Eat The Words

You may shoot me with your words, 
You may cut me with your eyes, 
You may kill me with your hatefulness, 
But still, like air, I'll rise. 
Does my sexiness upset you? 
Does it come as a surprise 
That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? 
Out of the huts of history's shame I rise 
Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise 
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, 
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. 
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise 
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, 
I am the dream and the hope of the slave. 
I rise 
I rise 
I rise.

Still I Rise ~ Maya Angelou

Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof

Proverbs ~ 18:21

laundrette (by bcharles deviantart.com)

The Tongue That Wags The Dog's Tale

"Chinese ... Japanese ... dirty knees ... look at these ..."

John Rossiter.

He was sneering to himself as he observed the scene below.

A boyishly good-looking man with a messy mop of brown hair and fierce blue eyes.

Schoolboy.

Man-child.

His face had changed from contorted grimace to mocking smirk.

John Rossiter was standing on his balcony.

His council flat.

His palace.

John Rossiter was chuckling to himself as he watched Mrs Chang putting her washing out.

Regular like clockwork. 

The block of flats resided in the poorer end of New Acres but faced the well-to-do houses of those who had made it.

Lanying Chang.

She was a small and attractive Chinese woman who always spoke simply and eloquently.

No wasted words.

Her motions were always quick and nothing was ever wasted - she always spoke simply and eloquently.

John Rossiter had been a mechanic for twenty years but had been out of work for five years now.

A man of leisure. 

Angry at the twist of fate.

Sleight of hand.

Another one on the scrapheap. 

Most days Rossiter drowned his bitterness and dejection with cans of Stella - but because he was always focused on his predicament,  there was always more resentment and objects of wrath to curse.

The Chang family were high on his priority list.

His hit list.

The hate list.

"Bloody foreigners"

Rossiter often wondered how the Chang's had managed to buy a small terraced house when he was relegated to living in a crumbling block of flats.

Their dirty and dilapidated launderette couldn't have been making that much money.

Crappy little hole.

Tear it down.

So John Rossiter put it down to racial prejudice.

The one legged black lesbians. 

The law of averages.

Give the fucking immigrants all the jobs.

As far as he was concerned it was the weak puppet government was pandering to all the foreigners and giving them hand outs.

Too scared to take a stand.

Pandering to them.

Especially the fucking headscarf wearers and their bearded husband.

Four-hundred years behind.

Like their women.

Walking behind their husbands.

"Fucking degenerates" 

The "powers that be" were obviously scared unless the thieving foreigners squealed about their human rights and called down hell fire.

"You get nothing unless you're a one legged lesbian or a scrounging foreigner!" John Rossiter announced loudly to his friends in The Moby Dick public house one afternoon.

His friends all laughed in unison.

The Moby Dick.

A stomping ground for all the embittered and lost souls of New Acres.

Scene of much drunken tom-foolery. 

John Rossiter was sick and tired of every nation under the sun invading his little England and draining it of it's economy.

"I remember when Britain was great but not anymore!" Rossiter added melodramatically that afternoon in the pub,

Everywhere he looked he saw strangers.

"Fucking no white people left now"

In all his forty-five years John Rossiter had never seen so many foreigners cluttering up the place.

Or so many head scarves.

"The fucking ninjas"

England was no longer England to him.

It was held in a strangle hold.

"I'm not religious" John Rossiter exclaimed "But I 'aint having some backwards fucking religion taking over. This is meant to be a fucking Christian country!"

Several friends grunted in approval. 

"Fucking Islam!"

When the door closed (by hearthy deviantart.com)

John Rossiter took another long drag from his cigarette as he observed Mrs Chang talking to her husband.

Shing Chang was small and had a wizened face and did not speak unless he had to.

Rossiter listened to the couple talking in a language that sounded ridiculous to him.

Chiming sounds like a malfunctioning clock.

Fingers across a blackboard.

John Rossiter winced as he glared at them.

Pygmy freaks.

Sub-human.

Mask-like faces.

Aliens,

Fucking back to Vietnam or where ever you frigging came from.

Then the disgruntled man turned to look at his bushy golden retriever who was waiting patiently for him by the door.

The dog looked up expectantly at him.

"Come on Carlos!" Rossiter exclaimed stubbing out his cigarette "Let's go for a little jaunt!"

If only humans were more like dogs.

Easy to train.

You could put them down when they got ill or when they exceeded their usefulness.

Put down all the foreigners.

Scrounging bastards. 

The dog barked back enthusiastically.

John Rossiter ruffled the dog's coat affectionately.

The only show of affection all day.

He was a lonely man.

If only foreigners were like dogs.

"Shove them all outside in the cold for the night" He sneered

Thieving bastards.

If only he could train Carlos to bite or eat those scum.

But he was a big soft lump.

Perhaps Rossiter would see that bird with the big tits at the hairdressers.

Trudy's Style.

Big pair of knockers.

Fucking hooked up to a big black man.

As if Englishmen were not enough for her.

Dirty cow.

Perhaps she'd be in sitting at reception with her jugs hanging out.

Nig nog loving whore. 

Two hours later and John Rossiter was in The Moby Dick public house surrounded by a motley group of rowdy friends.

He was King of the castle.

John Rossiter loved being the centre of attention.

Most of the throng around him had known him all his life.

Half of them hadn't worked in years.

Some of them were on the sick.

Fiddling the authorities. 

Chancers.

Too complacent to move.

Some of them were moonlighting.

Ducking and diving.

The government had driven them to it.

Giving all the jobs to blacks.

"Ask any patriotic Englishman and they'll agree with me!" John Rossiter scowled - slamming his pint glass down "You work all your sodding life for a couple of pennies and these thieving bunch of free-loaders just walk in and take your job and your goddamn money from under your nose!"

An Asian man walked past and shot Rossiter a vicious look.

Raj Patel.

Fucking corner shop owner.

What else.

"No offence mate" John Rossiter called out to him "I'm talking about the other Paki's who sponge off us and steal our jobs!"

Several friends laughed out loud.

"Bastards!" Shane Harlow snarled "They come here because they can get it all free. The house's and everything else besides!"

"Glass the cunt" Rossiter snarled nastily.

"England for the English!" Jason Fipps asserted enthusiastically.

"I am no racist but those Indian ones are devious fuckers!" Harry Weaver pronounced angrily "Those fucking Muslim ones are the worst! Want to make us all fucking like them"

"Religion is for weak minded sheep!" John Rossiter retorted in a passion  "I believe in science and not that fucking bollocks!"

Several men laughed - although most of them hadn't read a science book.

"Mad fuckers those Muslims!" Russell Lock exclaimed as he shook his head for maximum effect "Stone you alive for shagging. This country will soon be run by blackies!"

"Rivers of blood mate!" Shane Harlow bellowed as he downed his pint.

"Enoch Powell was bloody right ... and they called him a fucking racist!" Jason Fipps added with a sneer.

"What about the bloody chinkies?" John Rossiter interjected passionately "Have you seen the state of chinkie women? They're all fucking short and have no hooters!"

All the men laughed and a few held up their drinks in approval.

"Not joking!" Rossiter continued "Short and ugly like that bloody Chang woman with her stupid slitty eyes and ching-chong voice!"

Several hours later and John Rossiter was back at his flat.

His little palace.

Smoking a fag and stroking the dog whilst watching the snooker on the TV.

His partner strode into the room and virtually flung his dinner at him.

Naomi Page.

A tall and attractive blonde with vibrant green eyes.

Worked in the travel agents.

Too good for him.

And she knew it.

Virtually threw his dinner at him.

"Hey - cut it out!" John Rossiter exclaimed.

"It's curry" Naomi Page declared "You like that don't you?"

She eyed him up and down.

What happened to the lad she'd grown up with?

The well mannered young man who'd made such an impression on her.

He'd been replaced by a prematurely aged racist.

Sometimes she refused to let him near her.

He repulsed her.

But she stayed with him.

Just.

John Rossiter suddenly noticed that she was dressed in a little silver dress and wearing sparkly high heels.

"I'm going out" she announced.

He barely noticed anything she wore now.

She might as well have been a ghost.

"Where are you going?"

"Out with the girls!"

"Where?"

"Never you mind. You can come too - but you'll have to wear a dress!"

Naomi barely suppressed a smirk.

John Rossiter in a dress.

Now that was something she'd pay to see.

She pulled on a coat and was out the door within minutes.

Carlos whimpered.

"Fucking shut up!" Rossiter sneered. 

"Bloody women" 

The Pavilion night club was busy tonight.

Naomi Page was sitting between her three friends.

Most of them were sipping cocktails and giggling together.

Page's best friend Jackie Osie was also present.

Osie was mixed race.

John Rossiter hated her.

The feeling was mutual.

Racist bastard.

Osie's father was Nigerian and her mother was English.

Pretty and self contained,  

Always well turned out.

Jackie Osie worked at the pharmacy at the local hospital.

Osie had been watching Naomi Page like a hawk.

Page seemed particularly distracted tonight.

It was clear something was wrong.

"You really need to dump that loser, babe" Jackie Osie informed her best friend firmly.

"What do you know?" Naomi Page shrugged looking away.

"I know he's the biggest racist pig I have ever met!" Osie retorted sharply "I know that you deserve better than that scumbag!"

The other girls had become very quiet.

"Why do you have to always make this about him?" Naomi Page replied fidgeting uneasily.

"Because your boyfriend is a disgusting animal!" Jackie Osie interjected "And Karma is a bitch, honey!"

Naomi wasn't going to argue.

She loved and hated her partner.

All the girls stared silently at each other as the music blared around them.

Awkward.

They all hated John Rossiter.

Wondered what the hell Naomi saw in the bastard.

The night was over.

Everyone departed.

"I just don't want you to waste your life with that loser when there are so many men out there" Jackie informed Naomi.

"Like Louis" Naomi replied.

"Like Louis" Jackie said with a smile.

Louis Osie.

Jackie's good looking baby brother.

Had the hots for Naomi since God knows when.

And he was good-looking and smart.

But Naomi just stayed with that loser.

That racist bastard.

Because she pitied him.

No basis for a relationship.

The two women kissed and departed.

Silent.

There was nothing more to say.

Hopefully Naomi would see the light some day.

Hopefully.

The following day,  John Rossiter observed Mrs Chang from his balcony again.

She was carefully gathering up her dry clothes from the washing line.

"Bloody ching-chong bitch" Rossiter snarled "Go back to ching-chong land!"

"Don't be so nasty John!" Naomi Page exclaimed with disgust from the sofa.

"Sod off!" Rossiter retorted

"Charming"

"She's bloody parasite"

"Actually, I think Mrs Chang is a very nice lady" 

"You fucking love her!" John Rossiter retorted with derision 

Naomi didn't look up, she was flicking through Marie Claire magazine.

"You're a bloody lesbian"He added.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?"

Rossiter grimaced.

"Maybe me and Jackie can put a floor show on for you?"

"Fuck off!"

"And you love the blacks as well!" John Rossiter added with contempt.

"Well you know what they say about them" 

She was smiling.

John Rossiter grunted.

"That they have something big that you are clearly lacking" Naomi Page finished easily.

The confused expression on John Rossiter's face was priceless.

Naomi Page had spent her entire life saving people.

But perhaps John Rossiter was a lost cause.

He was a child-man.

Never knew his dad.

His mum was drunk half the time.

Tough upbringing.

But he'd been a charmer.

Gift of the gab.

But that seemed like a lifetime ago.

He was a sullen man now.

Bitter and resentful.

Now all she saw was someone she was growing to hate but too scared to leave.

The following day John Rossiter was walking past the old launderette with his bushy dog.

Carlos the wonder dog.

Suddenly a familiar voice began speaking to him.

"Nice dog" the soft voice pronounced.

And John Rossiter knew exactly who it was.

He could fucking smell her.

The smell of that shit they ate.

Fucking noodles.

John Rossiter slowly turned to face Mrs Lanying Chang.

She had that knowing expression on her face that Rossiter detested.

Mrs Chang was like a Chinese Yoda.

Wizened and all-knowing.

An alien. 

Fucking Yoda.

"Very nice dog" the older woman repeated as she bowed slightly.

Bowing.

Obsequious freak.

Grinning like a loon.

Mental case.

When Mrs Chang looked up she had a strange smile on her round face.

It unnerved.

There was an unflinching look in her black eyes.

Slitty fucking eyes.

Devious bitch. 

A chill suddenly ran down John Rossiter's spine.

He stared at the woman for a long moment.

What powers did she possess?

Fucking witch.

Chink bitch.

"Well ... ah ... thanks ..." John Rossiter stammered.

Ashamed of his weakness.

He suddenly felt disgusted at his politeness.

Should of told her to fuck right off.

Chinky bitch.

"You come again" Mrs Chang urged "bring dog ... we have tea"

She was staring into his eyes with that odd smile.

John Rossiter was taken aback by the invitation.

Bile rose in his throat.

Fuck you.

Bitch.

He was instantly suspicious.

"I'd best be going" Rossiter said finally 

The woman nodded slightly.

"I need to see a man about another dog"

She missed the note of sarcasm n his voice.

Stupid fucking bitch. 

The Chinese woman was still affecting that peculiar smile as he walked away.

Weirdo.

Sitting in the park as Carlos bounded around with the other dogs - John Rossiter pondered the recent exchange with the strange Mrs Chang.

The more he thought about it the angrier he became.

"How dare she even address me?" He snarled.

The sight of her shining face smiling at him had totally unnerved him.

That he exploded.

"She was fucking laughing at me!" John Rossiter.

"Chink bitch"

"I'm sure she wasn't" Naomi Page replied calmly.

He was obsessed with the Chang's.

Bizarre.

They were sharing a bath together and the suds and bubbles had long since evaporated.

"You weren't there" Rossiter growled "I tell you,  that chink bitch was taking the piss out of me"

My Beautiful Laundrette (by djailledie deviantart.com)

Naomi Page grimaced.

She hated the way he talked about other people.

Page stared back at her lover with bewilderment.

It was getting cold now.

2 am.

Dark.

In the gloom,  a shadowy figure crept along the street under the cover of darkness.

A broken lamp flickered as the man stood outside the shabby launderette.

A silvery can flashed in his hand.

John Rossiter stared with contempt at the chipped paint work and smudged class window.

He surveyed the scene.

The shop was so run down that it was bound to be devoid of any modern features like alarms or CCTV.

The man laughed to himself.

"Dirty rice picking fuckers!" He snarled.

Fuck off back to Cambodia or whatever hole they crawled out of.

Bastards.

Dirty bastards. 

Carlos the golden retriever had followed him out and was sniffing around and growling.

"Quiet mate!" Rossiter addressed his dog sternly "We don't want to wake those freaks up!"

With a sweeping gesture, the embittered man traced a large swastika on the glass.

Then in large spidery letters he sprayed a slogan on the wall.

EAT SHIT AND DIE

John Rossiter stood back and admired his handiwork.

"With any luck the filthy bastards will get dysentery and die any way!" He snarled.

Then he hurled a brick through the window and ran off with his dog in tow.

The following day John Rossiter was holding court in the The Moby Dick public house.

He had been explaining the previous day's events to his friends.

Rossiter savoured every moment.

And everyone clung to every word he said.

"Maybe Chang wants your body mate!" Shane Harlow bellowed.

Several people laughed.

The surly man enthusiastically patted John Rossiter on the back.

Rossiter had a face like thunder.

Don't joke about this shit.

Chink bastards.

"You should have seen the state of that launderette this morning" Jason Fipps announced "Graffiti and a broken window. It was a right state!"

John Rossiter had gone very pale.

Like a xheet.

Like one of Mrs Chang's sheets blowing in the wind.

He felt sick in his stomach.

"A Nazi sign as well" Fipps continued "Someone must really hate them"

Rossiter rallied.

"Not hard!" He retorted "Bet they reek of chow mein! Dirty Bastards"

Everyone laughed.

"Fucking deserve it if you ask me. Does anyone fucking use that grotty launderette anyway?"

Rossiter also laughed

But he shifted uneasily where he stood.

It was too close for comfort.

He;d been an idiot.

But they deserved it.

Coming over here.

Stealing our jobs.

EAT SHIT AND DIE.

Too right.

Three of hours later and John Rossiter and Naomi Page were lying in bed.

The sex had been fine.

But Naomi Page no longer felt satisfied and love no longer rendered her blind.

When she looked at her partner now,  she saw a man who had prematurely aged and who was burdened by his own rage and bitterness.

John Rossiter had lit up and was smoking in bed - a habit that she always disliked.

She was lying with her back to her lover.

"I saw Mrs Chang today" Naomi Page announced "She was very friendly"

"Bet she was" Rossiter answered coolly.

"Really friendly"

"Got no friends has she"

 "She asked us round for dinner" Page said simply.

John Rossiter felt as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him.

"Fuck off!" He exploded 

"I fucking hope you said no!"

"Actually,  I said we'd be delighted" Naomi Page said with a shaky smile.

"I said what a nice gesture and I said we' go!"

"Fuck me!"

John Rossiter leapt out of the bed and pulled a dressing gown on.

"I can't believe it!" He raged "I can't stand those vermin and now you want us to actually eat their shit as well?"

"Oh come on" Naomi cried 

"They are a nice couple and after what's happened ...they need friends"

"Tell them to go back to bloody Mongolia and find friends that speak that shitty language!"

"Oh grow up!" Naomi Page exclaimed rising up like a python about to strike "What is your problem?"

"I fucking detest the dirty inbreds!" Rossiter sneered.

"Well, it's too late" Page cried "And besides,  I haven't had a Chinese in ages"

"I frigging bet you have!" John Rossiter rebounded "And a black as well!"

"Don't be so bloody rude!" Naomi Page commanded.

"I bet you've shagged that bloody nig nog bitch you hang around with!" Rossiter added maliciously.

Silence fell upon the warring couple.

"At least you let Carlos out" 

Page added quietly.

She was exhausted from the fighting.

Hated it.

Waste of energy.

But how thoughtful of John to let the dog out.

"I didn't" Rossiter responded as confusion flashed across his face 

"I thought you did?"

They looked at each other.

The Dinner

Three days later and the couple were standing outside the pleasant terraced house of the Chang's.

John Rossiter was dressed in a Marks and Spencer Italian suit

Naomi Page was dressed in a maroon evening dress from Monsoon.

They stood unsteadily beside each other.

As if they'd only just met.

Two school children on the first day of school.

Where had the love gone?

"If all this goes wrong,  it will be all your fault!" John Rossiter snarled between gritted teeth.

Naomi Page looked at her lover but did not respond.

She had no energy to fight anymore.

Over the last couple of eveings she been thinking about Louise Osie a lot.

Called him secretly.

Covertly.

He seemed to really care.

Although Naomi felt guilty.

She'd made a decision.

Naomi Page was going to leave John Rossiter.

Get the dinner out the way first.

Then tell him.

And go.

In fact, she'd already left. 

Naomi Page smiled back blankly.

Was quiet all the way to the Chang's.

Louis was everything John was not.

Kind and considerate.

Intelligent and attentive.

Everything that John Rossiter was not.

And he was black.

Mixed-race actually.

Handsome with green eyes and full lips. 

Ten minutes later and the diminutive Mrs Chang was ushering John Rossiter and Naomi Page into a small but elegantly furnished dining room.

And Naomi wanted to run,

But she liked the Chang's.

Nice couple.

She liked everyone.

Black

White.

She liked everyone.

And she was going to run off with a brown man and catch up on what she'd been missing.

"Welcome" Mrs Chang said with a slight bow.

The couple were momentarily taken aback by the tasteful artifacts and decor.

"This is a fucking palace" John Rossiter snarled under his breath.

Excusing herself politely - Mrs Chang joined her husband in the kitchen.

The starters were set out neatly on the dining table.

The cutlery gleamed and everything shone as new.

"Have you seen all this expensive shit?" Rossiter continued 

"How did the bastard's get all this?"

"Hard graft" Naomi Page replied firmly as she took a seat

She didn't have any patience for him tonight.

Naomi nibbled on a piece of sesame toast as she watched her lover pace up and down the room.

Louis was waiting for her.

On the other side of this dinner party.

Her knight in shining armour.

He was a strapping man.

Naomi Page was barely able to conceal her contempt now.

Of all the men in the world she had fallen for a hateful racist.

John Rossiter.

One thing he'd never forgiven.

Her Serbian mother.

Naomi had a foreigner for a mother.

John Rossiter always glossed over it.

But she was dangerously foreign.

And he hated that part of her.

The yammering in a foreign tongue on the phone.

Jibber-jabbering.

Fucking foreigners.

Taking our jobs.

Fucking our women.

Bastards.

Invading our country.

Clogging up the streets.

Head scarfs.

Prayer shawls

Fucking curry everywhere.

Poles.

Slaves.

Blacks.

Fucking wasters.

Taking our jobs

Fuck off and go back to where you came from. 

Everyone had always agreed that Naomi Page deserved better.

But love was blind.

Until now.

Louis was waiting for her. 

Now she stared at her lover with ill concealed odium.

Carlos the golden retriever.

The missing dog.

John Rossiter lavished more love and affection on his hound then he did on anyone or anything else.

He had shown more emotion at the absence of the hound than at any time during their three year relationship.

Posters announced the missing animal in shop windows and message boards all around town.

But Carlos had not materialised.

Vanished.

Mystery. 

Rossiter's best friend had gone a wandering.

Escaped.

Started a new life like she would be.

With gorgeous Louis.

John Rossiter had taken the departure of Carlos hard.

He whimpered like his canine buddy. 

And Naomi Page was past caring.

The couple glared at each other across the table.

Locked in an unspoken war.

The silence was quickly shattered

"Dinner is served!" Mr Shing Chang announced as the door flew dramatically open.

His guests jumped in their seats.

Mrs Chang wheeled in several intricate dishes on a creaking silver trolley.

John Rossiter's eyes widened at the sight of the delicacies.

The smell was intoxicating.

Delicious.

"For Miss - we have Chinese steamed fish and vegetables" Mr Chang declared with a flourish.

Naomi Page gratefully received her meal.

Perhaps the delicious meal would make her last night with John Rossiter more bearable after all.

Kiko (by hearthy deviantart.com)

"And for Mr ... we have very special Chinese fried rice" Mrs Chang announced "with extra meat portions"

The woman placed a large plate full of food before John Rossiter.

He looked down at his plate in awe.

It was a mouth watering mountain of food.

And it smelt delectable.

John Rossiter slowly looked up at Mrs Chang.

She was effecting the same curious smile that she had shown him that day outside the launderette.

Rossiter suddenly felt unreasoning fear and he did not know why.

His hosts continued to stare unflinchingly at him.

Their eyes were alight with little dark lights.

But John Rossiter shrugged off the incongruous impression the Chang's were making.

He could barely conceal a stiffed chuckle.

Naomi Page glowered at him from across the table.

"Bon appétit!" John Rossiter exclaimed loudly as he opened his mouth and put a large spoonful of rice into it.

From the moment he tasted his meal - Rossiter was utterly intoxicated.

What magic spell had the freakish chinkies cast over him?

His special friend rice was distinctive and flavoursome.

John Rossiter savoured every single mouthful - lingering with anticipation.

He could lovingly identify every ingredient.

All except the meat.

John Rossiter was having difficulty identifying the meat.

It wasn't beef.

Or pork.

But then he wasn't exactly a connoisseur of cuisine.

Hardly a chef.

He did everything but sniff the meat, 

And it had an unfamiliar smell and texture.

But it was succulent just the same.

It was like silk.

Naomi Page continued to glare at her partner with mounting disgust.

How could he be so ignorant.

A true Anglo-Saxon.

Suspicious of everyone.

Poking at his food.

And then eating it as if he was eating her.

On the odd occasion that they actually made love.

If you could call it love.

The love had died.

Gone off with Carlos.

Now Louis was waiting for her.

The handsome brother of her best friend.

Now Naomi Page observed the sensuous way in which he delighted in his meal.

Like he was having an orgasm.

She'd forgotten what that was like.

And now Naomi Page fought the urge to throw up.

Her husband eating like a pig.

Lapping it up.

Pig.

John Rossiter was making little sounds of gratification as he ate his food.

The sexual allusions were turning Naomi Page's stomach.

She looked away.

"Have they caught the culprit or culprits who damaged your property?" Naomi Page asked her hosts when she had recovered sufficiently enough.

"They are looking at CCTV footage" Mr Chang answered with a broad grin.

John Rossiter attempted to ignore Chang's comment.

But it rankled.

Even as his hosts continued to stare oddly at him.

The couple continued to eat their meal.

In silence.

Mrs Chang surreptitiously ladled more rice into John Rossiter's plate.

She smiled broadly with pleasure.

Chinese Yoda.

All knowing.

Looking right through him.

John Rossiter shivered slightly. 

Mrs Chang looked down upon him with a knowing smile.

From up above.

Looking down upon him.

A cat looking at a mouse.

Fucking bitch.

That weird little smile that lit up her face.

Naomi Page dabbed her mouth with her handkerchief as she secretly considered stabbing her one-time lover in the heart with a carving knife.

Now she sat back and observed as he slurped away like his missing dog lapping up his Pedigree Chum.

"I am sorry to hear about dog" Mr Chang suddenly announced.

Breaking the silence.

The words hung in the air.

But John Rossiter was too immersed in his special fried rice to acknowledge what had just been said.

He was lost in his meal.

The orgiastic feast.

Slowly the Chang's shook their heads.

In unison.

Like Siamese twins.

"We think that if your dog were here now,  he would be delighted to see how much you enjoyed your meal" Mr Chang declared.

"Your dog is happy now" Mrs Chang added.

Still affecting that peculiar smile.

That knowing smirk.

By the time John Rossiter had realised what he was eating Mr and Mrs Chang were no longer smiling.

Their faces darkened.

Their eyes were shining with little black fires.

Faces contorted. 

Two avenging angels.

And there was a an air of pure malevolence in the room.

Retribution had been dealt. 

Naomi Page threw back her head and laughed out loud.

Louis Osie was waiting for her.

Retribution had been dealt.

"Chinese ... Japanese ... dirty knees ... look at these ..." 

Mr and Mrs Chang's had said in unison.

The words hung in the air.

EAT SHIT AND DIE. 

It was around this time that John Rossiter pulled a long golden hair from his mouth.

stop racism (by pourin deviantart.com)

   
        

Like Angels

Death takes my hand and pulls me from the tree. 
Escaping a thornful life for my gain, 
I'll reach a home of peace that has no pain.

~ Peace At Last by Lena Winfrey Seder

The Angel (by entp deviantart.com)

 

Anton And Elena

Anton and Elena Ivanov had decided to collect Danil from school together that day.

It was a bright Autumn day and they decided to take a detour and walk through the park.

They walked hand in hand and giggled like a couple of newlyweds.

Anton and Elena walked past a smartly dressed man walking his dog and a couple kissing on a park bench.

An older woman smiled at them as she walked past them.

Then the couple stopped by the lake and kissed.

Suddenly it started to drizzle with rain and they ran under a large oak tree for cover.

Elena's blue eyes were dancing as she laughed and tossed back her smooth blonde hair.

Eight years of marriage dissolved in her pretty laugh and suddenly they were two teenagers in love again.

Two lost Russian souls in a foreign land.

A struggling artist and a waitress.

Making ends meet.

It was Anton and Elena against the world.

The rain quickly stopped but Anton and Elena were still kissing beneath the tree.

Finally they hurried out of the park and Elena sprinted on ahead - laughing all the way.

Anton was laughing and running to her.

The whole world was laughing with them.

Elena ran into the road and slowly turned to Anton.

Then she blew him a kiss.

She never saw the car.

It appeared from nowhere and hit her from the side throwing her up in the air like a rag doll.

Elena twisted and turned like a fish caught in a net,  as she tumbled across the bumper of the car and lay motionless in the road.

Then the car screeched away.

Anton watched in mute horror from the side of the road.

Everything had suddenly gone into slow motion.

The world had stopped turning.

Anton's life was over.

Then someone screamed.

And the nightmare was real.

"No!No!No!" Anton Ivanov was shouting over and over again as he pelted into the road.

A crowd of people had already gathered around Elena - offering comforting words.

Now Anton was kneeling beside Elena and gently cradling her bloodied head in his lap.

One man ran back into his shop to call the ambulance services.

Elena was still groaning as blood began to trickle out of the side of her mouth.

"I love you" 

Elena Ivanov looked up into Anton's distraught face and traced the outline of his face with a quivering finger.

She looked so small and fragile.

Like a wounded sparrow.

Anton was sobbing into Elena's hair.

He kissed her forehead.

"Ya lublu tebya milaya" Anton whispered tenderly.

Several people were weeping where they stood.

Anton held Elena until her shaking body finally went still.

The entire street had become silent.

Two weeks passed quickly.

St Barbara Russian Orthodox church was an old and elegant church in a quiet part of the New Acres suburb.

Regularly filled every Sunday - the church was at the heart of the Russian community.

Today it was so full of mourners that many people were standing outside in the rain.

Most of the New Acres Russian community were attending the funeral that day.

Sincere expressions of sympathy and empathy had been shared by family,  friends and strangers alike.

But Anton was too lost in his own grief to notice what was going on around him.

One of his hands was placed on his son's shoulder.

All day the sombre little boy had fought not to cry.

He could not fully comprehend what was happening.

One moment his mother was with them and the next she was gone.

Now Elena Ivanov was lying in an ornate coffin in a dimly lit church as the priest's chanted and incense swirled around them.

Kara Lee was watching the service from the back of the church.

She lived in the apartment opposite Anton and his son in the little Russian enclave known as Moscow Towers.

Sitting beside her was Yana Entin.

Entin had taken the young woman under her wing and immersed her in Russian culture.

She had also become a second mother to Kara Lee and also to Anton and his family.

Yana Entin had been widowed for twelve years without any children.

But she had countless surrogate children across New Acres to satisfy her deep maternal instincts.

Now the older woman was carefully explaining the order of the service and carefully translating everything into English for Lee.

But Kara Lee wasn't really paying attention anymore.

Her concerned eyes were fixed only on Anton Ivanov and she couldn't see or hear anything else.

Entin knew she loved that man but she wisely kept her own counsel.

Time passed in a haze as it continued to rain relentlessly.

The sun would not show it's face.

Now they were all standing in the huge cemetery.

Elena's coffin looked so small as it was finally lowered into the ground amid the wails of the mourners.

Anton Ivanov clung to his son as tears streamed down his face.

And Kara Lee fought not to rush over and embrace the man she had secretly loved from the moment she first saw him five years before.

The rain continued to lash harshly against the grief stricken assembly.

Everyone huddled together that melancholy day, stealing themselves against the gathering storm.

Six months passes quickly when you are not really living..

Time no longer had any meaning to those in perpetual mourning.

Anton must have fallen asleep as he did not hear the sound of banging on the door.

The curtains were drawn and the room was unkempt.

He was functioning in a twilight world.

Anton stumbled to the door and opened it.

Standing before him was his surly landlord Yefim Bazaonov.

A portly older man with a lust for money and a modicum of good will towards his fellow Russians.

But Anton Ivanov was pushing it now.

"You're late with your rent again" Bazaonov boomed.

The disgruntled landlord glancing quickly around the sparely furnished but untidy room.

An easel was propped against a table and there were pieces of paper and numerous tubes of paint and brushes strewn all over the floor.

Plates were piled up in the sink in the kitchen.

gates of the past (by hearthy deviantart.com)

Ivanov looked like he hadn't bathed in days.

"Bloody artists ... all the same ... wouldn't know a true days work if it hit them ..."

"Have a heart Bazaonov!" Anton pleaded.

The landlord glared back at him with his cloudy spectacles and filthy cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth.

Come on ... show some solidarity to your fellow Russian ...

"Its been six months now Ivanov" Bazaonov snorted with derision.

Anton felt a stab of pain at the mocking tone in Yefim Bazaonov's voice.

"Let her go!" The landlord finished firmly.

The sudden memory of Elena's golden face sent a jolt of desperate longing throughout Anton's whole body.

She filled his every waking moment.

She haunted his dreams at night.

"You haven't paid your goddamn rent in months!" Bazaonov announced contemptuously.

Ivanov was shaken out of his reverie.

 "We can't continue like this!" The landlord thundered.

"I'll have it for you by the end of the week" Anton answered quickly.

The sad look in Ivanov's eyes softened the hardened landlord somewhat.

"I promise" The widower added earnestly.

"See to it then,  son" Bazaonov commanded patting Ivanov on the shoulder.

And with that the landlord skulked off like a big dark shadow.

Anton closed the door and fell against it, dissolving into sobs.

His whole world ended the day Elena died.

But he had to keep it together for his son.

The officer must have been tapping on the car window for some time.

But Anton was completely oblivious to it.

He was sitting in his car on the side of the road,  staring at the other cars as they sped past him.

Drivers were rushing home to be with their families and their comfortable and happy lives.

Leaving him far behind.

For a moment he pictured Elena the previous Christmas as they opened each others presents and Danil's delighted laughter filled the room.

Elena looked up at Anton and smiled.

Then she disappeared.

Anton buzzed down his window.

"Were you aware that you were speeding sir?" The black police officer enquired politely as he peered into the car.

Anton looked up at the police officer.

There was a look of complete desolation in his face.

Now there was a momentary hush as the two men acknowledged each other.

Only the sound of cars driving past.

"I'm sorry officer ... I'm so sorry" Anton replied finally with big tragic eyes.

Something in Anton's sad face and voice struck a chord within the police officer.

He suddenly felt a deep sense of concern and responsibility for this conflicted man in his car.

"Okay ... well just drive carefully" the officer advised stepping back from the car.

Then Anton quickly drove off as tears rolled down his face.

The black police officer watched Ivanov's car as it disappeared down the motorway.

Something told him that he would be seeing the tragic man again.

That night Anton gently tucked Danil into his bed.

He was more troubled than usual.

All the time Ivanov sang his son a Russian lullaby he wondered how he would ever tell his son that he couldn't afford to pay for his school trip to Paris that spring.

The pain of withholding from his son hurt more than paying the rent late.

Anton Ivanov momentarily looked at the framed photo of Elena on his sons bedside table.

She would have known what to do.

Then he remembered his birthday a year ago and the moonlit walk with Elena by the canal.

"I love you forever" she said looking deeply into his eyes.

Then the door bell rang.

Anton opened the door to Kara Lee.

She was holding a covered casserole dish.

Lee was an attractive brunette with hazel eyes and sympathetic disposition.

Scottish by birth and upbringing - she had adopted Russia as her soul country.

Kara smiled warmly at Anton.

"Hi ... I just made some stew and thought you might like some too" she said brightly.

"Thank you Kara ... that's really kind" Anton answered "come inside"

Lee stepped expectantly into the apartment and as she handed the casserole dish.

She was dressed in a pretty blue shift dress and her dark hair was tumbling about her shoulders.

Lee suddenly fought the urge to wipe a strand of wavy hair out of Anton's eyes.

He looked like a lost little boy.

Thirty minutes later and Anton and Kara were laughing together on the sofa.

"Life has been really tough since Elena died" Anton said sadly.

Kara stared longingly into his face and then she leaned in for a kiss.

Anton Ivanov instantly retreated and jumped off the sofa.

"I'm sorry!" Kara exclaimed nervously "I really think I should go"

Anton had his back to her as she walked to the door.

"I'm sorry" Ivanov finally said with his back still to her.

Lee was fighting her tears.

At the door,  Kara Lee slowly turned to Anton Ivanov.

" I forgot to tell you that Yana said that she would love to see you in church on Sunday" Kara remembered.

Then she disappeared out of the apartment and out of Ivanov's life forever.

She knew with tragic certainly now that she and Anton would never be together.

There would only ever be one woman in his life.

Even if she was lying in New Acres East Cemetery.

Outside in the hall - Kara Lee finally burst into tears.

She wept for what might have been.

desolation (by NoiZe-B deviantart.com)

She wept for the man she had loved.

He was as lost to her as Elena was to him.

Sitting in the soulless office the following day, Anton Ivanov was struggling to comprehend what was being said to him.

"I'm sorry Anton" Elliot Locke said apologetically as he sat back in his big leather chair.

Ivanov stared blankly at the officious young man in his Paul Smith suit.

" We are going to have to let you go" Locke added unemotionally.

They were sitting in an office in the illustration department of Salmon and Reece Publishers.

A gold fish bowl of an office.

And everything had suddenly gone deathly silent as Ivanov struggled to deal with the shock of his rejection.

"You can't do this to me" Anton pleaded.

"Anton ... lately your work has been of a ... shall we say substandard quality" Locke informed him matter-of-factly

"You have never had any cause to complain and I always deliver the goods!" Ivanov protested as his world splintered into a million pieces.

"It seems that sadly that is no longer the case" Locke quickly interjected as an apologetic smile spread across his face.

Fucking little upstart.

"But you don't understand ...!" Anton Ivanov wailed "I need this job!"

"I'm very sorry" Elliot Locke replied flatly "But you'll survive. I'm sure you'll fall on your feet"

Bastard.

Anton Ivanov finished his glass of lager and quietly left the bar.

He had been drinking for most of the afternoon.

He even toasted Elliot Locke.

"A plague on both your houses!" He exclaimed loudly.

It was still daylight when Anton Ivanov stumbled out of the bar and squinted into the light.

The sun was shining brightly.

But Ivanov's life as he knew it was now finished.

No job.

No money.

No home.

No Elena.

Anton Ivanov laughed bitterly at the dark turn in his fortunes.

And the drink had done nothing to assuage his mounting sense of despair and helplessness.

He could see Elena smiling at him in bed.

Now Ivanov staggered over to the park and stood under the same tree that he had stood with Elena on the last day of  her life.

He remembered her carefree laugh that tragic day.

Anton Ivanov was entering a big dark pit from which he would never emerge.

He managed to stride the half mile to New Acres East Cemetery where Elena was buried.

Then he lay on the ground beside her grave and closed his eyes.

Ivanov must have fallen asleep for he had lost track of time.

Yana Entin would have collected Danil from school now and be preparing him something small to eat in her tasteful apartment.

The thought of his son gave Anton Ivanov the sudden urge to live.

Just then a large crow descended upon the spindly branch of  a tree above him and looked mournfully down at him.

A silent mourner.

Gradually Ivanov began to consider the paths his life might take now.

He was standing at a crossroads.

And there was a fork in the road.

Then he remembered the Russian motif.

"If you ride to the left, you will lose your horse, 
if you ride to the right, 
you will lose your head."

And a dark pathway began to open up before him.

That night Anton watched Danil sleeping.

His son looked so peaceful.

He looked so much like his mother.

Anton Ivanov spent the remainder of the night and much of the early hours of the morning crushing every pill he could lay his hands on into a powder.

There was no time to sleep.

And there was even less time to live.

Later in the morning Anton surprised his son by taking him to the seaside.

The little boy was elated as he hugged his father with joy.

Ivanov watched with pride as Danil ran in and out of the waves.

The little boy was laughing and shouting all the way.

The beach was full of people that Saturday.

There were countless families with small children and numerous couples enjoying the unusually warm weather that day.

Everywhere the sun shone and people's faces shone with joy and hope.

But it felt as if only Anton and Danil were on the beach.

For a moment Anton saw Elena running after Danil into the surf.

She was picking him up and swinging him in her arms.

Elena laughed and beckoned to Anton to join them.

Ivanov closed his eyes.

"I'm coming home to you"

When he opened his eyes,  Elena had disappeared and the beach was crowded once more and Danil was playing with a new friend in the sand.

The boy turned to his father and proudly showed him his sand castles.

Again it seemed like the beach was empty.

A deep sense of peace had descended upon Anton Ivanov.

An unearthly peace.

The morning passed in a joyful lull.

Later Anton took Danil to his favourite burger bar.

The boy felt like Christmas and his birthday had arrived at once.

Ivanov sat and watched his son as he happily ate his burger and he was overcome with emotion.

"What's wrong daddy?" Danil asked in his little concerned voice.

"Nothing my son" Anton replied as his voice broke with emotion.

And he had to look away so Danil would not see that he was crying.

"Eat your burger and then we'll go and watch a movie" Ivanov finally said.

That night Anton quietly filled a little plate with his son's favourite chocolate chip cookies.

Then he poured some milk into two glasses.

Finally Ivanov surreptitiously emptied white powder into both glasses.

He paused as he looked at the two glasses.

They were his passport to another life.

A life with Elena.

In his mind she was always waiting for him and Danil.

Just beyond his grasp.

Danil was sitting on the sofa in his teddy bear pajamas - the ones that Elena had bought for him.

The little boy smiled excitedly at his father as he sat down beside him on the sofa.

He had had the best day that he could remember for a long time.

"I love you daddy" the little boy cried as he nibbled on a cookie.

The words sent a jab of pain straight to Anton's broken heart.

For a moment Ivanov was too emotional to speak.

But then he tenderly cupped his sons face in his hand.

ANGEL 1 ( by cmgrafico deviantart.com)

"Daddy loves you too" he finally said.

He kissed the lad on both cheeks.

There was an unearthly peace in the apartment that night as Anton and his son embraced on the sofa.

Soon the pain would all be gone.

Ivanov stared at the icon of Jesus on the wall as he gently rocked his son in his arms.

The following morning Yana Entin was standing outside Anton Ivanov's apartment.

She had been ringing the door bell and banging on the door for twenty-five minutes now.

Entin was very anxious and perplexed.

In the five years that the Ivanov's had lived there,  they had always answered their door on a Sunday morning.

Sometimes they accompanied Yana Entin to church and other times they politely turned her down.

But they always answered their door to her.

Something was badly wrong.

Kara Lee emerged from her apartment.

She was completely distraught.

Already she suspected the worst.

Several families had also emerged from their apartments and were talking loudly in Russian among themselves.

"I've called the police" Lee declared anxiously "they should be here soon"

"Its just not like him" Entin replied "Anton always answers his door on a Sunday morning"

Twenty minutes passed as Kara Lee and Yana Entin continued to call through the letter box.

The hall was gradually becoming full of other apartment dwellers.

"What the hell is going on here?" Yefim Bazaonov thundered at the sight of Lee and Entin shouting outside Ivanov's apartment.

He had never seen so many people congregating in the hall of his abode.

Bazaonov had been been called out of his easy Sunday morning routine to play along with this God forsaken drama.

"Its Anton and Danil" Yana cried "they aren't answering their door!"

"That dog Ivanov!" Bazaonov roared furiously "He's probably still drunk ... and if he hasn't got his rent he can pack his bags!"

Yefim Bazaonov pulled out his keys and opened the apartment door.

"Get up you swine!" The landlord bellowed through the open door.

Kara Lee and Yana Entin rushed into the apartment as a loud murmur arose in the throng outside.

Several moments had passed and there was no sound from the apartment.

"What's going on in there?" Bazaonov shouted angrily from outside in the hall.

He was getting restless - he had a life to lead.

Both the women had stopped where they stood in the apartment.

They were transfixed by the sight of Anton Ivanov and his son lying on the sofa.

They appeared to be in repose and for a moment it looked like they would wake up.

Kara Lee was convinced that Ivanov would open his eyes and give her his easy smile.

But she knew he wouldn't.

He looked so peaceful as he cradled Danil protectively in his arms.

Both women were lost for words - too distraught to speak.

Then Kara Lee started crying loudly.

She knelt at Anton's knee and looked up at the man she had secretly loved for five long years

Yana Entin crossed herself and said a prayer in Russian.

Then she knelt beside Lee.

"I knew" Entin said simply.

They were sisters in arms now.

"May they find peace at last" Kara Lee replied.

It was very quiet and still in the apartment now.

People were sobbing in the hall.

Even Yefim Bazaonov was struggling not to cry.

Inside the apartment the two women kept silent vigil beside the two bodies.

Gradually the sound of prayers began to permeate the apartment as people began to pay their respects to the deceased.

Kara Lee gently kissed Anton Ivanov tenderly on the cheek.

"How many days and nights have I longed to do more?"

Ivanov looked more handsome than ever.

Time passed as if in a dream as all eyes remained upon the father and son as they lay on the sofa.

Nobody noticed the police officer enter the apartment.

He instantly recognized Anton Ivanov and was suddenly overcome with emotion.

Yana Entin was reading comforting verses from the Bible.

Kara Lee was sobbing loudly at Ivanov's feet.

The officer looked at the two bodies.

"Like angels" He finally said.

Everything was still.

The brightest light was shining.

When Anton Ivanov opened his eyes,  he was standing in a big garden.

Everything shone around him and he felt pure bliss.

Ripples of joy ran through his being.

He was free at last

And Elena and Danil were standing before him by a large fountain.

Their faces were shining like the sun.

Elena was smiling with joy and waving to him.

"Come over here my love"

Anton Ivanov walked towards Elena Ivanov and his son.

And as he did so,  everything suddenly became brighter and brighter.

Heaven (by Malleni deviantart.com)

                     

Titty Titty Bang Bang

This moment, this love, comes to rest in me

many beings in one being 

In one wheat grain a thousand sheep stacks 

Inside the needle's eye 

a turning night of stars 

There is a light seed grain inside

you fill it with yourself or it dies

I am caught in this curling energy, your hair

who ever is calm and sensible

is insane! 

~ This Moment, This Love by Rumi

She is the mistress of our exotic dreams, 

the sway in our erotic fantasies. 

She is the feminine in all it’s glory 

confident and proud, 

if we dare she moves us beyond ourselves.

~ Goddess of Belly Dance by Anthea Slade

The Five Daughters Of Kemal Terim

It is Friday night and New Acres is a hive of nocturnal activity.

The Orient Delight.

A Middle Eastern restaurant in an expensive part of town is busy tonight.

The ebullient atmosphere is infectious.

The restaurant is filled with the delighted sounds of merrymaking and the unmistakable aroma of choice Near Eastern foods.

There is a party in the far corner with a motley array of happily enthusiastic and vociferous diners celebrating the birthday of their friend.

Elsewhere,  various couples talk animatedly or savour their meals.

Kemal Terim.

The owner and proprietor of the restaurant - looks on with pride as he observes his satisfied customers.

A rotund Turkish Cypriot man with an open handsome face, large black eyes and a curling black moustache.

Terim has built his restaurant business from nothing and seen it gradually flourish.

Yet for all his satisfaction and personal sense of achievement, Kemal Terim is unable to curb his growing disquiet tonight.

For his nemesis is sitting several tables away.

William Knight.

The celebrated food writer for The New Acres Gazette adjusts his designer glasses as he expertly surveys his surroundings.

His wily brown eyes dart about the room as he copiously jots down notes in his notebook.

Periodically Knight tastes the food that has been presented to him as if he is afraid that Kemal Terim is trying to poison him.

William Knight is a distinctly handsome and urbane man with keen features and wavy brown hair.

He is tall, athletic and lightly tanned from his travels.

Knight is cultivated and charming with a devilish wit.

Nothing escapes him.

And William Knight is also a noted seducer of women and a practiced sensualist.

He is a connoisseur of the good life.

Yet his boyish good looks conceal a ruthless determination and a quick and agile mind that is infinitely uncompromising.

William Knight is almost too good at his job.

And he has been particularly unsparing with The Orient Delight.

Kemal Terim has known William Knight for some time now, he has seldom awarded him and his restaurant with a flattering review or positive food rating.

In fact,  Terim is still smarting from a particularly harsh article that Knight wrote the previous year in which he likened the restaurant's culinary offerings to dog food.

That review almost killed Terim's business overnight.

And now as Kemal Terim hopes for the ultimate star rating.

Turkish Coffee (by liajedi deviantart.com)

William Knight is all that stands between him and lasting triumph.

This is his last chance because Terim won't survive another bad review.

Fatma Terim.

Terim's chubby wife.

A small woman who speaks little and keeps her thoughts to herself.

She watches anxiously from the kitchen door.

It is impossible for her to relax tonight.

There is far too much at stake.

Their lives are hanging by a thread.

The pervading atmosphere in the kitchen is sombre too.

Even Fatma's brother the usually boisterous cook Fazil has nothing to say.

But tonight things are going to be different.

Things are going to change.

There is a shifty look in Kemal Terim's eyes as he watches William Knight like a hawk.

Beneath the genial exterior resides a devious mind.

The lights unexpectedly dim and the mesmeric sound of oriental dance music suddenly fills the restaurant.

All heads turn to see a young woman dressed in exotic belly dancing attire glide into the room.

All eyes are fixed and mouths are silenced at the sight of the enticing creature as she dances her serpentine dance in the centre of the room - moving rhythmically to the pulsating beat.

The restaurant is suddenly transported to the Near East.

The dancer wriggles and writhes like a sliver fish caught in a net.

Coins glitter about her wrists and around her head.

Silver bells at her wrists and ankles jangle as she gyrates.

A glittering jewel shines brightly at the exposed belly of the enticing young woman.

William Knight's eyes have widened at the sight of the dancing beauty.

His hands are sweaty as he adjusts his glasses.

The young woman spins round and round as an ugly jolt of lust fires straight to Knight's groin.

The review can wait.

She is dancing before him now.

Her almond shaped green eyes send William Knight a silent message.

Quivering and shimmying in sensuous anticipation as the intoxicating music increases in tempo.

Everyone is transfixed by the exotic creature and they stare intensely at every move she makes as if in a trance.

But the young woman is dancing only for William Knight now.

Knight watches the  woman with the eyes of a practiced libertine.

He notices how lithe her taught body is.

How smooth and glistening her olive skin is.

How sparkling her green eyes are.

How thick her long raven hair is.

Her large breasts are like two ripe mangoes.

Her supple movements suggest flexibility in bed.

Knight suddenly imagines the woman drenched in sweat beneath him.

Breathless and satiated after several hours of rigorous delicious love making.

A smile of sheer satisfaction on her face.

Kemal Terim looks on with a strange look on his face.

He watches Knight like a lion going in for the kill.

Fatma Terim holds a flashing gold coin in the plump palm of her right hand and she opens and closes it.

The music builds to a sensual crescendo as the dancer swirls faster to the vibrating rhythm.

Then the dance is over and the girl disappears.

But William Knight is panting for more.

Everyone bursts into applause and whoops of joy.

The memory of the dancing girl will linger in their minds for the rest of the night.

At the end of the night Knight stands eagerly before Kemal Terim and talks excitedly like a love sick school boy.

Terim is silently impressed by his enthusiasm.

Knight looks about him to catch a glimpse of the exotic dancing girl.

But there is no sign of her.

"The dancing was exquisite" Knight informs an amused Kemal Terim.

"Ah you liked it?" Terim enquires with a half smile upon his round face.

"I did indeed" Knight answers eagerly with a note of expectancy in his voice "but I liked the dancer even more"

And with a few words he has revealed his intent.

"My daughter Feri"  Kemal Terim says with a shrewd smile "I can assure you that she is a very ... talented girl"

William Knight's member stirs between his legs.

His interest in Terim's daughter is all too visible to the cunning restaurant owner.

He is exposed before him.

"You'll find that all my daughters are talented Mr Knight" Kemal Terim adds suggestively.

"I bet they are" William Knight finishes knowingly

There is no need for further debate.

"Come to my house tomorrow night at 8 pm" Terim suggests with a mischievous look in his face.

A broad smile spreads across William Knight's handsome face.

"I look forward to it" Knight replies.

Both men shake hands.

Knight has made a deal with the devil.

There is a yearning expectation in his loins.

Saturday night 8 pm.

William Knight stands at the huge oak front door of the impressive house of Kemal Terim.

Chez Terim

Knight smirks to himself as he considers the ostentatious restaurant owners desperation the previous evening.

The door quickly opens and Fatma Terim stands in the doorway.

"Welcome" she says simply

Fatma Terim ushers Knight into the big hallway and leads him silently into a large elegantly furnished living room.

And there is Kemal Terim.

William Knight adjusts his glasses as he stares in wonderment at the scene before him.

Kemal Terim is seated on a leather Greta Garbo chair and surrounded by his five nubile daughters who are looking adoringly at him.

He is a sultan.

And this is his harem.

All heads turn to look at William Knight.

The five daughters of Kemal Terim.

Five raven haired beauties with slanting green eyes and sensuous bodies enticing him with blood red lips.

Five oriental flowers ripe for the picking.

Corner Building in Color (by alimuse deviantart.com)

 Five dark angels.

They smile knowingly at the reporter.

William Knight is frozen to the spot and completely speechless.

"My daughter Feri" Terim announces as he gestures to one of his daughters.

She rises gracefully from her seat and walks over to Knight.

"My father tells me that you enjoyed my dance" the captivating young woman says, looking directly into William Knight's wide eyes.

She is Mata Hari

"Yes ... I ... I did indeed" Knight stutters back.

He is momentarily disarmed by her startling green eyes and near oriental beauty.

"The eminent writer William Knight enjoyed my dance " Feri muses with a seductive smile "perhaps I should dance for you alone"

William Knight's eyes widen even more.

He notices the outline of her ample breasts through her tight blouse.

Her full lips are pouting.

Desire races throughout his body.

"Meet me at The Premier on Tuesday night at 7 pm" the young woman finishes simply as she eyes Knight up and down.

Then she smiles purposely.

And William Knight,  the ardent seducer has at last been seduced.

He watches the sensuous beauty as she glides back to her seat beside her father.

Yes you'll dance for me ... you'll dance all night for me ... you'll dance all night on my cock ...

The matter is settled.

Kemal Terim smiles shrewdly at William Knight from his throne.

A fly caught in a spiders web.

Then Fatma Terim leads Knight into the dining room and the feast that awaits him and the mysterious Terim family.

The next few days pass in a daze for William Knight.

They pass too slowly for the ardent lover.

And finally Knight is sitting impatiently at a table at The Premier.

He eagerly awaits Terim's daughter with hungry anticipation.

They won't be getting any sleep tonight.

Knight anxiously checks his Rolex again.

It is exactly 7 pm at the most swanky restaurant in town.

He finishes his glass of  Bourgogne Chardonnay.

The handsome man is not aware of the dark figure that has quietly appeared behind him.

When William Knight finally looks up he sees a woman swathed in a black abaya.

Her face is concealed by a niqab.

Two black almond shaped green eyes peer out of the darkness like two stars in a black sky.

Knight is stunned and momentarily disorientated.

He is taken aback by her veil and cloak.

"Hello Mr Knight!" The woman cries "I wore a veil to protect my identity because New Acres is a small town"

She has read his mind.

What other powers does she possess? 

"Yes ... we ... we don't want that!" William Knight stammers.

He is bemused but eager to comply.

Beneath the swathes of her attire resides the sensuous body of Feri Terim ...

"People may talk and I want to protect my modesty!" The mysterious woman adds.

"Of course ... I understand that" Knight answers quickly "Shall we ... eat?"

Feri Terim will soon forget her modesty.

She'll be out of her garments within seconds.

Then his cock will be inside her and she'll be gasping for more.

"I am hungry ... but do not want to eat!" The woman purrs suggestively.

And at last William Knight - champion lover - knows exactly what she means.

All too easy. 

This promises to be a unique adventure.

William Knight feels a burgeoning sense of triumph as he and the enticing young woman leave The Premier together.

He is about to make passionate love to the daughter of Kemal Terim.

And he feels like a thief who has stolen the ultimate prize.

There is silent erotic anticipation in the taxi cab as Knight and the exotic woman are driven to The Excelsior Hotel.

A decadent hotel and the scene of many successful seductions.

The enigmatic woman looks at Knight with her beguiling green eyes.

Her veil has inflamed his passion even more.

Knight will carefully unwrap this exquisite present and take his time to bring her to ecstasy.

He is imagining her large breasts and their pointed nipples beneath her black cloak

Her hand slips between his legs and he feels her delicate fingers caressing his hardened manhood.

Inside the plush hotel William Knight checks in.

The veiled woman follows him to the hotel room several moments later.

Then the door finally closes behind them.

Knight takes the woman by the hand and leads her to the bed.

His big warm hands fumble at her cloak.

"Close the light my lover" the woman urges him "I want to experience you in the dark"

William Knight is momentarily taken aback by her fervour but he does not protest.

This is a young woman who knows exactly what she wants ...

Her cloak and veil fall away easily.

The couple kiss passionately and William Knight taste's her sweet tongue.

He grasps her breast with one hand while his other hand slips between her legs to caress her vagina.

The young woman tugs at the zip of his trousers to caress his hardened penis.

Her movements are quick and sure.

Within seconds he is naked and pleasuring her.

She gasps and groans with pleasure.

The lovers sink slowly to the floor.

She pleasures her lover in return - taking her time and working his penis to bring William Knight to ecstasy.

They are momentarily satisfied.

But the night is still young.

So the amorous couple retire to the big silken bed where they proceed to experience every carnal pleasure they can think of.

And the hotel room is transformed into an erotic temple dedicated to the Kama Sutra and a hundred and one sexual positions.

Come back to bed... (by Jhourney deviantart.com)

William Knight finds the mysterious woman to be just as erotically adventurous as he.

Not submissive but completely responsive.

There is no end to the ecstasy as the lovers continue to make love without ceasing throughout the remainder of the night and into the early hours of the morning.

At last they roll away from each other drenched in sweat and each others scent - utterly satiated.

In the morning William Knight awakes to find his mysterious lover departed.

Only the lingering scent of her musky perfume remains upon him and on the tangled bed sheets around him.

Knight lies back in the hotel bed with his hands behind his head.

A broad grin spreads across his handsome face at the memory of his sexual exploits.

He surpassed even himself in bed and the woman was willing and eager.

It was an erotic odyssey

A fuck to remember.

Several days later and Kemal Terim closes his newspaper and sits back in his chair.

He is triumphant.

The newspaper article was more than he could ever have dreamed of.

The Orient Delight is a palace of Middle Eastern pleasures not to be missed ...

Kemal Terim smiles as he proudly relays the details of the article over in his head.

... the food is excellent ... the best Middle Eastern food in town ... the best Middle Eastern restaurant in the country .... the decor is tasteful and the ambiance is perfect ...

He indulgently mulls further over the details of William Knight's review.

... this restaurant gets the highest rating for its first class service ... each meal is expertly prepared and served in style ... the customers needs are always met ... satisfaction is guaranteed ... the proprietor is one of the friendliest men in town ... book now ....

Kemal Terim is in a state of bliss.

He smiles knowingly to himself.

The door bell rings.

William Knight is waiting impatiently outside and there is a look of high expectancy on his face.

He is smartly dressed and his face is shining in the midday sun.

He is the cat that got the cream.

"Did you read the article?" William Knight asks eagerly.

"I did indeed!" Kemal Terim answers "And I cannot thank you enough my friend!"

"You deserve it" William Knight says enthusiastically.

They shake hands.

Then there is a tense silence.

"Can I help you my friend?" Kemal Terim finally enquires as a sly smile creeps across his face.

"I was hoping to see if your daughter would come out with me again" William Knight replies.

The memory of their night of passion is still fresh in his mind.

And he has returned for more carnal delights.

"My daughter Feri is in Cyprus my friend ... she left the day after you met her here in my house" Kemal Terim informs him.

Several moments of uneasy silence descend upon the two men.

William Knight stands bemused at this revelation.

And he is unable to speak.

Gradually he appreciates what Kemal Terim has said and an ice cold realisation sweeps upon him.

Suddenly it all begins to make sense.

The veil ...

The love making in the dark ...

"But I ... I don't understand ..." Knight finally stutters in disbelief.

"Come now, Mr Knight!" Kemal Terim cries "Did you honestly think I would give you one of my daughters?"

The Turkish Cypriot man's dark eyes burn into William Knight's soul.

"Did you think my daughter was a prostitute?" Kemal Terim adds with a hint of menace.

It was all falling into place now.

Kemal Terim throws back his head and laughs out loud.

"You did all this to get me to give you a good review?" A bewildered William Knight enquires in disbelief.

"My friend ... we both got what we wanted" Terim answers as he grins broadly showing sharp white teeth.

A crestfallen William Knight stands conflicted on the steps of Kemal Terim's large house as a large raven descends upon the branch of a tree above his head.

"You got a whore ..." Terim continues knowingly.

The raven suddenly screeches loudly from the branch of the tree as several other ravens join in the cacophony from the rooftop.

"And I got my restaurant" Kemal Terim finishes smoothly.

The ravens are finally quiet.

They stare mournfully at William Knight as he silently walks away from Kemal Terim's palace.

Feel the oriental taste (by afasij deviantart.com)