. 01

Selen noticed him as soon as he entered the bar. He looked quite different from the barflies that usually frequented the place: tall and noble with expensive-looking burgundy and gold coloured robes. He was flanked by two larger men, who had the nervous energy, darting eyes and well-developed bodies of bodyguards.

She was only working here until the end of the week as a favour to the owner. After her win at the tournament, she was in demand and would be starting at the academy next week, but he'd begged her to stay for a couple of days until he could find a replacement.

It was obvious the stranger had never been to the bar before. She watched as he scanned the crowd, his eyes methodically working left-to-right until he spotted her. He mumbled something to his minders and they cleared a path for him through the drunken throngs of their rowdy customers.

She pretended not to notice him, polishing a glass and holding it up to the light as he approached.

"It's Selen isn't it? I saw you fight last night, congratulations. It was a terrific performance," he said.

"Thanks," she replied suspiciously.

"I'm Crown Prince Ahmed of the Jalengi tribe and I wonder if I might have a moment of your time," he continued, politely extending his hand towards her.

"So what can I do for you?" she asked, taking his hand tentatively. It was soft and well manicured, the hand of someone who had many servants.

"My tribe come here for the festival every year and tomorrow night is our last night before we move on. I'm arranging a feast and some entertainment for my father, the Sultan, and we wondered if you might be interested in taking part in an exhibition fight with our champion."

"Go on," Selen said, releasing his hand and picking up the glass again.

"My father and I saw you fight the other night and we were very impressed by your fighting skills so we'd like you and your partner to take part in the climax to our evening's entertainment. I'm thinking of a staging a fight, our male champion against you and your partner, Melea, played according to standard tournament rules. We'll provide an independent referee from outside of our tribe. We'll pay you twenty thousand credits for fighting and an extra ten thousand if you win."

"Twenty thousand credits? For both of us?"

"No, each," he said, smiling and showing off perfectly white teeth that contrasted with his olive skin.

It was a huge amount of money, more than she'd received for winning the tournament! Selen did some quick mental calculations: it would take her a full year of bar work to get twenty thousand credits. It seemed too good to be true, which immediately made her suspicious.

"So who's your champion, would I have heard of him?"

"He's only been fighting for six months and never outside our tribe so you wouldn't have heard of him. Frankly, I think you'll win easily if you perform like you did the other night."

"I'd have to discuss it with Melea."

"I've just come from seeing her actually," he said, smoothly. "She said she'd happy to fight if you are."

Selen thought for a moment. Even if there was something crooked about the deal, the tribe had a good reputation for paying its debts so it would still be twenty thousand credits each for twenty-five minutes work. Surely she couldn't go wrong, could she?

"You've got yourself a deal, prince," she said, shaking hands once more.

--

The guard yawned as he leant against the stone wall. He'd watched as the sun gradually disappeared over the horizon, the deep orangey-red globe shimmering in the heat haze. Now as the sky darkened and the heat fell away, he watched as, below him, two young women left the safety of the city, passing through the thick gates and skirting the edge of the white tents belonging to the Inari.

Melea and Selen wandered out into the sudden, inky darkness. Luckily, it was a full moon so they could more or less see where they were going but they still had to be careful not to trip over the guy-lines securing the many tents huddled under the towering walls. They quickly passed the ruby red tents of the Na'inari tribe and presently came to the area reserved for the Jalengi. They were quite a large tribe with thirty or forty smaller family tents surrounding two larger communal tents at the centre. All of them were uniformly coloured cornflower blue but all of the noise and light was emanating from the larger tents. Selen knew they'd probably be powered by a diesel generator or maybe some pre-war solar panels; a nomadic tribe like the Jalengi would only use electric lights on special occasions.

The first tent was particularly noisy and Selen and Melea couldn't resist peaking through a small gap in the canvas. Inside, the tent's floor and walls were covered with large, colourful rugs and banners and a magician was entertaining perhaps fifty or sixty children as their grandparents watched from the rear. He was a tall, dark man with piercing dark eyes and dressed in a large, elaborate turban. The children laughed and applauded as he produced a shiny gold coin from behind a young volunteer's ear with a theatrical flourish.

There were two large sentries with gleaming ceremonial swords posted outside the largest tent but as they approached, the Crown Prince appeared magically just as they reached them.

"Ah, ladies, how lovely to see you!" he said, as he kissed their hands. "Your timing is perfect, we've nearly finished eating. Welcome to the party."

The tent was vast and oval-shaped, supported by four thick wooden poles towards the outside, its canvas walls stretching upwards until they disappeared into the darkness. Electric lights and incense burners were placed just above head height around the outer rim. The floors were covered with a chaotic mix of intricately patterned rugs and brightly coloured satin cushions, and the walls with banners, some of which looked like scenes from the kama sutra, exotically naked men and women entwined in unlikely positions.

There was a raised circular platform at the far end where most of the lights were focussed and maybe a hundred adults, dressed in their finest robes, sat cross-legged on the floor in small groups in a rough semi-circle around the front of this stage. To the rear, there were a series of screens and wall hangings which Selen guessed where to hide the performers.

Selen followed the prince through the crowd, watching the tribes-people as they laughed and chatted and picked over the remains of their feast. Some of them were smoking from hookah pipes, and the air felt thick and humid, and filled with the delicious scents of the exotic banquet mixed with incense and jasmine.

Selen's senses were overwhelmed by the rich,

intricate patterns of the interior and the raucous shouting and laughing of the crowds of tribes-people.

As the prince led them towards the front of the stage, Selen was passed by plainly-dressed servants scurrying back and forth as they removed the remains of their feast, and prepared the stage for the night's entertainment. She was casually dressed in dusty cargo pants and a t-shirt, and felt increasingly underdressed as the Prince led them through the crowds of richly robed tribes-people to a small circle of empty cushions at the front right of the stage.

"Hope you enjoy your evening, ladies," he said, bowing slightly before disappearing towards the back stage area.

As they sat down Selen caught the eye of a young woman sitting nearby. She watched as she got to her feet and walked towards them, remembering her name just before she knelt down beside them.

"Nadia!" she exclaimed, "It's been years! How are you?"

Nadia was a girl that she'd used to wrestle with when they were both teenagers. She was a young woman now, still short and pretty, and dressed in an emerald sari with large, gold hoop earrings. She quickly explained to them how she'd been swept off her feet by one of the tribe, quickly got married and now lived their nomadic life, making a living by trading as they travelled from town to town.

"This is my friend Melea, by the way," Selen said.

"Ah, I already know who you are, I saw you fight the other night. Congratulations! You're both famous now; the Prince was very excited about getting you here to fight."

"Really? So what can we expect tonight?"

"Well the Prince has directed and written the whole evening personally. First, he says there's going to be an 'erotic tableaux..."

"What on earth is that?" asked Melea, just as the lights began to dim.

"Looks like we're about to find out..." Nadia whispered.

--

In the darkness, the crowd's excited chattering turned to low murmurs and then silence. Selen jumped when the Prince's amplified voice boomed out from behind the stage.

"This is the tale of Aloki the God of Lust. We all know Him as the Monkey God, but once he inhabited a human body like the other Gods. This the story of how that changed. It all happened one day when looking down from the clouds, he spied three beautiful virgins. In an oasis in the shadow of the palm trees, the three young girls from the ancient tribe of the Temir practice their dancing, hoping to one day attract the attention of a husband."

The lights gradually came up on the stage area, revealing three beautiful young women. Behind the curtain, a band started to play: a drum, a flute, a sitar and a woman's voice combined to produce a slow, hypnotic rhythm.

The women were all very pretty: young and lithe with dusky skin and large, almond-shaped eyes, whose beauty and size was emphasized by thick kohl. Selen watched as they moved slowly but precisely, their movements perfectly synchronised. They were very graceful, their hands cocked, their feet pointed, making their long, slender legs appear even longer.

Their bodies were wrapped in layers of thin pastel-coloured material that revealed tantalising, shadowy glimpses of their lithe, young bodies as they danced in the soft lights. Veils covered their mouths and their long, silky black hair was partially covered too. The slightly taller girl on the left wore feminine pink, the girl in the middle cool mint green, and the girl on the right, powder blue.

"Aloki watched as the girls danced and seeing their elegance and beauty he was overcome with sinful thoughts. He used his powers to change into the form of an ape so that he could watch them from the trees. As they danced he couldn't resist edging closer."

There was a gasp of delighted surprise as the audience spotted the chimpanzee at the back of the stage. He was quite small and wore a red, ruby-studded collar. There was a little ripple of laughter as the chimp crept closer to one of the girls, his hairy hand reaching out of the semi-darkness and grasping the trailing hem of one of her veils, pulling it off as the girl pirouetted expertly, not appearing to notice.

Selen watched as the monkey scurried backstage with his prize. From where she sat near the front and on the right, she could see through a small gap in the curtain. She watched the monkey hand the lacy scrap of material to his handler in return for a handful of nuts before creeping back onto the stage.

He was well-trained, repeating the trick again and again, the girls gorgeous bodies slowly revealed as the monkey slowly removed the wispy layers of veils. The girls danced on, seemingly oblivious to their increasing nakedness. Conveniently, the dance sometimes involved them kneeling on the floor, or bending over making it easier for the chimp to reach their upper bodies. There was a low, male rumble of approval as the chimp tugged another veil from the tall, slender body of the girl on the left revealing modest but nicely-shaped boobs, tipped with small, chocolate brown nipples.

"Yes, very nice, very nice," an overweight man with a thick, black moustache to Selen's right muttered as they watched the monkey tugging another veil from the girl in front of them, revealing the full extent of her long, shapely legs.

The audience watched silently and patiently as the thin scraps of material were stripped away, the anticipation slowly building as more and more their silky, olive-coloured flesh was revealed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Selen watched the overweight man next to her leaning forward eagerly. In the darkness, she could just make out his hand slowly moving back-and-forth in his lap under his voluminous silky robes.

"Yes, yes," he grunted as the monkey tugged eagerly at a powder blue veil until it revealed the nicely rounded breasts of another dancer.

His breathing grew more laboured and his movements more jerky as the monkey stripped each girl naked except for a gauzy veil wrapped loosely around their thighs. As the monkey tugged at the final scraps of veil, the lights dimmed until there was complete blackness and the man next to Selen groaned in disappointment.

Out of the darkness, the voice returned: "And the Gods watched the mischievous Aloki and grew angry. He was summoned before a council of the Gods. They told him 'As long as you continue to behave like an ill-disciplined monkey then you shall look like a monkey'. And of course, He never learned and always gave in to temptation and that's how he became the Monkey God."

There was a brief pause and when the lights came up again the performers were standing in robes with the monkey and his handler in the centre of the stage. They bowed as the crowd clapped enthusiastically.

"I heard the prince is very excited about the next act, he seems very proud of it, especially the dialogue," Nadia said, as the applause died away.

"Oh yes?"

"He's written this tale himself based on an old family story about the time his father, the Sultan, was attacked by a female assassin."

"Really?"

"Yes, the story goes that he overpowered the assassin and she ended up spending the night with him. Apparently, she was so impressed with the Sultan's sexual prowess that she became his second wife."

"I see; that's quite a story," Selen said, trying not to sound too sceptical.

"Well just between you and me, that's not what really happened. My husband was friends with one of the guards," Nadia said, leaning in closer and lowering her voice. "Apparently the guards heard the Sultan shouting for help and found him struggling with the girl. They pulled her off him and she was executed the same night, but that hardly makes for a good story, does it?"

"I suppose not," Selen said, smiling.

"Anyway, you should pay attention. The Sultan's going to be played by Simba."

"Simba?"

"He comes from the southern lands. The Sultan bought him from slave traders as a boy. Nobody knows his real name. As he's grown into a young man he's become the Sultan's champion. A big, black guy. He's the one you're going to be fighting later."

"So he's a good fighter then?"

"Oh yes! I haven't seen many of his fights but I'm told he's never been beaten. He's very tough and I'm also told he's got other assets that are even more impressive," she said, cryptically.

"But the Sultan isn't black," Selen said, glancing over at an older man with tanned, leathery skin and a neatly trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard sitting on an elaborate gold throne, his young wives kneeling at his feet.

"Yes, well the prince says that's artistic licence, and what he says goes around here."

Whilst they'd been talking, some servants had re-dressed the stage, and Selen and Nadia turned to face the stage as the lights dimmed and a silence fell over the crowd. It was now decorated to look like the Sultan's sleeping quarters, with a large futon in the middle and expensive, intricate wall-hangings. A large wooden chest stood off to one side.

In the middle of the stage, a young, athletic-looking black man dressed in plain white robes lay on the futon, apparently asleep, his thick arms folded across his chest, slowly rising and falling as he snored lightly.

"In the still, silent night the Sultan sleeps. It's warm and humid and outside his tent, his lazy guards quickly fall sleep too. None of them hear the soft footsteps of the deadly assassin sent to cut the Sultan's throat."

They were a few pantomime boos and hisses from the men in the audience when the 'assassin' appeared at the side of the stage. She was a slim, young woman dressed from head to toe in a tight-fitting black Lycra catsuit. In her hand, a large dagger glinted in the lights dramatically.

She crept across the stage, and silently knelt beside the sleeping Sultan. Slowly, she clutched the dagger in both hands and slowly lifted it above her head. She knew it was all an act, but Selen found herself holding her breath and the assassin suddenly lunged downwards, aiming the point at the Sultan's neck.

At that moment, the pretend 'Sultan' reached up, catching her hands and stopping the blade inches from his neck. They struggled theatrically, swinging left and right, the girl pushing with all her weight, the Sultan straining against her as the blade quivered above his throat. There was an audible gasp of relief from the crowd as he finally overpowered her, the girl thrown to one side.

They both scrambled to their feet and circled the stage warily. The girl full of nervous energy, coiled like a spring, holding the blade out in front of her and ready to pounce. The Sultan mirroring her movements, balanced on the balls of his feet, like a boxer. He threw off his robes leaving him clad in only a loose white loincloth, and revealing his sleek, toned body, his muscles rippling under his ebony skin. He was hairless, his skin covered with some kind of oil. The light shone off his shaved head as he danced around the stage, teeth gritted, dark eyes never leaving the knife that bobbed in the assassin's hand.

They sparred for a few minutes, their movements a stylised version of the fighting to come later. The girl was slim and agile, her thin, wiry frame twisting away from him elusively when he tried to draw her into a grappling with him so he could use his superior strength to his advantage.

She slashed at him theatrically and he leapt back. She lunged again and this time he caught her off-balance, grabbing her wrist. They struggled, their bodies swinging left and right.

"No!" she squealed, as he twisted her wrist and the knife skittered away across the wooden platform.

Expertly, he pulled her towards him, spinning her around and twisting her arm behind her back, so that she faced away from him. He wrapped a thick arm around her neck as she tried to squirm away.

"Now then, what do we have here?" he said in his deep voice, pulling her tightly against his hard body and tugging the mask from her head as she tried desperately to twist away. For the first time, Selen could see the girl properly. She was quite slight and short, her black catsuit doing very little to hide her trim curves. The clinging material covered her whole body apart from her hands and feet. She had a pretty face with high cheekbones and full lips. Her long black hair was scraped back off her forehead and tied in a thick braid.

"Well now, I've been assaulted by plenty of assassins but never any as pretty as you," the Sultan chuckled as he ran a hand over the firm contours of her body.

"Let me go!" she cried desperately, trying and failing to stamp on his bare feet, and kicking out at his shins.

"If all assassins looked like you I wouldn't bother with guards at all," he joked, caressing her through the thin Lycra.

"Let me go and I'll let you live!" the young girl said as she struggled.

"Such a generous offer," he laughed. "But perhaps I ought to make sure you're not concealing any other weapons first"

He held her in a tight grip, his beefy arm wrapped around her neck, forcing her head back as he ran his free hand over the smooth curves of her breasts. It was obvious that she was naked under her suit as but that didn't stop him exploring her body as she struggled, running his hands over the taut flatness of her stomach and her rounded hips. He took his time, caressing her pert boobs now and making her catch her breath as he drew a thumb across one of the nipples poking through the thin fabric.