The sun shone intensely, and the dark faces imprinted on his recent memory were uprooted and replaced by tan faces in head gear and flowing garments.The men of Arabia seemed to float while walking, their legs unseen, their feet snug within open-toed sandals. Mustafa held this impression at the airport as he saw passengers in these long garments gather at a long customs line.Vasilla flashed an identification card and passed without a word. Mustafa followed in awe. They walked briskly through the tidy terminal.Mustafa was fascinated by the simplest things, such as the customs workers emptying suitcases, the doorways marked with flowing Arabic symbols, the praying areas where believers bowed and prostrated themselves. The heat had new meaning as they left the terminal, and they piled quickly within a white-curtained Mercedes. He was surrounded by people he did not know: two silent bodyguards in the front listening to a plain, twangy music, their silence lending an unfathomable. I can't find myself in a private room with her again. Weak. Hot. Ooohhh, submitting... She leaned on the bar and tossed back her scotch. "Another."Tatiana slid up next to her. "Hi Cassandra. Would you like to sample alex again? I put her in pvc to complete the effect of dominating a formerly strong, willful woman."Cassandra let out a muffled moan. She cut it off quickly.Tatiana noticed that Cassandra looked out of sorts. "Is something wrong, Cassandra?" alex leered over her Owner's shoulder at the cowering woman."I, um, no, Tatiana. I just, I just ... need to go now," she said apologetically. "There's a problem at home." She tossed back the second drink."Anything I can help with?" Tatiana looked concerned.Cassandra looked over Tatiana's shoulder to alex, who was smiling devilishly from behind her Owner. Oh, god, I need to go. They'll find out. "No, just a trifle, nothing to be concerned with." I'm dripping. "You know how I'd love to stay..." No, no, don't think a thing of it. Go home.
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