It had been a feast after famine after the ball. Nights and days, fresh green grass leafed out on arid deserts, spring flowers blossomed on naked branches of trees, festal fireworks lit up starless night skies. He gave her orgasm after orgasm, satiated her long accumulated need, made her start every day with pink cheeks and that wonderful energy that radiates from a satisfied woman. He woke her up in the middle of the night and took her to that warm, pink land under the sheets without her even opening her eyes. He welcomed her home after a long day, pinned her against the wall at the entrance hall and licked her until sweetest honey traveled through her veins. After five weeks of deliciously torturous denial, he gifted her two weeks of sweet release in abundance. She enjoyed and savoured both worlds.
It was a Friday evening and they were relaxing in front of the fireplace with their books and laptops. Their bags were packed for tomorrow; they were going to Istanbul. He was attending the Convention for Science Fiction Writers and she was accompanying him, not missing the opportunity to see this exotic city, capital to two great empires and thousands of years of history. She was quite excited as she loved Orientalist paintings, and she could not wait to see the palaces and bazaars depicted so curiously in all those pictures. She knew it was a modern metropolis now but could not overcome the stereotypical images of exotic harems and mysterious Byzantine underground labyrinths that occupied her mind about the city. She was sure to see the modern side of it but hoped to get a glance of the exotic too. In fact she had made some arrangements to that end.
This time it was he who noticed the box appearing on the mantlepiece. When he took his attention away from his writing to get a glass of water, his eyes fell on the box, sitting there unexpectedly on its usual place.
"Well, well" he said. "Someone's playing my game. Okay, I will play."
She had been excitedly waiting for him to notice it, so she smiled when he stood up and went to the box. He took the box from the mantlepiece and sat next to her on the sofa, the box placed on his knee. "May I?" he asked, and reached out to her necklace without needing to wait for an answer, took the key gently from the chain, inserted it, and turned it in the lock.
That familiar "Click", and now he was excited and curious. He lifted the lid which had popped open, and found a small ornate silver and gold dish inside.
"A 19th century miniature water bowl," she said.
The next day they flew for half a day and settled in their finely decorated hotel room overlooking the blue waters of the Bosphorus. The convention would not start until tomorrow. For two days it would be very busy for him but she would have the whole five days to herself to discover the streets and get immersed in the rich and vibrant history and architecture.
Although this afternoon, it was time for his gift.
She had shown him the water bowl yesterday but had not made any other explanations. She had merely said that it would be a surprise, a present. It was an antique bowl, so it could be about an adventurous visit to the vast antique markets of the bazaars, he thought. Or perhaps, she would arrange a fiery scene in a secluded palace room. Even the blurry thought of this possibility gave him a hard on in his trousers. He asked a few times, but always got the same answer: a mischievous smile telling him to wait.
At The Hammam
The large wooden doors of the hammam opened and they stepped inside a breathtaking marble space. The dome had star-shaped tiny windows on it, from which soft beams of lights stellated down the spacious "hararet" room, giving it a mystic feeling.
According to the guide, "hararet" meant "hot", which would explain the very warm temperature. There was a large heated rectangular marble table in the middle, but there was nobody on it. In fact the hammam was empty except for the two, as it was past its closing time and she had paid extra to rent it after hours. On the sides all around the place there were niches with fountains and basins.
They were given thin cotton towels to wrap themselves with but she wanted to use them later. He was in his thin cotton morning robe and she in a very light, loose silk dress, pastel pink. She was also wearing a long pearl necklace dangling as low as her belly, and hairpins with pink roses were decorating her brown hair. She wanted to look special. Both their feet were bare; they had left everything else outside. Her shapely naked feet were very beautiful, her toenails were polished with red nail varnish which contrasted with her light skin colour. With each step on the warm marble floor her silk dress swayed against the air, she looked almost weightless, as if gliding further into the space.
Mesmerised by the mystical atmosphere of the hammam and aroused by her seductive walk deeper in this strange unknown place, he followed her into one of the private rooms. After he entered, she closed and locked the door.
This room was a miniature version of the larger space outside, although instead of the high dome, there was a lower dome, and no windows. There were soft lights on the walls and mood was very relaxed. The sound of water running from the brass fountains and overflowing from the marble basin echoed in the empty steamy space, gave it an increasingly alluring atmosphere. Reed flute was playing very quietly in the background.
She swayed towards him in her seductive manner, stood very close to his body her feet touching his feet, and without breaking eye contact, she whispered, slowly, emphasising each word.
"I am your concubine."
Hearing these words gave him a full hardness, his cock throbbed with an instant arousal. Visions from fantasies in oriental palaces, colourful scenes from a thousand and one nights harems rushed to the surface from his unconscious and filled him with a pressing, overwhelming lust.
