs as well as meat. Chickens that ranged free do well in hot climates, as long as they have shade and plenty of water.

The last part of the farm was a three-acre stand of date palms. Jamilah admitted that they didn’t do as much with the dates as they should. I nodded affirmatively to that. Iraq had been a major producer of dates before the first Gulf War, but the trade embargo curtailed exports. I thought that tripling the size of the grove would be a good idea, especially since date palms were very hearty and grew well in semi-arid areas.

Last on my tour was the metal Quonset hut type building that housed the farm’s equipment and machinery. The old Zil truck sat along side the building, along with an old but nice Toyota Landcruiser. The Landcruiser was one of the muscular off road jobs that made the brand famous. It was not the plush, sporty model favored by soccer moms. On the opposite side of the building were a box blade and a small six-disc plow. Inside, Hassan had an almost new 35 horsepower Kubota tractor, lots of hand implements, some surveyors equipment and a very nice gasoline powered tiller. Hassan had all the resources he needed to farm his place but it was all window dressing to cover his pot growing.

I went back to the house at the same time the women took their afternoon break. Work ceased during the hottest part of the day during the summer months. A usual workday was from about six in the morning until two in the afternoon. That afternoon we hung out in the basement. Zahrah and Kalila changed into trousers and climbed into the tunnel I’d found, while I sat and yakked with the wives and Adara.

“Basheera, what kind of weapons do you have in the house?” I asked.

She went up stairs and fetched her trusty AK-47, the AK that Jamilah carried and my Beretta M9, nine-millimeter pistol. The AKs were old and not very well maintained but the damned things were practically indestructible anyway, so they were still good to go. She had one magazine for each AK and about fifty rounds of ammunition. I was surprised they kept my pistol, but was happy to see it. She had the pistol and both clips with the twenty-four bullets I’d loaded them with.

“Basheera, at market day tomorrow, do you think you can find two more of these?” I asked, gesturing to the AKs.

“Yes, Neeko,” she answered. “There are many guns for sale there.”

I knew that was probably true, because I swear, every Iraqi male over the age of six had either an AK or an RPG (rocket propelled grenade launcher).

“Do you think you can buy two more guns like this one plus seven magazines and 200 bullets for one of the big gold coins?”

“I do not know Neeko, but I will try.”

“We need at least four rifles plus the pistol to deal with the hash traders when they arrive. I do not want any trouble, but I want us to be prepared for it if they cause any.”

All the women nodded their heads in agreement. Before we could move to another topic, Kalila and Zahrah came bounding excitedly down the stairs. They related the tunnel ran into a small room under the equipment shed, a distance I figured to be about sixty feet. The exit into the shed was a trap door covered by a rubber mat under a worktable. The room below the equipment shed was empty, save for six kilos of hashish resin, a pistol and a set of keys to the Land Cruiser. I went back with the girls to retrieve the pistol. The pistol was a Chinese Tokarev TT54. The TT54 was chambered in nine-millimeter Luger. There were seven rounds in the clip and a box with about twenty more rounds on a shelf. The shelf also held a couple of blankets, some canned food and a few candles. Hassan evidently planned well when it came to protecting his own hide.

We broke up our little hen party after a few more minutes. Everyone except Adara and I went back upstairs to do what ever they needed for tomorrow’s market day. Adara and I worked on my Arabic, I told her my new name and she wrote it out for me in Arabic script. I practiced until I had writing my name down pat. We reviewed magazine pictures until it was suppertime. We always ate late in the evening when it was cooler. Supper was usually a light meal. The major meal of the day was consumed at lunch.

Right after supper, I asked Fatima and Tahani to go for a walk with me. I felt very good that evening and thought a little exercise would make me feel even better. Fatima readily agreed, but we had to coax Tahani to come with us. Once outside, I held the women’s hands and we walked out to the date grove. I explained to them how the grove could be expanded with less water use than any other crop. I also told them about my idea about raising chickens. I asked about the availability of grains for feed. I was encouraged that oats seemed to be plentiful and reasonably priced.

From farming, I jumped right into relationships, by asking Tahani point blank why she was afraid of me. I learned that she wasn’t actually scared of me. She simply didn’t know anything about how relations with the other sex were supposed to work. Fatima had been telling her about how things were between she and I, but Tahani had difficulty with the concept because she was so inexperienced. Fatima finally convinced Tahani to come along with her when she visited me that night. I told Tahani that she wouldn’t have to do anything she did not want to do. If all she wished to do was watching Fatima and me interact, that was just fine.

When we went back to the house, I cornered Basheera and told her she needed to make up a roster that rotated everyone’s shower time. I was not thrilled with the idea of cold showers every night. She laughed but agreed to make one up. The women threw me a bone by insisting I shower first that evening. Hot damn, was it nice to take a hot shower again! I could have stayed in there an hour. Instead I got wet, turned off the water, lathered up then rinsed off. I’ll bet I didn’t use three gallons of water for the whole procedure.