Page 34 of Veiled Fantasies

The Middle East had always seemed so foreign, so far away. Except now that she was there. Sure, Dubai was only “Middle East-light” as she heard someone say, and for her, it was probably enough. As it was, she was tiptoeing a narrow line between fascinated and overwhelmed, but she would make the most of it while she could.

All of it. Dubai. Erik. This suspended state, somewhere between fantasy and reality.

She scaled the crenellated walls of the old fortress and took in the view. Centuries unrolled like a carpet at her feet, with the ancient in the foreground and the modern shimmering behind. Dubai had gone from camels and nomads to skyscrapers and golf courses in a single lifetime. A good thing? She wasn’t so sure. But fascinating? Absolutely.

Hours flew past until the sun sapped her energy and time downshifted to a crawl. Her braid felt leaden, sticky on her neck. Between the life-sized Bedouin camp display and the exhibit on the role of women in Middle East societies, she checked her watch. Too early still.

During a second round of the exhibit on trade routes, she gave her wrist an experimental shake. Maybe it was running slow. She forced herself on an extra lap of the checkerboard pavement of the old town square. Two o’clock. Maybe she could head home now.

Home? Better watch it, sister.

Stockholm. London. They were way too far apart. It could never work. And besides, Erik was not her type. Not her type at all. So what if she melted every time he touched her?

Reality check. Was he really so different from someone like Roger? Was he the same corporate riffraff in better packaging and with a cute accent? Wasn’t she just a convenient—ahem—layover for him? Jill considered this and braced for the wave of shame and revulsion that was sure to come.

Any minute now.

Soon.

Like maybe after another night with him, or possibly even two.

But it didn’t come. There was just a warm glow in her innermost core. The feeling she got just being around him or the way he devoted himself to her pleasure before taking his. That was completely different. And when he held her afterwards, it felt like he was holding on to something much bigger. Whatever it was, it kept the two of them safe from the outside world. When was the last time she’d had that feeling?

Never. Ever.

Too bad it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t.

She considered this as she entered the hotel, heading for the eleventh floor. Her room. Er—his room.

Their room?

A couple entered the elevator and stood in front of her. Jill eyed them in rapt fascination. The man was the perfect image of a desert sheikh, with long, flowing robes and a head scarf. The exquisitely woven, shifting layers of his clothing were pure white on white. The woman was robed in a sea of black cloth that glittered with silvery drops like sparkles of sunlight upon a midnight ocean. A silky outer layer was stitched in a loose geometric pattern, opening a thousand tiny windows onto the smooth cloth below. Surely the full body cover was meant to conceal the woman, but the fine garment did just the opposite, teasing and drawing the eye.

Contrasts. So many contrasts here in Dubai.

Jill wondered how many layers the woman wore. Woman as wife, mother–even as partner? She stood with regal bearing, although her face was completely veiled. All but the eyes—beautiful black eyes, perfect olive skin. Her beauty and soul were all concentrated into that three inch stripe while the rest was secreted away.

They stood like two stately chess pieces, the black queen beside the white king. But in the desert, the queen was the one locked away, while the king maneuvered freely around the board. What did the world look like from under that veil? What fantasies played out in the mind behind it? Did they run wild, the way Jill’s sometimes did?

Jill pictured her T-shirt, wrinkled pants and dusty backpack. What did the woman think of her Western ways? Was she wistful? Or did she harbor the same pitying thoughts Jill did for her.Poor thing?

The elevator pinged on the eleventh floor, and Jill slipped out. The doors rolled softly shut behind her, closing her magic portal. She stood in the hall for a long moment, processing the impressions. Woman as partner, mother, wife. Would she ever fill any of those roles?

The first two had a strong appeal. The third, too, given a good man. A good man…

Roger? He was a good man, in many ways. Honest and hard-working to a fault. But not warm or tender. Not like Erik.

She caught the thought there. It was ridiculous to compare the two. Like an ordinary apple and a juicy, exotic fruit she had just sampled for the very first time. Hardly the basis for a reliable study. Still, she couldn’t help herself, thinking back to the ill-fated experiment of living with Roger. How she’d come back from long weekend runs to find him sucked into his laptop, barely able to look up. That is, until he was ready for the secondary things in his life. Like her.

Erik had a laptop, too. A demanding job that kept him on the road. When the novelty wore off, would he be so different?

Maybe it was time for a test. A litmus test of Erik’s priorities that would put her unreasonable fantasies to rest. She raised her key card to the slot and put a hand on the door, wondering what she might find.

Chapter Twelve

Jill primed herself to observe Erik’s reaction when she stepped in. Would he give her that one-finger-raised signal that Roger had always used?Man at work. Do not disturb.Or would he actually treat her like something special?

She knocked, pushed open the door, and watched Erik look up. God, what a cutie he was.

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