Oasis of Night (32 page)

“Jack.”

“Mm?”

“If I were to come to your room this evening, would you be available to”—his gaze lingered on my mouth—“receive me?”

“You mean…?”

“Oh, yes.” His eyebrows arched. “If you aren't otherwise occupied.” He smiled, and something kindled in his dark eyes. “I believe the time is right.”

 

 

A
T
QUARTER
to eight that evening, there was a knock at the door of my suite. I'd been waiting, trying to read the newspapers, sipping some coffee, but my nerves were jumping all over the place. “Hello, Sam.” He was dressed simply, in khaki trousers and a blue shirt; he still looked tired but not as bad as he'd looked at Octavian's place in the desert. I couldn't remember the last time I'd wanted anybody as badly as I wanted him.

“Jack.” He looked at me for a moment. Maybe he was thinking the same thing I was, that we were finally alone together, behind a closed door, safe from prying eyes. “My darling.”

I took three huge steps toward him and crushed him in my arms. Our mouths found each other, fumbling at first, hot and slippery and wet and so good—oh God, so good. His fists twisted in my shirt, and he walked me backward until we fell down on the bed together. The noises from the open window vanished, and the room went away; there was nothing but Sam's hands and his mouth, his body. I strained toward him, wanting to feel him all over me. I groveled into his shoulder, groaning wordlessly as his lips roamed over my neck, the hard bulge of his clothed erection pressing into my belly as he rubbed himself on me. He stiffened, his whole body taut, his mouth open and his eyes closed. He groaned deep in his throat, a sound that rippled through me like heat, and I caught him to me as the tension left him and he came to rest against my shoulder, breathing hard.

I chuckled. “That good, huh?”

“Oh, Jack.” He swallowed hard and tried to catch his breath. “It has been a very, very long time for me. I beg you, please forgive me.”

“Forgive you? Sam, I'm flattered.” I lifted his chin and kissed him. “It's been ages since anybody wanted me that much.”

He propped himself on one elbow and smiled down at me. “You are never going to allow me to forget this, are you?”

“Never.”

“Years and years from now, when we are both old men, you will remind me of just this incident.”

“Uh-huh.”

He kissed me, and my heart just about burst wide open. Goddammit, I loved this man.

“Jack, let us bathe together now, and then we will love each other slowly.”

We stood under the shower's warm cascade and kissed, touching and exploring one another with all due consideration. It was strange, because I'd been waiting for such a long time now to have Sam to myself, to kiss him and touch him and make love to him without the fear of prying eyes. I couldn't stop looking at him. He was lean and more muscular than I'd expected, his chest and abdomen beautifully defined. His shoulders were broad, angling down to a narrow waist, and the muscles in his arms stood out in sharp relief. There was a scar on the right side of his chest, perhaps three inches long, evidence of some past surgical repair. The little finger on his left hand had been broken and badly set. He was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

He kissed me and pulled me into his arms, warm and slippery under the falling water. He held my face between his palms and gazed into my eyes. “Jack.”

“Sam.” I was grinning like a fool.

We turned the shower off and lay down together on my bed, our bodies warm and wet. He pressed me down and kissed my neck and shoulders, licked my nipples and the hollow of my throat. I surged toward him, desire throbbing through me like a rampant heartbeat. He took my cock into his mouth, and I was gone, brother, but good. I cried out and fisted the sheets, groaned and sobbed and begged him to let me come. I told him over and over how much I loved him, how much I wanted him. My release rose in my belly, uncoiling like a snake, and I came so hard my vision grayed out around the edges. When I finally drifted down from it, Sam was there, holding me as the aftershocks rippled through me like jagged lightning.

I reached for him, took his cock into my hand and stroked him gently, varying the speed and pressure, tugging him closer and closer to his climax. He writhed, fisting the sheets, and now and then a powerful shudder would run through him. He whispered to me, little things that lovers say, muted cries and wordless exclamations. He was silent when he came, panting through it, reaching for me and murmuring my name, his hands on my face, in my hair. “Jack.” Sam looked at me and smiled. “My beloved.”

“Mmm.” I didn't know what would happen after this idyll was over, and I didn't want to ask. “Sam. I'm so glad. You know, I didn't think… I didn't think we'd ever get here. Like this.” Something occurred to me. “Your wife and children, are they…?”

“They are well, Jack. Thank you for asking.” He traced the bridge of my nose. “Jack, I must tell you something, in order to help you understand the way things are between my wife and me.”

“Sam, that's not necessary. It's none of my business—” My throat closed together.

“No, Jack. I would have you understand.” He sighed. “My wife and I met at Oxford University in England. It is rare for a Moslem man to meet an educated woman of my generation. Tareenah was beautiful and bright, and we felt the same way about so many things. My family had been insistent I marry upon my return from England; I had given my father my word. I knew I could not marry a woman simply to acquire a broodmare. I wanted a mate, a companion. Thus, Tareenah.”

“Love at first sight, huh?” There was that feeling again, like I'd been kicked in the gut.

“No, Jack. Not at first sight. That is a Western notion. Your people may think us cold and unfeeling because we regard the sexes differently than you do. We are as passionate as your people, but we choose to enact that passion privately. What passes between a man and his wife is not for the outside world, and we believe love grows slowly, from the humblest of beginnings. I loved Tareenah; I still do.”

“Yeah, sure, Sam. I get it.” It was almost a physical ache. “I really do.”

“No, Jack, you do not.” He sighed and kissed the corner of my mouth. “My wife is brilliant. She is beautiful. She is an excellent mother to our children. In that, she has no equal. When our twins were born—Stamos and Tabia—the doctors told my wife another pregnancy would kill her. We have discussed the use of contraceptive devices, but my wife prefers to abstain from marital relations entirely.”

“Jesus.” I didn't know much about Sam's religion, but I was pretty sure he was expected to have sex with his wife. “There's other things…. Sam, this is none of my business.” To say this conversation was awkward was putting it mildly, and I didn't know Sam's domestic situation well enough to comment on it.

“There are other paths to pleasure, you will agree, but….” He sighed. “Tareenah prefers to devote herself to her work. She is deeply involved in the welfare of refugees and others displaced by the war. I respect her decision. She has given me four beautiful children; what more could I ask of her?” He studied me carefully. “You probably cannot understand such an arrangement.”

“No, you're wrong, Sam.” Suddenly my respect for Tareenah Halim grew by about a thousand degrees, even if I didn't understand her. “I do. I really do. Does your wife… does she know…?” Dammit, how the hell did you say such a thing? “Does she know you have close male friends?”

“Jack.” His voice was very gentle. “I have never had any close male friends, as you say.” He picked up the gold cartouche and smoothed it between his fingers. “You, my darling, are the first. I sincerely hope you will be the last.”

“What will your wife think?” I didn't relish the idea of being Sam's extramarital affair.

“My wife approves of you, Jack. It is with her blessing that I am here. Do you know it was Tareenah who urged me to come here today? ‘
Go to him,
' she said. ‘
Do not keep such a man waiting
.' Tareenah's wish is that I am happy. With you, that is possible.”

He stayed with me for the rest of the night, and we slept in each other's arms. It was strange, after all these years of being alone, to lie next to someone, close enough to hear his sleeping breaths.

Near dawn, we woke and made love again and drifted back to sleep. When I next opened my eyes, it was nine in the morning and Sam was sitting by my bed, fully dressed. “You're going?”

“I must. Will you come by the police station later this morning and make a report? The details of my… of Jonah Octavian's death must be properly recorded.”

“Sam, what's going to happen to us? When I go back to Newfoundland, I mean.”

He stroked my cheek. “I cannot answer that, my darling. Let us take each day as it comes.” He leaned in and kissed me. “Until later.”

“Good-bye, Sam.”

I knew I'd see him in an hour or two, but saying it—saying those words—felt strangely and unpleasantly final.

 

 

W
HEN
I
arrived at the police station later that morning, Ibrahim Samir was in Sam's office, sorting through papers on Sam's desk. He glanced up but didn't smile. “Captain Halim is not here.”

“Good morning to you, too. Where is he?”

Samir shuffled rapidly through a stack of file folders. “He has taken exercise. You will find him in the athletic club on Sharia Soliman Pasha.”

“You… you okay, Samir?”

“I have never felt better.” His gaze was pointed, his dark eyes as hard as obsidian. “Was there something else you wanted?”

“No. No, I'm good.” Whatever the hell was wrong with Samir was his business; I wasn't interested. I found the athletic club on the Sharia Soliman Pasha, as Samir said. Sam wasn't in the sauna or getting a massage, but I did find him in the boxing ring, sparring with some hulking brute of a guy who had fists like hams. I stood by the ropes for a while and watched.

Sam was a naturally graceful boxer, light on his feet and with lightning-quick fists. The big guy moved in, flailing, and a punch caught Sam on the side of the face, but he shook it off. His opponent came at him again, lashing out with both hands, but Sam danced back out of his way, and then feinted a right hook. The big guy struck again, a glancing blow high up on the cheek that opened a cut under Sam's eye. He's going to get pulverized, I thought. I was sure I'd be scraping Sam off the mat when everything was said and done, but he surprised me.

He waited till the other man swung, overreaching himself, and then danced back out of range. The big guy kept on coming, but Sam stayed away from him, leading him around and around the ring like a tethered ox until finally, when he had sufficiently exhausted his opponent, Sam stepped in with an uppercut and simultaneously slammed a left hook into the side of the guy's head. He dropped like a stone. Sam grinned, and then bent over to help the younger man up. I recognized him as one of the policemen from the station.

“Please, Captain Halim, no more.” He laughed. “I beg you. No more.”

Sam saw me waiting and stepped through the ropes to where I was. “Enjoying the show, Jack?”

I grinned at him. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“Oh, that? I like to keep myself in form. It is necessary for my work. You are looking very well this morning.”

“You look fine except for that cut under your eye. You should get that looked at.”

He dabbed at his face with a towel. “Yes. El Ajat might not be fast, but he is big and strong. Perhaps I'll assign him to the Bulaq district as punishment.” He laughed. “Join me in a steam?”

“Sure.”

It was early, and most of the club's clientele seemed to be elsewhere, so we had the sauna to ourselves. The hot steam felt good, and I didn't have any problem sitting there admiring Sam's naked body, either.

“Sam?”

“Yes, Jack?” He leaned against the bench, eyes closed.

“What's that scar on your chest?” I touched it lightly. “An operation?”

He cracked his eyelids a little. “It is where they took out my heart,” he said solemnly. “At least, that is what the new police recruits are told.”

I laughed. I had no trouble imagining that.

“Really, it is where I had a bullet removed.”

“Yeah?” The thought made me sick. “Somebody shooting at you?”

“Jack, I am sorry to say there is often someone shooting at me. I am a police officer, and when I am not a police officer, I am—”

“The assistant to the British Consul. Yeah, I remember.”

His soft brown eyes were sad. “I regret the deception, but it was necessary.”