The Lotus Blossom

A lotus blossom petal-that’s what it was, as I had learned from Professor Whittle in Edinburgh, but what significance did it have, if any, and why was it in the envelope along with the letter from my brother? The letter, cryptic and unfinished, as if he had been interrupted before he could finish, said nothing about the petal. It told me little, other than he was being held captive. It didn’t even say where; that it had been mailed from Cairo, Egypt, was the only clue. “Robert,” it said. “I’m being held captive. I’ve been subjected to unspeakable horrors. Please help me...”

That was all-nothing else. It wasn’t signed, but, I knew my brother’s scrawl. Although we were twins, I, older by twenty minutes, had inherited our father’s title and estates. I suppose that John felt some resentment for that accident of birth, perhaps because he had only missed being born first by twenty minutes. If it had been a year or more, he might have accepted it more readily. If he had been the first one born, he would be the Earl of Melville, instead of me; but I have always provided generously for him, financing his schemes and adventures. He’d been on one of those adventures when he’d disappeared six months ago in Egypt. Until this letter, I had heard nothing.

It was 1898. In November, my brother and I would be twenty-five years-old. Our mother had died giving us life-our father two years ago. The two of us were the last of our line. There had been no other children. I was sitting at my desk in the study musing over the letter for perhaps the hundredth time when Jennings, the butler, announced my fiancee. “Lady Julianne, Sir.”

I was just beginning to tell him to have her come in when she burst into the room. She saw the letter in my hand.

“Oh, Robert, you’re not reading that letter again? You’ve scarcely put it down since you’ve received it.”

“But, he’s my brother. I have to do something. He’s in trouble-asking for my help.”

“The police in Cairo are looking for him. What can you do, that they can’t?”

“I don’t know, Julianne, but, I can’t just sit here, safe at home while he’s in trouble. I’m going to Cairo. At least there I won’t have to wait for so long to find out what is happening. This letter was mailed two months ago. I could already be too late.”

I had booked passage on a ship leaving from London for Cairo July 2nd.

“But, Robert...what about our wedding? We’re to be married in six months.”

“I’m sorry, Love, but we’re going to have to postpone it. I’ve got to go to Cairo. He’s my brother, Julianne.”

“He’s my brother-he’s my brother. You keep saying that. What about me. I’m to be your wife. Don’t I matter?”

“Of course you matter, but he’s my...we’re twins. There’s a bond between us that’s stronger than that between most brothers. Even though we’ve often been estranged, it’s still there. I could never forgive myself if I did nothing.”

“I can see that nothing I say is going to make any difference,” she said, sniffling. “You have that set to your jaw-the one you have when you’ve made up your mind. When are you leaving?”

“I’m traveling to London next week. There’s a steamship to Cairo leaving on July 2nd.”

“July 2nd Oh, Robert. For some reason that seems so ominous to me. I’m afraid that you’ll sail away, never to return. It’s as if you’re sailing away to the ends of the world. I’m afraid that-just like John-you’ll disappear.”

“With luck, my dear, I’ll be back within six months-hopefully with John.”

“Well, I may not be waiting for you-if you come back.”

“You don’t mean that, Julianne.” She stormed out of the room calling for Jennings to get her carriage. Julianne’s threat hadn’t concerned me. Marriage between people of our class was for reasons other than love. Ours was a good match for her and for me. She, too, was an only child. Our marriage would-when her father died-combine our estates.

I was so busy preparing for the trip that I scarcely saw Julianne before I left for London. She didn’t come to see me off. In a note, she said that she was sure she would never see me again. I wrote her again saying that I’d be back within six months, but even as I wrote, I knew that it was probably a lie. John had already been gone for six months. I didn’t have any idea how I was to find him, much less find him and return within six months, but find him I must. I was determined to stay in Egypt until I did, or until I knew that he was dead-and he wasn’t yet. If he had been, I would have known.

------------------------------

The Bristol Star, at the pier on the Thames, was a decrepit, rust covered, derelict of a ship, but none other was sailing for Egypt anytime soon. The dock smelled of fish and other foul odors. I made my way through the stevedores who were loading the last of the cargo on board, up the gang plank, and onto the ship. One of the sailors directed me to the steward. I was sailing incognito using the name, Robert Abernathy, traveling alone. The ship, carrying mostly cargo, would have few passengers. I was told that I was the first to arrive.

After the steward had shown me to my dismal cabin and my bags were stowed, I went back on deck to watch my fellow passengers arrive. The trip to Cairo, which would take thirty days, would be extremely boring unless there was someone of interest among the passengers. I had little hope that there would be. The first to arrive, an elderly couple, did little to alleviate my fears. At the top of the gangplank, the gentleman, turning toward where I had positioned myself by the rail, tipped his hat and said, “Good afternoon, sir. Mardsen’s the name, and this is my wife, Mrs. Mardsen. I take it you’re a fellow passenger?”

“Yes, Abernathy’s the name. How do you do, Mr. Mardsen-Madam?”

“My wife and I are going to see the pyramids. I’ve just sold my business. Perhaps you’ve heard of Mardsen’s textiles?

Smiling, I shook my head.

“No? What business are you in Mr.-uh-Abernathy was it?”

I had to think something up on the spot. “Import-export.”

“And the name of your company, Mr. Abernathy?”

“Abernathy Ltd.” The old gentleman was beginning to tire me, and I’d only just met him. If this was any indication of what I had to expect from the other passengers, it would, indeed, be a long trip.

“Abernathy Ltd. Strange I haven’t heard of it.”

“We operate out of Scotland. Perhaps that’s why I haven’t heard of Mardsen’s textiles as well.”

“Ahem-yes-perhaps. Well, nice meeting you, Mr. Abernathy. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other. I hear that there are only ten passengers on this trip.”

Ten? Subtracting these two and me left only seven. Little chance that there would be anyone interesting on board. Oh, well. I was rather distracted, anyway-thinking about John, but, thinking about him did little good. There was nothing I could do while aboard the ship-and I felt that I was rapidly running out of time. A month it would take to get to Cairo. Would I be too late?

The next passenger-Smith or Jones or some other such name-was another bloody tradesman. England was full of tradesmen who, because they had money, thought they were as good as anyone. They were taking over England. At least it hadn’t happened yet in Scotland.

Following Smith or Jones were two wogs-Egyptians-the first an older, very corpulent, individual wearing a fez, followed by a rather pretty boy, about fourteen. From their manner, I gathered that the boy was less than a son-but more than a servant. I nodded, but didn’t speak to them.

Disgusted, I was about to return to my cabin, when, hearing a disturbance on the dock, I peered over the rail. A carriage had stopped at the gang plank. A footman, stepping down from his station at the rear of the carriage, rushed to open the door. Out stepped an elegantly dressed, gray-haired, gentleman. He turned to offer his hand to a lady-the most beautiful woman that I’d ever seen-raven hair, blue eyes, set off by an alabaster skin, dressed in a garment-a dress, which, in the morning sun, appeared to be made of solid gold. I caught a glimpse of a small foot and a delicate ankle as she stepped down from the carriage. Mesmerized, I stared, my mouth, unbecomingly-shamefully-open, but I couldn’t help myself. I had never seen such as she.

I continued to stare as she preceded him up the gang plank. I was only vaguely aware that they were followed by two others, male and female, obviously servants, his valet and her maid servant, I supposed. At the top of the gang plank, the woman looked up at me from beneath her hat-and smiled. The gentleman, bowing his head slightly, said, “My name is Aristodes, sir.”

“Ab-Abernathy,” I stammered. I actually stammered. Suddenly I felt like a young boy, so awed was I by her presence. I failed to make eye contact with Aristodes. I was staring at her.

“This is my daughter, Isisandra.”

His daughter-thank God. For a moment, I was afraid that she was his wife. Aristodes-they must be Greek, she a Greek Goddess. She held out a white gloved hand to me; I kissed it. “Charmed,” I said.

“Mr. Abernathy,” Aristodes said, dismissing me. “Come, Isisandra.”

Staring after them, I stood at the rail until they disappeared below decks, then returned to my cabin, but couldn’t remain there. I kept returning to the deck, hoping to see her again. She had driven all thoughts of John-of Julianne-from my mind. Suddenly, I wasn’t so eager to see the voyage end.

Departing about noon, we sailed down the Thames to the Channel, where we turned south. Our first stop would be Barcelona. I remained on deck much of the time, unable to spend long in my cabin, wishing that she would reappear. From time to time I saw the other passengers. Mardsen and his wife attempted to engage me in conversation, but desisted when I was curt with them. They stalked off in an apparent huff. I had no patience for inane conversation with trades-people. The fat wog and his pretty boy came on deck, but stayed to themselves. Their behavior-the boy would occasionally grasp the older man’s hand-added weight to my earlier suspicions about their relationship. I suppose that he could have been the older man’s son-but I doubted it. Dirty wogs, I thought, they are all queer. From time to time, all the passengers appeared on deck, except for Isisandra and her father. I occasionally saw their servants scurrying back and forth on some errand for master or mistress, but I saw nothing of the father-or of the daughter. About 7:00 PM, I returned to my cabin, feeling a need to freshen up before dinner. Shortly afterward there was a knock at my door. It was the steward.

“The Captain requests that you honor him with your presence at his table for dinner tonight. Dinner is at 9:00.”

“Thank the Captain for me. I’d be pleased to join him.”

Dinner. She would surely be there. Possibly-probably-also at the Captain’s table. 9:00 PM. It was only 7:20 PM. An hour and forty minutes. It seemed a lifetime. I laid out my best suit-was tempted to wear my family ring-a badge of my rank, but didn’t. I wasn’t yet ready to betray my true identity. At last, 9:00PM arrived.

When I arrived at the passenger’s dining room, all the passengers were present-except for the Aristodes and their servants. The room was small; the ship never carried many passengers; the Mardsens were seated at a table with Smith-Jones; the fat wog was seated at a small table in one corner with his boy; another small table was empty; the Captain rose when I walked up to the table where he was seated.

“Ah,” he said, “Mr. Abernathy. Welcome aboard.”

“Captain-uh-”

“Insell,” he said.

“Ah, yes, Captain Insell.”

“Please sit down, Mr. Abernathy.” There were two empty seats at the table. The Captain directed me to the seat on his left. My back was to the door. “Our other guests should be joining us soon-a glass of wine while we wait, or perhaps you would like something stronger?”

“No, wine will do.”

The Captain and I sat drinking our wine, engaged in inane conversation while the other passengers were being served. Several minutes passed; then there was a hush in the room as the other passengers ceased eating-ceased their conversations. The Captain rose from his seat. “Here they are.”

Standing, I turned my head, looking toward the door. Aristodes, having just entered the dining room, turned to offer his arm to his daughter. She was dressed in a gown of royal purple. Above the cleft of her breasts hung a large oval shaped diamond-the largest diamond that I’d ever seen. It’s deep blue color matched her eyes. With her hand on her father’s arm, she seemed to glide across the floor toward our table. The other passengers may have been staring at the diamond, but I saw only her.

“Mr. Aristodes-Miss Aristodes. Have you met Mr. Abernathy?”

“Yes, we’ve already had that pleasure,” said Aristodes. He sat down to my left. The Captain pulled back the chair across from me for Isisandra. Sitting down, she flashed me a smile-at least I hoped it were directed to me.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Abernathy,” said the Captain. I had remained standing-staring at her.

After exchanging the usual pleasantries, Aristodes, looking at me, asked, “Is this your first trip to Cairo, Mr. Abernathy?”

“Yes, it is-and you, Mr. Aristodes, have you been there before?”

“Oh, yes. We live in Cairo now. I have extensive business interests there. Is your trip for business, pleasure-or for some other purpose?”

I hesitated, then repeated my lie about being in the import-export business.

“A tradesman? Somehow you didn’t strike me as a tradesman, Mr. Abernathy.”

I wanted to blurt out that I wasn’t; I didn’t want Isisandra to think poorly of me. “I’m a second son, Mr. Aristodes. My brother inherited the family estates-and title.”

“Oh, your father is dead?”

“Yes-and what kind of business interests do you have in Cairo, Mr. Aristodes?” I wanted to change the subject before I was caught in my lies.

“Various interests, including import-export. I’ll have my man bring you a card with the name of someone for you to contact. We might be able to make mutually agreeable business arrangements.”

“Oh, father,” said Isisandra, placing her hand on his, “no business at the table, please.”

“Of course, my dear. I apologize, Mr. Abernathy. That was rude of me. There will be ample time to discuss such matters.”

“Do you like living in Cairo, Miss Aristodes?” I asked.

“Cairo is my home. I’ve lived there since I was ten years-old.”

“Then you speak the language?”

“Yes,” she said smiling.

“Isisandra speaks ten languages,” said her father, “all fluently.”

Intelligent as well a beautiful. I wasn’t in favor of women receiving too much education, but, in her case, it was a fault that I could forgive.

“I trust your accommodations are comfortable?” asked Captain Insell.

“They are-uh-adequate,” responded Aristodes.

“And yours, Mr. Abernathy?”

“They are adequate, Captain.” They hardly were, but I didn’t want to seem less gracious than Aristodes. “Why will the trip to Cairo take so long?

“We have to call at several Mediterranean ports before continuing to Cairo.”

Polite conversation continued during dinner. At times, I had difficulty responding to questions directed to me, so distracted was I by Isisandra’s presence. When dinner was concluded, Aristodes asked, “Mr. Abernathy could I prevail on you to escort my daughter to her cabin? I have some business to discuss with Captain Insell.”

I readily-no, eagerly-agreed. “Of course, Mr. Aristodes. I would be honored to be further graced by your daughter’s company,” then standing, I walked around to Isisandra’s chair, bowed, saying, “Miss Aristodes,” pulled out her chair and offered her my arm. “Good night, Gentlemen.”

I followed her out the door and onto the deck. It was a moonless night, offset by the most brilliant display of stars that I’d ever seen. I immediately looked for my star-Pollux. I pointed it out to Isisandra, then told her the story: My father, earlier than I could remember had pointed out the twin stars telling John and me that Castor and Pollux, being twins, were our stars. John had eagerly chosen Castor as his, since it was the first mentioned, but I later found out that the twins were only half brothers. They shared the same mother, Leda, but had different fathers. Castor’s father was Tyndareus, a king of Sparta, but the father of Pollux was none other than Zeus, a God. I never let John forget that he had chosen one with a mortal father while mine was the son of a God.

“So, you have a brother?” asked Isisandra. When I answered that I did, she asked, “Where is he?”

“As Pollux lost Castor, I’ve lost my brother. I seek him, even unto Hades.” Thinking of the heat of Egypt-perhaps, like Pollux, I was descending into Hell to find my brother.

Saying no more of my brother, she looked up at the sky. “Those are my stars-Cassiopeia”

“If I could, I would pluck them from the sky and place them in your hair-there to shine brighter than diamonds-yet diminished by your beauty.”

“You are most forward, Mr. Abernathy.”

“Robert-please call me Robert.” I could not have her continue to call me by a name that I had assumed.

“You are so beautiful-Isisandra. May I call you Isisandra?”

“Well, if I am to call you Robert, but only when we’re alone. My father-I’m afraid- would not think it proper. And...Robert, you, too, are beautiful. I could almost believe that you are the son of Zeus.” She raised her face to mine. I kissed her-a chaste kiss that soon became passionate. Turning her head to the side, she broke it off all too soon. “Oh...Robert, you take my breath away. Maybe you should take me to my cabin, now.”

Her maid was waiting for her in her cabin so, bowing over Isisandra’s hand, I kissed it and bid her a “good night.” Returning to my cabin, I lay, dressed, on my bed-unable to sleep-thinking not of John, not of Julianne, only of Isisandra. It was almost dawn before I was lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the ship.

I saw Isisandra during the next week, but never alone. The Aristodes and I shared the Captain’s table every night despite complaints voiced by the other passengers, especially the Mardsens. I occasionally saw her on deck, but she was always accompanied by either her maid or her father. Although I was becoming frantic to see her alone, I could think of no way to accomplish it. Then, one night at dinner, Isisandra arrived without her father-accompanied by his servant. “My father sends his regrets. He does not feel well tonight.”

“Nothing serious, I hope,” said the Captain. “Although we have no doctor on board, the third mate has had some training in medicine.”

“No, Captain. It’s not serious. My father is not a good sailor. The rough seas of late have caused him some discomfort. He prefers to lie in bed. I’ve asked that he be sent some hot soup.”

“If you would like to dismiss your servant,” I suggested, “I would be glad to escort you back to your cabin.” Her father’s man was standing beside the door.

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Abernathy.” Raising her hand slightly, she beckoned her servant, then spoke to him in Arabic. He bowed, then left the room.

To this day, I have no recollection of what we had for dinner. All I could think of was that I would be alone with Isisandra. After excusing ourselves, Isisandra and I walked onto the deck. The sky was overcast and there was a slight mist. Draping my cloak over her bare shoulders, I attempted to kiss her. “No, Robert. Not here. We might be seen. Is there not someplace we could go?”

“My cabin is nearby.” The entrance to my cabin was on the opposite side of the ship from the dining room in the same superstructure, while her cabin was farther aft, next to her father’s in a separate superstructure. They were separated by the ship’s funnel. “I have some good wine. We could have a glass.”

Looking up into my eyes, she smiled and said, “Yes, that would be nice.”

I had my key in my hand as we approached my cabin, glanced fore and aft, determined that no one was about, unlocked the door, and quickly escorted Isisandra inside. Isisandra, tall at about 5’9”, cleared the doorway, but since I am 6’2”, I had to stoop to enter. I took my cloak from her shoulders, throwing it across a chair. Then, looking into her eyes, my hands on her shoulders, I asked, “Did you want some wine?”

“No,” she said. We kissed.

Our tongues parried-explored one another’s mouths. I wanted her-had to have her. Right or wrong-what was proper-no longer mattered. Possessing her was all that did. I fumbled at her bodice attempting to unlace it. I expected her to push me away. I don’t know what I would have done if she had-possibly taken her by force. I was no longer sane-no longer human. I was a rutting beast, possessed by my desires, my need for her. At that moment I would have fought-would have killed another man, if he had come between us. Then I felt a most exquisite sensation. Her hand-through my trousers-rubbed my cock. Suddenly, like a callow youth with a woman for the first time, I came. I felt the warmth of my seed spurting forth. My eyes rolled back into my head. I moaned. I was embarrassed that I had had so little control, but with the expelling of my come, reason returned. She must have felt the throbbing of my cock-or the wetness of my come, because she said, “Excited, Robert?”

My face reddened, but without saying anything further, she dropped her other hand to my belt and used both to undo my belt and the buttons of my trousers, then pulled them down. My cock was again hard. It sprang upward slapping against my stomach when she pulled down my underwear, releasing it. “Robert, it is so...big.”

I pulled her down onto the bed-pulled up her dress-was fumbling with her undergarments. Although no longer beyond all reason, I wanted her-more than I had ever wanted a woman. I wanted to drive my cock into her. “Wait, Robert,” she said. “Not like that. Not with such haste. Lie still. Let me.”

She rolled me over onto my back where I lay with my pants down around my knees, my cock pointing toward my head, throbbing. Come was matted in the hair of my bush. She kissed my stomach, then pulled my trousers down over my feet, sliding off my shoes as she did. After telling me to raise my hands, she pulled my shirt up over my head. I lay on the bed, naked. She was still fully clothed. “Lie there for a moment, Robert. I want to look at you.” Then after moments of silence, while she gazed at my body, running her hands over my chest, over my arms, my shoulders, my abdomen, my thighs, my legs, touching me everywhere, but where I most wanted to be touched-my cock-she said, “You truly are a god, Robert. Even this,” now, touching my cock, “is godly.” I almost came again.

“I want you, Isisandra. I must have you.”

“In time, Robert. Patience.” She began loosening her bodice.

Entranced, I watched as she undid the laces, exposing more and more of her breasts as the top of her gown spread apart. Eventually only the tips, the nipples, remained hidden. I reached for them-wanting to hold then-to bury my face between them, but she pushed me away. “Not yet.”

Standing beside the bed, she smiled at me, then let her dress fall. Except for an undergarment, pantaloons from her waist to her ankles, she was naked. Her bare breasts, proudly thrust out from her chest, the areolas about the size of half crowns with erect nipples protruding from them. Then, bending over as she did, she pushed the pantaloons down over her hips, slowly, tantalizingly, revealing-first just a fine line of black hair that crept toward her navel, then just a hint-a shadow-of what was to come, the long silky black hair that hid that nether region I so wanted to possess. When the pantaloons were over her hips, she dropped them. They fell to the floor, gathering around her feet. She stepped out of them, naked except for her shoes.

She was beautiful, more beautiful than I could have imagined. Tall, she was long of leg, and short waisted. Her stomach was flat. She wasn’t fashionably plump as many women were. Her hips. though somewhat boyish, were ample, her ass, was prominent.

She leaned over the bed, placing her hands on my arms, pinning me to the bed. She was unusually strong. I could feel her strength. “First, you must know-I’m a virgin. I can give myself to only one man. We can give each other pleasure, but, until I know you are that man, that one thing-we can not do.”

“But...I love you, Isisandra.” I would have said anything, done anything to have had her.

“And-I believe that I love you, Robert; but, it’s too soon. If you truly love me, you will wait.”

“But, how can I pleasure you?”

“You have more than a cock-you also have a tongue. I have a flower that needs the moisture from your mouth, the ministration of your tongue. Worship it, and I will, in turn, minister to you.”

I had never pleasured a woman. I had fucked my share, but had never been concerned with their enjoyment of the act. Women, to me, to society, were to satisfy men-not to be satisfied. I wasn’t sure what I was to do, but, at that point, I was her slave. I would have done anything. “What do you want me to do?”

“Above my cunt-that part of me which you so much desire, there’s a blossom-a flower that, as a bud, hides within its sepal until stimulated-and you have stimulated mine. It is in full bloom. Kiss my blossom-tenderly, but firmly. Lick it. Run your tongue into my cunt.”

Sliding down her body, placing my arms under her legs, I pulled her

toward me. There was a slight musky, but pleasant, smell to her which excited me all the more. With my tongue, I opened the gateway to her garden; I found her flower. She moaned, arching her back, thrusting her pelvis upward, “Harder,” she said.

I licked it, applying as much pressure as I could with my tongue. It was larger than I would have supposed, perhaps three-eighths of an inch long. I flipped it with my tongue, placed my lips around it. “Faster,” she said, “faster-harder.”

Suddenly she stiffened, screamed, shuddered, then moaned, “Oh-oh-oh,” grinding her flower into my mouth. Then with one last scream and a shudder, she collapsed onto the bed-limp with her eyes closed. If it had not been for the rise and fall of her chest, I would have thought she was dead.

I slid forward, supporting myself above her on my elbows. Seemingly on its own my cock sought out her cunt. Hesitating at the entrance, it was about to enter that forbidden garden when, stirring, she placed a hand over it, slamming shut the gate. Then with the other hand she began pumping my cock. Although it wasn’t what I wanted, I gave myself to the sensation. I began kissing her-her mouth, her neck, and her breasts. It wasn’t long before I came again, this time spurting my seed onto her stomach. I thought that it would never end. I moaned like a woman. I collapsed on top of her, but she rolled me over onto my back. Still grasping my now flaccid cock, she said, “It’s not so proud now-nor so large.” Come dripped from her stomach onto the bed. “You’ve made a mess of me, Robert.” Her smile, however, told me that she had not said it in anger.

Rising from the bed, she walked over to the small dresser where a pitcher of water was secured. She poured some into a small basin; then picking up a small towel, began washing herself off. I watched her, still hungering for the sight of her. She displayed no embarrassment or modesty as she washed my come from her body. Having never seen a proper gentlewoman behave so, I asked, “You say you’re a virgin, yet you...” I didn’t know how to continue.

“I what, Robert, behave like a whore?”

“No, it’s just that for someone who has no experience with sex you seem awfully-well-comfortable with it.”

“I said that I was a virgin. I never said that I had never had any experience with sex.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was raised in a culture much different from yours, Robert. Women are kept separate from men-at least from whole men.”

“Whole men?”

“We are kept secluded, in what I guess you would call harems, although my father had only one wife, my mother. We are attended, however, by males-eunuchs, who, although unable to have intercourse, are able to pleasure a woman in other ways.”

“Eunuchs-you mean they’ve been...castrated?”

Walking over to the bed, clad only in her shoes, which she had never taken off, she leaned over, reached down, lifted my balls with one hand, holding them as if weighing them. “Yes, they no longer have these, or,” dropping my balls, grasping my cock, which began to stir-to grow, “this.”

I wasn’t able to ask her any more questions because, leaning over farther, she licked the head of my cock. Eunuchs no longer concerned me; my only concern was what she was doing to my cock. She took the entire head into her mouth, pumping the shaft with her hand as she did, nibbling slightly on it with her teeth. The sensation was delicious. Before long, I came again-this time into her mouth. She swallowed it all, wiping her mouth afterward, smiling. “An unusual taste. I think that I like it.”

“You’ve never done that before?”

“No, you’re the first whole man I’ve ever been with.”

It had all been almost too much for me to assimilate: eunuchs; a virgin who was so knowledgeable about sex-so skilled at pleasing a man, yet so demanding about her own pleasure. For the first time in my life, I had given control to someone else. She was master, I, her servant-yet I wasn’t certain that I wanted it otherwise.

“It’s late, Robert. Get dressed. I must go. You must walk me to my cabin.”

Obediently, I arose from the bed, used her towel to clean myself, dressed, then watched her put on her clothes. First, stepping into her pantaloons, she pulled them up, slowing as they reached her cunt, obscuring the entrance to her garden as slowly as she had revealed it. I was hard again. Looking at my crotch, she smiled, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, then pulled the pantaloons up, fastening them around her waist; reaching down again, she pulled up her dress and laced up the bodice. I had stood, watching it all-mesmerized.

Placing my cloak once again about her shoulders, I walked her to her cabin-in silence. There was so much I wanted to say, but my thoughts were all jumbled-confused. I wanted her-more than ever, but she was such an alien creature, so different from any woman I’d ever known.

At her door, I asked, “Will I see you again?”

“Of course you will, Robert. It’s a small ship.”

“You’re teasing me. You know what I mean.”

“Do you still want to...see me again?”

“Yes,” I practically shouted. “I very much want to see you again.”

“Then, you shall.”

She offered me her hand, which I kissed; then she shut the door. I stood for several moments staring at the closed door before returning to my cabin. Lying in bed, I did something I had not done for a very long time. Taking my cock in my hand, I relieved myself, pumping my come onto my stomach-thinking about her.

The sea having calmed during the night and the next day, Aristodes was at the Captain’s table the night following my liaison with his daughter. She was proper and formal, addressing me as “Mr. Abernathy,” as if nothing had occurred between us. Knowing that I couldn’t have her that night, I wanted her all the more.

The next night we docked in Barcelona, Spain. She, her father, and servants left the ship; she gave me only the barest of glances as she did. We were to be there five days. Although I was sure that the Aristodes were continuing to Cairo, I nervously asked the Captain if they were. He assured me that they were visiting friends and would be returning to the ship before our departure.

Taking lodging in town, I wondered aimlessly about. I missed her more than I could have imagined. Other than to France, it was the first time I had been abroad, but nothing had any interest for me. I spent most of the days in my room. Finally, on the day of our departure, I returned early to the ship, then waited on deck for them to return.

On the dock, workers began casting off the lines. They hadn’t returned. Frantically, I sought out the steward. “The Aristodes-they haven’t returned?”

“Yes, sir, they came aboard last night.”

I wanted to rush to her cabin, but thought better of it. Dinner was in two hours I could see her then. I went to my cabin and dressed for dinner, then lay on my bed, or paced my cabin until it was time.

I arrived early. The tables were still being set. Neither the Captain or any of the passengers had yet arrived, so I went back on deck and stood by the rail. The weather was fair-the seas calm. I supposed that I wouldn’t have the opportunity to be alone with her that night. I was still standing at the rail when the Captain walked up on his way to the dining room. “Good evening, Mr. Abernathy. Did you enjoy your stay in Barcelona?”

“I’m eager to get to Cairo. As far as I’m concerned, it was time wasted.”

“That’s unfortunate. Barcelona is an attractive city.”

“Will the Aristodes be joining us for dinner tonight?”

“I believe that Miss Aristodes will. Mr. Aristodes had urgent business in Madrid. He will be continuing to Cairo on another ship.”

“She’ll be traveling with only the servants?”

“Actually, Mr. Aristodes’ man remained with him. Two other men in Mr. Aristodes’ employ have joined us. They are-you might say-bodyguards for Miss Aristodes, although, since this ship is owned by Mr. Aristodes, there is no need.”

“This ship is owned by Aristodes?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I thought you knew. Egyptian Star Lines is owned by Mr. Aristodes’ company.”

I had known that Aristodes must be wealthy, if for no other reason than the size of the diamond that Isisandra wore on the first night, but he was apparently more wealthy than I had thought. I followed the Captain into the dining room.

We had been seated for about ten minutes when Isisandra entered the dining room with two swarthy men, who took a seat at a small table by the door. She walked up to me, offering me her hand. “Mr. Abernathy. I’m delighted to see you again.”

“And, I, you, Miss Aristodes.” I kissed her hand.

“Captain,” she said, taking her seat.

While dining, I said, “I understand that your father has left the ship.”

“Yes, he had business in Madrid. He’ll proceed by another ship.”

“I shall miss his company.” Of course, I wouldn’t. I would possibly have more opportunity to be alone with Isisandra. Toward the end of dinner, I said, “It’s a lovely evening, Miss Aristodes. Would you care to take a stroll on deck after dinner?”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Abernathy. I would.”

She called over her bodyguards, saying something to them in Arabic. They argued briefly, but left after she had spoken to them commandingly. Taking our leave of the Captain, we strolled onto deck.

“God, Isisandra, I missed you. It was the longest five days of my life.”

Looking up at me, she said, “I, too, missed you.”

“Come to my cabin.” I wanted her. I felt that I must have her-all of her. The other, as delectable as it had been, wasn’t enough. I wanted to possess her-to make her mine.

“I don’t think that would be wise, Robert. I told you that I would only give myself fully to one man.”

“But, we can do no more than we did before.” I was lying. I knew that I was, but I had to get her to my cabin.”

“Could you really stop yourself this time? You would have had me the last time, if I hadn’t stopped you.”

Recalling how she had placed her hand over her vagina, preventing the insertion of my penis, my face reddened. “Please, Isisandra. I promise to restrain myself.

“It’s not entirely you that I worry about, Robert. I’m not certain that I could restrain myself.”

“But, I...I love you.”

“And, I love you, Robert, but love is not enough. As I told you I can give myself to only one man.”

“Then, I’ll marry you, Isisandra.” At that moment, I think I believed it.

“Are you sure? Think it over, Robert. Are you certain that you want to marry me. I’m not English. I’m not a member of the aristocracy.”

Not a member of the aristocracy? At the time, I thought nothing about it. It was only later that the statement had any significance. I was, after all, traveling as a commoner.

“How could I not wish to marry you? You are so beautiful. I’ve never know a woman such as you.”

She laughed. “Yes, of that, I am certain.”

“Will you come to my cabin?”

“No-but you may come to mine.”

“What about your...bodyguards?”

“You needn’t worry about them. They obey me.”

“But, your father. Mightn’t they tell your father?”

“You did say that you would marry me, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you meant it?” she asked.

“Of course, I meant it.”

Did I-even at the time? I don’t know. All I knew was that I wanted her. She was like a prize racehorse-one that I had to own. That she was a virgin added to her allure. I would be the first, and, if what she had said were true, the only man she would ever have. Did I love her? I wanted her. I lusted for her. I felt more emotion for her than I ever had for any woman, but love-for a woman? I had loved my father. In spite of everything, I loved my brother. My mother had died when I was born. I had never known a woman’s love.

“Then, come to my cabin.”

“And, your father?”

“Let me worry about my father.”

We walked to her cabin. It was twice the size of mine. Her maid was there-waiting-but, Isisandra dismissed her, showing no concern that the maid should know that I would be alone with her. After the door closed behind her, Isisandra turned to me. “Kiss me, Robert.”

Placing my arms around her waist, I drew her to me. She placed one hand at the back of my neck pressing my lips to hers. Our tongues met-danced-probed. I explored her mouth, running my tongue over her perfect teeth. I imagined that I could feel the whiteness of them. Her lips were full, soft, cushioning my mouth against hers. Again, I fumbled at her bodice. This time she let me. Unlacing it, I slid her gown over her shoulders. She stood, patiently, clad only in her pantaloons, her dress had slid to the floor, gathering around her feet in a mound. I kissed her breasts-each of them in turn-before continuing, working my way lower to her navel. I loosened the ties of her pantaloons, lowering them slowly as my kisses follow their downward progress to the top of the hair around her cunt, then lower. Kneeling now, I placed my hands on her buttocks, drawing her to me, my nose nestled in her silky hair. My tongue found the entrance to her garden-found her flower. She gasped, then moaned, pressing her pelvis into my face. Lifting her by her ass, keeping my face pressed into her cunt, I placed her on the bed, continuing to minister to her blossom. Then I withdrew to stand, leaving her writhing on the bed; her eyes were closed. Then she opened them, held her hands out to me, beckoning me, imploring me to come to her, but this time I was in control. Knowing that I could have her, gave me power. Oh, I wanted her-as much as ever-but there was the matter of my pride. She had dominated me before. It was my turn to dominate her.

Removing my shirt, I cupped my left breast with my right hand-squeezed it-then dropped my hand to my belt, loosening it, unbuttoned my pants, dropped them and my underwear to the floor, stepped out of my shoes, to stand before her naked. She continued to beckon. “Come to me,” she said.

I crawled onto the bed on my hands and knees, working my way from her feet, slowly toward her head. I kissed the inner part of her thighs, slowly approaching her cunt. I licked it, paused to minister once again to her flower, then continued upward, once again kissing her navel-her breasts. When I reached her mouth, I plunged my finger into her vagina. Opening her eyes, she gasped. It was tight. I could believe that she was a virgin. Kissing her, I continued to loosen her cunt while rubbing her clitoris. “Now,” she said, “now.”

My cock found her cunt-the entrance to her garden. Through it, I could feel the warmth, the moisture, of it. The head of my cock, upon entering, encountered a barrier, a restriction. I applied more pressure. Suddenly, accompanied by a scream from Isisandra, it plunged into her. My pelvis met hers. I felt a warm wetness at my groin. Arching her back, her thrusts met mine. All too soon, I came. It felt as if my life, my existence, were pumping into her. Every part of my body was having an orgasm. I lost all awareness of time, of self. I became one with her-with God-with the universe. I collapsed onto the bed beside her-barely conscious-unable to move.

When I opened my eyes, she was standing over me with a knife. Blood was on her groin-on mine. Remembering the eunuchs, my hand went to my groin. Everything was intact. The blood was hers-the symbol of her lost virginity. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’ve already collected some of my blood.” She showed me a cup containing some of her blood-blood from her broken hymen. “Now, I need some of yours.”

Blood, from where? One hand covered my genitals, but, taking my other hand, she slit the palm, draining my blood into the cup, mixing it with hers. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Completing the ceremony-our wedding ceremony.”

Taking the cup of blood she walked over to a corner of the room where there was a small shrine. A statue of a woman with a child at her breast stood before a small brazier which was aflame. Holding the cup over the flame, she recited an incantation in a strange tongue, then poured the blood onto the flame. A brilliant flash lit the room. “Now,” she said, “we are forever bound.”

“The statue,” I asked, “who is it of?”

“The mother of God,” she answered.

At the time I thought that she was referring to Mary, the mother of Jesus. I assumed that she was a Christian-though of the Greek Orthodox faith, which, like the Roman Catholic faith, with all its idolatry, was little better than paganism. The ceremony and the shrine, however, reminded me of the differences between us. I remembered also that I’d told her that I would marry her, but, suddenly I remembered Julianne, my fiancee. I was already engaged to someone who would be a proper match for one of my position. That I didn’t love Julianne, was of no consequence. I had never had illusions about marrying for love.

Having fucked Isisandra had made a difference. I had possessed her; I had been the first; I would have been the envy of any man. It’s not that I no longer wanted Isisandra-I did. She was still the most beautiful woman that I’d ever known, and, before her-compared to her-sex with other women had been little better than masturbation-but marriage? A mistress...perhaps she could become my mistress. I could buy her a house near mine. I had money. I could provide for her-almost as well as her father could. All these thoughts flooded my mind as I reached for her again.

“No, Robert, not tonight. I need to clean myself, and there are other things-certain rituals that I must perform. Please go. I will see you tomorrow.” Her tone left no room for discussion. Puzzled, but thinking that she probably wished to take some kind of precautions to prevent a child, I dressed and left, returning to my cabin, where I lay for much of the night thinking about what had occurred and about what I would do.

After that night, she made no attempt to hide our relationship. It was as if we were already married. As Robert Abernathy, on a foreign ship, surrounded by strangers, it was of little consequence; it would have been different if we had been in England. Then, one night, after loving each other, I asked, “Where in Greece are you from?”

“Greece, Robert, I’ve never lived in Greece. I was born in Alexandria.”

“Your father, then, he’s from Greece?”

“No, our family has lived in Egypt for over two thousand years. We are descended from the Ptolomy’s”

Egyptians? Even if descended from the Ptolomy’s, they were Egyptians-wogs. If I’d known that, I would have never considered marriage-mentioned it to her. It was out of the question. She would have never been accepted by my peers. From that moment, I began distancing myself from her, preparing myself for the inevitable break, because a break there must be. By then, by her actions, by her remarks, I knew that she would never accept the role of my mistress. She noticed; I’m certain that she did; but she said nothing. At last, we arrived in Cairo.

We met on deck. “Well, Robert, what now?”

“I must look for my brother.” I had thought little of him during the voyage.

“No, I mean-what about us?”

“I’m sorry, Isisandra. I can’t marry you. We are too different. Our marriage would never be accepted in England. We would be ostracized by my society, but, if you wish to return to England with me, you can be my mistress. I would provide for you.”

“Your mistress?” She spat out the word. “Do you think that I would share you with another woman? I warned you, Robert, that you must be certain before making love to me-that I could have only one man. I have your child, Robert-your son-growing inside of me.”

It had been scarcely two weeks since we had first made love. Surely she couldn’t have been certain that she was pregnant, much less that she would have a boy. Perhaps you’re mistaken,” I said.

“No, I knew from the first time your seed filled me that it had taken-that I would have your son.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“There are ancient ways-ancient powers-of which you know nothing.”

Even if what she said were true, he would be the bastard get of an Egyptian woman. I could never acknowledge him. “If it’s true, I’ll provide for him, of course.”

“But, would you acknowledge him as your son?” Looking away, I didn’t reply.

We parted on the dock. “Remember what I said, Robert. We are forever bound.” Her two bodyguards entered her carriage last. Both looked back at me-malevolently, I thought.

I had reservations at the Alexandria Hotel. It catered primarily to Europeans. After the cramped cabin on the Bristol Star, my suite seemed luxurious. I even had a bath. After a night’s rest, I intended to begin my search for John-but where would I start? Now that I was in Cairo, I was afraid that my trip had been in vain-in vain, that is, as an attempt to find John, but my experience with Isisandra was one I would not have forsaken, even if we did so bitterly part. I supposed that I would begin my search the next day by visiting the British embassy.

After I revealed my identity, I met with our ambassador. I explained to him that I was traveling incognito because, if I had revealed my true identity and that I was searching for my brother, I would have attracted every thief and extortionist in Cairo, each providing a false lead to his whereabouts in an attempt to extract money from me. I showed him the letter that I had received and the lotus blossom petal, explaining to him what it was. It provided him no clue, however, since lotus blossoms were not native to Egypt. He had heard nothing of my brother. It was as if he had never existed. “I’m sorry, Lord Melville,” he said, “we check regularly with the police. They have heard nothing of your brother.”

“Is there nothing that I can do?”

“Well, there is a man...”

“Yes-yes, please go on,” I pleaded.

“He is an Englishman-but of a disreputable nature. We suspect that he has been involved in criminal activities, but have never been able to prove it. He may have connections which could provide you with information about your brother.”

“What’s his name?”

“Peter Donovan. If we can locate him, I’ll have him call on you at your hotel. Be careful, though. I wouldn’t trust the man.”

Leaving the embassy, I wandered around Cairo. As I had expected, most of the men wore robes with either a fez or other head dress of some kind. After having known Isisandra, who had dressed as would any European woman, I hadn’t known what to expect of the women. Covered head to toe with veils across their faces, they were nothing like Isisandra. Whereas one could not help but notice her, these women were practically invisible. It was two days before I heard from Donovan.

“’Allo, guvnor, my name is Peter Donovan. Pleased ter meet yer.” He was a wiry little man about 5’2” or 5’3” tall. He kept shifting his gaze to one side or the other, never looking me in the eye. I didn’t trust him, but felt that I had little choice. No other options for finding my brother were available.

“Mr. Donovan.” I nodded, but didn’t shake his outstretched hand. “I’m told that you might be able to help me.”

“How may I ‘elp yer, sir?”

“I’m looking for my brother. He’s disappeared-been missing for over seven months now.”

“Did ‘e turn up missin’ ‘ere in Cairo?”

I showed him the letter.

That don’t tell us much, right, guvnor. Wot does ‘e ‘ave a look like, then, guv? Tell me a wee bit about ‘im.

“He’s my twin. He looks exactly like me.”

“Then, right, if 'e's still in Cairo, he shouldn't be too 'ard ter find. Yer can't 'ave a knees-up wivout a joanna. There ain't too many gents that will 'ave a look like that. But, ffen guv, there's the matter of brass. This may be a wee expensive.”

“How expensive, Mr. Donovan?”

“Let's say-a fousand quid.”

“A thousand? That’s robbery, Donovan.”

“Well, right, guv, if yer 'ad any uvver choice, I don't guess yer'd be goin' on ter me, right, now, right, would yer?”

No, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t have chosen Donovan. “All right, Donovan, I’ll give you half now and the other half when you find my brother.”

“No, sir, guv. Yer don't understand. I want a fousand now and, if I find yor bruvver alive, anuvver five fousand then.”

“Five thousand! That’s ridiculous.”

“Take it or leave it, guv.”

As he had said. I had no other choice. I gave him a draft for a thousand pounds. “I expect my money’s worth, Donovan.”

“I expect that yer'll cop it, guvnor.” It was a week before I heard from him again.

“I might 'ave a lead on yor bruvver.”

“You found him? He’s alive? He’s all right?”

“Now, right, slow dahn, guv. I didn't say that I'd found 'im. I said that I might 'ave a lead.”

“What do you mean, a lead?”

“I found some bloke that recognized the picture of 'im that yer gave me.”

“Who is it. What’s his name?”

“Well, right, it ain't a man, guv. It's a tart.”

“A woman-a lady?”

“Well, right, I wouldn't exactly call 'er a lady, Sir. She works in a nightclub.”

“How would some woman that works in a nightclub know my brother?”

“Do yer right need me ter explain that ter yer, guv, then, eh, guv? 'ow do yer fink that a bint like that would cop to know a man?”

It was appalling to think that John had dealt with a woman who worked in a night club, one who was probably no better than a whore, but, how well did I actually know John, and, besides, I had commerce with one such as Donovan. Perhaps it was other than it first appeared. “I’ll notify the police. They’ll provide us with protection.”

“No-no, yer'll queer it if there's any bobbies 'round. She said that yer 'ad ter come alone.”

“But, I don’t like the idea of going there without protection.”

“Well, yer'll 'ave me wiv yer, won't yer, guv?” Looking at the scrawny little man standing before me, I wondered how much protection he would be. Apparently guessing my thoughts, he said, “Don't let me size fool yer, guv. I've dealt wiv these wogs for fifteen years now.”

I had little choice. This was the first lead that I’d had about John. It was imperative that I follow it. “Where are we going and at what time?”

“Sorry, sir, I can't take the bloody chance that yer'll tell any fairy. I 'ave ter live 'ere. If bobbies show up, I'll cop my froat slit. I'll pick yer up 'ere at the bleedin' hotel at nine o'clock. We'll go there from 'ere.” Since he gave me no choice, I agreed.

He met me in the lobby promptly at 9:00 PM. From the hotel we took a carriage to a Chinese section of town. Leaving the carriage, we began walking through narrow streets, many of them too narrow for a carriage. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“Well, right, I guess it don't 'urt none ter tell yer now. We're gonna a club called the Lotus Blossom.”

“What did you say? The name of the club. What did you say was the name of the Club?”

“The bloomin' Lotus Blossom. Queer name, right, ain't it?" I hadn’t shown him the lotus blossom petal, nor mentioned it to him. Perhaps this was a lead to John’s disappearance.

We wound through narrow streets until I was hopelessly lost. There were no landmarks. Most streets were lined by continuous walls inset with doorways or passages. Each street was identical-at least to my untrained eye-to another. Finally we came to a doorway. Beside it, projecting into the narrow street was a sign with the painting of a flower and words in Chinese, Arabic, and English. In English, they said, “The Lotus Blossom.” Donovan knocked at the door. Almost immediately a small window inset into the door opened; words were exchanged; the door opened.

To be continued...