Evans Richard was still regretting never having learned the local language fluently. It was not until after the ceremony that he even realized the chieftain had given his daughter to him for a wife. Sharra, a young lady who'd attended an English school as a girl, was more educated, spoke better English than the Elders and teased Evans' terrible language skills and failed attempts to participate with the tribe's daily activities. Sharra, a girl with dark eyes and dark skin, with a slow smile and a quick laugh, who danced with the other girls her age in her bare, dainty feet. Sharra, a girl who was sent by the Elders to the little house the University had built for anthropologists studying Sharra's tribe in the 50's, and had talked her way into his bedroom. She stood outside his bed curtains, striking poses he was sure were traditional dance forms for marriage, but his academic curiosities about the tribe's closely guarded marriage rites were outweighed by a nagging moral concern.
"Its wrong." He called to her silhouette.
"Wrong? You are saying before our ways are not wrong, but ours."
"Yes. But it's relative...cultural relativism, each culture has rules that make it..."
Sharra had stepped from behind the curtain, and Evans lowered his eyes.
"What are you wearing?"
She had pulled her hair back in thick braids, cinched behind her head with a gold band. Her face was mostly bare, only her lips stained red. Around her long and exquisite neck were heavy strings of pearls and a gold chain that lead to her waist, draped carefully between her full, firm breasts. The gauzy, colorful dress she wore was unnecessary, as Evans could see every curve and shadow of her body through it. Her nipples were darker and wider than he'd expected, and she had painted red rings of something that looked sweet and sticky around them. Against his will, Evans found his cock growing hard, guessing at their flavor, imagining his teeth pulling at her hardened nipples, his tongue swirling around. No.. He thought. Women are not property.
"It is ceremonial. Certainly, you have seen it..." She smiled, and stepped closer to him, hidden bells ringing on her tinnily. Her skirt was sheer too, made up of scarves similar to the ones that encased the bed, and he could see clearly the dark triangle between her thick, muscled thighs.
"No..." He stammered "No, the marriage rite is a secret, no unmarried "he still choked at the word. "No outsider has seen it."
She smiled broadly.
"A secret for you, a secret no man of your kind shall know" She held out her arms as if expecting him to move, but instead Evans crossed his legs and looked down. "You will not write about it, after this rite, will you? Not without our permission?"
"I will not do this rite." Evans sighed.."Look, let me send you to school back where I come from, or divorce ...
"I cannot divorce!" She panicked, her jewelry tinkling as her hands shook.
"Well, OK, its OK...school then, art school, dancing , teaching! You can whatever you like!"
She frowned.
" You don't like me." She said, dropping her beautiful head to her chest, raising her hands to cover her face and began to cry. " I am not beautiful enough?"
"No, No." He flustered, trying to stand and hold her by the shoulders to comfort her, but thought better of it. He was sure he'd betray himself if he touched her skin, sure that he would not be able to restrain himself and merely tear her vestments to shreds before throwing her to the mattress, and make the ceremonial bloodstain count. He stroked her hair, thinking it less dangerous than allowing his hands to touch her body.
"Its just, do you really want me? I mean, really? "
She bit her lip.
"Do you wish to be kind to me? truly kind?"
"Yes." he said, definitively.
"Then touch me, but a little. I can undo my vestments myself, so that it looks like you have, and stain the bed. Many of my girlfriends have taught me these things."
No...not thinking about that he thought, pushing images of her more sexually experienced girlfriends teaching her the tricks of faking virginity, perhaps other things...
Evans hesitated, and laid a careful arm around her, resting his hand on the small of her back. He felt the smooth warmth of her, felt his fingers slip toward one of the knots that made up the waist of her skirts. Sharra felt the move, and leaned to give him greater purchase. The front of her gauzy dress slipped, revealing one whole breast, colored like coffee, the sticky ring painted around her nipple hanging enticingly. Evans tried to look away and found he could not.
"See, I am not so ugly." Sharra smiled broadly, and leaned closer. He could smell the womanliness of her; underneath the sweet waters she'd smoothed over her hair, a smell he remembered from the dark dorm rooms of the few women he'd had in university, when he was student.
