Chapter 7

Posted: August 22, 2006 - 10:26:36 am?

We left the greenhouses and continued our tour of the farm. The only thing really unique about the place was the water system. I had to give it to old Hassan, he might have been a miserable excuse for a human being, but he was a hell of an engineer. The source of the farms water was a very deep Artesian well. The well was tapped by a four-inch continuously coupled black iron pipe over eleven hundred feet long. Since Artesian wells are under pressure from the rock around them, there was no need for a pump. The wellhead was in a small concrete building that was filled with a maze of pipes and valves. The pressurized water went from the wellhead toward the house through one set of pipes and into large underground tanks through another.

The pipe running to the house split into two runs, one went to supply cold water to the house, the other went to a two hundred gallon flat black tank that sat on the roof. The sun heated the water in the roof top tank for household use. The two underground tanks provided the irrigation water for the garden and the greenhouses. In addition to the well system, Hassan had installed all the usual desert water collection systems. There was a cistern well on each side of the house to catch run off from the roof and a gray water tank to hold the water from the sinks, shower and bath. The gray water was used to irrigate a small thousand square foot garden located on the side of the house.

We were headed back to the greenhouses so I could check out Hassan's drip irrigation system, when it hit me. I stopped dead in my tracks, deep in thought. When I finally looked up Basheera was looking at me questioningly.

"I need to talk to Jamilah right now," I stated.

Basheera shrugged, "Ok, Neeko," she replied.

Once inside, I pulled Jamilah aside.

"Have you women been giving me hashish?" I asked forcefully.

Jamilah cocked her head to the side as if I'd asked a stupid question.

"Of course, Neeko, Hasheesh is very good for pain. We sprinkled it on your food as a spice. Did you think your pain just magically disappeared after only one day? We did not give you any this morning, because you were walking without the cane. Are you in pain? Do you wish some now?"

I stood there, my mouth agape, digesting what she said. I didn't know squat about drugs, hell I hadn't even had so much as a beer since I was fifteen. I was all set to be pissed off because I thought they drugged me to make me complacent. Then I recalled that cancer patients and other people in chronic pain were even prescribed cannabis in some states. I backtracked trying to keep my foot from getting further into my mouth.

"Umm, no, I'm fine now. Thank you for doing that for me, though. I was asking because sometimes drugs have bad side effects for a person with a head injury," I said lamely.

"Oh, we didn't know that!" she exclaimed. "We would never hurt you, Neeko, we... care about you," she said, her voice faltering at the end.

I hugged her to me, she shied away a little because we were among other people but I held her tight.

"I feel the same way about you, Jamilah," I said.

All the other women were looking at us curiously now, they were not used to such public displays of affection. I left the greenhouse and went back to my cell, I was tired from walking around and my ankle and knee were bothering me a little. I decided I'd best not try to overdo things.

Adara came downstairs to keep me company as I rested on my pallet. As I sat there I had this nagging little thought about my time in the cubbyhole under the stairs. I closed my eyes and tried to put myself back in there, it took a couple of minutes but it finally came to me. I had been lying on my side facing outward the entire time I was cooped up in there. It should have been hot and stuffy just from my body heat and breathing, but it wasn't. The panel in front had been so closely fitted, noise and light couldn't penetrate it, so I doubted if much air could either. Well the air had to come from some place and I wanted to know where.

"Hey, Adara, come give me a hand please," I said.

Adara looked up from the book she was reading.

"Help you do what?" she asked.

"I want to check out the space I hid in yesterday."

Adara stood up and we moved into the basement proper. Adara showed me how to pull the bottom shelf forward so the back panel could pivot upward. We propped the panel on one of the storage bins from the bottom shelf and I closely examined the cramped space. I felt around some and even rapped the back wall with my knuckles to see if it was hollow. That turned out to be dumb because the wall was concrete. Adara laughed at me when I went "Ouch" then went to find me a candle. She was back in two minutes with one of the candles scattered around the house and a box of matches. I lit the candle and slowly moved it along the back wall. I went back and forth twice, but couldn't see anything.

I was about to give up, when I noticed the candle flicker every time I passed the section of the end wall where my feet had been. After that, it only took a minute to figure out that the end wall was plywood covered in concrete, and a minute more to find the latch that allowed me to uncover another opening. I peeked into the opening and then turned to Adara.

"Go get your mother and Basheera please," I said.

It took about fifteen minutes for Basheera and Jamilah to arrive. They were very curious about what I found. Before I showed them, I asked what they knew about the cubbyhole. Jamilah told me that Hassan had showed it to them all and made sure they knew how to open it. He explained that as part of his important but unspecified duties for the Baath Party, he had made enemies who might come after him. She said in all the time they'd been living there, she had never seen Hassan near it. But she qualified that statement by saying the basement was pretty much off limits to the women except for punishment anyway.

I nodded and let them look into the opening. On the other side of the opening, was a tunnel that seemed to be made out of three-foot diameter culvert sections. Just on the other side of the opening, was a cardboard box. I reached through, grabbed it, and then handed it to Basheera. They rummaged through the box making excited noises as they pulled out a couple of stacks of currency. One stack contained about fifty Iraqi two hundred fifty dinar notes while the other was a much thicker stack of Jordanian notes from five to fifty dinars. They also found a stack of documents that Jamilah said belonged to someone named Fayez bin Faisal, a Jordanian of Palestinian origin.

Suddenly both women became silent, as they pulled a photograph out of the box. The photo was of Hassan sitting next to a woman with two teenaged girls standing behind them. The photograph was a studio portrait and all four people were wearing expensive western style clothing. The photo showed Hassan to be a soft looking overweight man in his fifties, the woman beside him was much younger but even smiling she had a hard, predatory look. The two girls were not that attractive, even dressed up. The women put everything except the Iraqi money and the photograph back in the box and handed it to me. I sat it back inside the tunnel and turned to face them. I didn't know what I could possibly say that would help. Basheera seemed calm as she rattled off something to Jamilah that I only caught a few words of.

"Close this place up, Neeko, we will explore the tunnel later. Stay down here until we come get you," Jamilah said curtly.

Adara gave me a confused look but I smiled and shrugged. The women marched out of the basement as I was putting the access cover back on the tunnel. I closed the wooden panel behind the shelves, sat the storage containers back in place and went back to my cell to wait. Hassan had turned out to be leading the double life I suspected but I took no joy in being right about it. Instead, I was concerned for the women. It had to hurt to find out their marriages were counterfeit, regardless of how they felt about Hassan. It also had to royally piss them off that they had been duped for all these years, stuck in the middle of the desert while Hassan played rich family man in Jordan.

It was a long hour before Zahrah came downstairs for me. She led me up to the big front room, where all the other women were sitting around on pillows. It was a far cry from the smiling, joking bunch I had breakfast with. I sat down and looked at Jamilah.

"Neeko, finding that picture was a shock to us all. Hassan tricked and disgraced us and has brought shame on our daughters. We are now not widows, but the bereft concubines of an honorless devil. May Allah send him to the deepest pits of hell!" she spat.

I looked from woman to woman and I was saddened by their dejected expressions. I put a little sternness in my voice.

"Hey, cheer up. Things may not be as bad as you think they are. We are the only ones who know about this, right? I mean, it's not something Hassan would spread around. That being the case, the farm is now yours, because we know there are no relatives of Hassan's to claim it, other than you. I will help you sell the hashish so you can start a real farm. I'm sure that you will have no trouble selling your produce at the market. As soon as the men around here see what beautiful and desirable women you are, potential husbands will be fighting over you."

The women looked at one another and a few tentative smiles broke out.

"You mean you still thing we are fit to be wives even though we have been so shamed?" Basheera asked.

"You weren't shamed, you were tricked. You did nothing wrong, it was Hassan who acted despicably. I'm going downstairs; while I am gone, I want you to start making plans on how you want things to be here. I am tired and am going to take a nap. We can discuss this more at dinner."

I smiled to myself, as excited conversation broke out behind me as I retreated to the basement. I didn't have any doubts about the women's ability to come up with a plan. I plopped down on my pallet once I made it to my cell and started thinking about my situation. I knew that I was no longer a prisoner of the Widows of Hassan in the physical sense; I could walk out of here anytime I wanted. My status had changed when they had hidden me from the Ba'athists yesterday. The farm wasn't my prison; it was my safe haven. There was no way I could move fifty miles across the desert to the nearest American base with Sheik Omar's forces around. My only option was to sit tight and wait until the Army mounted some sort of operation in the area. I fell asleep thinking that being forced to stay didn't hurt my feeling even a little bit.

I slept for about an hour before Adara came in and woke me.

"Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes, Neeko, so wake your lazy bones up."

I was cozy and drowsy lying there so I grabbed her hand and pulled her down next to me. She giggled and quickly snuggled up against me. Adara loved the physical attention I gave her; I never made it sexual, but I was very affectionate with her. She settled into the crook of my arm with a contented sigh. I admired Adara more than just a little. She was sweet, plucky and didn't feel sorry for herself in spite of her lameness. She was also a beautiful young woman. She had her mother's eyes, except hers were totally dark green. Her dark brown hair was very thick, and hung down to the small of her back in a loose braid. High cheekbones set off her delicate nose and Cupid's bow lips. She was slender, yet her breast pressing against me felt surprisingly full.

"I guess we better go eat," I said after a few minutes.

"Umm, I'd rather do this than eat," she said softly.

I kissed her on the forehead and sat up, she grumbled but got up also. As we walked towards the stairs, she took my hand in hers. Handholding was a common thing among Iraqis, so I held her hand as we navigated the stairs. Everyone smiled at me when we arrived in the front room. I think the way I treated Adara went a long ways towards earning me the other women's trust. I sat down on a pillow and Fatima brought me a plate. The women seemed in better spirits but were still subdued. Jamilah sat down next to me.

"Neeko, what you said earlier was right. We are grateful to you for that and for the other things you have done for us. If you help us sell the resin, show us how to make money another way and do one other thing, we'll talk about later, we will find a way to get you back to your countrymen, if that is what you wish," she said.

"I have already agreed to help you, so no problem. However, I think it best that instead of endangering us all, we should wait until the American and Iraqi forces are near here before I try to go back. Until that time I will do anything I can to make your lives better."

We were both speaking in English so Jamilah turned back to the women and translated what I'd said. My Arabic was getting much better, but for complex conversation, a mix of both languages was still required. When Jamilah finished her explanation, everyone was smiling. I was pleased to see them happier. It was only later, that I found out my idea of doing anything for them was much different from theirs.

After dinner, we all sat around and talked about what it would take to turn their operation into a real farm. I wasn't totally clueless about truck farming, because during my stay at the juvenile detention center that's what my job was. The real subject matter experts were the women themselves. They knew desert farming inside out. All they needed was someone to give them a nudge and some motivation, so I became their head cheerleader as they excitedly discussed what would sell, how much to grow and where to market it. I commented that the greenhouses gave them a distinct advantage over most other farmers, because they could bring items like tomatoes and peppers to market year round. The gabfest continued even as some of them departed to bathe before bedtime. I whispered to Basheera before she went to bathe.

"I want you, will you come to my bed tonight?"

I wish I had a camera to capture her expression when I pulled my head away from her ear. She looked as if she were about Adara's age, being asked on her first date. She blushed and stammered then shyly nodded her head in the affirmative. When she left the room, Jamilah was looking at me with this big smile plastered on her face. We were the only ones left in the room.

"Neeko, it is so good that you can make Basheera happy, she worries so much about us all; it is as if she is all of our mother."

Since we were alone, I tugged her over into my lap.

"I hope it doesn't bother you that I spend time with her, Jamilah, I don't want to hurt your feelings."

She looked at me in confusion. "Why would I mind, Neeko, when you are just as good to me?"

Basheera sat on the edge of the tiled tub as it filled. When the water level was to her liking she poured a capful of jasmine oil in the water and swirled her hand around to distribute it. Taking a bath in the tub was something that Basheera did infrequently; normally she took a shower in the evening. Tonight was not a typical night for her though, so she felt a relaxing soak was in order. She shrugged out of her ablaya and stripped off her underwear, she changed the blade in her razor, piled her hair on top of her head and then settled into the warm water. Her skin flushed hotly when she thought about shaving, not because of the act itself (she shaved weekly) but because of why she was doing it. With deft strokes of the old double-edged razor, she removed every trace of hair from her armpits to her toes.

Finished shaving, she put the razor aside and laid back in the water. Her day had been a roller coaster experience. She had been so happy when Neeko walked unaided and seemed positive about the farm. Only hours later she had been crushed by the discovery of Hassan's treachery. Basheera had called the women together to tell them about what was found in the tunnel. The meeting did not go well. Hassan's betrayal was devastating. He had stolen the lives of the women he married and ruined the futures of the daughters he sired. Remembering the reward Nick had mentioned, they sent for him, hoping to enlist his help if they took him to the American base at Al Rabat. With no clear claim to the farm because of Hassan's duplicity, they decided that the number one priority was to keep their family together, no matter what.

Nick caused that plan to be tossed out the window, when he said what he did about keeping the farm. It wouldn't be as easy as he suggested, but if he cooperated in only a few small ways, it could be done. The second round of discussions were much more positive. The only negative for at least four of the women was the thought of actually helping Nick leave them. The offer had been made out of desperation, how ironic that Nick pointed out things weren't as bad as they thought after they promised him his freedom. Oh well, she thought, if he stays it would have to be of his own free will anyway. She and her sister wives were just going to have to give him reasons to want to stay. Basheera was beginning to believe that Allah had dropped Nick into their lives to make up for the evilness of Hassan because Nick was opposite from Hassan in every way imaginable.

Basheera hauled herself out of the tub with a sigh. She was trying to convince herself that it was not a big deal that he asked her into his bed tonight. However, her skittering heart and tingling faraj knew otherwise. She toweled herself off and loosened her hair. She would brush it until it shined tonight because she knew he liked her tresses. She pulled her long rayon slip over her head and turned toward the small bathroom mirror. As she brushed her hair, she thought of how he swept her ebony locks up off her neck so he could nibble her there. The vision was so vivid, her knees actually sagged at the thought.

I had last dibs on the shower again, and once more, most of the hot water was gone. I took a quick shower, changed into the clean boxers that were neatly folded on the vanity, and headed down to my room. I had to grin as I saw Basheera on my pallet with the blanket tucked up under her chin. She was blushing like a new bride on her wedding night, but she sure looked terrific lying there with her hair spread all around her.

"You make me tremble when you look at me like that, Neeko. I feel your desire for me and it fills me with lust."

"You are a beautiful woman, Sheba, I would not be a man if I were unaffected by you."

Basheera cocked her head to the side when I called her Sheba.

"Why do you now call me Sheba?" she asked.

"You are Sheba because to me you are my queen of the desert. Also because I first learned that many Arabic women shave themselves because of you. Legend has it that Sheba's hairy legs are why Solomon decreed women should shave," I replied.

Basheera looked at me with eyes that absolutely smoldered and held out her bare arms towards me.

"The honey that drips from your lips inflames me in ways I did not know existed. I will be Sheba for you. I think in the Qur'an, Sheba entices Solomon to give her whatever she wanted."

I spent an hour touching and caressing Basheera. I was trying to erase the pain of her day with tenderness. When we joined, it was gentle and intimate, both of us under the blanket moving slowly. Even our climaxes were unhurried; we made love with a comfort that belied the amount of time we'd known each other. Basheera cleaned us up and slipped back into bed with me. I was very pleased that she wanted to stay. She propped her head on her elbow and looked at me. Damn, she looked so sexy like that with her hair spilling across her breasts!

"Neeko, you must continue with your Arabic lessons because when you deal with the hashish traders you will be Hassan's nephew. We will say you are from another country to account for your accent, but you must be able to speak with them comfortably."

I thought for a minute and had an idea that might work.

"Sheba, my parents were Greek and both Greeks and Muslim Turks live on the isle of Cyprus. I could be the son of a merchant that moved there and married a Turkish woman. Since Turks are more secular and have a different language, it would account for most anything I did differently."

Basheera thought my idea was a good one. She even thought up a name for me: Altair bin Saleem al Hassan (Soaring Eagle, son of Saleem of the Hassan clan). I thought the name was cool as hell, especially the Soaring Eagle part. I was going to practice writing it the next day with Adara. Basheera said that the hashish traders usually swung by every three months and would probably show up again in a few weeks. We discussed prices and how the trader operated then she switched gears.

"Neeko, the other thing you must do for us is a much bigger favor than dealing with the Hasheesh traders. It may also be more dangerous, but it must be done to keep Kalila out of the clutches of Sheik Omar."

I told her no problem; I was willing to do anything necessary to protect the family. She grabbed me in a most un-Basheera like bear hug and tried to kiss my lips off. When she told me what she had in mind I realized I spoke way too soon.

"That is so good, Neeko!" she enthused. "You will marry Kalila right away and take her virginity. That way Omar will have no further interest in her."

Uh-oh!
Joe J & Wet Dream-Girl
Chapter 8