You arrive home exhausted from your trip but with a head filled with unforgettable memories. You'd wanted for years to visit Egypt and kept putting it off because, not being in a relationship, you didn't want to go alone. One day you found yourself sitting at your desk at work, gazing out the window at a cloud that looked uncannily like the Sphinx, and decided to hell with it and went by yourself and you're glad you did.
Had you been with someone, you wouldn't have met Atef in the hotel bar in Cairo. He not only played the role of tour guide and translator, but also of impassioned lover at the end of each delightful day, made even more delightful by his seemingly insatiable appetite for your body and his forceful approach to lovemaking. More than once, when he was banging you against the headboard of the bed, you had to beg him to please calm himself for fear of having the hotel management at your door. You came seven times during your last marathon session, not more than sixteen hours ago, before leaving for the airport, and it was divine, although you're still raw. You're not complaining. It was an unforgettable experience.
You roll your bags into the bedroom and open one up and there, sitting on top of the clothes, wrapped in a page from
Egypt Daily News,
is the little statuette you purchased in the bazaar. You and Atef were on your way to have lunch at a favorite restaurant of his and the stalls on either side of the walkway seemed to go on forever — this one selling large tooled copper trays, that one ornate hookahs, this one jewelry, that one rugs, on and on. You happened to see the statuette, about six inches tall, out of the corners of your eyes and it caught your attention and you stopped to look at it and as you studied it, it fascinated you.
It looked like a fertility symbol, a woman with enormous protruding breasts, but she also had an equally enormous and protruding penis. You'd seen plenty of pictures of statuettes of fertility symbols of different cultures but never anything like this, with both female and male anatomical parts.
"Do you know what that is?" you asked Atef.
"I have no idea what it is," he said.
He had a brief conversation about it, in Egyptian, with the woman vendor and you kept your eyes on the woman's face and saw her finally shake her head and shrug. Atef turned to you.
"It was sold to her by a black African, but the only thing she knows about it for certain," he said, with that impeccable English of his, "is the price."
"How much?" you asked.
"One hundred dollars," he said, as delicately as possible and looking embarrassed, adding, "and she is firm."