0 comments/ 6363 views/ 0 favorites Ancì By: ULISSE Souk al-Mehl, il vecchio mercato del sale, era, come sempre, affollatissimo, non si riusciva a comprendere cosa facesse, dove andasse, quel fiume di gente indaffarata. Vagavo, senza una destinazione precisa, senza uno scopo, in attesa di avere la risposta che attendevo. Malgrado l'ora, il clima era accettabile. Gli oltre 2300 metri sul mare, ai piedi del Gebel Nuqum. rendevano il posto serat, luogo fresco. L'appuntamento era fissato per il pomeriggio, prima dell'ora del tè. In ogni caso, era preferibile tornare in albergo, pranzare, e mettersi a leggere il giornale, aspettando l'incaricato dell'agenzia. A volte, non é facile intendersi, specie quando uno vuole venderti una cosa che tu non desideri, in luogo di quella di cui hai bisogno. Gli avevo spiegato che non m'interessava raggiungere Hodeida, dovevo e volevo andare ad Aden. Se lui non aveva la possibilità di provvedere a un idoneo mezzo di trasporto, avrei cercato altrove. No, non intendevo avvalermi dell'aereo, dovevo svolgere il mio programma, e nelle mie corrispondenze non mi proponevo di descrivere cose non viste direttamente. D'accordo, sapevo anch'io che in alcuni articolisti prevaleva la fantasia, tanto più che la maggior parte dei lettori non aveva elementi per distinguere il vero dall'immaginario, ma il primo ad essere interessato al de visu ero io stesso. Sapevo bene, inoltre, che la minaccia di rivolgermi altrove non avrebbe potuto aver seguito, perché quel tipo d'arrangiamento era prerogativa di un ben identificato monopolio. Non intendevo, comunque, cambiare programma. Era certamente stimolante imbarcarsi a Hodeida, su uno sciabbecco, sabbak, con equipaggio yemenita, e toccare i vari piccoli porti, interessati a chissà quali traffici, fino a Gibuti, ma io intendevo percorrere una parte del paese, e ad Aden servirmi di uno dei pescherecci locali, per coprire con tutta calma il passaggio dall'Asia all'Africa, attraverso Bab el Mandeb, la porta delle lacrime, dopo aver toccato Perim. Jabal entrò sorridente nella hall, e si diresse subito al bar, dove gli avevo detto che l'avrei atteso. Mi salutò calorosamente e sedette di fronte a me. Gradì una spremuta di pompelmo. Non aveva nessuna fretta, attendeva che fossi io ai chiedergli cosa avesse combinato, per valutare il prezzo del mio nervosismo frettoloso. Gli parlai, invece, delle bellezze ammirate nella sua città, mi soffermai sulle splendide case, alte fino a 20 piani, e come fossi stato attratto da Bab al-Yaman, una delle più belle porte della città, la Porta dello Yemen. Gli dissi di aver comprato una bella riproduzione d'un antico gianbiya, il caratteristico pugnale locale, e una copia, in inglese, della Storia della letteratura, di Ahmad al-Shami. Jabal sorrideva annuendo, e si complimentò per il gianbiya. "Ce ne sono bellissimi esemplari a Ta'izz, la nostra vecchia capitale, centro dell'oreficeria, e lei li potrà ammirare se si contenterà di come ho potuto provvedere al suo viaggio ad Aden." Aveva trovato il modo d'entrare in argomento. Mi spiegò che aveva dovuto lavorare molto per contentarmi, ma grazie al Clementissimo e Misericordioso era riuscito nell'intento. Dovevo, però, viaggiare con un altro passeggero. Non ci sarebbe stato alcun disagio, perché Il Desert Minibus era nuovo e il driver, english speaking, molto bravo. Ancora una piccola cosa, trascurabilissima, era costituita dal fatto che, per esigenze dell'altro passeggero, avremmo fatto un percorso un po' più lungo, ma molto, molto interessante. Due piccole soste, a Dhamar, città dei cavalli, e Ibb, rinomata per i lavori in cuoio, anche per conoscere la gente e gli usi locali, poi pernottamento a Ta'izz. Sia per un controllo meccanico, che per essere sicuri che tutto andava bene. Anche il giorno successivo ci saremmo fermati in quella città che, del resto, aveva un clima discreto, essendo a circa 1500 metri sul mare e non ancora nel tihamah, la zona calda. Le attrattive di Ta'izz valevano bene la giornata. Il mattino successivo, molto presto, si sarebbe ripartiti per Moca, Ash Sha Ab e finalmente, dopo aver rasentato la raffineria di Little Aden, si sarebbe raggiunta Aden, e il centro della città, il crater. Il servizio terminava dinanzi all'albergo. "Lei é molto fortunato, signore, un viaggio meraviglioso, comodo con ottima assistenza, confortevoli punti di sosta e pernottamento, e un prezzo veramente chip." Ma non disse quanto. Sarebbe stata la sorpresa finale, dopo aver scrutato l'espressione del mio volto. Restai impassibile. A bassa voce, bofonchiò una cifra. Finsi di non aver compreso, e chiesi di ripetere la somma, logicamente in dollari. Con tono più alto, mi chiese un certo importo, lievemente minore del precedente. Rilanciai con un forte ribasso e, dopo un paziente tira e molla, concordammo per il sessanta per cento della richiesta iniziale. Pagamento, cinquanta per cento all'atto della partenza, il resto ad Aden, dopo aver raggiunto l'albergo e scaricati i bagagli. Jabal sorrise e si dichiarò sicuro che avrei saputo essere generoso col driver. Gli promisi che ciò sarebbe stato in funzione dei servizi. Eccomi ad Adan, nome arabo di Aden, in pieno tihamah, caldo soffocante. Aden è solo seconda a Massaua in fatto di clima. Un detto locale dice che Aden é una fornace e Massaua l'inferno. Per fortuna, in albergo c'é l'aria condizionata, e funziona. Quando, dopo una doccia ristoratrice, scesi nella hall, al momento in cui riconsegnai la chiave, il portiere dell'albergo, molto gentile, mi chiese se avessi trovato tutto in ordine, e aggiunse che era a mia disposizione per qualsiasi necessità. A titolo di referenza, aggiunse che gli ingegneri europei o americani, spesso ospiti della raffineria, non si erano mai lamentati di nulla, e che la discrezione era la parola d'ordine della casa. Sempre con un sorriso, e quasi per caso, m'indicò un uomo, al bar, vestito abbastanza accuratamente, informandomi che era il comandante d'un piccolo ma modernamente attrezzato peschereccio. Lo ringraziai, con un cenno d'intesa, e andai a sedere sullo sgabello accanto al giovane, che indossava una specie di divisa militare. "Buona sera, lei é italiano?" Ottima pronuncia, un volto abbronzato, sereno, simpatico. "Lei parla bene la mia lingua." "Sono stato imbarcato cinque anni su un peschereccio atlantico che batteva bandiera italiana. Questo, dopo tre anni passati su un analogo natante giapponese." "Adesso?" "Sono tornato in patria, lavoro in proprio, con i miei fratelli e un socio." "Pesca?" "Principalmente. Se capitano, però, anche altri trasporti che richiedono buoni frigoriferi." "Lei é il comandante?" "Si. Ero secondo in Italia, qui ho conseguito il brevetto di lungo corso, come dite voi. So che lei sta raccogliendo elementi per una serie di articoli, vero?" "Esatto, ma come fa a saperlo?" Sorrise. "Le notizie viaggiano più veloci del Minibus." "Sa anche la tratta che m'interessa?" "Noi abbiamo il miglior peschereccio del Mar Rosso e un equipaggio con lunga esperienza sia di navigazione che di pesca, le nostre uscite sono varie. A volte andiamo di fronte, a Mitsiwa, Massaua, a Nora, a Dahlac Chebìr, e scendiamo fino ad Assab e Gibuti. Altre volte andiamo a Barim, Perim, attraversiamo la porta delle lacrime, Bab el Mandeb, per Gibuti, o percorriamo altre rotte. Sempre avvolti dal caldo, spesso anche dal Khamsìn." "Quando andrete a Perim e Gibuti?" "Dopodomani." "Posto per me?" "La cabina degli ospiti. Tavola comune." "Prezzo?" "Io chiedo il giusto, senza contrattare. A Gibuti posso procurare, se necessita, un'ottima Land Cruiser, con autista che parla anche Italiano. Durata del viaggio da Aden a Gibuti, compresa sosta a Perim, tre giorni. Prezzo duecento dollari USA." "D'accordo." "Imbarco, domani sera, dopo cena. A proposito, a bordo non si mangia carne, solo pesce fresco, riso, cuscus con pesce, acqua minerale, succhi di frutta in scatola, banane. Devo comprare carne in scatola?" "No, grazie, solo un po' di pane di grano, se possibile." "Certo. Vengo domani sera." "Non vuole farmi compagnia, a cena?" "Ho la mia famiglia che mi attende, moglie e tre figli. A domani sera." Salutò e andò via. Non gli avevo chiesto neppure il nome della nave. Lo domandai al portiere, e venni a sapere che era la 'Arabia Felix', il nome era scritto in arabo e in lettere latine. L'indomani, di buon mattino, prima che il sole cominciasse ad infuocare l'aria, un taxi mi condusse al porto. Poco distante dal mercato ittico era attraccato il natante che cercavo. A differenza del resto della flotta peschereccia, era una nave moderna, ben tenuta, pulitissima, sicuramente riverniciata di fresco. I due uomini a bordo, intenti a lavare la tolda, non avevano l'aspetto degli straccioni trasandati che avevo intravisto sugli altri scafi. Evidentemente avvertito da uno degli uomini intenti alle pulizie, comparve il comandante. Mi fece un irreprensibile saluto militare e s'avviò verso la passerella. Scese a terra e s'avvicinò. "Cosa ne dice della mia barca? Soddisfatto dall'ispezione da terra? Perché non sale a bordo? Nel quadrato l'aria é fresca ed abbiamo sempre una limonata in frigo. Venga." Mi lasciò passare, appena misi piede sulla nave disse qualcosa e i due uomini si alzarono e accennarono ad un saluto. M'indicò la strada da seguire. In effetti, nella sala dove mi condusse, l'aria era gradevole, e la limonata dissetava piacevolmente. "Non ho compreso bene il suo nome, comandante." "Forse perché non glielo ho detto, signor Mantovani. Io conosco il suo. Giorgio Mantovani, inviato speciale e scrittore. Mi chiamo Hassan Abdelaziz Ben Alì. Troppo lungo. Quindi sono Hassan, per qualcuno Captain, per molti Agì, il pellegrino, perché sono stato alla Mecca." "Posso chiamarla Captain?" "Se vuole, ma gli amici mi chiamano Hassan." "Bene, Hassan, io sono Giorgio." Ci stringemmo la mano. "Venga, le faccio vedere la sua cabina." Era semplice, pulita, essenziale, con annesso il locale-servizi. Tutto molto funzionale. Il grande oblò affacciava a diritta, verso terra. Tornammo sul ponte, dove la temperatura diveniva sempre più calda. Hassan disse che se avessi portato il bagaglio potevo trattenermi a bordo, in ogni caso, lui sarebbe venuto a rilevarmi in albergo all'ora che avevamo concordato. Aggiunse che mi avrebbe fatto visitare gli impianti di bordo, soprattutto quelli che si riferivano alla congelazione e conservazione del prodotto. Lo ringraziai, complimentandomi per l'imbarcazione e per come era tenuta. Scesi a terra, dove, in un angolo in ombra m'attendeva il taxi, e chiesi di fare un giro in città, di visitare il mercato e poi tornare in albergo. L' 'Arabia Felix' m'aveva piacevolmente sorpreso. Avevo immaginato di dovermi imbarcare su una specie di feluca egiziana o su un maleodorante, sgangherato e rugginoso trabiccolo, poco meno d'un rottame, e invece m'ero trovato di fronte ad una piccola ma moderna imbarcazione per la pesca industriale. Nel caldo pomeriggio ebbi diversi incontri e potei raccogliere molte informazioni utili per il mio lavoro. Stavamo entrando nel golfo di Tadjoura, lasciando a diritta Obock, antica capitale della Somalia Francese, e puntando su Gibuti, Djibouti. Attraccammo ad una delle banchine centrali, con una manovra perfetta. Subito dopo che fu messa la passerella, con passo elastico, salì a bordo una donna e andò subito ad abbracciare Hassan. Abbastanza alta, snella, molto abbronzata, indossava pantaloncini kaki e una camiciola di cotone bianco, con taschini a toppa, abbondantemente scollata. Un cappellino bianco a visiera, e sandali dello stesso colore completavano il tutto. Appesa alla spalla, una piccola borsa porta documenti, di cuoio naturale. Occhiali scuri. Senza trucco. Età difficilmente definibile, intorno ai quaranta. Quando Hassan mi presentò a lei, sorrise con denti d'un candore smagliante, tra le piccole labbra scure, e mi salutò in ottimo italiano. Prima, aveva parlato in arabo. Monique Dubois era proprietaria della MEAC, Monique East Africa Cars. Nata a Gibuti, da padre francese e madre yemenita, scuole in Francia e in Italia. Al ritorno in Africa, aveva iniziato a commerciare con l'Etiopia, Ityopya in amarico, per questo aveva imparato anche alcuni dialetti di quel paese, soprattutto l'amarico, in aggiunta al francese, inglese, arabo, yemenita e italiano. Il commercio s'era trasformato in una fiorente industria di trasporto, che aveva richiesto un notevole impegno economico per l'acquisto d'automezzi d'ogni tipo. Ora, i genitori s'erano stabiliti in Francia, e lei era a capo d'una solida e fiorente azienda che curava personalmente. Le chiesi come potesse conciliare il suo gran lavorare agli impegni di famiglia, e, con un gran sorriso, mi rispose che, dopo un breve e deludente marriage con un ufficiale francese, era divorziata e felicemente single. Andammo a bere una bibita, nel quadrato. Hassan m'informò che Monique sarebbe stata in grado di fornirmi quanto mi occorreva per il mio viaggio ad Addis Abeba, e che le aveva già parlato della mia attività e del mio non voler usare aereo o treno. "Monsieur..." "Giorgio!" "Merci Giorgio. Sono molto interessata a conoscere il lavoro di un giornalista, soprattutto se é anche uno scrittore. Lo accompagnerei io stessa, con un'assistente, logicamente. Siamo ben attrezzati, sia per quanto si riferisce all'automezzo che per il viaggio: piccolo frigo, aria condizionata, pasti, arrangiamento per eventuali pernottamenti di fortuna." "Verrebbe lei stessa Monique?" "Sicuro." "Con una assistente, una donna se non ho capito male." "Una giovane Etiope, dello Scioa, Shewa, bravissima chauffeuse, che, oltre all'amarico e ad alcuni dialetti, parla un ottimo francese e un passabile italiano. Forse lei desidera un equipaggio maschile?" La fissai sorridendo. "Ho sempre preferito les femmes, Monique, a ragione de la difference." "La comprendo perfettamente. Ritengo che oggi e domani le serviranno per visitare Gibuti, e il giorno successivo potremmo partire, senza affrettarci. Ha già tutti i permessi?" "Tutti. In quanto ad affrettarci, non ci penso. Credo che adesso mi serva un taxi per raggiungere l'albergo. E' già prenotato." "Si, Hassan mi ha incaricata di ciò. Io, però, l'ospiterei volentieri chez moi, non é una gran casa, ma é accogliente e confortevole. Potrà vivere, in tal modo, due giorni secondo gli usi franco-somali, con qualche accenno di etiopico. Sarei anche lieta di accompagnarla, più tardi, a Bender Djedìd, il quartiere indigeno, anche se oggi ha perduto molto della sua originalità." "Si, mi piace simile esperienza. Ma con l'albergo?" "Nessun problema, ci penso io. Allora, mi dica quando vuol scendere, l'auto é al riparo in un capannone, ho solo da chiamarla." "Anche adesso, devo solo prendere il bagaglio." "Ci penseranno gli uomini di Hassan." Mi congedai dal Capitano e dagli altri, con una vigorosa stretta di mano, e seguii Monique. Sulla passerella mi voltai. "Spero di rivederti, Hassan." "Insh'Allah." L'auto era moderna, nuova. Fornita di un motore ausiliario per l'aria condizionata e il piccolo frigo. Quattro ruote motrici. La rigidità delle sospensioni era attenuata dal molleggio e dalla forma dei comodi sedili. Tre posti anteriori, divisi da braccioli alzabili. Era corredata d'impianto satellitare per telefonia e televisione. "Ecco il mio sei stelle, il top delle auto di tutta l'Africa orientale. Mi costa un patrimonio, anche per la manutenzione. Non s'impressioni, non lo ripagherà lei... almeno completamente. E questa" –aggiunse, presentandomi la ragazza scesa dalla vettura- "é Mariàm, ma tutti la chiamiamo Ancì, perché così ci rivolgemmo a lei, la prima volta che la intravedemmo, ad Addis Abeba. E' il nostro nuovo fiore, Scioana purissima, diretta discendente di un famoso Ras, fissata per la meccanica e per l'avventura. Ha lasciato le non indifferenti comodità della sua casa, e i privilegi del suo rango. E' con me da pochi mesi, da quando ha compiuto diciotto anni. Il mio più prezioso aiuto, la mia migliore amica." La ragazza, che aveva compreso tutto, esclamò un sonoro bum! e mi tese la mano. "Monsieur." "Mademoiselle. S'il vous plait, appellez moi Giorgio." "Merci, Giorgio, je suis Mariàm, où Ancì, comme vous preferez. Proverò a parlare Italiano, poco poco." Era molto bella, giovane, tipica carnagione delle classi elevate d'Etiopia, lineamenti fini, chiaramente semitici, capelli molto ondulati, neri, raccolti da un nastro bianco che terminava con una piccola nocca, sulla fronte. Abito del caratteristico cotone bianco degli sciamma, ampio, che accoglieva un corpo splendido, con fianchi floridi e sode tettine dagli aguzzi capezzoli prepotenti. Insomma, uno schianto di donna. Fui percorso da un piacevole brivido. Monique s'accorse del mio incantamento e mi richiamò alla realtà. "In auto, à la maison. Prego, Giorgio, salga." Sedetti nel posto centrale, Ancì al volante e Monique dall'altra parte. Usciti dal porto, voltammo a destra, verso la periferia, senza allontanarci troppo dal mare. Monique dichiarò che la prima cosa era prendere confidenza con la casa, sistemare le proprie cose, bere qualcosa, attendere che col tramonto il venticello mitigasse la temperatura. A volte, si abbassa anche di otto gradi. Poi avremmo fatto un giro in città e curiosato, con discrezione, a Bender Djedid, per cogliere qualcosa della vita locale. Una villa molto bella, con caratteristiche miste, a prevalenza francese. Qualche albero e il tentativo di numerose aiuole, cercavano di conferirle un aspetto riposante. Ci fermammo sotto la tettoia dell'ingresso principale, e venne incontro una coppia, sorridente, che salutò con grandi cenni del capo e con espressioni che non capii, poi, rivolgendosi a me, mostrarono ancor più i denti bianchissimi, e mi ripeterono più volte "Bienvenu monsieur, bienvenu." "Sono Danak e Lebèn" –disse Monique- "i più bei Somali di Gibuti." Danak era veramente bella, statuaria, con una pelle d'ebano lucido, che sembrava unta. Quando lo dissi, Monique m'invitò a toccarla, e rivolgendosi alla donna le disse che monsieur doveva accertarsi che la luminosa lucentezza non era dovuta ad unguenti. La ragazza, ridendo, mi tese il braccio, lo carezzai lievemente, era come seta, delicata e deliziosa al tatto. Lebèn, alto e atletico, non era da meno della donna. Presero il mio bagaglio, ed entrarono in casa. Era stata una giornata abbastanza varia. Gibuti non presentava nulla di particolare. Il quartiere indigeno era discretamente pulito. Sopravviveva ancora qualche vecchio petromax con la sua luce lattiginosa, più per tradizione, forse, che per altro. Da molte case usciva della musica, soprattutto africana. Dopo cena, avevamo fatto una capatina in una specie di Club, poi eravamo tornati a casa. Monique disse che era stanca e si ritirò nella sua camera. Io rimasi sulla panchina della veranda, al buio, a guardare il cielo. Sentii un lieve fruscio e fui colpito da un profumo alquanto strano, un mix di piacevolmente aspro e nel contempo attraente. Come quando vedi qualcuno che mangia il limone e senti l'acquolina in bocca e il forte desiderio di addentarne uno. Era Mariàm, avvolta nello sciamma. Le feci segno, con la mano, di venire accanto a me. Sorrise e sedette al mio fianco. Cominciai col solito banale argomento, il tempo. In un misto di italo-francese, le chiesi se soffriva il caldo. Mi rispose in un buon italiano, inframmettendo qualche parola d'Amarico. "No, Giorgio, non sento caldo, anche se sono figlia dell'altopiano. Tu parli Amarico? Amarignà tnegarellég?" Scossi la testa, sconsolato. "Tu parli bene Italiano, come mai?" "Mio nonno parla Italiano, lui é stato sei anni con governo italiano. Io ho imparato un poco." "Brava Mariàm." "Grazie, che mi chiami Mariàm. Ancì non é il mio nome. Ad Addis Abeba, quando non si conosce il nome di una donna, una donna di modesto ceto, ci si rivolge a lei chiamandola Ancì, ma questo non é elegante." Ancient Cycle of Lust © Copywrited 2006. All Rights Reserved. You may not copy or share this work without my written permission. Please respect creative ownership. --- The day I wrecked was a beautiful day. The early morning sun bathed the spring-green hills in a gentle light. Gas mileage be damned, I drove with the windows down, savoring the crisp country air. I was alone on the road, zoned out, humming some unrecognizable song. Then I saw the tree. Like everyone I have seen many trees, enjoyed the shade, and as a child, enjoyed the view from high in their limbs. But this tree was perfect in its shape, color, even its stark loneliness. I stared at it as the urge to stop battled with the urge to reach my destination. If you have never been deep in the beauty of nature, away from man's interference, then understanding is difficult. If you have never seen a sight that took your breath away yet gave you a sense of serenity, then you will feel that my reaction was odd. But rather than be embarrassed for it, I am sad that you have never been lucky enough to relate. The sound of gravel under my tires gave me a split-second warning as I rolled into the shallow ditch. Cussing my inattention, I corrected my drift, but not before bouncing off a large wooden fence post and its barbed wire. Coasting to a stop, I sat there staring at my steering wheel. I knew the paint job would look horrendous, but it was easy for me to shrug off something I couldn't change. Besides, I caught myself looking at the tree again. I got out of my car and walked across the road to get a better view. It stood alone a few hundred yards from the road. If only I could paint, I'd have found the perfect landscape to capture. Without giving it another thought, I hopped the fence and began walking. I have always loved being in nature, communing. But this was something more potent, more compelling. This tree had an incredibly rich tint; I wanted to be near it, to touch it. Which is exactly what I did as I approached it. "Hello," I said softly, looking up at the lush leaves. "Hi." I started as a woman came around the tree to greet me. Her grin widened as she saw how she had goosed me. I was about to apologize for being on private property when I noticed her naked state. Shapely legs of amber skin, dark bush of curled hair, smooth waist, full breasts with happy nipples, long hair like polished bronze, sweet smile, cute nose, and...I involuntarily took a step back. She had deep green eyes with no whites, all the exact shade of the leaves of this tree. "Oh, don't be like that," she pouted prettily. "Stay and visit." I felt drawn to her, compelled to stay. But my rational mind was tied in a knot, so I could only reply, "Umm. I was just saying hi to...umm, this tree." She giggled. "I know that. And I said hi back. Am I not just as beautiful in this form?" "So..." I cleared my throat, glancing down again at her demurely closed legs that showed only the top of her pubes. My rational mind was coming up with some strange answers to this situation. "I'm having trouble with this. You're a tree?" "Of course. I am the tree and I am me," she replied in a singsong voice before reaching up to stroke the base of her left breast. "I love feeling human." I grasped at understanding. "So you are like its spirit?" This earned a sexy laugh. "You humans try to divide and separate out components without realizing they are an integral part of the whole, the whole of nature. But if you must have an example, you know how your cock sometimes has a mind of its own?" She glanced meaningfully at the bulge in my pants. My reaction did not surprise me, given her naked beauty, but it was surprising that it happened unconsciously. "I am like that, like the function with all the independence and joy that comes along with it, but no more a separate part of this tree than your cock is separate from you. I can show you far better than I can tell you. "Come on, touch me," she encouraged, eyes sparkling with her humor. "You won't get splinters." I touched the most neutral place of her I could reach. Here was this incredibly arousing...thing standing naked before me, waiting for me to touch her, and I shyly caressed her shoulder. The skin was amazing, smoother than the finest sanded wood and supple, but definitely not human flesh. It was firmer, as if it was far thicker than human skin. "Feel this." She stroked the back of her fingers across my cheek. The touch made my erection throb. Then she reached up with her other hand, gripping both sides of my head. flash Moody, dark clouds hang heavy in the sky. All colors seem larger than life, the golden grass rippling in the wind, the purple mountains in the hazy distance, the lush green of the lone tree. The woman stands at the base of the tree, hair whipping around her face and bare chest. Standing as serenely as a statue of a goddess, she watches the stranger crest the nearest hill and spot her. This stout man runs to her, furs and unkempt hair billowing in the gusts of wind. He grabs her arms, spinning her and pushing her to the ground. The woman's gasp of surprise at the rough treatment does nothing to slow the man, who has removed his erection from the top of his crude pants. Spitting in his hand to wet the tip of his cock, the silent one urgently mounts the woman as a stallion mounts a mare. Quickly he thrusts, oblivious to all but the feelings rushing from his cock to his head. Grunting as he begins to come, his eyes go wide with the overpowering sensations. The woman has slipped a hand under her, cupping his balls as he goes rigid inside her. The frenzied man begins to pant and moan as his orgasm empties him like never before, turning his muscles to jelly and pulling him to the ground. As he recovers, he takes her hand, motioning her to come with him, but she shakes her head. After gazing into her eyes for the first time, he nods in understanding. She watches him recede in the distance before lying down at the base of her tree, fading from view. Time begins to speed up exponentially, as the clouds race away from the sun. Vibrant green and brown sprouts rise through the grasses all around the single tree. Days and nights begin to blur together. As quickly as they become small trees, more shoots appear around them. Faster they grow until the surrounding hills are covered with a beautiful forest, stretching into the distance. flash "Holy shit!" I exclaimed as my awareness became my own again. With a grin, she explained, removing her hands, "That was my memory. An ancestral memory, you might say, from one of the very first of us." I just stared in shock at her as she leaned in to brush her lips against the skin of my neck. "Ready for more?" She asked softly, licking the lobe of my ear. When I nodded dreamily, she replaced her hands on my head. flash This woman circles a very young man, touching him lightly on different parts of his body. He shivers with anticipation, but every time he tries to embrace her, she restrains him. His erection is throbbing uncontrollably as she kisses his chest and licks his nipples. He groans, on the verge of release, but she grips his cock tightly, preventing it. A thin stream of pre-cum leaks out to be collected on the tip of her tongue. She leads his hand to her stomach, inviting exploration of her curves. Slowing him when he moves too quickly, she teaches him the joys of patient love in the face of all-consuming desire. She steps back from him, fanning his flame with her sensual gaze, touching herself and rocking her hips. She gives a low laugh of pleasure, as he can wait no longer. He rushes to her, scooping her in his arms and pressing up against the tree, impaling her with his raging lust. flash "That was our gift to mankind." She stated, though I needed no comment to understand what had happened and the implication to the future of human sexuality; I was there, having lived the memory in all its eroticism. My body vibrated with tension. "Please touch me...more," she pleaded with her green eyes locked on mine, "oh, the ancient ties we can share." My earlier discomfort was understood and resolved. I caressed her slender neck, cupped her breasts in shaking hands, as her hands deliberately unbuttoned my shirt, sliding it from my shoulders. Her breathing was coming faster now, which matched mine. "I have waited twenty lonely seasons," she whispered, "for you to commune and bond with me." Slowly our lips were drawn together, and we kissed passionately. flash The full moon is so bright it lights the stone alter like a spotlight; the trees are eerie in their unreal definition against the night. On the altar sits a human woman, scorn marring her otherwise pretty face. She would run but the robed man behind her holds her firmly. Walking slowly toward them from the tree line is a tree spirit in all her naked glory, flaming long hair like a tapestry displaying the wildest colors of autumn. The woman squirms in his arms, with alarm in her widened eyes. The spirit raises the woman's thick skirts and snakes an arm out of view. The human woman gasps in surprise, eye growing larger in shock. Her knees rise, making the skirts bunch at her waist and reveal the spirit's hand buried in her. She trembles as the spirit lowers a strikingly beautiful face to the gap made by her parted legs. Wails of ecstasy roll into the night as the human woman experiences her first orgasm. flash My clothes must have been removed while we shared the vision, while we kissed. She urgently licked my neck as she clasped my raging erection to her belly. My eyes were closed and I was lost in the feelings and the memories that had become a part of my sexual being. "Come to me, my man." She led me to lie in the shade of her tree. Straddling me, she slid onto my cock, and I felt consumed. flash Amidst the snow and the shockingly close sounds of violent battle, two lovers roll on the ground. They bite and suck at each other, leaving spots of glistening moisture. The man has barely shed his uniform before plunging into her. The spirit claws his back, pulling him deep inside her even as she cries for the damage the war is causing her. "Save me," she cries as he thrusts into her repeatedly. Tears coat his face as he is drawn into her pain and urgency of life. They kiss desperately as he goes rigid inside her. Even as the gunshots, cries of pain and explosions get closer, the man holds her tight, squeezing her with fierce passion. Finally, he separates, replaces his clothing and grabs his nearby rifle. "You will live," he states with conviction as he turns to go, but he pauses one last time. "Remember me...please, my love." And then he was gone. flash Shared emotions coursed through me, and I sensed the vastness of time from their perspective. My vision dimmed as my consciousness threatened to desert me. She was my heaven, clenched to me with the intense fulfillment of her longing, and I was equally aware of the pleasure she felt from me being buried deep in her. The gift meant so much to me; I felt the hot tears on my cheeks. She leaned down to lick them before locking her lips on me again, and I was immediately lost, no longer knowing the difference between past memory and current memory. flash The spirit gasps at the moment of penetration. Perfect breasts with their aroused nipples sway from motion of their lust. The man's muscles stand out with the strain as he bucks under her. They both thrash wildly, but it is precise and coordinated on some level that defies logic. The curve of the perfect hip, the flow of nectar at the place of union, the sounds of drenched passion... flash Through the haze of glorious rapture, I could feel my essence throbbing up into her, seemingly without end. A powerful suction kept me from backing away from my high as I rolled from one wave to another in this sea of ecstasy. As I floated down, I stroked and kissed her in the deepening shadows of late evening. "My cycle is now complete," she sighed happily in my arms, her hand on my thumping heart. "We breathe rich life into the world, and we have created our own memory." She knew not to thank me, for my reward was equal or greater than hers. As long as my soul has awareness, I will remember the moment and the ancient history with the vividness of a fresh dream. --- Each year I visit this spot where our history was made, and I count more small saplings. Life springs with zest from this spot, and I feel joy, a strange fulfillment and protectiveness. As soon as I was able, I bought this entire area, so now I worry less about what could happen. I relaxed in the shade, closing my eyes and feeling her around me, with me. One day I will be gone from this world, but then again, perhaps not. --- My warmest thanks to my proof reader and sounding board, lilredjammies. You are indeed the Sublime Goddess of Grammar. Ancient Egypt: Love Between Women -Ancient Egypt- Neferu was beautiful. She had golden tanned skin. Her hair was long and straight. It was dark brown, but it looked black. Her eyes were a radiant blue; a rarity in her time. She was thin, a reflection of the difficult life she had led. Food had often been a luxury she wasn’t awarded. Nevertheless, her breasts were proud and perky. Neferu had been raised in the Queen’s palace, a servant nearly from the day she was born. Her mother was a servant also, and Neferu had spent nearly every year of her life residing in the servant’s quarters inside the palace. This was a place that might as well be called a prison. Servant’s were locked in their quarters at night and were forced to sleep on beds made of raised dirt and straw. There were clay pots alongside the wall for them to defecate in, and on the other side; pots of food. In the earlier years of her life, her mother would fight the servant’s who crowded at the pots during feeding time. She would always salvage something for Neferu, even if it meant there was nothing for her. But her mother was killed when she was 9, and there was no one to take care of Neferu. Servant’s only watched out for themselves. It was the only option they had. Watching someone else’s back often left them starving, or sometimes… dead. Neferu had survived the next few years by stealing food from the cooking area in the palace. She never took much for fear of being caught, but it was enough to keep her going. When Neferu was 17, she was selected to go to work as one of the Queen’s personal servant’s. She was very lucky. The Queen had 5 servants, and they were all treated very well. The 5 girls shared one very large room, where they slept on lambskin mattresses, stuffed with wool. They even had woven quilts for cover. Twice a day they were fed leftovers from the daily feasts held at the palace. Neferu liked the Queen a lot. The first day she worked for the Queen, she was asked to massage her feet. Normally Neferu found feet to be repulsive, as the servants she had lived with had scaly, blistered, dirty feet. But the Queen had very small, very dainty soft feet. She admired them quietly in her head as she kneeled in front of the Queen massaging them. She absentmindedly began to smile. The Queen took notice and spoke to her. “My dear servant girl, why are you smiling this day?” She asked tenderly. “Oh my Queen, I’m sorry, I was just thinking how beautiful your feet are.” She replied, looking up at the Queen. The Queen saw Neferu’s eyes for the very first time. She gasped. She had seen only one man with eyes like that before. “You should never apologize for smiling. Your smile is like the sun. Where might you have gotten such beautiful eyes?” Neferu smiled brightly. “My Queen, my mother always told me that I was blessed, and that my eyes were a sign from the God’s that I was someone very important. I am supposed to do something great in my lifetime.” The Queen smiled back. “I’m sure you will.” Her look became more serious. “Did you know your father?” “No, my Queen, I didn’t. My mother said he was killed before I was born.” Neferu replied, looking suddenly depressed. “Tell me, did your mother ever work as a servant anywhere else?” The Queen asked, placing a hand on Neferu’s cheek. “Yes, my Queen. We were sold to this palace when I was three by King Ramtatna from the North of here.” “Yes, I know Ramtatna well. He is not a good man. Have you ever seen Ramtatna?” The Queen asked. It was now very clear to her that Ramtatna was Neferu’s father. The blue eyes aroused her suspicion, and Neferu had just confirmed it. “No, I haven’t my Queen. Not since I was very young. I do not remember him well.” Neferu replied. “You should be so lucky. I’m happy you were sold here. You are much safer here.” The Queen told Neferu. Then she looked confused. “I’ve taken a liking to you. I don’t usually care for my servants so much, especially upon my first meeting with them.” Neferu smiled again, her eyes glowing. “I am honored, my Queen. No one has ever liked me before.” The Queen laughed, but then she realized that Neferu wasn’t joking. “So what is your name, young servant?” “I am Neferu my Queen. My mother named me.” She explained, enthusiastically. “I see. Your name means ‘Beautiful One.’” The Queen told Neferu, who was very excited. I shall call you Neferu from now on. You may call me Anruka.” “Oh, yes my Queen!” Neferu replied. “Anruka.” The Queen corrected. The massage had gone on far too long and the Queen’s feet were going numb. She dismissed Neferu, and then laid down for a nap. Neferu returned to her new room very excited. Neferu went immediately to her bed and sat down. There was a large plate of food sitting at the foot of the bed for her, and it was still warm. She took up her plate and smiled through her meal. Upon finishing, she noticed that the 3 girls in the room with her were staring at her. She looked at them innocently and wide-eyed, wondering why they were staring. “I heard the Queen likes you.” One of the girls said. “Yes, she has told me so.” Neferu replied happily. “Well aren’t you just special? At least now the Queen is going to have someone new to practice her sick ways with.” The girl replied, cockily. “What do you mean?” Neferu asked. “The Queen likes to make love to women. You better watch out. She’s going to be making love to you next.” The girl said, and laughed. Neferu was quiet. She wondered if what the girl said was true. __________________________________________________ The girls had all turned on their sides and settled in to sleep. Neferu sat up, still wide awake. She was thinking about what they had said. It couldn’t be true. The King would have sent his guards to kill her, unless maybe he didn’t know. How could he not know about something like that? Surely there would have been rumors that made their way back to him. She decided it wasn’t true, but then she questioned her decision some more. “Why is it any of my business, anyway?” She thought. “The Queen is a nice woman and whatever she wants to do, well that’s just her business.” But then she started seriously thinking about it. She imagined walking in on the Queen with one of the other servant girls. The Queen would be lying on her back in her luxurious bed, her legs spread wide. The servant would be on her knees, with her head between the Queen’s legs, licking at the Queen’s pleasure zone. She could feel her body temperature rising, and her breathing deepened. She came to the full realization that she was attracted to the Queen, and she hoped the rumor was true. Just then, the Queen came in the room. “Oh, Neferu, you’re still awake.” She whispered. “I was wondering if you would make me a bath.” “I’d be honored to, Anruka.” Neferu replied quietly. She carefully got out of bed and followed the Queen to her bath. She found that one of the stronger male servant’s had already perfected the water temperature and poured it into the tub. She didn’t see that there was much left for her to do. She stood in front of the tub and the Queen went and locked the door. She turned and looked at the Queen. Anruka was wearing a very thin golden gown, which was perfectly see- through in the right light. This was the right light. Her nipples were erect and pushing at the surface of the gown. Neferu admired this briefly before the Queen pulled the gown over her head and removed it entirely. Neferu stared in silence as Anruka walked over to her, completely naked. Anruka’s body was amazing. She had plump breasts, and a plump bottom. Her thighs were thick as well as her arms, but not thick enough to be considered heavy. Her stomach was flat and muscular. She may have been a perfect 36” 24” 36”. What was clear was that she was absolutely gorgeous. This was something which Neferu was now painfully aware of. “I’m sure my servants have told you plenty about me. Have you been told that I make love to women?” Anruka asked. “Yes, I have Anruka. The girl with yellow hair told me this.” Neferu replied. Anruka smiled. “How do you feel about what you’ve heard, Beautiful One?” Anruka took Neferu’s hand and stepped into the tub holding it. Anruka was now seated in the tub and Neferu was standing beside it. “I didn’t know if it was true, but I decided it was all your business. You are the Queen, you should be able to make love to whoever you want and it’s nobody else’s business.” Neferu replied. “What about you, Neferu? Who do you make love to?” Anruka asked. “I have never made love to anyone.” Neferu replied. “Why?” “I have never desired anyone before.” She replied, realizing she had. She desired the Queen right now. “You’ve never desired anyone at all? Never a man or a woman? Ever?” The Queen asked, very surprised. “I’m sorry, Anruka. Yes, I have. Today, I have felt desire for the first time. Is it wrong?” she asked. “No! Desire is a wonderful thing! It leads to pleasures you can’t even imagine until you have experienced them. You must act on your desire, Neferu. Let yourself do what you feel you need to.” Neferu appeared to be in deep thought. She looked at Anruka, and then she pulled her new white silk gown off. Anruka smiled at her. She climbed in the tub with Anruka, and then as if she was possessed, she went for exactly what she wanted. She made her way between Anruka’s knees in the tub and leaned across her chest very smoothly. She took Anruka in a kiss. Her very first kiss ever, but she handled it beautifully. Her passion was mad for Anruka. Anruka’s breathing quickened, and kissing became too suffocating for her. Neferu moved down to Anruka’s neck, and started sucking firmly. Anruka sighed and tried to gyrate herself against the leg Neferu had between hers. Neferu was incredibly aroused. Here she was, a poor servant, pleasuring this beautiful Queen. Someone so completely gorgeous and powerful is so desperate with desire for her that she’s fucking herself against her leg. Neferu traced her fingers down between Anruka’s legs and began rubbing her clit. Anruka was asking for more. Neferu stuck her fingers inside Neferu and began thrusting, all the while working her clit with her thumb. She was sucking Anruka’s nipples now, and Anruka was enjoying every bit of it. She was fucking Neferu’s hand back, and she was rising rapidly to a climax. Neferu kissed Anruka again, and as their tongues caressed each other, Anruka came. Worn out, Neferu collapsed on top of Anruka, and they lay there in silence for several minutes, regaining energy. “Are you ready to feel what you’ve made me feel, Neferu?” Anruka asked, when recovered. Neferu grinned and nodded excitedly. They both sat up in the tub, and Anruka turned Neferu to make her back face her. She straddled Neferu from behind and began massaging her shoulders. This was the first time anyone had ever given her a massage. She wanted to cry. The Queen was giving her a massage. She rubbed down her back. It felt amazing to Neferu. Anruka leaned in and kissed the back of her neck, then gently sucked. She kissed her ears, breathing softly into them. Feeling the hot breath in her ear, she felt hot waves spread throughout her body, settling and resonating inside her vagina. Anruka’s hand began massaging Neferu’s breasts, and her kisses trailed slowly down her spine. Neferu got on her knees and Anruka continued kissing all the way down her spine, to the top of her rear. Neferu thought Anruka would stop there, but she was wrong. Anruka slid her tongue down the middle and circled Neferu’s hole. Neferu nearly collapsed. It was definitely like nothing she had ever felt before. She traced her tongue down even more, and thrust it in and out of Neferu’s vagina a few times, before settling in on licking her clit. Neferu was experiencing so much pleasure that she was finding it extremely difficult to hold herself up any longer. Anruka licked and sucked at her clit until Neferu thought she would explode, and then some. Anruka slid her tongue back up to Neferu’s ass, and then back down to her clit one last time, and Neferu CAME. Quite loudly! She turned and hugged Anruka and Anruka hugged her back. The embrace lasted a while, and then Anruka broke and stared into Neferu’s eyes. Her beautiful blue eyes. “This is only for you, Beautiful One. You’re the only one I will do this with.” Anruka told Neferu. “It is okay, my Queen. Anruka. You can have anyone you want, I am just your servant. I promise I don’t mind.” “You are not just my servant! You are my lover, now! I want you to care who I’m with, I want you to be jealous of the other servants. I love you, you see. You are my equal, not my servant. Do not think that I can make love to whoever I want just because I am Queen. I devote myself to you, now. You are the marked one, the one meant for me. It’s your eyes. They tell me.” “I am to be your equal? You love me? My Queen you are talking crazy. It is I who loves you. A Queen can not love her servant.” “A Queen can not make love to women, either. But I do. Just as I love you. You will have to get used to this. You are to sleep with me every night, now. Attend every event with me. You will have your own beautiful gowns, and your own servants. You will be my equal. You shall see.” -The end- Continued upon request only. Ancient Egyptian Love It is the fourth day of August in the year 50, and I am bored. It isn't easy being the Pharaoh of our wonderful country of Egypt, but I have already been around the new pyramid, and seen that the building was going well, and my young husband Ptolemy has gone off somewhere. I'm so bored! I think I shall probably just call it a day and go for my bath now. I turn round, and see my faithful servant, Femi, standing behind me. "I would like to have my bath now please Femi," I say to her, and as she nods I walk back into my room. It doesn't take long to get the bath ready, as the water is kept outside in the sunshine so it is warm. "Your bath is ready mistress," says Femi as she walks into my room. She has her head bowed slightly as I walk past her, but I can still see her pretty features. I take in her dark slanted eyes, and her ivory skin. She's easily the second most gorgeous girl in the whole of Cairo, which is why I keep her so close to me. I know she would never betray me though, I almost feel like she is a friend to me. Of course the Pharaoh of Egypt has no friends, only an annoying younger brother husband, but it was my father who approved that. I know she is still behind me as I walk into the bathroom, and my eyes fall upon the bathtub. It is a gorgeous bathtub, with patterned tiles round it and rose petals dropped over it. Femi comes up to me, and pulls the straps of my white dress off my shoulders and lets it slide to the floor. I can feel her slender fingers warm upon my shoulders, then she moves them away. I walk over to the side of the bath and take the piece of cloth I use to tie my long black hair out of the way so it doesn't get wet. I turn around and can see Femi looking at my naked body. I look at her and take in the sight of her. She has a plain thin white dress on, so I can see her dark nipples erect beneath the fabric. She wears her dark hair to her shoulders, framing the delicate features that make up her face. I go up to the edge of the bath and step into the gorgeous warm water. Femi comes over and starts to wash my body. I lean my head back and close my eyes as I feel her hands roaming my body. She is washing my shoulders, my neck, my arms, down to my breasts. This is the way she always washes me, but something feels different this time. As she washes me, massaging the soap into my breasts, I feel a low moan escape from my throat. I keep my eyes shut, and I feel my face going red with embarrassment. I hope she didn't hear me. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest underneath her warm hands, but she doesn't seem to change what she is doing, she just lowers her hands to wash my stomach. I can feel myself getting a bit hot now. She starts to wash the tops of my legs, and I let another moan escape me. She now moves her hands to my inner thighs and I can barely contain myself. I'm starting to moan quite loudly now, when she moves her fingers over to my clit and starts to wash that too. I'm so turned on that I can feel myself getting close, and then I can feel warmth flooding through me as I reach my climax. I open my eyes in just enough time to see her lean in towards me, then I can feel her soft lips against mine. I don't even think about it, I just pull her towards me, so she falls in to the bath with a large splash! But we barely even notice as we kiss compassionately. I lift my hands to feel her breasts through the thin dress, playing with her rock hard nipples, then rip the dress from her and let my mouth meet her right breast. She starts to moan, so I nibble it a bit then I pull her legs apart and I take in a deep breath as I go under water and place my head between her legs. Even under the water I can taste how aroused she is and I let my fingers slip inside her, fucking her with them harder and harder as I flick her clit with my tongue. I only leave her to come up for air, until I feel a shudder run through her body, and I know she has orgasmed. I come back up, and deeply kiss her so she can taste herself. She falls into my arms, and lets out a content sigh, and we sit there catching our breath.....