Introduction: Someone here on Literotica mailed me and asked if I could write about a billionaire. Others said they liked my Sheikh stories. Someone else reviewed my earlier stories and claimed they were degrading and using the F-word way too much. So this time I want to try to write an old fashioned romance story with no sex scenes (at least not in the beginning) but what still will have you ladies (and maybe gentlemen) dreaming hot dreams.
Feel free to comment, to suggest improvements or to point out factual errors. Or to suggest a story twist. Bear with me that English is not my mother language even if I am able to understand at least three others.
The setting of the story will be the fictious oil emirate Al Dahaab, famous for its golden beaches (hence the name Gold)
SO FAR: This is chapter 5. Dutch paralegal Lisa, single and in her twenties, has been seconded to Al Dahaab. Her consultancy firm did a lot of visa requests for local companies and institutions as the university whose personnel had to travel to the Schengen area (Western Europe). While it had been done from Amsterdam, recently the firm had thought it better service to let those cases be handled from their local branch in Al Dahaab. But that had turned into chaos. Hence Lisa trying to save thing so their clients would not switch to another firm.
One of their biggest clients is Khalid Enterprises, a big shipping multinational owned by the brother of the local ruler. Sheikh Khalid is a workaholic who is impressed with the work of the young woman and offers her a lift home in his jet to see her grandmother over the weekend. He is looking for a new office in Amsterdam as he wants to move his European headquarter to the mainland because of BREXIT. Lisa suggests however another city. The next weekend he picks her up at her grandmother's farm to check out potential new headquarters.
Khalid is a widower in his late thirties who realises how lonely he has been over the last few years when he is accepted as a kind of family friend by Lisa and her grandmother.
Khalid is impressed by the young woman and when Lisa gets her law degree he decides to hire her as one of his in-house lawyers.
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Chapter 5:
Mr Celebi the old in-house legal counselor had smiled to Lisa. "Now you can try you luck with something else. This is not a case of immigration law but international private law. I assume you had it in university?"
So the office in The Netherlands had ordered new matrasses for the bunk beds of the oil tanker the "Desert queen" that was sailing under the Al Dahaab flag. But the contract of the internet firm had stipulated that any dispute should be judged by Chinese law. And now there was a dispute. The mattresses stunk to high heaven because it looked like mice had peed in them when they were piled up in a storehouse.
Lisa had been glad she had packed a few boxes with all her study material from university when she moved to the Gulf and was now grateful for it. So what treaty was applicable here?
She shivered. Although it was already fall and in The Netherlands it would be grey and rainy somehow the Gulf had a week of extremely warm weather. She had made sure that she was wearing only a sleeveless t-shirt and a thin skirt under the abaya. However in a country where airco was considered a sign of modernity and wealth the old office manager had kicked the airco in high gear and she guessed it was now 17 degrees inside.
Gosh her toes in her sandals were so cold and her fingernails were even looking blueish. Would the guys not feel uncomfortable or did the headgear keep you warmer?
She rummaged in her desk drawers. In the lowest one she had stuffed a long scarf that she had taken with her in case she was going to sightsee and visit the great mosque and would need to cover her hair. She draped the long pashmina shawl over her head and shoulders, walked to the small kitchen to get herself a warm glass of mint tea and returned to her legal work.
The door opened. She expected it to be old Mr. Celebi but to her surprise it was the boss himself. She bowed her head and murmured "Good morning my sheikh" in her best Arabic, repeating what everyone did and said at the office in the morning.
Her heart was drumming a march in her breast. Somehow everytime she saw him it came as a shock how good looking he was. The square shoulders, the flat stomach, the long lashes, the sculpted jaw that now was more prominent now he kept his beard just a stubble.
He was frowning. What was wrong?
"Has he complained again about your looks?"
"Who has my Sheikh?"
"The office manager. Why are you covering your hair and your chest? I told you did not need to."
"No my sheikh he did not. I was just a bit cold with the airco and bare feet in my sandals."
Both looked down at her naked toes at the same time.
She realised the hot pink nail polish might also not be quite the local dress code.
She saw him swallow and then look into her eyes again.
"I was talking to you about the camel market in the oases when we came back from Venice. Would you like to see it? We can go and camp there over the weekend. There are races and a camel market but also lots of good food and music and ..."
Wow that was definitely not related to work.
"You said you had never seen a camel. We can remedy that now. Are you coming with me?"
"That sounds interesting. What day do you want to go there sheikh?"
"Well it is all weekend but I rather attend Friday prayer in the mosque first and leave afterwards. If we leave early in the morning we can be back at work on Sunday morning. Or we drive back on Saturday evening."
"Shall I make a lunch so you do not have to go home first?" she asked.
"Yes that would be lovely. I do not like pineapples or crab. All the rest will be fine. I will pick you up at 2.30 pm then.
He turned round to leave.
"Please my sheikh wait a second."
He looked over his shoulder.
"Yes miss Forest."
She saw he was trying to hide a smile. And when he called her Miss Forest as a pun to her last name all was definitely well.
"What do I have to bring for that camel market and how dressed up I need to be for the hotel?"
"Hotel my dear?"..."We will be camping in the desert in Bedouin tents like the old days and roast lamb over a fire. But I would suggest a black abaya that can survive camping and sunglasses and a long black shayla -- you know a scarf -- so you will blend in with the locals. Those blue eyes and your hair colour scream foreigner. I do not want to come home with hundred camels instead."
He grinned and walked away. The white bisht trailing behind him like a cape.
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The rest of the week she had not seen her boss let alone spoken to him. She felt a bit on edge and nervous. Was he taking her on a date? Was this just a nice gesture to show her the country? Who else was coming?
She had never gone camping and had no clue about camping in the desert. She did not want to ask a co-worker. So she googled. It seemed that the camel market was a huge event where people in the past would trade livestock that had been born in spring. That there were contests for the most handsome camel, races, poetry contests, BBQ-ing and fun. And definitely not an expat thing.
It seemed the oasis was four hours inland from the city. It seemed that there was a string of farmland inland watered from springs. And that the locals had lived there before modern times and the skyscraper city had lured them to the coast and what used to be just a small village of pirates, fishermen and pearl divers.
So it was now 2.25 PM and Lisa was standing on the steps of the villa. A duffel bag and a cool box at her feet. She heard the sound of a car engine and a four wheel drive emerged through the gate to the family compound. Another four wheel drive followed. In the Range Rover sat Sheikh Khalid in a white thobe and a headdress tied around his head, his eyes hidden by a set of mirroring sunglasses.
He jumped out of the car and opened the back door. She swung her duffel bag in but when he reached for the cool box she shook her head.
"It is your lunch. You might want it on the backseat instead."
