In Search of Tamar

I bought a

telekart

in the Eilat bus station and started calling travel agencies from the public phone in the hope that I could find Sarah Liebowitz. Fortunately, Sarah had a good reputation in Eilat and the first agency I called gave me the number of her company. When I called Sarah’s agency, a woman with a pleasant, sensual voice answered. The woman had almost the same BBC accent as Tamar had but with more Hebrew overtones.

“Is this Sarah Liebowitz? Hi! I’m Chris from Canada. I just arrived by bus from Be’er Sheva. I’m a friend of Tamar Ya’akov. Tamar and I met five years ago and …..”

“Oh my God! It’s you, Chris! Tamar told me all about you. Can you please wait where you are. At the bus station? OK, I’ll come and pick you up at the front. Orit! Please close up tonight. I have to pick up a friend of Tamar at the bus station. Remember Tamar? Oh my God! I never thought you’d return to Israel after what happened. Oh my God!”

In all of that, I could tell two things. Tamar wasn’t working with Sarah at her agency. Also, Sarah certainly seemed to by on good terms with God the way she kept embracing the Divine.

During my ten minutes wait, I meditated on why fat women sound so sexy on the telephone. In Canada, the 900 numbers are answered by heavy women. It’s something about the weight that makes a heavy woman’s voice exude sex. Yet, I never thought of fat women as sex objects. I never asked a fat girl out for a date when I was in high school. In fact, I never asked a fat woman for a date after high school. Was I weight-prejudiced?

My thoughts were interrupted when a tiny white Suzuki pulled up. A huge woman was driving and she yelled, “Hop in Chris!”

“Hi Sarah. How did you know it was me?”

“Don’t be such a slug, Chris. Of course I knew it was you. Tamar told me everything about you, especially how good looking you were. And I’ll bet you knew it was me because you’ve been talking to Delilah Toledano. She was always on my case about my weight. That

yenta

will never change. I’ll give you a quick tour of Eilat. Then, we’ll go to a quiet restaurant and we can talk.”

I put my bag on the back seat and sat in the passenger seat. The car was so small that Sarah’s bulk pressed me into a corner. We were so close that I could easily smell Sarah’s perfume, despite the

masgan

(air conditioning) going full blast. It was an expensive perfume but it didn’t remind me of a Marrakesh whorehouse, the way Delilah’s perfume did. Sarah’s perfume was far more befitting a self-employed businesswoman.

I was slightly uncomfortable getting so cosy with someone who was supposed to be Tamar’s best friend. Sarah seemed comfortable enough in the tiny car, sliding her hand along my thighs as she shifted gears. I got even more “feels” from her thick arms as she pointed out the various sights of Eilat, the beach, the cruise boats to the coral reefs and dolphins, the docks and Aqaba across the bay. Sarah’s friendly manner quickly put me at ease, so I got in a few feels myself as I pointed at sights that were on the left side of the road.

Eilat isn’t that big a place so we quickly did the tour and parked the car near the beach. As Sarah stood beside the car, I realized that Delilah Toledano was honest about one thing. Sarah was a big woman, hefty and thick in all parts of her body. However, Delilah was wrong when she called Sarah Leibowitz a “cow”. In fact, she dressed very stylishly in a light brown pantsuit, the very model of a modern businesswoman. She wore light makeup, emphasizing the best features of her broad face. Sarah’s face was not movie star material but she was wholesome and pleasant in her features. Best of all, she had a smile that could charm an ayatollah. I had to give Sarah a compliment.

“Tamar never told me that she had such a good-looking best friend.”

“Normally flattery doesn’t work on me but I think you really mean it, Chris. Tamar said that you didn’t have the slightest amount of guile in you. In fact, she told me you bordered on naïve. So, in this case, I’ll accept the compliment as sincere and thank you very much.”

There it was again. Did every woman in Israel know that I wasn’t supposed to be too smart? I was about to protest that, really, I did have a brain but Sarah continued.

“Let’s walk to a place where we can talk and have something to eat. You see Chris, I wasn’t always the Sarah you see today. Years ago, when I was in

gymnasium

(high school), I was your typical unhappy, dumb, fat child who sat at the back of the class so nobody would look at her and laugh. I was about to fail my year because of Tanach (Old Testament) and

Anglit

(English) but I got up my courage to ask Tamar, the most beautiful and popular girl in the class, why she knew her

Tanach

and English so well. To my surprise, Tamar told me her secrets.”

“Tamar said to me, ’Sarah, do you know that there are lots of very racy parts in the

Tanach

? Start with

Shir shel Shirim

(Song of Songs). If the Hebrew in that book doesn’t touch your libido, then you’ll never be a student of

Tanach

. As for English, don’t listen to how our teacher pronounces the words. If you listen to her, you’ll end up sounding like Prime Minister Shamir. You must listen to the BBC and then you’ll speak like Abba Eban.’”

“So, we practiced English together and went through Tamar’s favorite parts of the

Tanach

. I tell you Chris, Tamar took that book away from the rabbis and made it my own personal pornography. With Tamar’s help, I passed my year and I was in her class the next year. I really admired Tamar so I was so happy that she stayed friends with me, even though I didn’t need her help with my homework any more.”

Sarah continued: “Then Tamar told me, ‘Sarah, my next job is to do something about your social life.’ Tamar showed me how to dress in style and use makeup. Honestly, Chris, I really thought there was no hope for me but Tamar made me believe in myself. What she really gave me was the confidence to try and pick up guys. Tamar isn’t like most pretty women who keep an ugly girlfriend around so they can look better by comparison. No, Tamar really loved me and wanted me to have the best. She would always encourage me to go after the good looking guys and not to pass up opportunities for love. That’s what Tamar means to me. There’s more but I’ll tell you when we have a seat.”

We ended up at a sidewalk café at the beach. We ordered some Greek appetizers and made some small talk about our respective professions. As we talked, I became more and more impressed by the “fat, dumb” girl who had made it socially and professionally. That seemingly unattractive body contained quite a charming person. The more Sarah talked, the more I liked her and the less I thought of her as just another overweight lady. As impressed as I was by Sarah, I had to get our conversation back to Tamar, the whole reason for my trip to Israel.

“Sarah, your Tamar is the same Tamar I knew. Tamar took sympathy on me because I was obviously lost in a foreign country and needed her help to get around. Then she rewrote a lot of the copy I sent back to Canada. She was generous with her talents as well as herself. But you said you know all this. What do you mean that there’s more between you and Tamar?”

“I went into the army at the same time as Tamar. Yes, I did lose some weight in the army but it didn’t save me from a dull job patrolling the Negev. I got to love the Negev so, after my Army service, I went to Eilat and worked in a tour company. I thought I was getting a deal when the owner said he was retiring and wanted to sell it. It was only after my ex-boss skipped to Argentina that I discovered that the business was a mess and the banks wanted to shut me down. I thought I would lose my family’s life savings and I cried to Tamar about it on the telephone. Tamar came right away and used her father’s influence to get the banks off my back. Then she started going through our books and discovering what was profitable and got rid of the unprofitable tours. She got in touch with the language experts who worked her in the Censor’s Office and hired them to work with tourists from Europe. She made me brush up on my Russian and I did tours from Eastern Europe. She studied archaeology and trained all our new guides, including me, on how to do a tour to Timnah. In no time, we were a success, the banks were happy and I repaid the money my family loaned me.”

“We both owe Tamar a lot. But, why isn’t she here in Eilat, if your business is such a success?”

“About three years ago, Tamar became restless. I suppose you know how she’s always looking for new challenges. She decided she wanted to try something different instead of herding tourists around Israel. She came to me one day and said ‘Sarah, your business is really profitable now. I don’t think you need me any more and I just can’t see myself doing this all my life. I have to try something different and I think I know what it is. A new kibbutz is starting up on the Golan, Kibbutz Hagafen, and I want to be part of it. They’re interested in having me as a member. I can teach language when they don’t need me to work on the farm.’”

“Well, Sarah, if that’s where I have to look for Tamar next, I’ll just have to go to the Golan. As a travel agent, how do I get there?”

“You can go by bus but you’re so far south that it’ll take forever. I suggest you fly to Kiryat Shmoneh and then take the bus from there. That way, you’ll miss driving through the Negev and you’ll save time. Unfortunately, the next flight isn’t until tomorrow morning. I say, stay overnight in Eilat. You won’t be tired that way and I can get you a ticket when I open the agency tomorrow. I won’t even take my agency discount for the ticket.”

“I’ll take the expert’s advice and fly. Can you drive me to a nice hotel? I’m sure you know one that isn’t too expensive, being in the business. Oh there’s the waiter. I’ll get it.

Hahashbon

! (check)”

“Why don’t you stay with me tonight, Chris? My place is quite comfortable and I’m not expecting anyone tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll drive you to the airport. That way, you won’t have to take a taxi.”

Sarah wouldn’t take no as an answer. Every excuse I tried to get out of staying with Sarah, she had an answer for it. The woman was a master at using guilt to get what she wanted. She even used Tamar to make me guilty, saying “Tamar never told me that Chris was one of those guys who leave as soon as they’ve got what they wanted.” Finally, I relented and let Sarah drive me to her apartment. It was well away from the beach and in a nice neighbourhood. It didn’t appear as if any tourists ever got to visit this part of Eilat.

Sarah’s apartment was furnished in a simple Swedish Modern style. It was probably as expensive as Delilah’s furniture but not half as ostentatious. Sarah had it made but she didn’t need to flaunt it. I put my bag beside the couch, sat down and took off my sandals. I asked if Sarah had a pillow I could use. I don’t know why I said that. I suppose that I still had some hangups about sleeping with a fat woman. Sarah looked like a scolded child.

“I’m beginning to think that Tamar was right, that you really are clueless. Chris, I’ve been sending out clues all night that I want you to make love to me and you still haven’t gotten it. We have to talk about this.”

Sarah sat on the couch next to me. I felt the cushions tilt in her direction and I couldn’t help being thrown against her shoulder. Sarah lowered her voice.

“Please don’t think badly of Tamar but you and Mossi weren’t Tamar’s only lovers. Do you remember that I said we used to pick up guys together? Don’t judge the two of us but quite often we shared the same guy. We shared notes about their, uh, performance and how we could improve our own performance. I think at first that the guys only made love to me so they could get into Tamar’s pants. Well, after they had Tamar, they would often come back to me on their knees, begging for what I had to offer. Chris, believe me, in this one thing, I am better than Tamar. Can I tell you a word of my people: ‘It’s hard to love a fat girl but oh how a fat girl can love.’ That’s not the Talmud. That’s Sophie Tucker.”

I was reevaluating my attitude towards heavy women all evening. Now Sarah was confronting my attitude directly. Why should I accept as a friend some guy sporting a big beer gut but I would have some reservations about screwing a fat lady? Was I being unfair to fat women? Maybe Sophie Tucker was right about a fat lady’s talents. Maybe there was a huge reservoir of red-hot cunt waiting to be discovered at Weight Watchers. Maybe a fat lady really did have more to love. I decided to accept Sarah’s charms but I wouldn’t let her seduce me easily. I had to play the game with her.

“But why me? If you’re better than Tamar, why can’t you have any guy you want?”

“Oh dear, you still don’t understand, do you. When Tamar left, my social life went with her. You don’t know how prejudiced people can be against overweight people. I haven’t been fucked in a year and I’m climbing the walls, I’m so horny. Why you? Tamar said that you’re the best

zain

that she ever had and I want the best. I want to fuck you and share you with Tamar, just like it was before she left. Why don’t you want to sleep with me Chris? It’s because I’m so fat, isn’t it? I won’t force you to sleep with me. I’ve learned to take rejection in my life.”

This woman was an expert at using guilt and now she was trying to throw logic and my feelings for Tamar into the mixture. I was pretty far down the road to yielding to Sarah but I made one last stab at turning turn the guilt around.

“No, it’s not because of that at all. I told you before that you’re very pretty and now I want to tell you that you’re desirable as well. It’s just that you’re supposed to be Tamar’s best friend and I’m supposed to want to marry her. Wouldn’t you feel guilty about sleeping with me? Wouldn’t that be like stealing your best friend’s husband.”

“You’re not Tamar’s husband yet. It’s not like I would be husband-stealing. You’re leaving tomorrow for the Golan and I’m staying here in Eilat with my business. It’s a one-nighter and you should do it because Tamar would want me to have you if she were here. She always told me when I asked her about some guy, ‘Go for it Sarah. Don’t have regrets.’ Here, I’ll make the decision easier for you.”

With that, she undid my belt, pulled down my zipper, reached into my gaunches and pulled out my dick. I was completely immobilized between Sarah and the back of the couch. OK, if I tried, I could have pushed her off but I was also curious if Sarah really had all the talent that she and Sophie Tucker claimed. Sarah started slowly sucking on my dick, working her tongue around the sides, never touching the sensitive tip. Yes, Sarah was good at sucking dick, every bit as good as she and Sophie had promised. I straightened out immediately. Sarah seemed to be satisfied with her job on my dick. She stood up and led me by the dick into her bedroom.

Sarah’s bedroom was decorated in the same light, modern motif as the rest of the apartment. It was as if she wanted to contrast her own size with the lightness and delicacy of her furnishings. She let go of my dick and I sat down on the edge of the bed and got undressed. I watched with delight as Sarah started to take off her clothes slowly and erotically. Sarah might have been larger than life but she wasn’t clumsy. In fact, I probably should have checked out all those seedy bars I remembered in Georgia and Florida that advertised 300 pound strippers. A graceful fat woman is really quite erotic as she undresses.

When Sarah got down to her lingerie, I could hardly wait for her to take her bra off. Her bra looked like a triple E cup at a minimum. If Israeli women had big hooters, then a “full figured” Israeli woman had to have tits that belonged in the Guinness Book of Records. Sarah didn’t keep me waiting too long. She undid a clasp at the front and showed her boobs to me like a flasher opening his trench coat. They were enormous as they tumbled out of each cup. Shit, I had my work cut out for me tonight.

My attention wandered to Sarah’s panties. Hot damn! Gottex made bikini panties in XXXL in Israel. Sarah slowly reached to the waistband and pulled down her knickers. I can’t explain how Sarah could build up the anticipation more than a skinny woman. Perhaps it was because that waistband had more travelling to do over her large stomach and ass. It seemed like I was watching her panties slide down for hours until her big, dark bush showed in all its glory. Her tummy hung out over her bush like a shelf, keeping the triangle of love protected from the sun. Sarah’s performance was so sensual that my dick was hard and aching. My dick wanted so much to poke around that lush, hairy growth.

Sarah let her panties drop and climbed into bed beside me. She slid all her bulk between the sheets without plopping on the mattress. It made me compare this graceful big woman to all the skinny women who had just did a bellyflop into my bed. The way she moved in an erotic, controlled way got me into the mood of probing into all that flesh with my dick. I put my arms around Sarah. Her back was soft, almost cushioned. As our bodies touched, it was such a comfortable, enveloping feeling, like slowly entering warm water. I smelled a trace of the same perfume that I smelled in the car. A good perfume always lingers long after it’s applied.

We kissed each other on the lips. Sarah wasn’t in any hurry, savoring all the preliminaries. Her soft, chubby fingers caressed my back and ran up and down my body. She was so big that I couldn’t get my arms around her so I had to content myself with kneading the rolls of skin on her back and the love handles on her hips. She was so soft that a tight hug would have been like squeezing ninety kilos of Silly Putty. Yet, all that softness made me want to cuddle and enjoy the comfortable feeling that her body gave next to mine.

I turned my attention to the mountains on Sarah’s chest. Did you ever see that Busty Morgan movie where Busty kills the guy by smothering him with her size 62’s? That scene flashed through my mind as I buried my face between acres of boobies. Better keep Sarah on her back or I wouldn’t be able to compare notes with Tamar when I found her. Sarah was so big there that I could bury my nose between her tits and play with her nipples and my ears at the same time. I discovered this on my first run up Sarah’s cleavage. Cleavage, it was the Grand Canyon and I was diving right in. At the top, I worked my way around one tit and then along the indentation her bra had made under her boobs.

As I rounded the top of her other tit, Sarah was starting to make some noise so I decided that I would try sucking on her nipples. I wish I took the time to read what size Sarah’s brassiere was because it took two hands to hold one tit so I could suck her nipples. Like everything else about Sarah, her breasts were large and prominent. At dinner, I couldn’t get my eyes off the nipples outlined through her brassiere and blouse. Sarah went crazy as I sucked and played her nipple with my tongue, so I shifted my mouth to the other tit. Sara went even crazier. Back and forth I went, giving my attention first to one nipple and then to the other. Then I did another run up Sarah’s cleavage kissing and licking any part I might have neglected on my first run.

Sarah’s tits were fascinating but I had to move on to more serious things. I started to move my hand up the inside of Sarah’s leg. What impressed me most was how big and soft her thighs were. In Sarah’s case, size does seem to matter because Sarah was extremely sensitive inside her legs. I don’t mean that she was ticklish there but those thick thunderthighs were an erogenous zone. As I caressed her softness nowhere near her pussy, Sarah started to tremble so badly that her body rippled like waved on a sea of jelly. Sarah opened her legs wider.