SPOILER WARNING: If you haven't read Shon Richard's Fantasy Train story, "The Hunt", and you don't want the ending given away in the next paragraph, stop reading! It's not crucial to my story, though, you'll only miss some references in the beginning.

 

Seven Veils for Four Fools

Copyright by Jimmy Hat 1999 [email protected]

 

Shon Richards and I were relaxing in my compartment of the Fantasy Train. He was still talking about the Scavenger Hunt, but at least he wasn't gloating about the outcome.

"I can't believe Louie tried to cheat me," Shon complained.

"Really?" I asked. "I think it was almost in the spirit of the Scavenger Hunt. But, then again, I didn't do half the work that you did."

"So you're admitting I would have won easily?" Shon asked.

"Well, maybe Maria would have won," I teased. "No doubt about it, though, you deserved it. I concede defeat." I bowed my head in irreverent reverence.

"What annoys me is that he's supposed to be our guide, not our antagonist. He hasn't reneged on anything, but he's walking a fine line."

"Ahh, give the leprechaun a break," I said. Shon shot me a glare and it was time to backpedal. "Don't get me wrong, he definitely infringed on our little contest. It's just that he's like Gopher on the Love Boat, y'know? He's arranging all the cruise activities, why not try to get some action on the side?"

"Some Janey action on the side?" he retorted. "That may be too much to ask. And forget Gopher, I think the word you're looking for is Weasel."

I shrugged. I had backpedaled right into Lake Foot in Mouth. I quit while my head was above water.

"So what do we do now?" I asked.

"Well, as much fun as it is here with you, I want to get out. Hanging out in your room isn't the same after being in some of the ladies' more tasteful appointments."

"What's wrong with this place?"

"Nothing, Jimmy. It's just, kinda like a dorm room."

"Because of the books I'm picking up along the way?"

"More because of the beer cans you're leaving behind."

"Oh." I had to admit, it wasn't looking good. But I was sort of persona non grata in the club car. Eddie the bartender took none too kindly to being shut down by the feds. Like I have any control over what my characters do! Especially in their spare time.

"Let's go to some place a little more classy, then," I suggested.

"Such as?" Shon asked.

"How about we go see some strippers?" I suggested.

Shon flashed me a smile. There may be other ways to cheer up young men deprived of the chance of easy sex, but none of them involve sublimating homosexual tendencies like staring at naked women with good friends. I had already made arrangements with Louie for such a trip, now all I had to do was get to the engine room.

On the way through the train, we ran into Homer. I don't know if he was psychic or if he noticed the mischievous look in our eyes, but he knew something was up.

"Another scavenger hunt?" he asked.

"No," Shon answered., "We're off to see some strippers."

"Wanna come along?" I asked.

"Actually, I was on the way to eat," he said, but what I heard was, "I'm also anxious to see women undress, but I want you to convince me that's true."

"Don't worry", I answered, "There'll be food where we're going." That was merely code, of course, for "We appreciate your need for a pretext for joining us and are glad to offer it."

"I was thinking someplace more exotic," Homer said. This was simply an invitation for more cajoling. Shon took up the task.

"What? They call them exotic dancers, don't they? And we are definitely going to someplace out of the ordinary. Right, Jimmy?"

"Oh, sure," I assured.

Homer persisted in his protests. "It just doesn't seem like my kind of entertainment; I should think there are more fruitful activities."

He really wanted the hard sell. I did what I could to rationalize the activity. "Why don't you come to keep us in line then? Make sure we don't do anything foolish."

That appealed to the inner adult, the haughty Homer. And then there were three.

I figured we would probably pick up a couple of others on the way. Hell, I half expected Janey, Maria, or any number of the women on board would join us if they knew. But we didn't run into others on the way save one. I didn't know him. Shon did.

"Denny! I didn't know you were on this trip!"

"Yeah, I was having trouble getting a ticket. But as soon as I stopped using MIME and reverted back to plain unformatted ASCII, they let me on."

"Excellent! Denny, you know Homer and Jimmy, right?" Shon asked by way of introduction.

"No, I don't," Denny said, extending a hand.

"Jimmy Hat," I said as I took his hand. He had a firm grip. I always like that in a handshake.

"Homer Vargas."

"Denny Wheeler. Pleased to meet you guys. So what's up?"

"We're off to see some strippers." I said.

"They're off to see strippers," Homer interjected. "I'm going on a mission of mercy."

"Strippers, huh?" Denny asked. "You mean the folk who take old paint off furniture?"

I was not about to dignify that with a response. Neither was anyone else, apparently.

Denny stood silent for a moment. He still looked confused when he spoke. "Oh, that kind of stripper! So let me get this straight: this train can go anywhere, anytime, and you want to go to a strip joint?"

That did seem to take the wind out of Shon and Homer's sails. I did my best (my worst?) to change the breeze again. "Well, the train moves through time and space. It doesn't make us any better at picking up women."

That seemed to work a little.

"Besides," I said, "This is no ordinary slip-your-dollar-in-the-garter thing I'm talking about. We'll be moving through time."

"OK, I'm in." Denny said. "Let's go for it."

We were four. It seemed so natural, I had to comment. "Damn, there's four. Beautiful. Just like the A-Team! We are on the jazz!"

"I get to be Face!" Denny quickly added.

"Jimmy," Shon addressed me, "Are you going to make pop culture references all night?"

"Just one more before we get there, and I promise that's it."

With that, our foursome headed to the engine room without incident. There we met the chief engineer. He was a small, sylvan looking creature much better described, I'm sure, by Shon or Virago Blue. He was no nonsense, though, a change for this trip.

"May I help you gentlemen?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm Jimmy. I made arrangements with Louie for an itinerary."

"Louie's not here," the engineer answered.

"But he said to speak to you and you would take care of it."

"Indeed. I believe he gave you a code phrase..." the gnomish fellow countered.

"Klatu barata nikto," I said. In response the engineer nodded and turned to face the controls.

"'Army of Darkness'!" Shon exclaimed. "Classic!"

"You mean 'The Day the Earth Stood Still'," Denny countered. "And I thought it was 'klaatu barada niktu'."

"Whatever," I replied. "I just threw that in because I thought Shon would like it. Now no more pop culture references, I promise."

We watched in awe as the engineer pulled on levers taller than himself, and the train seemed to lurch at his command. There was no reference in the strange world outside to assist our bodies' sense of balance. Nausea and vertigo crept over me, and from the looks of them, my companions as well. The mottle of colors in front of us changed from a mix of oranges and reds to yellow, then green and onto deepest blue. It held there for a moment, and we could clearly see stars hanging in the night sky. Then the velocity changed again, having been accelerating in a new direction all the while. Soon the view was replaced by the morphing mix of magenta and other reddish hues. It remained as such until we reached the first stop on my tour within a tour.

The first thing we noticed after stepping off the train, even before the new clothes we wore, was the heat. Though the sun was setting, the temperature was oppressive after the climate controlled interior of the fantasy train. We could only imagine what midday conditions were like. After we regained our legs and were able to breathe the heavy humid air, we took stock of our attire. As planned, I wore the short close haircut favored by the Romans, a simple white toga and coin purse, and sandals whose leather straps snaked up from my ankles and criss crossed around my calves. Shon was dressed similarly. The others wore longer robes, and rings encrusted with bright gem stones adorned their fingers.

"OK," I said, looking at Denny and Homer, "Looks like you two are merchants of some kind, Shon and I are Roman officials, I guess. Just follow my lead."

"Jimmy, oh fearless guide, where are we?" Homer asked.

"And when?" Shon asked. He was admiring the straps of his sandals.

"This, gentlemen, is Galilee. We are outside Herod's estate and a party is about to begin to celebrate his birthday."

"I thought you said strippers?" Denny asked.

"I did. In about one hour, Herod's stepdaughter Salome will perform the dance of the seven veils."

"The first strip tease in history!" Shon rejoiced.

I smiled. "If we get in now, we should be able to get half decent seats."

"How are we going to get in?" Denny asked.

I held up the a scroll handed to me by the engineer before we disembarked. "Gentlemen, we are invited guests. Porters have already presented our gifts to Herod's chief of staff."

"Amazing display of forethought," said Homer.

"You have to do something on that train between stops if you can't drink in the club car," I said.

Servants were busy lighting braziers of fire at the entrance to the compound. Guards stood by in light breast plates and leather tunics, spears at their side. An older guard, uniformed in much the same way, but armed with a short sword swinging from his belt, examined our invitation.

"Jimerius?" he questioned aloud.

"Yes, I am the nephew of Herod's brother's first wife, and brother to his second. I have made a long journey from Macedonia to attend this affair and do not wish to be made to wait any longer." After all, the papers were in order. No reason I couldn't get a little snippy with him.

"Yes, sir," he said. My bluff worked.

We joined in with the other guests entering the great hall, and Homer sidled up to me. "What was all that about you and Herod's brothers' wives?"

"Just a little bit of double talk. Wholly plausible, though. There was a lot of marriages to nieces and that sort of thing going on."

"Yeah," said Denny, "Didn't you say Salome was Herod's stepdaughter?"

"That's pretty incestuous," Shon remarked.

"Perhaps you should have invited Frank McCoy along," Homer added.

By that time we reached our seats, such as they were. A servant indicated the dark pillows on the floor in front of us, and we sat down. As we got comfortable, the servant returned with a wicker drum and a large plate of hammered brass. He put the drum down in front of us, placed the plate on top and walked away. We were left at our 'table', free to examine the surroundings.

The hall was decorated by large tapestries that hung on each wall, depicting battles and the splendor of the Roman empire. Underneath the tapestries was a small wilderness of potted plants and exotic birds, either caged or sitting on perches. In front of that phalanx of fauna and flora sat the guests, attired and seated like us, all facing a raised dais on the far wall holding a golden padded salon chair.

"Look at all the birds," Denny said.

"That's a pretty nice display of wealth and power," Shon agreed.

Two servant girls arrived at our table and presented us ornate goblets. Another pair of older servants appeared with jugs of wine.

"Do you think I can ask for water?" Shon asked.

"I imagine so," I said. "The Romans built baths and aqueducts. I think they liked to have fresh water around."

Shon was able to get water, but the rest of us enjoyed the wine. I hadn't been sober much on the trip and I wasn't about to start then. A plate of olives reached the table, marinated in its own juices with black peppercorns and garlic.

"Primitive, but delicious," Homer remarked. He elaborated, but his voice was drowned out by blaring horns. The guests stood and we followed their example. Two soldiers carried bronze flag staffs, adorned with the letters SPQR. Behind them walked Herod, his wife Herodias, and a small entourage. They took their place on the dais. The soldiers placed the flag staffs at either end of the platform. Some oaths to Caesar and the empire were made, and the pair sat down. We went back to our position on the floor and a group of musicians started playing.

"Hey," I spoke up. "Anybody know what the SPQR means?"

"How about, 'swanky place, quite Roman'?" Shon suggested.

"Senatus populusque Romanus," said Denny. "It means 'the senate and people of Rome'."

We all shared a thoughtful nod of approval and then dinner began. Servants brought us damp linens to clean our hands shortly before they brought food. We were served a whole grilled fish and a pile of thin loaves of bread. When we picked at the fish and had nothing left, another took its place. We wiped at the gristle on the plate with our bread, and washed that down with wine. More olives arrived, and marinated heart of palm. Greedily we ate, drank, and laughed as we relaxed in our velvet pillows and enjoyed a parade of acrobats, jugglers, fire breathers, and sword swallowers representing colors and peoples from the entire rim of the Mediterranean Sea.

Having had our fill, we no longer hunched over the brass plate, but reclined away from it. Taking this as a signal, servants cleared away the remains at the table, and replaced it with an array of dates, figs, oranges, almonds, and sugary confections. More wine accompanied the fruit and nuts.

"I think all I need now is a blowjob," I joked.

"You may get your wish," said Shon.

A pair of nubile young things approached our table. They wore filmy veils over their mouths, and covering their hair were scarves adorned with golden teardrops that fell across their brows. Only the wide dark eyes and gentle bridges of their noses were visible. Oddly, but pleasantly, not as much care was taken to cover the rest of them. Billowy, diaphanous pants swelled like balloons from the tight waist band to the tight ankle cuffs. Their midriffs were bare, and jewels sparkled in their navels. A strip of the same translucent material wrapped around their breasts, but only to give support and cover the nipple. The whole upper half of their areolas we visible to the eye, and the pressure of the wraps pushed their tits together in a most impressive display. The ancient wonder bra of the world, I thought. My dick began to swell with lust, and that was before they started to wash our feet.

Unbelievably, these precious flowers kneeled before us, removed our sandals and rubbed our feet with oil and perfumes. Their delicate appearance belied the strength and skill in their hands. Watching those breasts rise and fall as they worked, feeling the oiled fingers glide over the all-too-often-ignored muscles of my feet, imagining how that oil would feel between other body parts; it all swam with the wine in my blood and the contented warmth in my belly to produce a state of immense arousal.

I never wanted my turn to end, but it did. I consoled myself my staring at their legs and buttocks through the gauzy material of their pants. I wondered how our host could expect us to experience such treatment and not turn mad with desire. Shon had his foot massage before I did. At the risk of breaking the spell, I broached the subject with him.

"I hear you, Jimmy," he replied. "I've been wondering about that myself. Maybe the arousal is the point, though."

"What do you mean?"

"We've been eating and drinking since we got here, right? Just a steady pace. I was full after the first fish, but I'm still grabbing a date every once in a while. The music is playing, the artists performing, and now this. And now the girls are working on us, but there's no rush on anybody's part for release."

"I see what you mean. The point is not to sate the appetite, but to enhance it, prolong it."

"Exactly," Shon said.

Damn! I thought. Well that was the whole point of a strip tease, wasn't it? We probably came to the right place. We didn't wait long to find out. Minutes after the girls moved on from our table, and before Denny could speak clearly again, the featured entertainer arrived.

Performers had abandoned the center of the room. The band had stopped playing. It almost seemed that the lights dimmed. Maybe some torches were extinguished. The steady din of conversation hushed in anticipation. Salome emerged from the same entrance Herod used earlier in the evening, draped in long, flowing bolts of cloth. She moved slowly and deliberately to the center of the room, and the soft intermittent ringing of a bell was her only musical accompaniment.

Upon reaching the middle of the open area, she darted off to one side, and began to make eye contact with her audience. Eyes were all that was visible through her garments, and the audience stared at them for a hint of what was to come. In turn she took stock of her watchers, gauging them, appraising them, and all as she seemed to float around the perimeter. But for the bell, the silence was total.

Retreating to the center of the floor, she took part of her garment in hand and held it over her head. She ducked down and seemed to go under her arm, and then back the other way. The strip of cloth fell to the ground and Salome emerged with her arms bare. A drum joined the bell, measuring a steady beat between rings. Salome held both arms over her head, rolled her shoulders and moved the clenched hands in a circle in the air. At the same time, she spun on one leg, so that her whole body seemed pulled by the hands reaching for the sky.

Salome ceased spinning. A reedy wind instrument leaped into song, and slowly deepened in pitch. She lowered her arms with elbows out so that the backs of her hands brushed against the veil on her face. The fingers, and then her whole arms, vanished inside the bulk of her clothing in breathless display of flexibility. The wind instrument erupted in a flurry of notes as Salome's arms burst through the material, releasing another veil. She was still clothed, but now the outline of her body was more apparent.

To demonstrate that she twisted her hips, and pushed them out from side to side. Somehow though, she managed to loosen two strips that ran down the sides of her legs. Her head and torso remained concealed, but her arms, and now the sides of her legs were visible. Her limbs were smooth, lean, and had the rich brown color of cinnamon bark.

The music grew in volume and pace. More drums took up the rhythm. Salome moved carefully to the dais and kneeled at the foot of Herod's chair. She spread her legs and lowered herself. She rotated her upper body around her hips and twirled her arms in the air. The arms lowered to her lap but her throes continued, as if she were in a trance. Of course, reality was the opposite, she was in control and we were hypnotized. She used that arrangement to surreptitiously tie a garment to his chair.

When she stood, she was able to twirl away from the garment, like a spinning top, and reveal more of herself. A warp similar to the ones we saw earlier covered her breasts, but so much was open to our gaze: almost all of her back, the smooth expanse of skin from hips to her breasts. Though her face and hair remained covered, her throat looked especially alluring.

Salome stepped toward the center. She bent at the waist and looked to fall into a cartwheel motion. Instead, she stopped the rotation and performed a sort of handstand. Her legs opened wide, making a split. They came back together, parted and swam in the air with the dexterity of arms. She then seemed to finish the original cartwheel, only her arms were practically still on the ground when her feet touched, bending her back almost impossibly.

"Oh my lord," someone said. It might have been me.

Sweat formed on her back. It was unmistakably sweat. The heat and exertion of the dancing must be getting to her, I thought. As if responding to that heat she unwrapped her breasts. I looked on eagerly. Her breasts were not large; they did not bounce; they were not a different color or softer than the surrounding flesh. They were simply part of the elegant shape of her body. Pulling away the cloth that hid them did not so much expose her breasts as remove an obstacle to the total appreciation of her exquisite figure.

I wanted to see her face. I needed to see her face, to put together the disparate pieces of this lithe nymph and her magical eyes. If I could only see her lips I could picture kissing her.

The music went away as I focused on her. I knew the veil on her face was next. I knew she would choose this moment to reveal herself to us, to me. I was not wrong. Salome took hold of the veil around her face and hair and unfastened it. It fell away but I never saw it land.

Thick black hair, with the faintest hint of a wavy texture, poured down her neck and onto her shoulders. From that alluring throat emerged a heart shaped face, the same chocolate color as her smooth body, with a brow that gave testimony to her intelligence, a small but wide nose flanked by eyes as dark and infinite as the night sky, and lips that approached the same color. Cosmetic companies in the late twentieth century strive to paint the lips of western women that incredible blackberry color that is the natural color of Arabic women; Arabic women that mullahs of the twentieth century have striven to keep hidden.

But there was no hiding Salome that night, not to anyone, and certainly not to me. I was quite sure that her attention was focused our way, but my conceit did not last long. Salome approached the dais in her near naked state. She climbed the short span of steps and worked at a strap on her waist. No longer held by the spell of her gaze, I heard the music reach a crescendo.

Salome stopped in front of Herod and ripped the pants away from her legs. We were given a view of her full round ass and strong thighs, but it was Herod's birthday party after all.

"Now that is damned incestuous," Shon remarked.

The music stopped and in one swift movement, Salome dropped to her knees before Herod. Applause filled the hall.

"Shon, you still have water left?" Denny asked.

"Yeah."

"Good," Denny responded. Then he picked up the goblet and splashed himself in the face with its contents. "I needed that," he said, as the water poured down his neck.

"That was pretty good," Homer said. "Now Herod's gonna get her pregnant, right?"

"Actually, no," I said.

"In fact," Shon added, "If I remember correctly there's a very different end to this story."

That was Herod's cue to speak. He praised Salome in the flowery lavish language of a diplomat, accented with the torrid lust of a politician. To summarize, as reward for her performance he offered whatever she wished. Salome asked for time to consider his offer.

"She's going to consult with her mother and then ask for John the Baptist's head on a plate," I said.

"We're not going to stay around for that are we?" Shon asked me.

"Yeah, no one said anything about snuff before we left," Homer added.

"I agree," I said. "We should get out of here. And I have no idea how much time we have before the beheading begins."

"We have some time, right? They have to go out and get him first." Denny said.

"Not really," I informed him. "Herod already arrested John the Baptist to try to protect him from just this sort of thing. It kinda backfired."

"So why does Herod kill him?" Shon asked me.

"Because of us," I said. I explained that odd statement. "He just promised to give Salome what she wants in front of all his guests. He won't refuse her after that."

"All I know is," Denny said, "She's not the only one looking to get some head. I'd love to find out if those girls are as good with their mouths as they are with their hands."

"You want them to suck your feet?" Homer asked flatly.

"I was thinking a little higher up," Denny answered.

"Doesn't anyone around here understand sarcasm," Homer mumbled.

"We may have some time, maybe another hour," I said.

"Even then, you may have to get in line," Shon added tilting his head to the far side of the room.

The foot-washing nymphs were on the way out of the room, leading several guests behind them.

"That's what I'm talking about," said Denny. He was halfway there before any of the rest of us could speak.

"This sucks!" Homer said. "You promised me exotic, and all I get is a belly dancer and some food. It's like a Middle Eastern restaurant. And there certainly isn't anyone getting pregnant!"

"Tell you what Homer--" I began. Shon interrupted me. "Homer, where do you think we are? Do you think those girls are on the pill or something? Do you think they're going to ask you to use a condom? There's a very good chance you could get one of them pregnant. Now get out there and let the haploid Homers fly!"

Homer licked his lips and nodded his head aggressively. "Yes! Yes, I do believe you're right! I'll meet up with you later."

That left me alone with Shon. "Thanks, man, that was slick. I was about to say something I'd regret later."

"No problem," he said, rising from his seat.

"Are you going to join them?" I asked.

"Sure. When in Rome..."

"We're not in Rome," I said.

"Rome, Roman Empire," Shon shrugged. "Close enough."

So it was that we wandered back to the makeshift collection of beddings separated by curtains that served as a brothel. The room smelled of incense and perfumes that served to mask the more basic odors of sweat and sex.

Small gaps in the curtains allowed us small glimpses of the action, and served as a preview to the talents of the hired help. I watched men's torsos swim inside legs that danced in the air, some bare, some still covered by those diaphanous pants. I watched the owners of those legs straddle men and ride their engorged cocks. I watched the men's legs twitch as they came.

Early on I saw one of the girls who had washed my feet. She still wore her clothing but the veil that covered her face was gone. She seemed to specialize in the art of fellatio. When she was available, I approached her.

There was no negotiation, no introduction, no words. She positioned me on the cushions, pushed my toga out of her way and began the task of sucking me off with her lips, pumping me with her fist. She licked at my balls, and rubbed the side of her cheek with the swollen head of my prick. I had been so aroused that evening that she did not need to work too hard with me. As her tongue left my sac and pressed against the base of my cock for a return trip, I found the pleasure of its touch to be too much.

I spurted in the air. She faced my cock toward her chin, and the cum fell just short of her face. It landed on her neck, and on the tops of her breasts. She ran a finger through my cream and brought it to her lips. I trembled with the last fits of my orgasm.

"Oh, Jesus," I said. It was a mistake.

"Jesus?" she asked. "Where? Here? Do you know the rabbi?"

"No, not personally," I said. I struggled to collect myself and rise from the bedding. "Look, I really should be going."

"But you haven't paid me yet," she said.

Assuming that Herod's generosity was without limits was a second mistake. I paid her from my coin purse, but wondered if the others had similar means. Dashing from her partition to the central area, I quickly learned the answer.

"I have paid you with the seed that struggles to find purchase in your fertile delta!" Homer cried as a bare assed woman slapped at his chest.

"Here! Here! Take a ring! Take two rings!" Denny pleaded with the woman in front of him.

"That's the man who can pay you," Shon said gleefully, pointing at me. "Problem solved!"

"I don't think I have enough," I said with a shake of my head. "We've got to get out of here now before we get the John the Baptist treatment."

Denny, Shon, and Homer looked at me with open mouths.

"How are we gonna get past the guards?" Shon asked.

"Oh," said a woman's voice behind us, "I don't think they'll be giving you any trouble."

I swung around to face the source of those reassuring words, but Shon had already seen her and called her name. "Pami!" he called with jubilation.

"Oh, man," said Denny. "I was hoping we could build something to escape. Y'know, just like the A-Team?"

"Oh, great, I get to be Amy!" Pami said.

"You mean the reporter with the off-the-shoulder clothes like Jennifer Beals in 'Flashdance'?" Homer asked.

"Jimmy, I though you said no more pop culture references?" Shon asked.

"Don't look at me, they're the ones making them," I said in my defense. "Besides, we don't have time to argue, we need to get out of here. The train should be outside, and heads are literally going to roll here soon. Pami, did you come here by yourself?" We started on the way out of the compound.

"I think so. I wanted to find you guys, but then I met some guards outside and one thing led to another. Those leather skirt things they wear are just scrumptious, don't you think? Plus they're in great shape and they all take orders so well..."

"I can't believe you've been doing a Roman garrison," Denny said.

"I don't know," Pami said. "How many men are there in a garrison?"

We moved quickly down the steps and toward the waiting train. I waited while the others scrambled on board. As Shon passed me to climb aboard, he flashed me a quick smile.

"What?" I asked him.

"I love it when a plan comes together," he said.