Page 39 of Veiled Fantasies

Erik squinted at the ticket machine. He was still figuring out which Metro stop they were at when the slot spit two tickets into Jill’s hand. And just like that, she steered him toward the escalator.

“This way.”

Jill hopped into a subway car like she commuted on it every day, and they were off, speeding along. Erik looked at her. She already knew the subway routes?

The Metro looked brand new; each stop was gleaming. Jill pointed out the murals in one stop that depicted the history of the emirate. There were robed men with falcons, men with horses, graceful dhows, and sheikhs striding purposefully through the desert. And incidentally, not a female figure in sight.

“Apparently, only men contributed to the building of Dubai,” Jill whispered in his ear.

He wished she kept her mouth there, but cuddling in public was one Western practice not encouraged in Dubai. He sniffed. Not such a civilized place after all.

The Metro climbed above ground and zipped among skyscrapers in a harsh, almost lunar landscape, like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie. Behind them, the sea flashed so bright and blue, it hurt his eyes.

He was assaulted by ideas, images. Like him and her on a weekend in London, riding the Tube to some special place. They’d have dinner out and maybe catch a show, then head back to her place. And after? He’d slide back into that glorious state of hibernation she induced in him. Wouldn’t that be nice?

The icy part of his mind immediately threw out a stop sign. Just enjoy this little stopover while it lasts. First things first. And second things?

There would be no seconds. This was it.

Jill was fantastic. That’s why she deserved better. And she would get it someday. Just like Anna, she’d go off and find a better man. She’d move on, start a family, make a better life while his stood still.

No, he would not ruin this lovely afternoon with those thoughts.

They transferred to a cab and whizzed across a causeway, out over the azure sea. Ahead loomed The Palm, one of the emirate’s destination hotels, built on an artificial island, and complete with a water park. The new one, he remembered. Jill already had her coupon out and ready, craning her neck for a view.

“Two, please.” Jill presented the coupon and a credit card at the counter and shifted from foot to foot in anticipation.

He smiled, watching her move. With that metabolism, it was no wonder she kept so trim.

“What do you bet the money we save turns out to be exactly the price of two bathing suits?” she whispered.

He didn’t care. The novelty of shopping for two was worth it. Soon they were outfitted, on his card, this time, and ready to splash.

He waited for her by the women’s changing room, idly registering bits of passing conversation. Some guests chatted about the volcano. Others had apparently gone skiing at the Dubai Mall—a truly bizarre concept. A very excited American was showing his friend something on his video camera.

“You should have seen the cops chase this guy! They came running right past us, right here in Dubai!”

“Did they get him?” asked the other. Their noses were practically touching the display.

“I think he got away. I’m gonna send the video to a TV show!”

“Cool!”

Erik snorted. The things people called entertainment these days.

He glanced around. If it weren’t for the handful of Muslim women wearing full body-cover bathing suits, they might have been in Europe or North America.

Europe. North America. Work.

Wait a minute. He had about a hundred emails to answer. A mountain of work. What was he doing in a hedonistic place like this?

Taking a peek outside his shell, that’s what. Right now, that peek was directed at Jill, who’d emerged from the changing room, tugging self-consciously at her new bikini top. “I can’t believe this is all they had,” she muttered, trotting toward the first ride.

He let his eyes take stock. The green and blue flower print picked up on the color of her eyes. Her legs extended a mile out from the bottom. They looked pretty good to him.

More than good. Beautiful.

What did a woman like her have to be self-conscious about? Or maybe it was about not attracting attention. Moving with quiet grace through the world and being her own person. Not judging and not wanting to be judged.

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