CHAPTER 1

If she’s wise, there are five things that a woman will never share with her man, Alma reflected. Reflection was an activity that she tried to avoid if at all possible. And she, over the two year period that she’d shared her life with Urs Buhler, one of the Il Divo tenors, had not kept even one of those no-no’s a secret.

Too bad she had not become this fount of wisdom about the basic nature of men until it was too late; till their romance was finished. Now they were history. She knew this in her heart yet she couldn’t face that bold truth yet, so she vowed to hang in there with him until he called it quits.

It just didn’t make sense for her to end it, not after the effort she had put into getting him to notice her.

She had learned that he was a pretty even-tempered guy, perhaps things would straighten out. And while she waited to see if the hammer dropped, she’d do all that she could to keep him with her. She knew plenty of tricks and she’d not yet tried them all out on him.

The first no-no, she mulled over in her thoughts, going over and over again in a kind of sick self-torture, is that a woman should never reveal too much about her past hookups. Two years ago, when Urs first became her boyfriend he had been so sweet, so smooth with his regard, so compassionate and nonjudgmental; she had been elated just to have him. She had been so thrilled and infatuated with him that she was lulled into false security. She had been so eager to please him and to just be the recipient of one of the thousand smiles contained in his repertoire that she had used her big mouth to tell him about all of the dogs she’d slept with in the past.

Why in heaven had she thought that to be a good idea? In retrospect, try as she might, she couldn’t figure out why she had done that. It had seemed a good idea at the time even though he had not been as forthcoming with his past love interests. No he kept his business close to the vest. Besides, for the next six months after she revealed all, he truly he had not seemed to mind. He wasn’t the jealous sort. He was sure of himself and his game but that pleasant demeanor of his had finally come to an end.

On the evening that he changed she had just entered a ballroom on his arm, he had been invited along with the other three Divos. They had planned to stay a sort time just put in an appearance and then go back to the apartment and make love. They were having a great time; she had even wheedled him into dancing with her. They both got high on wine and she left to go to the Ladies room.

On her way back, just before she reentered the ballroom there were Sebastien and Carlos strolling down the hallway just facing her. She couldn’t resist. At first she just smiled, a smile that each of those gorgeous men returned, by the way. She had gone over to them both and made a joke, they had both laughed. It was perfectly innocent until she reached and adjusted Seb’s thick hair and gave him a quick peck on the cheek just as Urs walked through the door.

Yes, he had been cool until that night that she flirted with both guys that he considered his friends. Instead of becoming green with jealousy, or falling out with them, he had gotten red hot under the collar and reminded her of her colorful and checkered past. He had asked her if she planned to take up with either of his two band mates and when she told him “of course not,” he hadn’t believed her and then had the nerve to refuse to believe that she had only flirted with them to get his attention.

After that the arguments had started. She could do nothing right it seemed. For the last three months, they had a row almost daily about any number of things. During today’s argument they had been surprisingly loud. Articulate and soft spoken, Urs had a voice that projected well when he wanted it to. And even though he didn’t make it a habit to use curse words, he could and did use them when he chose to forget that he was a gentleman - as he had with her today. She knew that they could be heard in the street outside their apartment. It was a testament to the degree of his anger that he said he didn’t give a damn when she tried to warn him that they were getting loud.

She was in the middle of shouting at him when he cut her off, “Shut the f**k up Alma. I’m late for my meeting. I’ve had it; this has to end.” He had looked at his watch, pointed a warning finger in her direction and walked out of their apartment.

In frustrated response Alma had picked up a glass figurine that he had given her, one of the many stupid things that he was always picking up for her, and threw it into the door where it crashed into little pieces. There! She hoped that he heard it smash.

He must have spent a fortune on gifts for her. Most of the things were sentimental impractical things. He seemed to think that romance was important to her. It was not. She was a very no-nonsense gal. Why hadn’t he just given her money? He knew that she liked that best and if not cash, why not something that she really liked, she was a shoe person. He knew that. Kate Spade, Manolo Blanhnik, Jimmy Choo, it didn’t matter. She had gorgeous legs and they deserved it so she spent most of her extra money on shoes and he certainly couldn’t pick those out for her. And, he liked the way she looked in them too.

At first she’d told him the truth about her love of shopping. But since he made a good salary, more than any of her other men had, she had, by her own standards, let the shopping get out of hand. She had shopped so much that she had begun to feel a little guilty.

She then decided that it would be best all around if she hid them. She never thought he’d find them in the fireplace; it was summer for God’s sake, but of course he had. The man was like a bird dog. Then he had asked why she’d wanted to hide them. He had not been pleased with that, and had wondered aloud what else she might try to hide from him.

The hiding of the shoes - that had been the source of last week’s argument. He felt that she wasted his hard earned money (hard earned?) and she felt that it was owed to her. Any girlfriend of a man who’s rich should be well taken care of. He had called her a spendthrift and she had called him a tight ass.

Then he had really gotten nasty and said that somebody had to have a tight something around here. That had been a double entendre that really pissed her off. Too bad that she’d failed to control her temper during that argument and instead of sticking to her talking points she had lost it and told him what she really thought about his stupid gifts - a motorbike for her birthday? Please! She’d thrown in a few tidbits about what she thought of his family too. She didn’t think that they thought she was good enough for their precious son and she wasn’t too fond of them either with their Swiss snootiness.

She hated it when she lost her temper and blasted him. She knew that she was driving him away but she couldn’t control her temper once she got started. That was her one fault that someday she’d manage to correct.

CHAPTER 2
Urs walked into the meeting, a few blocks away, and found the three other guys of the band and their program manager waiting for him.
“What? Our Swiss clock is late? What’s the matter Urs, had to dip your wick? Is that why you’re late?”

“Up yours Carlos,” Urs had responded without an answering smile, still pissed at Alma. “I’m here now so let’s get to the agenda. Perhaps that’ll put me in a better mood.”

“Hmmm, you’re wrong Carlos.” Seb continued with the teasing. "No new key for him and I don’t think he’s dipped for a long, long time.” Seb emphasized his French accent. His English had improved dramatically over the years that they’d been together because they had always had to speak to each other in that language.

Five men were gathered around the table. Earlier, one of the female assistants had left them a large bowl of assorted fruit and a platter of cheeses, all wrapped individually and a spread of crackers. Without the feminine influence they’d probably have assembled beer and pork rinds. In the corner was a carafe of hot water for tea. The right wall was a huge white board that was marked from the first of the present month through January 2010.

“Anyone got any ideas for the name of the new CD? It’s set for release at the end of October. Publicity will need most of that time to get it packaged.” Paul Stevens the program manger spoke even as he passed out copies of the one sheet agenda.

Urs looked it over, eyes darting ahead to take in a gig in Dubai in only two weeks.

“We’re booked in the Middle East?”

“Yes, they’re finally coming into the modern world but let’s get the other business out of the way so we can devote some time to that.”

Paul made his request politely to these men because they had caused him to be hired. Then he continued, apparently prepared to ask for ideas for naming the new CD but the guys started throwing out their ideas so fast and furious until Paul didn’t bother to write anything down just yet. It was always like this. They were very good at bouncing ideas off each other, sooner or later they would come up with an idea or a concept that they all liked.

“Let’s see we’ve had ‘Il Divo’ the first one, ‘Ancora’ (again) the second one, ‘Siempre’ (always) the third one.” Divo David summarized what they all already knew.

“What about ‘Forever'? “

What’s the difference between forever and always?”
“What about ‘Alone'?”

“Or ‘For Real‘?”

“What about a French name? We’ve always gone Italian or Spanish”.

That suggestion came from Seb. He could be counted on to want to include the French language because that was where his heart was and the only language that he spoke except for English and he was the quintessential Frenchman.

“Such as?” Urs questioned. He was another one who spoke French.

“Mon Coeur or Cher Coeur.’ Sebastien answered tentatively, he really hadn’t given specifics a thought, just as long as the name was French.

“’My Heart‘? Or ‘Dear Heart‘?” That’s French but what would ’My Heart’ mean to us?” Urs answered, always wanting to be precise.

"What about a Middle Eastern name like Oasis or Dune, or Seraglio?” David threw in just for fun.

“No. Not Seraglio. Too provocative.” Carlos the original provocateur answered.

“Ok guys“, the program manager cut in on their brainstorming. “You’ve given us something to start with. I have ‘forever’, ‘alone’ meaning beyond compare, not meaning by ourselves and lonely.

“No never say that. It makes us sound pitiful.” Sebastien concluded.

“Hey, I like that” both David and Urs broke in at the same time. “’Beyond Compare’…What’s that in French?” David asked. The group watched Sebastien smile. David knew that Seb would be pleased with anything in French.

“Beyond Compare is ‘Nonpareil’ in French, Italian and Spanish.” Urs answered. He didn’t really speak Italian or Spanish but sang in those languages and had been around it long enough to have a pretty good idea what was being said.

“Want to go with that?” Paul watched until he saw all four of the men nod. “Just remember guys to consistently translate it as “Beyond Compare” to your public. If you deviate from that consistent message and say something like ‘without equal’ or ‘unique’ your public will become confused, especially the Americans because many of them speak only one language, they have no idea how much wiggle room can occur when translating from one language to another.” Paul again waited for their approval or at least their consent and continued again.

“What say you guys that we skip nailing down your publicity appearances to market the CD until our next meeting? More pressing is our trip to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates week after next.”

“What’s the problem? What do we have to discuss?” Carlos asked.

“Well, you must make sure that you don’t sing any overtly romantic songs, we’ll have to use the old favorites, those that don’t have offensive material.” Paul answered patiently.

“None of our material is offensive. It’s not as if we are rappers, Paul.” Seb threw in.

“I meant according to Arab sensibilities.”

“Anything that mentions luvvve….” Urs droned. “We can’t sing songs like ‘Pour Que Tu M’aims Encore’ or ‘Every time I look at you.’”

“You don’t think that men there are willing to do all that they can do for their chosen lady?” David asked, he was a little perplexed.

“Hell no. They can have up to four wives and a whole bunch of concubines if they want to and if one of their women displeases him, he’ll just move on to another one.” Urs answered David. “At least that is my understanding of it, but then, I freely admit that I don’t know a lot about their culture.” he continued, willing to be open minded.

“Speaking of the ladies, if they travel with you ask your women wear something that covers their arms and legs and a scarf to cover their hair too just to play it safe.” Paul instructed.

“Are they allowing their women to come to our concert?” David asked.

“We don’t know yet. They have it under consideration. It might be too threatening to the men to have their women watching four foreign men swaggering around on the stage.” Paul joked but only about the swaggering part.

“It’s going to feel really strange singing to an audience composed of men. I’ll be very happy not to sing ‘Nights in White Satin‘”. Seb threw out with a moue of distaste. "I wouldn’t want to be under the sheets with one of them.” he concluded.

Paul continued. “Urs and the rest of you guys who like to run and swim remember that you can’t show anything between the navel and the knees.”

“What? Why’d you say my name? It’s not like I run around with my prick out.” Normally Urs was the spirit of cooperation but tonight he was showing that he was still moody and cranky. “I always wear long shorts.” he answered, still indignant.

“”Yeah, but in case you haven’t noticed Urs,” Carlos reminded him, “Those shorts can get awfully low.”

“Are you watching Carlos? Interested perhaps?” Urs came back at him.

Carlos had waved that remark off as foolishness. He knew that Urs knew that none of them was gay.

“Let’s list the songs ok guys?" Paul interjected before Carlos and Urs could go head to head. Urs accused Carlos of being loud and proud but Urs could be a piece of work too. Clearly those two were the strongest personalities of the quartet. Carlos the extrovert, whatever came into his mind came out and Urs the introvert who rarely said what he thought but when he did it had strength because it usually made so much sense. Both were equally lethal and challenging.

Carlos liked to curse and when he got going, every other word was an obscenity. Urs on the other hand, detested cursing just for the sake of doing it, especially in his public conversations. In fact, Urs made it a point to elevate his conversations in any one of the languages in which he was fluent. Carlos accused him of trying to show off.

“Ok, let’s build the list of what we will sing.” Urs said. And he got immediate response.

‘Passera’.

‘Caruso’

‘Heroe’

“Somewhere? Is that a love song?” Seb asked.

“No. It could be about anything. Muslims coming together with the Jews, for instance.” David answered.

“I doubt that. No way.” Carlos answered. Both he and Urs both having lived in Germany, were very familiar with the history of the Jews and knew that the Middle Easterners would not give up their animosity so easily.

“By the way,” Paul remembered to ask,” none of you are Jewish are you?”

“Why are you asking us that when after being with us for all four years you know we’re not.” Cross patch Urs again.

“What about your women?”

“No.” All four of them said almost simultaneously.

“What’s the purpose of that question?”

“Just wanted to be sure. Dubai is progressive but it is a Muslim country so we want to be sure that you’re well protected.” Paul explained.

“Ok, time is wasting,” Urs hurried them along. “What else?”

“One last thing, don’t make eye contact with their women, whether at the concert, if they attend, or during the rest of the week in Dubai.” Paul instructed.

“I hope women attend.” Sebastien added as they prepared to break up and walk out into the night air. “It’s going to be really strange singing to an all male audience. We can’t throw roses for sure, and Carlos you can’t talk about taking them home in your suitcase. No winky blinks for you Urs.”

“Yeah, and no wiggling your hips Seb and David.” Urs pitched in and got in on the act.

“Hey, even if the women are there we can’t do any of that stuff. No roses, no winks, no hips, no suitcase. We’ll just have to stand there and belt it out guys. That’s what we do best after all.” David wrapped it up for them.

The four guys headed out into the warm evening air, leaving Paul to put the decisions made into some semblance of order so that the conclusions drawn here could be carried out.

Initially their loose way of doing business and carrying out meetings had bothered Urs. He was much more into organization and each person taking his turn but he had learned to go with the flow. He had dual opinions about Carlos and Sebastien and their sense of time as well as how to conduct business. Being that they were from the Latin and French cultures, when he wanted to be critical he called them slack. When he wanted to be generous he called their cultures free. At any rate it was easier to go along with their way of doing things than to change them.

Paul reflected that although the interactions among the four singers were chaotic at best, from the push and pull of the four distinctly different personalities, the decisions made were amazingly good for the group. There were no votes taken, it seemed that the method that worked best was for each to throw out his own ideas until eventually the final idea was allowed to stand as presented without further additions, subtractions or embellishments.

Carlos and Sebastien, the more restless members, extended their usual perfunctory invitation to Urs and David that the four of them stop by a club before going in. It was routine that they suggest and David and Urs decline. Tonight to their surprise, Urs accepted and David, more in tune to Urs moods and personality, quickly decided to go along with them. It was clear to David that something was wrong in Urs’ world and even though he could be thorny, David liked him.

The ‘Tartan’ was a sophisticated lounge bar - everything was soft. The lighting, the music and possibly the girls who quietly took the order for drinks would be too if either man had cared to reach out and investigate. But it being an upscale bar, such an action would have been completely inappropriate.

The four men started off the evening together in one of the large padded booths. After ordering and receiving their drinks Carlos and Seb drifted off perhaps seeking out what entertainment could be had from the covert and overt looks that the sight of the four of them together inevitably drew. Urs and David stayed put and nursed their drinks.

David saw that Urs was not going to open a conversation so he took the lead.

“So… how’re you doing? What’s going on Urs?”

David hoped that it was not the group that was bothering him. He thought that Urs was the weakest link where Il Divo was concerned. He among the four, least liked the public face of the group and he among the four was least concerned about making money. But - Urs loved to sing and he along with the others put his all into perfecting his craft and by extension perfecting Il Divo’s sound. Nevertheless, Urs was not a guy who tolerated the crowds like Carlos. Most likely he would have been happier singing on the national stage, as he had in the Netherlands, rather than the world stage.

But, David admitted to himself, the guy was ambitious too. At least he was musically ambitious. He wanted to extend the opportunity to hear their sound to as many people as possible. That ambition came with a price. He hated the gaggle of female fans, especially those who threw undies onto the stage. Occasionally at one time or another they’d all experienced opening their mouths to sing and had a pair of knickers land squarely into it.

“I’m ok.” Urs finally answered David. David recognized that Urs was lying but he also knew that Urs liked to keep his own council. Then surprisingly, Urs continued. “Actually, I’m gonna break up with Alma. I decided that this is something that I have to do for my own sanity.”

David was startled. Not at what Urs was saying, he knew that Alma and Urs were like oil and water; but David was more surprised that Urs was saying anything at all. He was known for being closed mouthed about his personal life; especially his lust life.

“What’s going on?”

“Not much… and everything. We can’t agree… at least I can’t think of one thing we agree on.”

When Urs didn’t continue but just sat brooding David let it go, knowing Urs wouldn’t go much further than that.

“I’ll wait until after Dubai.” Urs surprised David by continuing. “But I think I’ll have to let management in on this, just in case she goes public like she threatens to do.”

“Go public? With what? Does she have something on you?”

“Nah. She’s just pissed. She’d lie. But mainly she wants the fans to know who she is. Says they know Carlos has a wife, they know about Rana, Seb’s lady, they’ve met Janet when you and she sang together in Chicago. Alma says that if I loved her, I’d tell the fans about her.”

“Well, you must admit she has a point. Why not let everyone know?”

Urs gave David a look that said would you? And then continued talking. “I would if I thought she and I wouldn’t be broken up by the time our next CD is released. What would I say, ’I am currently seeing Alma Banks,’ and then in six months someone else? When I meet ’the one’ - you know like we sing about in Una Noche, the lady of my love - then I’ll make her known to the world. I’m not going to introduce every one-night stand and temporary fling as if she’s my wife.”

“So until then….”

“Yeah. But now that she wants to be known, she’s not going to let it rest.”

“Why don’t you love her - she’s pretty enough.”

“She is attractive. That beauty of hers did its job. I was attracted. But once I got to know her, well, she’s flat, she’s ice. Soulless. She’s a liar too. Did you see her flirting with Sebastien a couple of weeks ago, fluffing his hair and rubbing his ears?”

“Yeah I saw. Sebastien didn’t even acknowledge that she did it.”

“She was trying to make me jealous. She told me about all these guys that she slept with and I don’t know why she did that but I don’t trust her motives. The woman’s crazy, manipulative and sullen. Believe you me; beauty fades when the inside doesn’t match the outside. But like I said; I’m not doing anything until after Dubai.”

The two men parted company after that leaving Sebastien and Carlos to close the club down for the night.

CHAPTER 3
They flew directly from London to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. They crossed the English channel, traversed France, Seb‘s home, then passed over a small slice of Germany and an even smaller portion of Switzerland, Urs’ home. Down through Italy across the Mediterranean Sea to the Arabian Sea and then back up the Persian Gulf to the coastal city. Once there they debarked at the Dubai Airport and made their way to their hotel, The Burj Al Arab with its characteristic look of a ship at full sail.


Each singer was assigned his own suite and with it came a personal butler to insure that all that he needed was provided. Urs had left Alma at home. She hadn’t been happy about it but there was not much that she could do. He just couldn’t pretend that everything was going well with them when they were barely speaking. He wanted her out of his life and she seemed determined not to leave it. The two married guys had brought their wives and David his girlfriend. Urs thought that he was in for a long week of solitude and contemplation.

He couldn’t deny that solitude was just what was needed in his life. Once he got rid of Alma, he vowed to just take it easy for a long stretch. Lately, since he had been in the band, he had been on the fast track. See a girl, be attracted, and before he knew what happened they were sleeping together and were considered an item. He needed a long period of celibacy to get back his equilibrium.

Soon after checking in it was time for the sound check at the Convention Center. Once that was over, he returned to take a long nap and then arose in time to eat dinner and make his way down to the lobby to be picked up by their driver for delivery back to the performance. They arrived an hour and a half before the start, just in time to get ready. Urs routine was to wear his grubbies to the site, usually jeans, t-shirt and boots and perhaps a light leather or jean jacket.

Once back stage, their esthetician straightened his hair with a warm comb and hair products to hold it in place. He of all of the other three was the only one who had curly hair. They had agreed that it was more professional that he appear with it straight and he had no particular preference. He did know that he preferred his hair long and even he had to admit that it could be a bit unruly whether straight or curly.

Next he would dress in his uniform, an Armani suit. They usually started dark, changed to another dark but different jacket and for the last third of the show came back with the white dinner jacket.

Finally it was time for the stage makeup, applied lightly so as to keep the natural look but to smooth out any pimples or discolorations. He had the palest skin of the group. Folk had likened it to porcelain; he wasn’t too pleased with that appellation, which reminded him of how one spoke of a woman’s skin. He alone of the group had never smoked, not even marijuana, and he rarely had a drink, perhaps the reason that his skin still looked relatively young at age 37.)
While they dressed, he and the other guys could hear the crowd arriving. That gave them cause to feel their adrenalin rise too. Tonight there was no pre performance act for them so as the time drew near, he was anxious to get out on stage and see how it would go. The beautiful auditorium, the hubbub, the crowds arriving half-hour before Showtime, all of this was routine. Performing before a mostly male audience was not, so this was a little different from the norm.

Once out on stage he found that there were quite a few women in the crowd. Perhaps a third of the number of men; it would be more accurate to say that there was a women’s portion to the crowd. They were to the left of the men in their own section, and to a one they were all in black, covered from head to toe. Only their hands were out.

It was a little off putting to have a whole segment of the audience shrouded, one couldn’t connect with them at all, but on the other hand, one didn’t want to connect. The men’s faces were visible. Some wore suits, some wore the traditional Arab robes with headpiece and the applause was polite and ample. There was none of the raucous cheering and calling out to them that they experienced in the West.

The program consisted of sixteen songs. The first eight were delivered without intermission. The lights were killers in that they were bright and an hour under them caused sweat to pour off Urs threatening to cause the curl of his hair to return. They wound their way through their romance neutral program that was mostly void of their familiar banter and they found it refreshingly different. Urs felt that their audience was truly listening and appreciating their music.

At intermission Urs decided to walk out the side door to get a bit of fresh air; anything to get relief from the hot lights. When he left, he had all of twenty minutes to return and slip into a different jacket before returning to stage. As he strolled to the left, his view took in the beautiful waters of the Persian Gulf lapping the shore in a peaceful rhythmic motion. He vowed to return here tomorrow late in the evening to take in the ambience.

He hoped that it wouldn’t be too hot during the day to enjoy the spot. It was a little tame for him, he much preferred the wilderness and stark beauty of mountainous land but this too had its own kind of appeal.

He walked right and then left, and then noticing that half of his break was over, he decided to return. He walked into what he thought was the door that he had exited, but found that it was not. He was in some unknown part of the large building, and it took him a full minute to get his bearings.

Hard on that he noticed that immediately in front of him, facing him, strolled a lone female. She was walking the hallway towards him but he could see that even as she noticed him, about the same time he noticed her, she flinched and he thought she prepared to take the turn and exit the hallway by going immediately to his left.


He took a deep breath, knowing that to be in the foyer alone with this woman was forbidden. He was prepared to ignore her as she drew closer to him while he backtracked to where he had entered. He thought that she’d take measures to insure that they didn’t meet in this deserted hallway. He hoped that she’d ignore him until she reached the opening that allowed her to exit before she reached him.

She did ignore him, at least he thought that she did, for in her black covering that extended from her head to her feet, he couldn’t really tell what she might see or might not see. As she drew closer still, he could see that where her eyes should be there was a grill-like rectangle that allowed her to see out but he could not see in.

She did not turn; they met face on, she on one side of the hallway and he on the other; thank God no one else was in sight. Just when he thought he had made it safely to freedom she turned and quick as a flash she ran up to him gripped his arms in her hands and pressed her mouth to his cheek. She nipped him. He could feel her teeth through the cloth not painful thank goodness but intrusive nevertheless.

To say that he was astounded would be treating it too lightly. Over and over they had grilled it into the Il Divo men, ’Leave their women alone. Don’t look at them, don’t talk to them, and do not touch them.’ He had thought that with so much energy going into the concept of protecting these females, they would be shy virginal-like women. He had not expected one of them to… to come on to him. The woman was taking her life in her hands!

Speaking of hands, he remembered hers. Strong, slender, young, with a strange subtle artwork that started on her fingers, wound along her delicate knuckles and over her wrist and disappeared under her all encompassing covering.

And her scent - it was remarkable. It had been different but still heavenly. She smelled of some foreign musk that was very compelling. He wondered if this was the smell of the infamous frankincense.

While she hurried away her quick steps had caused her somber black robes to give way to the appealing sight of frothy under garments that could have been a dress or who knew? At least he knew that she had had bangles on her ankles because he heard their twinkle, timed with each light step.

Once he was backstage he breathed a sigh of relief, feeling pleased that he and the Dubai woman had not been seen; he got a drink of water and slipped into his change of clothing. It was time to return to the stage. Once more back in his element, the stage, he looked out over the audience to the special box section, and he saw once more the women who had come with Il Divo, Gina, Rana and Janice and was not at all sorry that Alma was not in their midst.

He then looked over to the Arab women’s side of the auditorium when the choreography of ‘Passera’ brought him that way. He looked as slyly as he could, not wanting to draw attention to his quest but try as he might he could see not distinguish the bold young woman within the crowd. Many of the women had the same artistic design on their hands.

He gave up. After all, what if he found her? He had absolutely nothing in common with this woman. It might be exciting to talk to her, to see what she was about, but ultimately, it could only result in a waste of both of their time and effort. Married or single she was not for him.

The concert ended uneventfully, there was a short reception after, at which the four singers met many dignitaries and their wives who revealed their faces for the introductions. That at least showed a little progress. The upper class citizens were more western in outlook probably because many of them had attended school in the west and were comfortable with English and western culture.

Urs went back to the hotel and as was usual, he couldn’t fall asleep right away. He didn’t want to go out again; he had no interest in the telly so against his better judgment he called Alma. It was early morning there and she was just getting up.

“What are you doing?” he had asked, perhaps hoping that it still was not too late for them to work something out. After all, it had not been all bad; they had had some good times together at one time.

“I’m thinking that I’ll go out and look for a job seeing as how I might have to start making my own way in the world.” She sounded sullen.

Urs hoped that she would find work. That way he would feel less guilty about taking himself away as her only source of income. Alma had turned in her resignation shortly after they moved in together. Her reasoning was that she needed to be free to travel with him.

That hadn’t worked out like they had hoped. When the time came for him to go on tour, she discovered that she didn’t like flying and even after taking flying desensitization lessons, she was still afraid. Whenever she mustered up the courage to accompany him, she spent the whole trip anticipating the flight back home. She found it impossible to live in the present and not worry, because in just four days etc, she’d have to board another flight to another city.

He understood her position. Sebastien Izambard too had grown afraid of flying and he was a pilot. But he did it and he didn’t complain. Urs' feelings were that everyone is afraid of something and that one had to work really hard to overcome it, or at least tolerate it. He had tried to think of one thing that he was really afraid of; so far he was still studying on it.

He wasn’t particularly afraid of heights. He had learned to ski before he was old enough to know what fear was and so he was taking the highest slopes before he was a teen. He had gone bungee jumping once and had enjoyed it immensely. He called what he felt ’heightened awareness’. Not exactly fear but not exactly comfort either. Carlos had suffered from stage fright at one time and whenever he felt it coming on he talked to Urs about it, for some reason that seemed to help him deal with it.

The closest that Urs could come to understanding what Carlos and Seb and Alma experienced was the closed in feeling that he got when surrounded with crowds of folk; all of them wanting something from him. Perhaps autographs, to give him a gift, steal a kiss or perhaps more, who knew what lunatics were in the crowd?

“Urs, are you sorry that you didn’t bring me with you?” Alma asked, bringing him back to the present conversation.

“Are you sorry that you didn’t come?” he countered. “We haven’t exactly been getting along and you know how you hate to fly.”

“I would have done it if you had asked me to. You act like you can’t stand me anymore. We haven’t made love in almost a month. Do you have someone else? Did you bring a woman with you?”

“I told you there’s nobody else. I need time to think, that’s all. You drive me crazy when you come on to my friends. I can’t live with that.”

“I won’t do it again. I promise. You know that I only wanted your attention. You are so aloof and distant with me. When we do go someplace together you walk alone. You leave me to get my own bags. You talk to other people instead of talking to me. That’s what you were doing when I played in Sebastien’s hair. You were inside busy talking to some man, ignoring me. I only wanted you to notice me.”

"How could I notice you? I wasn’t even out there with you. You’re not a baby Alma. When I am at work I have to talk to people. I can’t just ignore them. They’re either people who book us into their shows or fans. Both of them are important to us. You and I can talk when we go out alone or when we’re at home.”

“Then why do I have to make my own way in the airports? Why don’t you stay with me?”

“When we are in the airports, I am working. You’ve been there to see the fans come running. I don’t want them to go off on a tangent wondering if ….” He couldn’t really answer that question without hurting her feelings.

The truth was that he was a single man for a reason. He had determined long ago that he’d not marry until and unless he found the lady of his love, to quote their song. And he had yet to find her.

Alma had been the aggressor in their relationship. But then he could not put all of the blame on her because he had not fought very hard. He had been blinded by her beautiful blond hair, her beautiful figure and other charms.

She would call him for dates and then come by his apartment to cook for him. When they went out to restaurants she would show up looking sexy and delectable. She tried to suck his fingers for goodness sake! That’s the truth. One evening when they were out at dinner she placed his finger in her wine and attempted to suck the wine off.

He was not an exhibitionist but he was weak; she became the first woman to give him a blow job under the table in a public place. While it was happening he couldn’t contain himself. After it was over he couldn’t believe that he had allowed it.

One part of him was repelled; maybe not repelled exactly, perhaps he was just embarrassed. Another secret part of him was drawn. He wanted to have sex with her. So when she suggested that they live together to see how they’d get along, he was willing, even excited at the prospect.

What she didn’t know, however, was that he had no intention of curbing his search for Miss Right. His heart remained open and untouched. Now it was time for him to free her; to be totally honest with her and to stop using her. As he rang off he decided that that would be the first thing that he did when he got home.

YEAH YVETTE IS BACK.......

I love this story soooooooooooo much and can't wait for the next chapters. I don't have much good thoughts of Alma.. She is self concerned and wants to dominated URS.. He is not that type.....

Welcome Back Yvette..


Laura

CHAPTER 4


The following day Urs did a bit of sightseeing. He went to the Palms, a whole neighborhood that had been created in the gulf with sand and soil that was shaped in the image of a palm tree. These luxury condos were selling like mad and Urs wanted to see what it was all about. He also wanted to see if he would even consider living there, perhaps buying one as a vacation spot. Once he saw it he knew that resort living was not for him. He much preferred the more rustic nature of Switzerland’s natural environment and its cooler climate.

Next he went to ‘Ski Dubai, the only indoor ski slope in the world. He found the five indoor runs of varying difficulty interesting.

All of them were perhaps good for a beginner to intermediate skier, but not for the experienced. But – in a pinch he would try it again. He visited the site for the future Great Dubai Wheel, supposedly to be the largest observation wheel in existence when finished. Not much to see there but the construction site. That sight seen, he decided to return to his hotel.

As soon as he walked into his suite his butler greeted him with a sealed note. It was from Gina, Carlos’ wife. She was beautiful, kind and smart. Urs liked her, and smiled to see that she had invited him to have dinner with the group at seven. He could just imagine the discussion; Carlos saying “Leave Urs alone. He’s a big boy and can take care of himself” and Gina with her woman’s tenderness, feeling that he would be lonely if he had to eat alone. The guys knew that he was basically a loner and that if he felt the need he would join them, but Gina and the ladies didn’t know him as well. Because he liked her and thought her a nice lady - he called her lady purely out of respect because he was her senior by several years - he decided he would meet them at seven in the dining room.

Once he arrived, he took a few minutes to look at the giant fish tank that formed the south wall of the large eating space. It was huge and new as he was finding most things were in Dubai. Then a well appointed wait staff met him and led him to join the other members.

“Urs, welcome. I thought you might be missing Alma. I’m glad that you decided to join us.” Gina greeted him and the other ladies sent a friendly smile his way.

He smiled back politely moved around the table to kiss each lady on each cheek in a friendly way. David held his cheek out and Urs caught it between his thumb and forefinger and pinched it a bit. He then found his seat and set to looking at the menu in preparation for ordering. Interiorly he wondered what Rana, Seb’s wife thought of the Alma and Sebastien incident when Alma played with Seb’s hair. She was sure to have seen it, it was on You Tube and written about at the fan site.

After the dinner commenced and everyone was feeling the dinner wine, he found out what Rana thought. Rana was such a lady; he knew that she’d never have spoken her mind without the softening and mellowing of a couple of glasses.

“You know Urs, you deserve better than that witch. She is impossible. I told Seb if he had responded to her little fishing game I would have killed him. And you were standing right there. She’s just too bold.”

Urs had smiled mildly. “She has told me that she was merely trying to get my attention.”

“You don’t believe that do you?” Rana answered somewhat indignantly.

Urs thought that she was probably the typical new wife, she thought the sun rose and set in Sebastien and therefore everyone else on the planet probably felt the same way. He on the other hand could not see why women were so fascinated with Seb. That was probably a good thing, he reflected.

“I don’t question it.” he answered. "But… if you think she wants Seb, be on your guard because I am going to free her of any obligation that she has to me. And that will happen sooner rather than later.”

The three women looked at each other. They loved rumor, especially if it was about the only truly single man in their small group. David too was single in theory, but unlike Urs, he was not looking and seemed perfectly contented with his Janice.

Urs didn’t understand why the opposite sex was interested in him and his doings. Before he became a member of Il Divo he was just a glasses wearing ordinary guy. Even though he was ordinary, between the ages of around nineteen to about thirty-three he always kept a girlfriend or woman as some preferred to call it, and he was a steady guy. So far he’d averaged around three to five years with a woman and then something would happen and they would drift apart.

Vanessa was his last long time love. And he had loved her. But Il Divo had gotten in the way of that relationship. Since then he had been on the rebound and that seemed to fascinate women, both those who were fans of his and those with whom he had more personal contact. Perhaps he was seen as a challenge.

Before the Il Divo wives could start trying to match make for him he added, “I am going to lay off all relationships with women for a long while. I need to get my bearings, think about where I am going with my life.”

“You’re going to the dogs and you know it Urs.” Gina had scolded. “What you need to do is to get yourself a wife and then things will smooth out for you.”

David made a snoring noise and Janice promptly hit him. “Are you saying that marriage is boring? Because if you are David Miller, I’ll….”

“Course not honey. Not boring. I would never be bored with you but I was speaking about Urs. I think he would be bored in a day.” David gave Urs a challenging look.

Urs took a bite of his braised salmon and then carefully patted his lips with his napkin. “Hold on. What are you trying to say David?”

“I’m saying that you’ve changed. In some ways your standards are higher but you expectations are lower. You say you want the perfect woman yet you are constantly fooling around with women who aren’t good enough for you. Look at these three women here. Gina and Janice each have careers in entertainment. Rana worked for Sony in a high level position. You, your last three women didn’t even consider having a career. You were their career. They had no education and not only that they had no desire to do anything but leech off of you.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you really think, David?” This conversation was going in places where Urs had no desire to go. David was the only one of the three who would dare be this frank with him, especially in a mixed group like this. It made Urs think that he had been the topic of discussion before and that they had all set out to ’fix’ him because in their estimation, he was broken.

Urs took a breath and looked steadily around the circular table. “What are you guys trying to tell me? Say what you want to say. I’m prepared to listen this one time but don’t ever set me up like this again.” He was not smiling. He didn’t know whether to be irritated with them or not.

“Believe me it is not our intention to ’set you up’ as you call it. We are your friends and we want to help but its complex.” David said. He did smile.

“Are you doctors of medicine or of psychiatry? Have you diagnosed me as having a complex medical problem or is it my head that needs your expert remedy?”

“You can joke around and be sarcastic if you want to Urs, but we can see more than you can because we are the forest while you are down in the trees. We are looking on while you are living it so we think we have a farther vision than you. We think there are a couple of things going on with you.” Rana looked at him levelly and engaged his returning gaze. His thought was that she was very pretty and sincere and Sebastien was a lucky fellow to have her.”

“Go on” he encouraged. He was tempted to flirt with her because Seb had been on the receiving end of his girl’s caresses, to his head and ears. In the end he did not flirt with the lovely Rana. Nothing would break them up quicker than professional incest. He’d continue to be friendly with these lovely ladies but he’d have to feed them with a long spoon.

“One of the things that we think is that you are still dealing with women as if you are the unknown Urs Buhler in The Netherlands where any woman who came on to you would have pure motives, and by that I mean she would have an interest in you for yourself.

"Now that you are in show business, you will have to come to realize and accept that while you are fine and all that” she blushed and Gina added ’And a bag of chips,’ and all of the women laughed while the men made the finger down the throat gesture, Rana braced herself to continue, “Your looks are not the only thing that you have to offer women.”

Urs looked around the table at Carlos and Seb and they seemed to have become as engrossed as he in what the women were going to say to him. He thought the “we” that they were talking about consisted of Rana, Gina and David. He didn’t think that Carlos and Seb had any wisdom to offer, and perhaps they were learning something from this conversation too. Maybe the women were cleverer than he gave them credit for. Perhaps they were teaching their husbands too.

“By saying that looks are not the only thing that I have to offer, you mean… money?

Carlos burst out with a loud laugh, “what else could she have meant certainly not your little d…

“Carlos!” Don’t go there. We want to keep this conversation family friendly.” Gina said and brought him back in line.

“Yes. I mean money.” Rana continued. “You were making a decent salary before, all of you were, but now, you are in a position to really rake it in and women know that. When money becomes the prime motivator for going after a man, his welfare and wellbeing is the last thing she thinks about.”

“You think that’s why I’ve been hanging out with Alma this last year?” Urs asked, thinking that this was a bunch of bull.

“Well, yes and no. Remember we said that it was complex. I think that is why Alma has hung out with you. Precisely because you set her down from working, didn’t ask anything from her, of a higher nature” she added when Seb snickered; “and she didn’t have to take care of herself. We think she was like Caesar 'veni, vidi, vici'. She came, she saw and she conquered, and you went along with her machinations.”

“Do you think I am a helpless victim in all this? Is this what you think?” Urs asked incredulous.

“No, of course not. She had something that you wanted. And we all know what it was or is, but we don’t have to say it aloud here.” Gina spoke and then turned it back over to Rana.

“It’s just that what you want from her is not enough and if you keep settling for those women who only stir your lower nature, that is all you will get. You will never find one with whom you can be content. We think that in your mind, the two are separate. We think that long ago, before you became one of the tenors of Il Divo you had experiences that taught you that women like us, refined, educated, and even dignified, yes, I’ll take a bow for all of us - are boring. That’s why David pretended that he was falling asleep when we started. Furthermore, you spent so much time with one or maybe two or three of these women until when you finally got free, you determined, perhaps unconsciously that you would never get attracted to a polished woman again.”

Urs looked at Rana and he had to smile. The guys could tell that he was holding back and they smiled too, probably in sympathy. He wanted to deny what she was saying and he was having trouble saying what he really wanted to say in polite company. Vanessa, his one great love had been very picky about what she would and would not do in bed. He decided to end this little intervention.

“Rana, all of you – uh friends, I really thank you for your concern, and you may have made some valid points that I will certainly give some thoughts to. And I am going…”

“See Urs, just listen to yourself. You have a very polished sound; now compare that to Alma’s nasal whine. You deserve someone who can at least hold a decent conversation. So don’t go yet Urs. You have to have a plan before you leave.”

For the first time Janice spoke up. He didn’t know her nearly as well as he knew the other two women. For one, she was the only American woman in the Divo group, so was Alma. That might have been a cause for assumptions and prejudices against her, the same accent, the same brashness that he knew David exhibited. But Urs was prepared to like David’s lady until proven that he shouldn’t.

“Since you have the answers, why don’t you,” and he moved his arm to take in the whole table, “tell me what you think that plan should be, then I will decide if I like it or not.” He folded his arms and waited, in essence putting it back into their hands.

“Well,” Rana began again. "From what we’ve just discussed…”

“You’ve discussed, I haven’t” Urs reminded no one in particular and everyone in general.

Rana gave him a moue “Ok, if that’s the way you want it. From what we suggested to you, you can almost deduce what we are about to say. First of all, you will want to ignore all of those women and girls who come on to you. It’s just too risky. You don’t know their incentive and women can be very creative in hiding their true motivations. That leads to the next rule, ‘find her for yourself‘. Frequent places where a classy woman might be found. Not in bars or clubs. Not that classy women don’t go to bars but so do gold diggers. Maybe on the skiing slope, take a class of some sort, go to the museums, - “

“Next you’ll be telling me to go to church and find myself a Madonna.” Urs said dryly.

“No. But that’s not a bad idea. You get my drift. Just look for women who don’t know you and wouldn’t be particularly interested if they did know. You’ll have a better chance of finding someone who wants you for yourself.”

“Yeah I get your drift. In the intervening weeks, months or years until I find this paragon, what do I do?”

“Think man. Nobody is asking you to become an angel.” Carlos piped up. “You do what any single guy does. Don’t let the right hand know what the left is doing. That means that you don’t move a woman into your apartment and you don’t let her think that she has a chance to have a place in your life.”

“A series of one night stands? That doesn’t sound very appealing.”

“Well, you know the alternative.” and Carlos made a crude gesture with his hand. “Anyway, that will make you feel a sense of urgency. You aren’t getting any younger you know.”

“What if I do find a Madonna; then what do I do? How will I know that this particular paragon of virtue is for me?” He laughed, unable to quite believe that he was actually enjoying listening to this stuff.

“That’s easy. You go for the woman who is just like you. She’ll look like a sweet innocent angel but she’ll be hell on wheels in a way that will be your perfect match. Just look for a woman who‘s fun, adventuresome, not afraid to try new things and that will be the lady for you. Providing you are attracted to her and she to you of course.”

When they released him from his inquisition he walked out into the night, knowing they were patting themselves on the back. He grinned to himself as he lost himself in thought, not too distracted to be tempted to pull a pomegranate from a nearby tree. They made pretty good psychologists, the ladies did. He’d see if their suppositions and conjecture made any sense in real life.

As he walked along enjoying the cooler air, he decided not to hang around here in Dubai any longer. Being here was not productive and he needed to get on with the next phase of his life. Tomorrow he’d fly back alone and officially end it with Alma. He wiped his hands together in an unconscious swiping motion.


The next morning he called the airlines and found that it would be late afternoon before he could get a flight home to the UK. He ate a hearty breakfast and then, drawing on his knee to navel swimming trunks went out to the beach to get some sun before leaving.

The beach was teeming with activity when he walked out into the bright sunshine. The sand was alive with people in all clothing of all sorts. He checked to make sure that his shades were in place so that he could watch the girls without seeming too obvious.

The first person he ran into was Sebastien who told him that his wife was sleeping in. Urs took the opportunity to let Seb know that he was going home today on an afternoon flight.

“I’m not doing anything here but killing time, I might as well get back to Alma and get our business together worked out. I think it might cost me a bit to get her to go quietly.”

“But it’s far better to get it over with than to let it drag out until she can tie you up with a bunch of kids.” Seb added, his practical streak revealing itself.

Urs shuddered at the thought. They sat there for a few minutes, both silent, but feeling that camaraderie that comes with spending long hours in each other’s company both at leisure and under stress. They both perked up when a group of attractive women walked by, lovely women all, but one stood out from the rest. Neither man needed to say anything aloud; body language and intent told the story.

All of the women were Middle Eastern Urs thought, which meant that both guys knew that they were not supposed to be checking them out, but neither could resist.

She was old enough so that neither man felt like a pedophile for looking and young enough to have a dewy freshness that only comes with youth, or sometimes with care; Lots of expensive care. She wore a one piece bathing suit. Urs couldn’t remember when he had seen one of those on a woman. Everyone wore bikinis, tankinis, or some other revealing thing no matter if they needed to wear one or no.

This woman’s posture drew their eye. She was exquisite. Honeyed skin tone that looked as luscious as that pomegranate had looked the night before. He could take a bite. Night dark hair sprang from her head and cascaded to fall at the waist and beat a rhythm on her buns with every step she took. She was covered, sort of, that is. She wore a simple skirt of the same pattern as her bright blue and yellow bathing suit but the fabric was thin. One could almost see through it but not easily. A sight of that luscious bottom had to be earned through intense scrutiny.

Behind his shades Urs wondered if women even knew who much more intriguing a veiled view was compared to unconcealed observation. Every time she took a step he couldn’t’ decide which was more captivating her lovely hair or her beautiful butt or her walk or her face. He was perplexed, why her, and then let down because he realized that he could never meet her.

He rose to his feet, tired of playing Tantalus and she the fruit that stayed just out of his reach.

“I’m going in to get ready. You coming?”

Even though Seb had a beautiful wife, Urs found that he did not want to leave the man out here watching this girl. He felt possessive of her even if he could never claim her. Seb seemed to understand because he too got nimbly to his feet and followed Urs back into the dimness of the hotel. Neither man spoke a word aloud of the remarkable young woman but Urs found that she didn’t easily slip from his mind.

The flight home was uneventful. Urs spent the time going over in his mind just what he was going to say to Alma and how he would say it. It was a part of his nature to be in control of his emotions, he was determined that he would not lose it with her and he felt if he knew what he would say and prepared as much as possible to rebut her arguments, he would prevail with the least amount of crying, whining and throwing things around in one of her infamous temper tantrums.

Urs didn’t know it but if he had hoped to use his carefully composed reasonable arguments on Alma, he would be disappointed. He was home in less than eight hours and his adrenalin was high as he walked up the stairs and slipped his key into the lock. He entered his apartment prepared to try to talk some sense into Alma and baring that, to issue an ultimatum and a monetary payoff.

He didn’t have to do anything. She had pulled out on her own. He felt the emptiness before he actually made the trek to each room to see if it too was empty. Her clothing was missing from all the closets; without her myriad shoes, the place actually looked almost under filled. The plants were beginning to droop letting him know that she had left shortly after their phone conversation from Dubai. He supposed that she had heard the finality in his voice the other night along with his unwillingness to be cajoled or manipulated.

Perhaps it was time for her to move on to greener pastures while she had the body to attract. She took the stash of about a thousand pounds that he left in the empty meal canister for emergencies, she also did something else that was an attempt to hurt him but strangely he was relieved that she had been vindictive. She busted up the two guitars that he kept at home. He was consoled because he kept his favorite one with him to while away the hours while he was on a trip.

Anyway, he knew all of the best guitar shops all over the world and it would be easy to replace the two that she had ruined. Now that she’d tried to get even with him his guilt was mitigated. He wasn’t used to dumping his girlfriends. This was the first woman that had been such a bad choice that he couldn’t work it out with her. Now he didn’t have to try anymore.

He remembered what the Il Divo ladies had said. Perhaps he needed to uplift his standards just a bit. It couldn’t hurt. He was getting nowhere fast with the Alma’s of the world. He even began to hum a little tune as he looked for other things that she might have damaged or taken but found nothing more.

Then it came to him Sarong!! That was the name of the little skirt that the lovely Middle Eastern girl had worn over her swimsuit. Not only was she thousands of miles away in distance but she was also even farther than that in traditions and culture. Oh well.

He really would have liked to meet her.

CHAPTER 5

The week following their return from the Dubai concert and the few days after found all four of the singers working again. They were preparing to travel to promote their new CD, ‘Nonpareil’.

Experience had taught them that it was wiser to release it on one continent at a time. They traveled to America first and made appearances from the West Coast to the East Coast. These promotional appearances were never long. They were a series of advertisements for the CD in which they talked briefly with the host or hostess; in one case Oprah again and another with David Letterman and Jay Leno. After a brief chat and a few questions about their career, how it was going and so forth, they then would sing one or two songs from the new album.

They had learned a lot since the time of their first recordings of ‘Il Divo’ and ‘Ancora’. During that time the studios would have them show up early in the AM before daylight and keep them sitting around to make an appearance. Often the equipment in the network studio was geared to having only one lead singer. Il Divo had four leads and so the studios had to learn how to set up their set properly. Additionally, rarely was the equipment of as high a quality as the equipment that they used on their tours.

Thankfully most of those glitches had worked out. Before their return to the UK they were gratified to learn that ’Nonpareil’ had risen to the top of the charts. Their fans had been waiting, some patiently, some impatiently for the new release and many went out and bought several copies.

The guys were happy campers when they finished the American leg of the production circuit and flew back to the professional home of Il Divo. They knew that they’d only have a week off before it was off to Australia for a repeat of the American scene.

The management felt that this would be enough publicity generated from these two continents and that through You Tube and the Inter Net; their recordings would sell in Europe, and the Far East.

When they returned home they found that they had to add another geographical client to their schedule. Since their appearance in Dubai, calls had been coming in from the Middle East steadily, all wanting to book Il Divo. Several cities in Egypt wanted to book them; as did several in the United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia. Then they found that Syria didn’t want to be left out and neither did Jordan. They all wanted to be seen as progressive Muslim nations who were coming into the modern age and doing it under Sharia law.

These new developments created a challenge for Il Divo and its management organization. The first was safety. How could the safety of the singers be guaranteed?

The second, how could a group of four men - four western men - function in the Muslin world? They didn’t know enough to fill a teaspoon about Islam and Sharia law.

It made sense that before they even considered booking these engagements, or even considering keeping these engagements that those two barriers of safety and knowledge be addressed to the satisfaction to the singers. The organization was going to go through the diplomatic staff of the United Kingdom to implement the safety measures for them to travel in these countries. Moreover, regarding Sharia law, they decided to commission a professor from a local college, from the Department of Arabic studies to come and give a six week introduction to Sharia as well as some of the cultural and traditional customs that these Middle Eastern countries held in common.

At the meeting that was held immediately preceding their month long stint in Australia, Peter, the program manager, took on the responsibility of hiring someone and promised to have a program of learning outlined for them by the time they returned. The six week Middle Eastern symposium would fit perfectly into their schedule.
**

Urs Buhler had been celibate since before their trip to Dubai two months ago, when he had received the words of wisdom from Gina, Rana and Janice. With Alma out of the picture he had been mostly traveling and had not really had time to look for women, or rather a woman. He was still willing to follow their advice because he thought it was sound, but his body was telling him that it just wasn’t going to work.

They lived a vagabond life. With all of the traveling that they did, how would he meet a nice girl? She would want to be courted. That meant that he’d have to be in town to take her out on dates, she’d want to talk and feel like she was getting to know him; and women always wanted to talk. And then, maybe, just maybe after a month or two of this she’s be up for sleeping with him.

He knew that finding a real girlfriend didn’t preclude a one or two night stand, and he had just about made up his mind that it was going to be necessary if he was to be in any shape to be in polite society. He had whacked himself off more times than he could count and on numerous occasions. But that was nothing new. His brother and his friends had confirmed that even when men had women in their lives, most of them also masturbated just because as most guys would say, ‘no one can do it better than I can.’ Usually after a night of amazing sex with a female, it was very pleasurable to relive it with a solo session. Also, it was a time to be completely selfish, no one to satisfy but oneself. But solitary sex was not enough. No amount of acting out fantasies or acting in the moment could truly take the place of an honest to God woman and he knew that very well.

He did manage to hook up with one woman who was completely unsuitable and of which he had absolutely no expectations. She was a guest at one of his friend’s wedding, one who he had known since his days in the Netherlands and that had no connection whatsoever to Il Divo. He had not been a part of the wedding party, for that he was grateful and so had arrived a bit late, unusual for him, but he had left his hair curly and come late just as he had planned so as to blend in with the crowd.

He had noticed her right away, sitting ahead of him in a pew on the opposite side of the church. She had roving eyes and a certain look that any man on the prowl would recognize. She seemed to be quietly checking out the guys in front of her and to her side without realizing that she herself was being scrutinized.

Later, at the reception, being the very careful man that he was, he continued his inspection. He noted that she was alone, at least without a man and she was a flirt. What he didn’t know was if she was a hungry in addition to being a flirt.

He waited patiently until she had danced a few times; she had no scarcity of partners because other men had picked up the vibrations that she was sending out too. Most of these men were friendly and would have acted but almost to a one they had come with their women so they weren’t really free to act on any impulses that they might have.

When the latest dance ended he moved quickly to her side and held out his hand. She fanned herself a bit with her hand while she scrutinized him. He must have passed muster for she accepted by placing her hand in his. There was a minimum amount of conversation while they both sized each other up.

“Are you married?” She had asked finally, perhaps she had scruples and didn’t sleep with other women’s husbands or perhaps she was assessing the level of risk.

“Nope. Not married and currently no girlfriend.” He had paused and added, “I’m not looking for a relationship either.”

“What are you looking for?”

She could have been turned off but he didn’t think so. He could detect the interest in her voice. Much more seductive and low pitched. He didn’t answer her but pulled her close to his body so that she could feel what he was searching for. While he had her close, he looked down into her eyes, closed his and kissed her very lightly on the lips. She responded to him. That was all the encouragement that he needed.

They ended up getting a hotel room for the night, she drove her car, and he followed her in his. By prearrangement he went in first and got the room, she followed ten minutes later and asked for Mr. Brown’s room. They had a great time.

The next day when he awoke in the morning and was no longer plagued by sexual hunger he realized that she was a lot older than he had thought; and she was more shop worn too. His instincts made him just want to get out of there and quickly.

Before he left he asked her if there was anything he could do for her and she had replied without any show of embarrassment, “100 hundred pounds will do nicely”. He had smiled. Good. At her age she could hardly command a hundred American dollars and pounds were worth almost twice that. But it assuaged any guilt that he might have felt. He left her two hundred pounds and made his way home, he had forgotten about her before he had gone one kilometer of his journey towards his address.

Australia was nice. He had enjoyed their last visit there as a part of their 2007 tour. That had been when Sebastien had met his now wife, Rana. If Urs had hoped that the same fortune would fall upon him, he found that it was not to be. He met women who were Rana’s friends; he met girls who were affiliated with SONY, he met volunteers who came to help out with Seb’s charity project. None of them made an impression on him. He wondered what impact he had on them.

In his room at night he would try to analyze why he was not interested. Perhaps it was because they, knowing who he was, and that he came in contact with lots of women, tried too hard. They were constantly being witty and laughing and flirting. He could not relax around these women and that became stale after a few days. This was the sort of depth he had found in women all over the world when they had done the seven month 2007 world tour. Most of them had wanted to know what the group thought of the women in their particular country and Carlos always said, graciously and diplomatically, Urs thought, that each country’s women had their own appeal. If Urs were to tell the truth, which he’d never do, he’d say that they were pretty much the same; One dimensional and eager to please which displeased him immensely.

When the tour of promotional opportunities ended in Australia, Urs and the other guys found that true to his word, Paul had arranged their Middle East Symposia (now officially so named by Paul). The guys thought that name sounded a bit … pretentious but they were resigned to going through the six week learning experience. They knew that they needed the knowledge and they didn’t want to go over there and cause some international incident just because they were not aware of the rules.

Paul surprised them when he told them at the last minute that the professor was a woman. She would be available starting the coming Thursday evening from 7 to 9 pm. The meetings would be held in their small conference room, the same one in which they now held their weekly meetings.

CHAPTER 6
That Thursday they arrived at the meeting early. Dealing with Urs over the last four years had taught the other three, especially Seb and Carlos that to be late would draw his ire. They did not want to make the grouch unhappy.

She walked in promptly at seven, dressed in a full length, head- covering bright blue burqa. The only visible signs that there was a woman underneath was in the network of the small rectangle for the eyes and her hands. Just the sight of her caused the men to sit up straighter in their seats. It was very weird being taught without knowing who was underneath all of those coverings.


“Salam Gentlemen,” she greeted them in a unique style by giving a slight bow, both hands held together in almost an attitude of prayer.

“Uh… hello” they all echoed each other. None of them knew the proper salutation to give to this female. Nor middle eastern males either for that matter.

She walked over to the white board, found a marking pen and wrote the word SHARIA and then spoke.

“I am Professor Afnani and you gentlemen, are: Mr. Izambard, Mr. Buhler, Mr. Miller, and Mr. Marin.” Her cloaked head made the necessary turns that indicated that she was looking at each one as she said his name.

“Yes… ma’am.” They replied just as uncertainly as before. Urs tried to judge her age by looking at her slender hands. They looked youthful to him but then, he didn’t spend much time looking at ladies hands.

She didn’t waste any time but immediately began her lecture.
“Sharia Law is one of the three major legal systems used in the world today. The other two with which I imagine you are familiar are Civil Law and Common Law. Criminal Law is a branch of Civil Law under the larger scheme of things.” She paused and David and Urs exchanged a speaking look. They both shrugged to each other, discreetly they hoped, as if to say… I’ll be darned if I know what’s under there. She did have a youthful voice. Slightly accented and low pitched.

“You will most likely be surprised to know” she continued ”that before the late nineteenth century, Muslim countries mostly used Civil Law as did the West. Then, something happened. As the West became more liberal in its interpretation of Civil Law, the East found that Civil was no longer adequate, for it went against the words of the Prophet, peace be upon him.” The last she murmured low and seemingly to herself before continuing.

“As women in the West achieved their freedom, and exhibited all of the ways that freedom could be manifested, Sharia was instituted in the East to offset the effects that the West’s freedom had on the Easterners. Are there questions yet gentlemen?

They had looked at each other rather uncertainly until Urs spoke up. “Yes. What kinds of things are covered under Sharia Law?”

They had noticed that there was stillness about her and she demonstrated it as she composed her answer. “In its strictest sense, Sharia covers every phase of living; the aspects of day-to-day life including politics, economics, banking, business, contracts, family, sexuality, hygiene, and social issues.

"But know this, it is not applied equally among all the Islamic nations, for instance Indonesia is a Moslem country but it also uses Civil Law too, so the rules about some things, especially how women are dressed is not as strict. I believe your program manager said that you have already performed in Dubai and Kuala Lumpur, both of which are Moslem countries. I ask that in your minds you compare and contrast your performance there with your recent performance in Dubai. You will most likely be able to detect that your two audiences are quite different. Some of those differences are due to the relative influences of Sharia Law and Civil Law.”

The guys were gradually recovering from the uncertainty brought about by the entry of this woman covered, covered from head to toe, with only the bottom third of her hands visible to them. She was not short; neither did she have the height of a model. They were to a one coming to suspect by her supple movements that she was a young woman but still, they could not be sure. After a brief pause, Seb realized that there had been a question.

“Yes”, Seb spoke ” The women in Kuala Lumpur were all, for the most part, there with their ‘eads uncovered and mostly in Western dress, while in Dubai the women sat on their own side of the auditorium completely covered and the men sat on the other not nearly so swathed in clothes.”

“You are right Mr. Izambard. Yet, you’ll find that in spite of appearances, Dubai is quite progressive in regards to Westerners, but this night you were hosted in that country with a large preponderance of people from Iraq. They too needed a little recreation and time away from the war, so those who were still wealthy enough travelled there to see you but they brought their more conservative culture with them.” She paused and Seb got the distinct impression that she was smiling underneath her covering.

“Now, if I may, I want to speak about the origins of Sharia, how that origin, or rather what is included in the Law are from different sources for the Sunni’s versus the Shiites. She droned on for another fifteen minutes on that subject while Urs tried to keep his mind focused on what she was saying and keep his eyes from trying to determine her shape beneath that burqa.

“Now any of you feel free to answer this question. “How is the composition of the Sharia Law different between the two main branches and by that I mean different between the Sunni and Shiite?”

Urs realized that he had missed some of her lecture while he had been zoned out looking for traces of her figure.

Carlos took this one on. “Sharia law for the Shiites is composed of what was revealed in the Quran and everything that the Prophet was heard to say. For the Sunni’s they use these two sources also but additionally they use the interpretation of the writings by the scholars of what the prophet said.”

“Yes! Very good Mr. Marin! That last interpretation is called the Sunnah”

She praised him as if he were a little boy and Carlos smiled as if he had just been patted on the head. Then she continued.

“Here is an example that will be close to your heart. Know that the example is vastly simplified to enhance your understanding. If you sing a song that says, “I will die without your love.” That would represent the Hadith or what the prophet (pbuh) was heard to say. If by some way you and your love are separated and you do not die, you will have violated the Sunnah, if it had been interpreted literally the scholars.

That started them to talking. One said, “But those words are just a metaphor for the way he will feel.”

Another said “But separation might not mean that she doesn’t love him.”

A third said “But the song is talking about physical love only, not emotional love.”

And so forth. When they had tossed around several interpretations she broke in.

“So you can see gentlemen how what one should do to follow the Hadith and Sunnah can be easily confused. Add to that the opinion of old men, who are the scholars and the learned but who all think in the same way, it makes for a confusion of laws. That explains some of what is occurring in the Middle East today. Some countries have a strict interpretation; others are more liberal in their understanding.”

She went to the white board and erased some of the words that she had written during their discussion before continuing.

“For the second half of this class, I will go into some of the rules that are used when dealing with women. This is the trickiest area so I will try to explain the religion’s reasoning behind it. Please take a ten minute break and when we reconvene the discussion will be about ’PURDAH” which literally means curtain.

Dr. Afnani then drifted over to the hot water and made herself a cup of tea. The guys were a little concerned that she would burn herself due to her limited vision but she handled it smoothly and efficiently. She then left the room for the remainder of the short break.

Once she was out of earshot they launched into a discussion, almost whispered as to whether she was really a Middle Eastern woman or was in fact a Brit in a Burqa.

“Did you guys hear any accent?” David asked. She sounds just like the rest of the folk around here.”

“No. She has a little bit of a sing song that should not be there. Sometimes she sounds American too, didn’t you notice that?”

“And her hands are tanned.”

“That doesn’t mean anything except that she’s been in a tanning bed.”

“Shhh. It’s time for her to come back.”

CHAPTER 7

Exactly ten minutes later she returned, this time without the all-covering burqa. Perhaps it was gratifying for her to hear the collective intake of breath of all four men, perhaps not for she gave no sign that she had heard it. She was quite lovely. And yet in spite of her attractiveness, not a single man could say that she was flaunting herself in any way.


She wore an expensively cut crème raw silk casual suit, zippered open at the neck. In her hand she carried a beige scarf-like thing that could be used, Urs presumed to cover her hair if she had to. Indeed she was Middle Eastern and young; her hair was very dark and rich. It sprang from her high forehead in a tumble of waves and curls that he thought begged to be touched and caressed. She had large light grey eyes that were lined and lips that were succulent. She was an altogether appealing package.

“Now gentlemen, I came out of the burqa to impress upon you why some men and women, I might add, feel that a covering is absolutely necessary. You may not have noticed it but your whole bearing has changed as well as your demeanor towards me. For starters I will say that there is now electricity in the air that was not there during the first half of the lecture. This electricity, this sexual tension, is what the Moslem elders hope to eradicate with purdah or as I said before, the curtain. It is the practice of preventing men from seeing women.

"This purdah takes two forms: Physical segregation of the sexes, and the requirement for women to cover their bodies and conceal their form. Purdah exists in various forms in the Islamic world and among Hindu women in parts of India as well as in parts of Africa.”

She walked to the white board and as she was writing something down, Urs noticed how her luscious bottom jiggled just a bit with the exertion of writing. Even though the expensive suit was not at all too tight, it was cut to perfection and allowed her natural assets to show. When she finished writing she turned and moved away from the board so that they could now follow what she had written.

“Instead of watching the board, they watch her derrière.”

And she laughed with them for the first time showing that she was really quite a mischievous woman, most likely in her late twenties and that she too could laugh and have fun with them. Then she continued lecturing, once more serious and to the point.

“Gentlemen, what you experienced in Dubai is physical purdah. Within a building it can be done with walls, curtains, and screens. A woman’s withdrawal into purdah restricts her personal, social and economic activities outside her home. How can one work when non related men might be present? How can one get to work if one cannot drive and cannot have complete privacy on the journey in case one runs into a male stranger? And if one could find work outside the home, how could it be carried out in an all encompassing garment?

“The usual covering garment that is worn outside the home is called burqa, chador, abaya, paranja, jilbab, the name changes depending upon the cut of the garment and the country in which it is employed but the purpose is the same… concealment.

"An accompanying garment is the Niqab, or veil. Its purpose is to provide concealment the same as the burqa does except that it ties on as a separate garment. Do you mind if I demonstrate?”

She pulled another all encompassing garment from her bag, slipped it on over her western clothing. This garment left her head bare. She then placed a black headscarf over her head, pulled it forward and asked Urs to tie a third garment at the back of her head. When she finished she was completely cloaked in black and only her beautiful gray eyes were visible.


To their disappointment, she continued talking from behind the concealment of this garment.

“Gentlemen this brings us to the subject of AWRAH” and as she talked she wrote the word in large letters on the white board.

“Awrah is a term used within Islam which denotes the parts of the body that are not meant to be exposed in public or in private. Not all of Islam agrees exactly on Purdah, that is exactly how the sexes should be segregated and separated by physical distance and or dress, but all of Islam believes that there are some parts of the body that are not to be exposed and the rule against exposure is applied to both men and women.

"For men the consensus is that nothing is to be shown from right above the belly button to the knees.”

At this Carlos laughed, remembering Paul’s admonition to Urs about his swimming trunks. Urs looked at Carlos and returned his grin.

“As might be expected”, she kept going in her light expressive voice, “there is no consensus across all of Islam about what is not to be exposed on a woman. Some countries in the Middle East believe that nothing of a woman is to be exposed except her hands. That means her face and even her voice are not to be exposed.

"Can you imagine the ramifications of that? Women are not even allowed to speak in public. In truth and in practice, in most of the states, awrah is not so confining, it consists of everything but a woman’s face and hands. This need is satisfied for most women, even women of the West when they wear long skirts, to the ankles and shirts that cover them to the wrists and a scarf to cover the hair.

“The need for awrah starts at puberty. Thereafter women are allowed to show their face, hands and feet and that which there is a need to uncover like the hair or the knees, to other women.”

Seb spoke up. “So if you were with your friends, who are all women, you could relax a little and pull up your long dress?”

“Yes, a Moslem woman could do this. The larger ramification of this is that it also means that neither males nor females should uncover their private parts at any time to anyone even if they are of the same sex. At all times must men and women be wearing garments that are loose and the material is not to be transparent so as to see the skin color and shape of the other.” She turned towards them… “Questions gentlemen?”

“What about the awrah for a married couple?” Carlos asked. He seemed to be attempting to keep from laughing. I have heard that in the West in the eighteen hundreds and maybe before that, they wore sheets…

“Sheets Mr. Marin?” She was confused and wondered why the others were smiling.

“Yes, sheets to - you know- to bed to, well they would have to make a hole in the sheet and so forth.”

Seb snickered at Carlos’ reluctance to say what he needed to say to make himself understood. It was pretty funny that Carlos, the king of profanity was troubled about offending the lady who stood before him.

Urs decided to rescue him. “When couples would mate,” and he spoke in the most erudite form of English that he could muster. “When couples would mate in the eighteen hundreds, they were forbidden from seeing each other’s bodies and so they placed a strategic hole in the sheet so that they could ah… be together without… ah …. offending each other’s sensibilities.” He had tried to do it in his most professional sounding voice and he almost pulled it off but in the end he was laughing too.

“Ah, I see“. And she too took a super professional voice. “In Islam a husband and wife can be completely open to each other.”

This statement brought on another whole round of silent laughter until David said, sotto voiced, “Nobody ever said that it wasn’t open, just couldn’t be seen.”

She tried again. “The awrah doesn’t apply to married people, to man and wife. They can be as free around each other as they choose. Please note that this freedom only applies in the privacy of their own home. In public, the awrah applies.”

“So that means no more nude sunbathing for you and Rana Seb, at least not on the beach.” By now they were all laughing, even the instructor.

“Now. Let’s wrap this thing up. I have a few more points to cover with you tonight." She went on to talk for another fifteen minutes or so and then called the meeting to an end promptly at five minutes of nine by saying, “next week I will answer any questions that you may have about this week and we will move on to discuss marriage and divorce. “

David, Seb, Urs and Carlos waited around until the professor had gathered her things and left and then they looked at each other. David the most outspoken one with Urs said. “Urs, she’s yours for the taking man.”

“What do you mean, mine for the taking? Wait until you hear about the marriage laws next week, I could get killed, maybe beheaded just for speaking to her outside of business. What? Are you guys trying to get me killed?”

Seb didn’t laugh at Urs question. He was deep in thought and said I have seen her before. It is hard to forget a woman who looks like that.”

“Yeah, that’s just what I was thinking too.” Urs said.

Seb snapped his fingers. “Remember the girl on the beach in Dubai? I think that’s her.”

“No. Why would Dr. Afnani be in Dubai? She’s been teaching here in the UK.”

“Urs why don’t you ask her next week if that was her?”

Urs decided that he would do just that, but before the following Thursday, something happened to take his mind off asking the professor anything.

CHAPTER 8
Urs might have known his old girlfriend Alma would go public, she did love her money. She did a fifteen minute tell all with a British talk show.
While it was never repeated in full again, throughout the whole week snippets of that show went out in an area which included England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. After that it died a natural death. He was just grateful that it was limited to coverage in a particular region of the world rather than leaping to international coverage.

What could she say? From Urs point of view she repeated things that he already knew. He certainly knew how she felt about him. She made it sound as if he were some awful person masquerading as an angel. He didn’t like it but what the f***, he certainly didn’t care and the Il Divo organization’s position was that this kind of publicity didn’t really hurt them at all. Now if it had been something of a criminal nature; that would have been a different story.

When Urs reviewed the clip he had to smile, she said that he was distant and complex, (probably true). That he walked off and left her at airports, (true again because he hadn’t wanted to claim her as his own). Said that he didn’t walk with her when they arrived in a new country, (again, for the same reason). And that he talked to everyone in public but her. (Not much to talk about when you share a pillow every night). He realized it might make his next woman a bit wary about getting involved with him but he’d worry about that when it came up.

He was also pleased when his Divo brothers gathered around him in support until they saw that this was a minor thing that had no legs; at which time the usual teasing camaraderie that they had developed amongst themselves resumed.

By the next Thursday, the evening of their next class with Dr. Afnani, most of the hubbub had died down. As soon as the professor walked into the classroom, in street clothing this time, he looked at her not so much to admire her but to discern, to determine is she was the girl on the Dubai beach and thought yes, she probably was the girl at the beach. Had she also been the burqa clad girl who had kissed him, no, actually she had nipped his cheek?

If she had in fact approached him that put a whole new slant on who she was. If she had come on to him that meant that she was not the unapproachable and remote professor that she masqueraded as. If she was interested in him he could have her. But could he do it without getting himself into a world of trouble? That was a worry for the future, he determined. First he must decide how to test her sometime during this class period.

“Gentlemen,” she started in what they had determined was her characteristic way. “Tonight I will lecture for just about an hour, we will take a ten minute break on my side of the hour and then we will have a discussion, you may have questions but most importantly we can talk about what these traditions and rules will mean to you as you travel throughout Muslim countries. Tonight I will be talking about Courtship, Marriage and Divorce in Islam.”

As Urs looked at her on one hand he hoped that she was the ‘kissing burqa girl’. It would be nice to get to know her, to find out if her differences made for any real variations in any way that mattered. On the other hand, if he decided to talk to her, approach her so to speak, he’d have to be even more discreet than he normally was.

His mind wandered off and he could picture them meeting in some smoke-filled dark out-of-the-way place to ‘chat’. With that thought he was brought back to reality. She was much too elegant and stylish for that. She was one of those women that the Il Divo females recommended that he form relationships with.

Oh well. One could always hope. Her culture, especially the males of her world, would prevent any kind of meaningful relationship between the two of them, and her sophistication and sense of self worth would prevent him from treating her as one of his secret short term liaisons. He allowed his conscious thoughts to return back to what she was lecturing about, but he turned back with a certain degree of reluctance.

Dr. Afnani was in high gear. “You may wonder how, with all the rules regarding purdah, Moslem couples ever get together. So I will anticipate questions that you might have and then answer them.

“Do Muslims date? And if they don’t date, how do they decide whom to marry?”

To give it a little bit more drama and to keep her audience awake she stood in one place to ask the question and then moved and assumed another more thoughtful stance to answer.

“Dating as it is currently known in much of the world does not exist among Muslims. I am talking about the practice in which a young man and woman are in a one-on-one relationship, spending time together alone, getting to know each other in a very deep and intimate way before deciding whether that’s the person they will marry.

“Muslims believe that even the Western practice of dating has deteriorated to where the male no longer wants to marry, but seeks to see how many notches he can accrue on his belt.”

Urs and David’s eyes met and David allowed his eyes to drift in a telling look towards Urs waist where his belt rested. Urs returned the look deadpan.

She continued, unaware that one of these men had thoughts of jumping her bones. “Now gentlemen the most important decision that one can make in his life is who he or she will marry. It is not taken lightly in the world Islam and that decision is made just as one would make any other decision, with prayer, investigation and family involvement.”

“Family involvement?” Seb asked.

“Yes. Family involvement. I will expound on that point in a moment. When a young person decides to marry, the following steps take place." She handed each of them a written sheet.

She noticed each of them to a man looking confused and she realized that she had handed them a sheet that was not written in English. She retrieved another set and tried again and read aloud as they followed along with the written word.

 The person asks Allah to help him to find the right mate.
 The family enquires discusses and suggests candidates; the parents consult with each other and narrow down the candidates. Usually the father approaches the other family to suggest a meeting.
 Couple meets in a chaperoned, group environment.

“The prophet said whenever a man is alone with a woman; Satan is the third among them”. This she said with a smile and the four men acknowledged that in many ways, the prophet had been correct.

 After that they meet in group on several occasions

“Guys these group meetings are without outer garments such as the burqa but they are commanded to lower their gaze and guard their modesty. The choice of whom to marry is to be made on characteristics and not sexual attraction.”

 If they choose, the couple agrees to pursue marriage or part ways. Both the man and the woman have to agree to the marriage as there are no forced marriages. This type of focused courtship helps ensure the strength of the marriage, by drawing upon the wisdom of the elders and the elders will counsel the couple when things start to go wrong as they inevitably do.

Now she paused and said. “So gentlemen that is marriage in a nutshell. What questions do you have?”

They all thought for a moment. Then David asked “Can a Muslim marry a non-Muslim?”

“Actually yes and no; as you might expect, the rules are different for men than for women. Men are expected to marry a Muslim if at all possible. The prophet says that it is better to marry a slave who believes than a queen who does not. However, a man may marry ‘people of the book’ in other words Jews or Christians because they have similar beliefs, if he really desires to."

Carlos called her to account for that statement. “I don’t think we have similar beliefs at all.”

“Actually Carlos, we do. All three of the religions of the book believe in one God, that means they are all monotheistic, they believe in prayer, and they believe in the afterlife. Of course, because man always has to interpret the word of the teachers that have been sent to us, we have always gotten it wrong and then we fight over the differences in understanding.”

She turned to indicate that she was getting back to the subject.

“While the man has a few choices, the woman must marry a Muslim man. There are no exceptions. As head of the household the husband provides leadership for the family. A Muslim woman does not follow the leadership of someone who does not share her faith and values.”

Urs then asked, “What about after they are married, are there rules about what they can do sexually - or not do?”

Dr. Afnani looked into her satchel and gave them each another handout called “Sexual Relations between Husband & Wife.

She continued verbally.

“Unlike Jewish and Christian marriages, Islamic marriage is not just for the procreation of children, the prophet states that marriage is also for sexual pleasure. There is no place for celibacy among any of its members, as with Roman Catholic priests and nuns. Marriage is seen as a moral safeguard and a societal necessity to guard against a person not having an outlet for sexual needs and to regulate it so that one does not become a slave to his desires.”

“Now Mr. Buhler, to answer your questions.” And she read from the handout. “With few exceptions, the couple can engage in any activities that they like, in any manner and in any position. Allah rewards such activities as surely as he punishes sinful activities. The Holy Qur’an says, ’Women are your fields, go then into your fields as you please.”

Carlos made as if to arise from his seat, joking as usual more so when he was slightly embarrassed. “I’m going to go home right now, Gina has to read this.”

“What are the few exceptions?" Urs persisted.
She took a deep breath. She readily admitted it was not easy for a young woman to teach some of these subjects but she persevered.

“Actually Mr. Buhler, vaginal intercourse is restricted when a woman is menstruating. That is the only restriction. That means that when she is menstruating, they can give one another pleasure so long as the woman’s genitals are avoided. And yes, I can see by your eyes that you are formulating the next question. Oral-genital contact is lawful in most countries, and so is anal intercourse.”

“He’s especially interested in that doctor.” Rogue Carlos interjected snidely.

“I think it’s time for our break.” She resisted the urge to fan her face. “We will return for our discussion in exactly ten minutes."

Urs liked the return ‘exactly’ remark.

CHAPTER 9

After the break they all sat round the table, an arrangement that Urs liked better because it put Dr. Afnani much closer to him.

“We didn’t talk much about divorce because you will not have much of an opportunity or need to know about that. Suffice it to say that it is true that a man can divorce his wife simply by declaring it. And if he divorces her twice, he cannot remarry her until she has married another man, and been divorced by him.”

“Are you saying that under Sharia law if I want to divorce my wife Rana”, Seb asked. “I would only have to say it and then if I wanted her back I could remarry her another time but if we divorced again I couldn’t have her back? Why does this rule exist?”

“I think it exists, Mr. Izambard because men are capricious and anger easily. You might become angry at your wife because of something trivial and think; I’m sick of her and say ‘I want out’. Then, because this is your basic nature you do it again. Always regretting that you have said what you said after a week, or month or so. Most scholars think that this Hadith was to prevent impulsive actions and to keep the wife from living in constant insecurity that her husband will divorce her.”

“Say my wife and I, we’ve been remarried and divorced twice and I want her back still again. I could go to my buddy Urs here, ask him to marry her and divorce her and then I could remarry her?”

“Yes, you could, providing your buddy doesn’t change his mind and decide to keep her. You see, before he lets her go, he has to consummate his marriage to her and then after the consummation she would remain in his home, the home of her current husband and he would be required to take care of her for three months to make sure that there will be no children from his union with her. So any man, who has a lovely wife, as I imagine you do Mr. Izambard, would want to think twice before divorcing her and even more before planning to trick the system.” She smiled at the expression on Urs face which was saying, he’d never get her back.

Urs continued. “It seems to me that trying to take the emphasis off sex in the world of Islam places it on everyone’s mind. I must admit, I have not seen anything in a long time as exciting as when you removed that burqa and showed yourself. Had you walked in as you are, we would all have acknowledged your beauty and moved on but the wearing of the over garment heightened our hopes and we were not disappointed. “

Well that was some complement coming from him. In spite of herself she could feel her cheeks heating. Seb saved her.

“There was one other woman, Urs. Remember the girl in Dubai who both of us remarked after the last meeting reminded us significantly of you. Were you by any chance in Dubai in August Dr. Afnani?”

“Actually I was. And I came to your show. I was very surprised when your program manager got in touch with me. Before that program I admit that I had never heard of Il Divo.” She responded cheerfully. “But I liked your singing very much.”

Urs was not going to let her off the hook that easily. He had told none of the other guys about the kiss but he remembered the decorated hands of the girl who had kissed him. “Dr Afnani, there is one thing that you failed to tell us about and that is the practice that some Middle Eastern women have of painting their hands, do you ever wear that paint doctor?”

In spite of herself she felt her cheeks grow hot they must be as red as pomegranates. He knew! Or maybe he was only guessing.

“Yes, Mr. Buhler. You are referring to Mehndi. And yes, I wore mehndi that evening, if I remember correctly; did you think that you saw me Mr. Buhler? There must have been hundreds of women there with similar patterns of henna on their hands and arms.”

“Yes. Most likely Doctor it was just someone that I thought was you. She wore a distinctive perfume, very fragrant, very scintillating. I notice that you wear the same scent. It is strange that the perfume is the same isn’t it as well as the bracelet that you have on your left arm? But then I suppose you didn’t have that on in Dubai did you?”

She hadn’t earned her doctorate by being easy to out debate. She did the smart thing, she gave a dead end answer and then she changed the subject.

“All of these things of which you speak are quite common in the Middle East, too common to mention. We are now in our second week. We have four weeks left together. For the next four weeks we will explore first hand some of the culture of The Middle East.

"Next week we will dine in a Middle Eastern restaurant that is similar to one of your up-scale restaurants. The following week we will eat at a restaurant such as you might find among the lower classes, nothing dangerous, just not quite as refined.

"The fifth week we will take a look at the various forms of dance including the infamous belly dance. And the sixth week, we will have a slide show on various places of worship and I will prepare you a Middle Eastern meal.”

Dr Afnani was back in full erudite armor. Having recovered from the uncertainty that Urs had given her with his questions that were too close for comfort, she continued.

“From this point on, your wives are invited to accompany you. You will enjoy the food and dancing much more if you have their company. Girlfriends are invited too, and,” she looked at Urs significantly letting him know that she had seen the news about his last lady love, “if you don’t have a woman that you’d like to bring, I will be there to even out the numbers.”

There it was again, Urs thought. It was not so much what was said but the looks that she gave him. She seemed to have a preference for him. But with many pretty women, they came on to men almost automatically. He thought that it was a conditioned response that the lovelies developed because of the attention, if only with their eyes, that men gave to them.

Also, he couldn’t really tell if she had been his ’kisser’ or not. Her cheeks had pinked and then there was the bracelet but she hadn’t really admitted it; besides that girl at the convention center had seemed less sophisticated than the poised Dr. Afnani. He’d have to keep his eyes open, for if she showed the slightest bit of interest in him he’d be all over her.

The week between the last Thursday and the one coming up went slowly for Urs. He rode his motorcycle. He worked out at the gym, talked on the phone to various relatives back in Switzerland about nothing but family things as most folk do.

He remembered how involved family was in Muslim courtships and wondered how his family would do if he asked them to choose a bride for him. His mother would be overjoyed. She already had two or three women back home, her friends’ daughters, whom she was convinced, would make him a good steady wife. If she had her way she’d saddle him with some babushka wearing woman in sturdy square two inch heels who could shovel snow and was prepared to bear him eleven children, thus providing her with eleven more grandchildren whether he wanted them or not.

His brother would pick a woman with huge boobs. One who wore low cut tops and then Vincent would visit him every day so that he could drool down his wife’s cleavage.

His sisters, all three of them would choose a scholar but one who also liked to shop. She wouldn’t be able to cook, or want to know much about it. She’d sit and read all day and they would create a book club together and get together once a week to discuss weighty matters such as ’What to do when your husband wants too much sex’ or “How to tell if this outfit fits your figure’, or for variety, something on the Spanish Inquisition.’ His sisters were an eclectic group with odd tastes that included everything under the sun, except taking care of their husbands. He privately thought that they must be very good in bed because of the two that were married their husbands seemed to always have smiles on their faces.

In the afternoons Il Divo worked their voices. It was not enough to record the songs in the studio. Recording in a studio with sound mixers meant that the tunes always came out sounding perfect. It was very difficult to recreate those same sounds on stage. They had to work at it.

When folk saw them walking from stage left to stage right and spreading out, they probably thought that they were trying to generate some interest because nothing is duller than having four men standing in one position singing all night. (That is unless they want to bring in some dancing girls). Baring that they used the movement for another purpose too; they found that when they separated, their voices came out of the microphones resembling much more the sound of the studio recorded pieces. Even so, there were always a few tunes that could not be duplicated outside the studio. Why that was so he couldn’t say, but they just didn’t sound the same.

He had asked the guys if their ladies were coming to the out-to- dinner party Thursday evening and were told that to a one, they wouldn’t miss it. They were excited to meet Dr. Afnani and wanted to see how the upper class Middle Easterners handled their social life.

On Wednesday Dr Afnani singled Urs out again and left a message for him at the office and asked him to have the small party gather at ’Noura’ address 16 Hobart Place, SW1W0HH. She left the telephone number so that if there was any delay they could call and leave a message at the restaurant.

On Thursday they all dressed stylishly and were ushered into a restaurant with wonderful ambiance. Dr. Afnani had said that the food was Lebanese, and was served up immaculately prepared and presented. The atmosphere was pleasant, airy and they were tended by extremely accommodating wait staff.

They found her sitting at their large round table waiting for the small party. Once everyone was seated and she had met the wives and one girlfriend she told the waiter to hold off on taking their orders while she gave them a short tutelage about Islamic restrictions. She talked softly and all leaned in to hear what she had to say. Urs breathed in her scent and was reminded of how much he liked her perfume.

She then handed each of them a handout that summarized the information that she talked about.

“This may be a little off putting but I will be as delicate as I can. Muslims do not eat animals found dead, nor do they partake of blood, pork, and any animal which has been invoked in any name other than that of Allah. Neither do they eat one which has been killed by strangling, or by a violent blow, or a fall, or gored; or one that has been sacrificed at shrines.”

“Also no carnivorous animals like tiger, foxes, dogs, leopards or any other animal that kills its prey by using its paws. If birds kill their food by tearing the flesh apart like a vulture, they also may not be eaten.”

“Lawful meat such as grazing animals, camel, cow, goat, or sheep must be slaughtered in accordance with Islamic law. The throat must be slashed and the blood allowed to drain.

“Also fish may be eaten.”

She thought for a moment and then referred to the paper.

“Let’s see what else. No alcoholic drinks or other intoxicants. No gambling. Regarding intoxicants, the prophet says, “If it is not medicine, it is a disease.”

She put her paper away.

“Be comfortable here. None of the forbidden things are offered. Feel free to order anything on the menu.” With that she gracefully waved the waiter over and they discussed the content, which was in Arabic, Farsi and English, and made their choices.

It felt strange eating at a fancy restaurant without wine. It had become a habit to have a glass or two to loosen the tongue and to promote conversation. Tonight they did not need that. There were questions aplenty from the women addressed to Dr. Afnani.

“And so, where were you born Dr. Afnani, you have almost no detectable accent.” Gina had started the conversation.

“Oh do call me Keturah, Dr Afnani is so stuffy. I was born in Los Angeles, in the USA. Perhaps I have a slight accent because both my parents speak Arabic & Farsi and use it quite liberally at home because they wanted me to learn those languages too."

“Los Angeles? Janice spoke up surprised. I am from Los Angeles too. Where did you go to school?"

"Undergraduate, I attended UCLA….”

“I knew it. I saw you there. You were walking across campus one day and I remember thinking what a beautiful girl. This was in 2001 right before September 11th.”

“Yes, I graduated that year, In June. I went to Paris to study for a Masters and got my Doctorate here in the UK and have been at the University of London since then.”

Upon hearing the word Paris, Seb perked up. “Do you speak French then?”

“But of course I do. It is a very beautiful language, quite musical when compared to my native English.”

They talked on, wanting to know if she was married, to which she replied “no” I came close to it once, but it didn’t work out so I am still single.”

“What about polygamy in Islam?” Carlos asked.

She wondered what had caused him to bring up this subject but she switched gears and she became the professor once more.

“Islam does not impose polygamy as a universal practice. The prophet himself was a monogamist for the greater part of his married life, from the age of twenty-five when he married Khadija until he was fifty when she died. One should regard monogamy as the norm and polygamy as the exception.”

“And after Khadija died, I take it he took other wives?” David asked

“Yes. Actually he had eight more wives after Khadija died. He married them for various reasons. Similar to the reasons for the marriages of Henry the VIII, the marriages were mainly to secure the cooperation of some chieftain, so in a way they were political marriages. His second wife for instance, or perhaps his third wife, he married when she was seven years old. She moved in with him when she was nine. We presume that the marriage was consummated then.” To a one their lips all curled with distaste.

“You must remember times were different in 600 AD. Even four hundred years later in 1000 AD a few Roman Catholic priests had sex with their own daughters. There were no rules about how old a young a bride had to be and it was hoped but not directed that she would have at least reached puberty before - you know. Anyway, it is thought that his wife had reached puberty at nine years old.”

She continued. “His wives used to play games and jokes on him. When a man has eight wives, each of them is supposed to keep her own counsel about what happens in the bedroom, they didn’t do so. They used to share information and use it to confound him.”

“What kind of information?” Urs asked.

“Oh, the kind of information that a wife never shares. What they do together, what brings her pleasure. Remember he was pretty old when his first wife died and these were mostly young women. They would wait until he was in bed with one of them and then say ‘but I am the one who likes so and so’…. whatever. And he wouldn’t remember and he’d start to do that particular thing, who knows what it was and then she’d say no, no you have forgotten. I am the one who likes….. another thing. So I take it from reading those accounts, it was not very much fun for him to have eight wives. You see, in Islam, the wife‘s pleasure is enjoined upon the husband. It is a duty.” She laughed prettily and the other women joined her. She continued playfully, “Do it or else.” Even the guys had to laugh at that. Urs wondered what the ’or else’ would entail.

All in all it was a quite pleasant evening. Urs looked at her. Watched her and became fascinated by her. Her hand movements, the way she shaped her mouth before the words came out. The way she laughed. He even liked the way she chewed her food. He could see that if he kept this up, he would and could become besotted with her. He thought to date her would be out of the question. It could never lead to marriage… marriage? Where had that thought come from.

He wasn’t interested in getting married yet, perhaps never. But she was just the type of woman who would never settle for an affair, long or short term. But if she would, he knew that he could be the man to provide the companionship. And… if they couldn’t marry, if her religion forbade marriage, perhaps … who knew?

He’d have to find out for sure that she found him a little bit interesting first. He didn’t want to stick his neck out and find out that she laughed at his attempts to come on to her. She might say “a non-believer is the last person that I would date.”

After the dinner ended, much too soon for him, he, being the only single male in the group, walked her to her car. He made his voice deliberately neutral when he thanked her for her knowledge and willingness to share it with them. He then took her key, opened the door, handed it back to her and waited patiently for her to get in. He then closed it immediately after she was situated. He watched her drive off and then quickly walked back to join the others.

He had no way of knowing that while he was gone the others were discussing him. As soon as he had walked away to see Keturah to the car, Rana had asked Gina “Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

“That Keturah would be perfect for Urs? Yes, I am. She’s refined; she’s beautiful and intelligent, not strange at all and seems to be lots of fun. She would also fit in with us perfectly.”

“Do you think it would matter to him that she’s Middle Eastern?” Janice had asked.

“Nah,” Carlos answered for Urs. "But it might matter to her that he’s European. She did say that Muslim women can’t marry a non-Muslim. “

“I don’t think he’s anywhere near ready to get married. I think the women were just picking out a new girlfriend for him.” David added.

“Ah, but with the Muslim women, it is all the same thing. You heard her say that they can’t even court alone. Urs would never stand for that. Besides as long as she‘s a Muslim, I heard that she can never change religions.”

Everyone was silent after that pronouncement. Finally Rana said,”I guess we’d better keep our mouths shut. There’s no need to encourage something that’s not meant to be. He’s a cool guy; he’ll find someone suitable soon.”

“He could find someone tonight but I doubt that you ladies would think she’d measure up.” Seb said.

“No. You’re right. He’s special and he needs a special woman in his life, not just some silly pretty pet.”

They stopped the chatter when they saw Urs walking quickly up to them, ready to get back home. They had all ridden in a company van because it could hold all of them comfortably and it was easier than trying to maneuver with them all going to the same address.

They said their goodnights and Urs entered his apartment. For some reason he was not lonely, he was happy. He was so willing to wait to see if Keturah Afnani was interested in him.

And to use a religious analogy; he could be as patient as Job.

CHAPTER 10
Very un-Job like he called her the next day. So much for vowing patience, he felt that it was a virtue that was overrated.

“Dr. Afnani, this is Urs Buhler. I hope that I am not disturbing you.”

“Urs Buhler? What can I do for you Urs?” She controlled her tone to one of polite inquiry. She hoped that she hadn’t sounded eager.

“Actually there’s a play at the Trafalgar Studio called “Love me Tender, Hate Me Please.” It’s a cabaret and sort of a comedy. I thought you might like to see it - with me.”

“See it with you?”

“Yes, with me.”

“Why? You don’t have to pay me back for the lessons. Your manager is recompensing me adequately.”

“I wouldn’t think of it. Look if you’re not interested in going out with me that’s ok.”

“Ah, going out with you. Like on a date?”

“I know you said that in your culture women didn’t date but perhaps you can make an exception?”

“Oh I can date if I want to. I date quite often, I just had not thought of dating you.” That was a blatant lie on her part. She had hoped for just this type of call.

“Now that you’ve thought of it… will you go out with me?”

“Yes. I will. When?

“Tonight. At seven. The play starts at eight. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“But wait - you don’t know where I live – Urs - Urs?" But he was gone. Just that quickly. She wondered when he’d remember that he didn’t know where she lived.

At five of seven he was ringing her doorbell. He brought flowers. A beautiful bouquet that she placed in water even as she thanked him. She supposed that answered her question regarding if he was interested in her as a woman or for informational purposes only.

They took in the play and had a wonderful time. It was quite funny and had a sarcastic bent that appealed to both of their senses of humor. After the play ended he took her straight home as they both had to work the following day.

He had walked her to her door and stood politely while she unlocked it. She got the feeling that he was wondering if he should or could come in so she didn’t give any hint that it had crossed her mind. After the door was open she said good night and he said “See you Thursday evening.” And that was it.

Even so she went into her bathroom and did a little victory dance. He had finally asked her out. She had wanted him since Dubai.

She had watched as Carlos and Sebastien had entered the stage, one from the right, one from the left. Her word for Carlos was suave; her word for Sebastien was cute. And then David came, seemingly from the middle. Perhaps wholesome was his slice of the mix that was Il Divo.

Then out came Urs, looking severe and then turning that stern look into one of charm. She had felt her first stirring of interest. Yes, she could really learn to appreciate understated charm. As the group moved through their program of songs, she kept her eyes for the most part glued on Urs. He was smooth and graceful true, but then so were the others but none of them had the power to fascinate her as he did.

Later when she met him in the narrow hallway she had hardly believed her eyes. He was even more stunning up close. She hadn’t intended to run up to him and place her hands on his person. Her brain had seemed to be disconnected from her body, she just acted impulsively. She became a girl again, barely out of her teens back at UCLA. The star quarterback had just walked onto the field.

He smelled of cool citrus but underneath that was desert heat. Ah, what wouldn’t she give to have him for her very own? She had known it was not to be but still, she had not given up hope. She knew that she lived in the UK and learned that Il Divo was located there. Fate has occasionally been known to be kind.
*******************************

Two days before their Thursday’s meeting Urs mobile phone rang. He checked it out and saw that the text read Kat Afnani. Kat? Keturah was Kat? How did she have his cell phone number? Then he remembered that he had called her from it and she probably had the number stored in her phone.

“Buhler here.”

“Urs, its Keturah. I am wondering if you think that asking the group to attend a Muslim wedding in place of our Thursday’s dinner would be a good idea. It would be a great opportunity to see firsthand some of the things that I have talked about in class.”

“Are you Kat? Somehow I am surprised at that.”

“Why, don’t I appear like a Kat to you?”

“No. You are always so put together and professional, Kat just seems rather informal."

"I have a number of nicknames. Keturah is spelled so many ways, depending upon the country; I usually get it given back to me in a shortened version.”

“For instance?” He pressed.

“Here are some of the other spellings, and she patiently sounded them out for him over the phone. "There’s Katurah, Qiturah, Qeturah, and Queturah to name a few, and they all have almost the same pronunciation. So some people call me Qet which pronounces the same as Kat. It’s a common name; I’m named after Abraham’s third wife.”

“Who’s Abraham? Do I know him?”

“No, silly. No one knows him. Abraham in the bible is also in the Koran. He had three wives, Sarah, Hagar and Keturah.”

He had never heard that there was a third wife and he had always thought that Sarah was his only wife but he wasn’t really interested in discussing religion with her so he brushed it off.

“Ah, I see. About your question, Yes. I think it would be very good for us to get together. When is the wedding?"

“Actually it is Friday evening. An Egyptian couple is getting married and I am invited, they would be pleased to have all of you as additional guests. Would you call the others and see if they can attend? Of course, if they can’t we’ll have to resume our plans for Thursday.”

Urs checked and unanimously they were up for the wedding.

But that brought on another challenge. None of the Western ladies had dresses that covered their arms and legs. If the skirt was long, it had a slit up the side or in back. Anyway Gina told Urs that was not his problem unless he had some skirts that they could borrow. When he laughingly told her that he had none, she asked him to have Keturah call her, which he did.

That led to the ladies getting out shopping later in the week, where they had a really good time trying on various outfits and Rana was surprised to find that some of the outfits had a custom look. It seemed that what one gave up in exposure was more than made up in subtlety.

Friday evening they had arranged to take the van and pick up Keturah so that they could all arrive with her since they were all invited through her. After they picked her up she used the time to brief them on some of the wedding practices.

“A Muslim wedding is always a happy time for families to celebrate. But there are cultural variations from place to place. This Egyptian tradition has existed from ancient times and has been passed down to the present day with just a few modifications.

"These days, the couple probably meets at University, or on the job or some other public place and the courtship starts, but they still are never alone. Once they determine that they like each other the suitor visits the bride-to-be’s family and gets permission to wed their daughter. He has to turn over income statements and so forth so that the amount that he has to pay the bride’s family can be determined.”

“Why does he have to buy a bride?” someone asked.

“He’s not buying a bride. The bride’s family uses the money to buy furniture for their daughter’s first home. But he also has to give the bride a gift of expensive jewelry, just how expensive depends upon what he can afford. They then rent a banquet hall or in some cases two banquet halls and the women party all night in one room and the men party all night in another.

"That is the old way. Westernized Muslim Egyptians now have their parties all in the same room. We’ll dance and eat and just have a good time. They will go on all night so whenever we’re ready to go we can leave. “

Kat looked excited and her enthusiasm was catching. The seven other participants began to feel less anxiety and more anticipation. They even thought that David was beginning to unwind a lot because he pulled his Janice to him and gave her a big smacking kiss.

Keturah ignored the lovers and continued. “After they end the party the bride is escorted either to her new home or upstairs to a hotel room if they can’t yet afford to buy a house. In the old days she would be put on a horse, the groom would go ahead to their home and wait there to receive her.”

“I should also mention that many Egyptians marry within their family but they are coming to realize that the incidence of diabetes and hypertension are much higher among them because of this. “

“Is this couple where we’re going related?”

“No. They are not.”

Seb was driving and using the GPS he pulled up expertly at the address given him. They piled out; all dressed conservatively and entered the well appointed four star hotel. As promised, the men and women were congregated in one large room that had a number of round tables that could sit probably ten people and on the eastern aspect of the room was a low stage equipped with a microphone off to the side. All was done in a very modern way.

The Afnani party found a table and sat watching the goings on. Before long the bride and groom, Fatima and M. Hamid Fares, came around to each table, to welcome their guests. They were glad to see Keturah and very pleased to meet the others. It seemed the theme was just to be happy and to celebrate.

Next came a phalanx of waiters bringing huge platters of food to each table.

“In general,” Keturah informed them. Members of one family all eat from the same platter. When all eating from the same platter are not family, we all mark off our portion and just eat from that space, sort of like a huge pie. Of course married couples don’t do this as they are considered one.”

“What about couples who are courting, do they eat from the same space?” Carlos asked.

“No, since they have not yet slept together, they are each still eating from their own space. Shall we start?” And she handed each one of them an antiseptic wipe, saying “this is just for assurance that no one has been doing anything to dirty their hands.”

After they had all dutifully wiped their hands they started to eat. The food was so good! Each dish had its own distinctive flavor, some lemony, some sweet and sour and some just meat and another had the consistency of hummus.

About that time the music started. An evocative Middle Eastern melody that made some think of hot nights in the desert began to play. Shortly after that six women came out and began to dance. Although they were fully covered, their moves were sensual and graceful. All of the fellows including Urs were so busy looking at the girls dance until as he prepared to take another bite he stuck his hand over into Keturah’s portion of the plate that they shared.

“Hey, stop that Urs!" She slapped him lightly on the back of his hand causing his head to snap around to look at her. “We haven’t slept together.” she teased. This caused all of the six pair of eyes of the others at the table to look at Urs as if to say, ‘is that an invitation?” He took it as one because he asked them in mock seriousness if they would excuse him and Dr. Afnani so that they could go and insure that thereafter they would be able to eat from the same space.

All of them were laughing but in the end when the laughter died Kat thought that she still saw a lingering look of speculation not only in Urs eyes but also in the look that the other guys gave to him. She ignored it and wondered if she had left him an opening to ask her out again, or if she had overdone it. Time would tell.

Later all of the guests got up to dance and had a good time just generally moving around. In no way were they able to do any Middle Eastern dance but to move to the music was wonderfully freeing. Kat of course could dance the dances.

Later on she joined a group of women on the small stage and they danced a dance that appeared choreographed, across the room a group of men formed their own dancing group. It appeared as if the men and women were using subtlety to dance with each other. It was exciting to see how the courtship ritual that wasn’t really a courtship could be carried out with a couple of hundred people around.

He noticed that some of the young women would look at a man until she caught his eye and then look down only occasionally looking up to see if she still had his attention. Urs watched Kat to see is she was exchanging looks with any of the men in the large group, it seemed not. Neither was she making eye contact with him.

Urs drove them home saying that he’d drive since he hadn’t a sweetie to cuddle with. Carlos promptly asked him “what about the professor there?” But Keturah cut in saying, “Sure, we’ve just finished studying a culture where there’s no courtship, if he knows of a Justice of the Peace we can go there and he can cuddle me all he wants after that.” In answer Urs stepped on the gas and headed for home.

David, Seb and Carlos looked at each other in surprise when Urs passed the exit that would lead to Keturah’s home and drove them to a place central to all of their apartments. For once, however, Carlos was silent and he helped Gina exit the van and the three guys and three gals headed for home only a few steps away.

For her part Keturah was silent. She sat there, next to Urs where she had been strategically placed since they were to only two unmatched pair in the group. Once the others were out of the van, Urs took off, seemed to be headed for a club down the street but changed his mind and headed back to her place.

When they reached it about ten minutes later, still silent, he opened his door, got out and came around to assist her out of her side. He then locked the van and signaled for her to proceed to her door. Once there, he held out his hand for her key, he opened the door for her and not waiting for an invitation, followed her inside. She recalled the other night when he had stood back and allowed her to open her own door. Tonight was entirely different.

“And so,” he finally spoke once they were inside and the door firmly closed behind them. “Are you playing a game or are you interested?”

CHAPTER 11
Oh God not yet! She thought. Though she said nothing aloud she had looked at him for a long while, calculating, thoughts running wildly through her head, knowing that she had sent him signals, wondering if she had turned it on too strong too soon.

She wanted his interest true but she wanted respectful interest not just licentious regard. Was now the time to tell him, to let him know? Of course she was interested! She had been interested from the first moment she had seen him on the stage. He was so pretty to her. Perhaps not pretty but something close to it. Like an angel and of course he was also a kind, thoughtful individual. The others were too but there was something about this one that had appealed to her that night in Dubai.

She had wanted to gently bite him but couldn’t get near the stage and even if she could have it would have been completely inappropriate to do so in that country. It would have been such an embarrassment to her uncle and, would have meant she would have been forced to return to the UK that very next day.

She had watched him for the first half of the show. Once more in the heartbeat that lasted a lifetime she recalled her surprise and pleasure when at intermission she had met him coming towards her in the hall. They were alone. She had discarded all of her layers of sophistication and had run to him without thinking.

That night in the hallway, clutching his firm muscles in her hands was a dream, but not enough. She wanted to rub her face on his face but she was covered from head to foot. So she did the next best thing she carried out her fantasy and nipped him.

And he had reacted with - caution. Surely he had thought her a crazed fan, and she didn’t blame him for thinking that so. She vowed that she’d be a fool to reveal that weak moment. But she loved him and had loved him from the first few moments of seeing him up there on that stage.

Then she brought herself back down to reality. No, she hadn’t loved him at that first sight. That had been fascination pure and simple. And of course she knew that he was not an angel. He was kind and thoughtful for sure, but no, no he was too worldly to be an angel in spite of his innocent looks.

After that night at the performance when she was hired to work for them, not more than six weeks later, she began to plot. She wanted him for more than a day or a few weeks. Was it too much to ask to have him for life? She didn’t think so. She knew though that it would not be easy. At almost ten years her senior he had probably grown very skillful at avoiding the ball and chain. But had he reckoned with a woman who had her intelligence and her will?

She also thought that her understanding of men would stand her in good stead. He had not met her like before. She thought she was up to the task and if in the end she still could not bring him to commit; she would have given it a try and would have lost nothing. She was not going to do like all of his other women, give in to him without a promise of marriage.

So without further mulling it over, she took the leap.

“Yes, Urs, I am interested.”

“Good. I am very glad because you probably have guessed that I find you very attractive and captivating. I’ve never met a woman quite like you. I didn’t … I couldn’t tell if you were coming on to me or kidding me or what.” He laughed, it was a deep resonate sound that pulled at her innards.

“Perhaps I was doing a little bit of both. As you can see, I like to laugh.”

“If you are interested, as you say, that means that you will have to come to me without being my wife, since your religion won’t allow it. But we shouldn’t worry about that, marriage is only for show. It shouldn’t matter when two people care about each other.” He so hoped the relief that he felt voicing those facts didn’t show.

“Are you saying that I’d have to give up any hope of getting married then and be content to be a mistress?

“I would never ask you to give up your religion, and as you said, it’s not easy to leave safely.” He had a rationale for every one of her concerns.

“That seems like a poor exchange to me, all for a bit of interest. I know that you say that marriage doesn’t matter, that it’s just for show. Would you marry me if you could?”

What an old fashioned word he thought - mistress. But he answered thinking to say what he knew she’d want to hear. “I would marry you in a heartbeat, but you yourself said that you can’t; you said that Muslim women can’t marry outside their faith.”

“Yes I spoke truth, Muslim women can’t marry outside their faith but I never told you that I was Muslim did I? I certainly didn’t mean to give you that impression. I am not a follower of Islam and never have been. I can marry anyone that I choose.”

He was instantly on guard. He had just said that he would marry her if he could, secure in the knowledge that he couldn’t. Now she was telling him differently?

“What’s all this writing on these pieces of art on your wall? Looks like Islam to me.”

“It’s Arabic and Persian or as most folk call the Persian language, Farsi. I and my family, all of us in the West are actually Baha’is. My parents came west to avoid persecution by Persian authorities. They found it very dangerous to live in those lands and be of a religion that is not Muslim, Christian nor Jewish, the three religions whose members are called people of the book. They were members of a small minority and thus had to leave. The Baha’i religion has tenants that are quite different from Islam. But we too are loving and peaceful people. You and I can court if you want it. We can marry if we want to. We cannot live together, and if we fornicate, we have to keep it a secret.”

“Fornicate? That’s an awful word.”

“Fornicate means voluntary sexual relations between two unmarried persons. The word is no more awful than the act.”

“Still, it sounds ugly to me.”

“It sounds ugly because it is ugly.” She wouldn’t be swayed to think like most people thought.

“Why did you allow us to think you knew what you were teaching us, that you had actually experienced those things you taught?”

“I didn’t deceive you. I have experienced them. All of my uncles, aunts and cousins are Muslim. All of them are except my parents are not. Beliefs are strange things, wayward things, beliefs cannot be commanded. When my parents heard the principles of Baha’i it was their truth. As I said, they came to the West to escape persecution. When I visit my relatives over there I live as they do because I have to. I cannot go back flaunting the fact that I now live in the UK and don’t have to cover my body. So, yes, I know all there is to know about Islam.”

“And what about your parent’s religion? Your new religion, do you believe it? Or are you just in it because – your parents are members and you say that you can marry whomever you choose, that I can court you even though I am not a member. What about divorce? If we marry and it’s a horrible mistake could we ever get free of each other?”

“You’ve asked a lot of questions that we may never need to even consider the answers to. Yet I’ll answer as best as I can.

"Yes. I believe. I believe for myself and not just because my parents say it’s so. And when I marry, if it is a horrible mistake I can get free and I can get free easily without too much difficulty.

"But Urs know this, I am quite level headed and I know how to conduct my life. Marriage to me would not be a horrible mistake on your part. I would work really hard to see that it isn’t that we never lose sight of what is important. Hopefully you would work hard too, especially if we would decide to have children although we may decide not to also.

"Yes. I assure you again, if it is a horrible mistake and we must break the bonds that we form, there is a way out. I being the spouse who is a member of the faith will be asked to not find your replacement for a year and during that year to work on our marriage if you will allow me to do so. “

How in the world did I ever get myself into this? He thought. Yet he persisted with the questions almost as if his mouth was disconnected from his brain.

“What about your parents? Would I have to get their permission?” He suddenly realized with something akin to horror that he was actually curious about her rules when he should be running for the door.

She was pleased that he was asking questions about marriage. It proved to her that at least, in his own mind, he had not ruled it out.

“No. But just because you wouldn’t have to get permission that does not mean that it is not a family affair. I would be responsible for getting my parents’ permission and you would have to get yours.”

“You’re kidding. I haven’t lived according to my parent’s wishes in fifteen years. Why would I want to do so now?”

“Perhaps if you had listened to your parents you would be better off than you are now. Oh you’ve done well professionally and financially, but your life seems rather bleak, you don’t have any women in your life worth introducing to your family or to your public. You have to hide them in plain sight. Some of what that girl said in the interview is true you know. No woman wants to be shuttled to the back of the line just because you aren’t ready to acknowledge her; no matter what your reasoning is.”

“My mother would have had me married with a bunch of kids at least ten years ago. Why are we talking so much about marriage Keturah? I barely know you. We barely know each other.”

“We are talking about it, Mr. Buhler, because you are deciding if you want me in your life or not. And - I think I’ve made it clear, marriage is the only way you will be able to accomplish it.”

“But no fornicating… as you put it?”

“Absolutely not.” She laughed. “I won’t become another of your trophies.”

“But your religion doesn’t forbid it?”

“Yes. It is forbidden and yours forbids it too. But like you I make my own rules. Even if it did not forbid it I still would not do it. Not even for you.”

“What does that mean, ’not even for me’? Is it more than interest you are talking about? Are you now calling interest - love?”

“Unequivocally." She spoke with surety. "It only takes a short while to have these feelings.”

He was attracted too he admitted to himself and then mused aloud, “And we’ve not yet kissed each other. Look” he added when his internal bachelor alarm went off. “I understand your feelings, I really do, but now I ask you to consider mine.”

He waited while she nodded and then paused for a long moment to get his thoughts together.

“I no longer trust enough to believe that love conquers all. I have had the unfortunate experience of being deeply in love with a woman who was a closet nun. Before long, what little heat we had between us dissipated like vapor. I have to know that I am not wasting my time with you. If we have something, I would be willing to see if we can fall in love with each other; to see if our characters are compatible. But, I have to sleep with you first - before putting forth the effort to … “

“We are at an impasse then,” she cut him off neither angrily nor was she hurt. She was very firm in her resolve, “for I will not be put on trial nor will I take what belongs to my husband and give it to you not knowing if you will judge it worthwhile or not.”


“Ah - are you saying that you don’t want to lose your virginity? How old are you? You can’t be. I would have thought in all of the years, especially growing up in California you would have gained experience many times over. Never? Not in high school, or college or when working on your advanced degrees? How could that be? Didn’t you feel like you would explode?”

She chuckled. “Don’t paint me with the same brush that you paint yourself. And for your information, I am twenty seven and I haven’t exploded yet. I’ve always been the studious sort but I did manage to get enough experience to know that I will not be shy or withdrawing with you. One doesn’t have to actually do everything that one knows about in order to know if one would do it.”

He considered what she had just said. It seemed to him that she had just offered a ray of hope for them.

“Then by all means, let’s go into the bedroom and see what you have decided you would do.”

“You’re kidding. Now? Tonight? She practically squeaked demonstrating to him her complex mix of surety and naivety.

“Are you ill? We have admitted that we are both attracted to each other. Is there some reason why we must wait?”

Kat looked at him; measuring, weighing the risk she was about to take against the benefit to her. Virginity held no particular value to her and neither did it hold value to men in the culture of the West. It was very valuable to the men of her mother’s culture. More valuable than it had any right to be. And so pulled between these two competing concerns, her thoughts were all over the place.

If it was of no value, why give it away? It was bound to be a messy and unpleasant experience. It wouldn’t make this man want to stay with her.

Many of her girlfriends did what they considered furthering their relationships, taking it to the next level by moving in with their boyfriends only to find that their guys moved on with other women at will. Those were the same men that had said that marriage wasn’t important if two people cared about each other. She had come to think that that was just a line that guys like to use with women. Very few of them actually wanted to marry and they’d use every recipe for avoidance that they could come up with.

To her marriage was all and it would be all to her husband if she didn’t marry a man of the west.

On the other hand in this case it meant the difference between a six months relationship; or perhaps longer with Urs balanced against a relationship that would never get off the ground.

And, she really, really wanted him. Not so much sexually but she wanted all of the other things that went with it. She wanted the laughter, the talks, and the meals together. Long walks at twilight were particularly appealing. But these things she wanted with him and no other.

Perhaps to gain what she wanted she could compromise a bit. After all, six months were better than no months.

A hint of a shiver teased her whispering of the passion that she could enjoy in this man’s arms. Did she want to have an affair with Urs? She didn’t know if he was any good in bed or not. But with his face and form he wouldn’t have to be good. He’d be a warm body and hopefully be better than her vibrator. He had strong hands that looked amazingly capable for a singer. Would he stroke her firmly, or would he tease her lightly with the contrast between his blunt fingertips and her smooth skin?

She supposed that she was just allowing herself to be put off with the bluntness, the matter-of-factness, the lack of romantic trappings of his suggestion that they deliberately go in and see. But then, neither of them were children. Not everything had to be sugar coated.

“All right.” she answered tentatively, and then more firmly, “Yes, certainly, we can do some things. But you must promise me that you will not ruin me for the man that I will marry. In my culture, that is quite important.”

“I understand. I can promise you that there will be no penetration. Trust me.”

CHAPTER 12

She had nodded her head in assent and took his hand and together they walked down the darkened hallway. When they reached the end of the hallway she led him across the threshold into another room where a dim light was already providing an ambient glow.

It was here, standing in the dimness provided by a night light, that they kissed each other for the very first time.

The flame that began with the touch of their lips slowly built until it was like a raging wildfire. Nothing in Keturah’s life had prepared her for the inferno. She could not get enough of him and he was hardly any better. He had expected to get excited, and was pleased when the excitement grew into what he called a thrill. He never took it for granted that it would. But both he had experienced before and as little as a couple of months ago at that.

Excitement, pleasure and thrills were always present when he lay with a woman. But in just the act of kissing her he was taken beyond mere physical sensations that come with good technique; he began to feel the higher emotions that spoke to his soul. She ceased being just an object of conquest and was well on her way to becoming precious to him and he couldn’t even explain to himself why.

Warm skin rubbed against her hand with hard bone underneath. Kat instinctively spread her fingers to explore further and found his chest, the hair on it making a crinkly sound as her fingers explored. She kept rubbing him, the circles of her hand growing wider and wider as he worked faster and faster to divest himself of his clothes. Soon he was nude and she found herself on her back on the bed not remembering when that had happened but she lay there looking at him as he started in on her.

Off came her blouse and fireflies of light and heat danced along her skin and into her bones where his hand touched. She pressed against him, needing more of that touch. He pushed her gently away so that he could get her out of the long skirt then knee hi stockings and underwear. Not very sexy she thought but then she hadn’t known that anyone would be seeing what was under her clothing but herself tonight.

Hunger such as she had never known curled through her, bringing with it the eager need to satisfy it. She skimmed her hand up his arm to his shoulder fascinated that her slightest touch brought a responsive shudder in him.

When all clothing was off he lifted her thigh by hooking her knee and placing it around his waist. In that position she felt him, long and firm just creasing the seam of her intimate self. While they kissed as if they were ravenous, they fell back onto the bed together his mouth finding her most sensitive spots, her breasts, her nipples, especially responsive, her neck less so.

When his fingers parted her and felt for her clitoris she burst into a conflagration. Being touched like that by someone other than herself went beyond pleasure. She was no longer thinking. She was mindless when she opened herself to him, urging him on using pure instinct. Using her leg to pull him closer and closer still; and before either one of them thought to try to halt the cataclysm that had overtaken them he slid into her, deeper and deeper until she felt the tear, and the pain, and the wonder too.

And still he didn’t stop. He didn’t even try. He rode her and she tried to get closer raising herself up by her heels to bring her legs around his slim hips and then beating a tattoo on his butt with those same feet. She screamed when she came and he was with her, every step of the way. And throughout he buried his face in her neck, breathed her name and buried his fingers in her hair until it formed a wild halo around her head. Finally, it seemed like forever and no time at all he flipped to his back, taking her with him to rest on his chest and stomach, where still joined to her he worked to get his breathing under control.

At first he thought she was asleep. When he shook her she didn’t move voluntarily. She was limp and only moved when he moved her with his hands. He almost panicked as he rolled her onto her back. She was unconscious. Out cold. He could feel his own heart almost jump from his chest. Fortunately her little episode only lasted a few seconds, less than twenty but it seemed like forever. She awoke with gentleness in her eyes for him.

“My angel,” she whispered. “That was so perfect.”

He had heard of ‘La Petite Mort’ years ago. He had never been with anyone before who had experienced the little death. He’d heard that the orgasm could be followed by a period of either melancholy or transcendence. If she awoke calling him an angel she was either hallucinating or experiencing transcendence. He supposed that was better than melancholy and a fit of crying.

He held her in his arms and cuddled her for long minutes while she came back down to earth. Finally when she began kissing his nipples and he knew that he was in danger of becoming aroused again so he put her gently away from his chest saying, “Keturah, we need to talk.”

“I know that but I hate to come back to reality.”

Privately she wondered just what had happened. She suspected that she’d never be the same because she was his. She had wanted to preserve her technical virginity so that when she married, her husband would have something to appreciate. Since she’d been with him, she realized it just didn’t matter anymore. She even speculated that she might have felt that way about any of her first time lovers but realized that these feelings had started before the first kiss, and had escalated to unbearable.

Whenever she had kissed her former fiancé, she had wondered how long the kiss should last, what should she do next. She had been into technicalities. This time no techniques or technicalities were necessary. It was as natural as breathing. She found that she didn’t want to talk, she wanted to feel. If she had known what she was asking she would not have asked him to make halfway love to her. She would either have said no, and meant it or gone into the bedroom prepared to complete the act.

She could not be sorry even though her feelings put her in a precarious position with this man. What she was feeling reminded her of a song some female singer sang that Keturah had always thought sappy. In the song the unknown woman said that her lover was the buffet, while she was the table. That he was the Concorde and she was economy. That song had always sounded like hogwash to her before but now it was her truth. It perfectly portrayed how she felt about Urs Buhler.

Fully back to earth now she considered practically that all of these tender feelings for him were all well and good but until he reciprocated those feelings it wouldn’t be wise for her to let him know or to use them to control her. That was why, when he continued to speak and she could tell he was feeling remorseful not about what they had done but about not keeping his promise, especially when he had assured her that she could trust him, she didn’t allow him to reach the logical conclusion of his narrative, which might have been that he owed her marriage. Instead she interrupted him.

“You know Urs, no harm was done. I was speaking from inexperience and had I known, I would never have asked the impossible of you. I think we should act as if this never happened and continue to get to know each other. If, after a period of dating we still feel this attraction and we like each other’s character, then we should decide what to do about it. Don’t you think that is the wise thing to do?"

That had seemed to please him until he found that she was being very literal when she said that they would return to what they had been before this ever happened. What she was really saying was that they be celibate while they got to know more about each other.

“I don’t think we can go backwards Keturah. I don‘t think two people who are as attracted to each other as we are can still get along with each other without sex. It’s too late for that.”

“Of course it’s not too late. I am a self disciplined person, you are always saying that the Swiss are too, so what’s that problem?”

He had whispered under his breath that the Swiss weren’t that disciplined but she chose to pretend that she hadn‘t heard that. She didn’t see that they could do it any other way. She was not ready to just give in and become his mistress, or as he preferred to call it, his girlfriend. That could go on for years and he‘d be perfectly happy to let it be like that, and why not? He would have his needs taken care of.

But she would not. She wanted a husband and children and she thought if she made him wait for her and possibly long for her it would be incentive for him to want to make it legal. That was it in a nutshell.

He then clarified it for her. “The problem is, if we try to go backwards, I can guarantee that we won’t get along, but, that is something that you will have to experience to believe. I am willing to try.”

With that he picked up his clothes, removed himself from her bed, asked her to point him to the shower and disappeared, closing the door behind him with a thud.

He was fully dressed when he came back but seemed in a better mood. The truth was that he had thought about what she wanted for them while he was under the hot soothing water of the shower. He thought she was too passionate to go back. In his mind he predicted she’d last a month at most and then she’d be all over him. She was basically an academician and just didn’t know the power of the hormones. Now that she was awakened, her body would not be content to just go back to sleep.

So he came around to her side of the bed, pulled her into his arms for a kiss and told her that he’d see her on Thursday. He almost smiled at her look of disappointment. Evidently she had hoped that he would ask her out on a date before then but he knew that if he made himself scarce, she’d want him more.

He didn’t plan it deliberately but it did fit his purposes. The next day, Saturday the group of four guys and a skeleton of their music crew flew back to the US for more promotion of their new CD. He didn’t bother to call her and tell her that they would be out of town. If she wanted to return to the way it had been before they made love, so be it. Before that, he would not have called her.

They were gone for five days, two of those were spent on the flight over and back. They returned late Wednesday evening. He found that Keturah had left him a message on his apartment phone. She knew that he routinely didn’t bother looking at his cell when he was gone, knowing that there was not much he could handle when he was an ocean away.

He returned her call and reached her at work. She was between classes and in her office so she had time to talk to him.

“Urs; how are you?” she had asked brightly.

He had frowned at that. He had hoped that she would want to quarrel about why he hadn’t called her sooner. Instead she sounded as if she couldn’t care less.

Amenities out of the way she got down to business. “Look, for our fifth meeting we will be going to learn about the Middle Eastern dancing. I want to give you the address of the spot so that you can pass it on to the others if you will.”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure.” He gave her his most polite and detached voice. Two could play that game.

That done she took the lead and signed off, merely saying, “I’ll see you at seven tomorrow evening." and she hung up the phone, not giving him a chance to ask what they should wear or anything else.

Keturah smiled to herself. She had learned that the Il Divo crew was in the states simply by calling and asking the front office about the possibility of an interview. She had been told that they would return Wednesday and she would give the message to the manager for consideration. She then had said that she would get back to them later and hung up without leaving a number or a name.

She had then called the airline to find out what planes were arriving Wednesday from the states. There were several but only one on ’British Airlines’ the one that Il Divo favored. She estimated that Urs had returned her call the minute that he reached his apartment and looked over his calls. Not bad. He had even sounded a bit disappointed that she was not angry with him. Imagine that!

On Thursday they piled out of the Il Divo van and found Keturah waiting for them. She greeted them all warmly; he noticed that the women hugged each other. He wondered when they had become so friendly.

Keturah was dressed a pair of leather pants that showed her knockout figure to perfection. With the butter yellow pants she wore soft leather short boots that turned down at the ankle. He thought them quite fashionable. Her dark sweater was just the right fit and perched smartly at her waist and emphasized its smallness. He couldn’t stop looking at her. At first to see if she really looked as good from the side and behind as she did when he approached her from the front. Consequently as they all walked the short distance from the parking lot to the club his eyes were on the jiggle of her backside and the sway of her hips.

Of course she would have to catch him looking at her. Just before they entered, she turned to give them her little informative spiel and her eyes went to his face before the others. His eyes were on her too, but much lower and he couldn’t raise them quickly enough to keep her from seeing him.

Therefore, pleased with Urs failed attempts to seem indifferent, when she told them about Oriental dance she was unusually cheerful causing the others to speculate that something was going on of which they were unaware. After they entered the access hallway, she motioned them to her and they stood in a circle, heads leaned in to listen.

“The correct name for belly dancing is Oriental dance. It did not originate as a dance of seduction done by concubines to titillate the Sultan. I want you to think of Oriental dance as a kind of folk dance that people, men and women, would do on celebratory occasions such as weddings, the birth of a child, community festivals, and other events that bring people together to party.

"It was not originally done as a performance but just for fun. Just as westerners dance for joy at weddings and so forth and do the two-step, the waltz and any other dance they know such as folk dances, so it was with oriental dance.

“Keturah, how did it become the hip shaking thing that we know as belly dancing?” Janice asked.

“Following the rise of Islam and Sharia law, people began living in segregated households. The men lived on one side of the house, and the women lived with the children on the other side. The word “harem” does not refer to some exotic seduction chamber filled with naked women lolling on pillows awaiting their turn to seduce the Sultan, instead, it simply refers to the section of the home where women carried out their everyday business of cooking, sewing, gossiping with friends, and minding the children.

“The word “harem” comes from the word ’haram’ which means ’forbidden. Men who were not part of the immediate family were forbidden to enter the women’s quarters when they visited their male friends. The intent was to protect the women of the household from strangers.”

Carlos said, “It’s everyman’s fantasy to have his own harem, when you put it that way, we already have one, that is if we have sisters, mothers, and a wife. They get together at parties and leave us men alone. Not much mystery in that. “

“No not a mystery.” Keturah confirmed. “So you have the women in one part of the house and the men in another. When festive occasions would arise, the women would celebrate with other women. In the afternoons, after feeding the men, women would sometimes gather in their part of the home or at the homes of their sisters, aunts, cousins, friends or even grandmothers to enjoy some time together. At these informal get-togethers they might take turns getting up and dancing for each other. There was no special costume; they simply danced in their party clothes.”

“But they won’t be in party clothes tonight will they?” David sounded as if he’d be disappointed if they were.

“No. They’ll be in costume. Times changed, and the people changed with them. The twentieth century reshaped the role of the dance in Middle Eastern society. Three or four things influenced the change. The first was that colonists from Europe came and gradually broke down the barriers to men and women socializing in mixed company.

"Then nightclubs arose as a place where people could go for entertainment. Music was created that even though it was still Eastern, it was heavily influence by the Western orchestral sound, with the heavy beat and so forth. Finally an entire ‘entertainment industry’ swept the world to take advantage of rapidly-advancing recording, radio, and TV technology, and professional dancers arose. The dancers that we will see tonight are professional of course.”

“Keturah, do you know how to do the dance, the belly dance?” Rana asked.

“The Oriental dance?” She gently corrected. "But of course! I learned to do that dance before I could walk!" she joked. "And I will be happy to teach any of you ladies who want to learn. But I generally do not wear the costume, you know the one with the midriff out, I am generally covered when I dance.”

“What about when you dance for your man?” Gina asked, always more bold than the other women.

Keturah didn‘t answer her directly, she answered in general.

“Yes, that is an occasion when one does the Middle-Eastern woman dance that most people call the belly dance. And yes, for her husband she would wear whatever is appropriate, depending upon the body type and age. The goal is for the woman wearing the clothing and performing the dance to feel that she herself is appealing so she must choose what she is comfortable with.

"Tonight, you will see women doing it, but you will find that it is not done by women from the Middle East.” She then made to lead them into the club but stopped when she remembered one more thing.

She addressed the last sentences to the women of the group. “Some of the female dancers will invite you to come up and dance with them on the stage. Don’t go up. Once they have you there with you not knowing the dance or having practiced at all, they will proceed to try to make you look foolish or to use you as a backdrop to show off their skills. However, if after seeing them dance, you wish to practice with me or without me, should you return to this club you will be more prepared to hold your own with them.”

Once inside the darkened atmosphere they were seated on pillows below a low stage and were provided with cool, sweet drinks that tasted as if they were composed of the juices of several fruits. Soon the dancers entered in threes and proceeded to perform.

As they put their energy into the dances, the guys were very interested in their movements but the women were more analytical. Rana, Gina and Janice wondered however had women learned to move that way and if they could learn to be that supple.

While the other three women were admiring, Keturah considered it old hat. The women all of whom who appeared to be from the UK two European and one of African descent did a creditable job. They were enthusiastic to say the least.

And they did make one want to get up and join in.

Soon they were joined by another three who simulated the origins to the dance. It was as if it they were just a group of women sitting around and each jumping into the center of the room showing what she could do while the others clapped.

Before too much time had passed they started inviting women from the audience to come up and join in. A few did, but not from their party. Rana nodded significantly at Keturah when she saw that the women who joined in did indeed look inept up there with the professionals.

They had dinner, sitting on pillows and drank a different sweet drink that Keturah identified as pomegranate juice. It was very good. Even without wine or other alcoholic drinks the party was lively and everyone seemed to be having fun.

After about two hours of solid dancing they all had had enough and decided to go home. They walked out into the cool October air talking about how much fun they’d had. This time their transportation was parked side by side; The Il Divo van and Keturah’s smaller car. Urs had driven over but just before they all piled in he gave the keys to Seb and told them that the professor would see him home.

Six pairs of jaws forgot to close. Collectively they wondered when this had progressed to the place where he hadn’t even had to ask if it was ok to ride with her. On the way home Janice commented that since Urs was the go between with messages for them from Dr. Afnani, perhaps they had had additional phone conversations too.

“Don’t forget that he did drive her home after the wedding.” Rana added. “Perhaps this thing is moving forward faster than we thought and without our help.”

“Urs doesn’t need your help; he never has, and never will. You women decided that he did when you had your big intervention with him in Dubai. He listened and evidently he decided to take your advice. Once he decided, if indeed he has decided, your interference in his life ended. He didn’t need you to advise him about getting a woman. He knows more about that than you ever will.” Carlos spoke as if he knew what he was talking about.

Gina his wife just could not let that presumption go unchallenged. “Carlos, he can’t know more about women than we do. We are, after all female and he is not.”

“Yes my sweet that you are. That is why you know nothing about it. It’s like asking a fish how to fish. The fish is unaware that he has been chased after until it is on the hook. Every man knows that. We learn how to fish quite early in life.”

“Yes, my darling I now understand but tell me, do you land the fish or does the fish land you?”

They all laughed at that and then they fell to speculating whether Urs would spend the night with her or strike out and come home later. They were almost to the point of taking bets when they decided that they would have no way of knowing except that one of them stay up and watch for his return. No one was that curious so the thought gradually died, for the time being.

Poor Urs He got ahead of himself making a promise to stop and then couldn't .....

She loves him already, and he is interested by her but will he declare his love for this special and wonderful Lady??

More Please!!


Laura

CHAPTER 13

Keturah was surprised and pleased. She had wondered when he would stop playing games and make a move. She hated that she was not the type of woman who would call him up and ask for a date but that was not who she was. She had to wait for him, and he had not disappointed.

“So how are you doing?” He started the conversation. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, but then, it’s only been about a week.”

“Yes. We went to the states for some promotional work and we just returned last night. You don’t think you’re pregnant do you?”

She felt a stab of disappointment as she wondered if this was why he caught a ride with her, just to ask her that.

“No. I don’t know yet. Like I said, it’s only been a week.”

Unprotected sex had been super foolish on both their parts. It had been totally out of his character she thought, to be so – spontaneous. Surely he was more responsible than that. She supposed it was a testament to his statement that he had messed up, had not meant to get carried away.

“Now that you know I don’t know yet, do you want me to drive you home?”

“Drive me to your place if you don’t mind. It’s still early, I won’t stay long I promise. I know you have to get up early.”

She looked at him with her peripheral vision and thought; no! No! NO! I will not do it. I will not let him sweet talk me into bed, not another time. I just won’t. While her other side, the side that some would call her wayward side was insistently saying; what difference could it possibly make? You’ve done it once, twice won’t matter at all. Besides, aren’t you a grown woman, able to make your own decisions?”

When they got to her place they went inside and she offered him tea which he accepted. While she was in the kitchen heating the water and cutting the lemon he was in the living room fiddling with her music collection. She returned to find that he had singled out a Deepak Chopra DVD and he placed it into the machine and sat down to watch.

She had seen it before, its length was less than an hour and when it finished they talked about it for a good while. It went more in depth on the Buddha’s eightfold pathway and they discussed each point, giving examples of what each thought was meant and how they used, or didn’t use it in their lives. It seemed that Urs was really interested in spirituality and metaphysics. She found this part of the evening more enjoyable than the dance club session.

They had talked for about an hour; it was now eleven o’clock and he rose to go. She rose with him, prepared to drive him home.

“No, you stay put. I’ll call a cab.”

“I don‘t mind taking you, you know.”

“I know, but I want you safe inside and not out on the streets alone coming back across town.”

The cab must have reached them in record time. When he heard the soft horn he smacked her lips and ran out into the night. She closed the door and sighed. So her resolve had not been put to the test. Was it working for them? She couldn’t help but think that it was.

Another two months passed exactly like the last two had. Nothing was going as the other thought it would. Urs had observed that she was not falling all over him in need of a little private affection and she observed that he seemed no closer to falling for her than he had on the night they made love.

And their time together was drawing to a close. The Middle Eastern symposium was ending soon. Would he continue to contact her once the weekly reminder ended?

She had them over for the final Middle Eastern session the following Thursday. Urs had called the day before to see if she wanted him to show up early to help her out. She thanked him for his thoughtfulness then asked him to come around five and to bring lemons and hummus, and stuff for salad. He showed up with all of that and flowers too.

The eight of them had a fun evening. They played charades and the guys kept trying to give the women suggestive names to parody and the females consistently were smart enough to get their idea across without resorting to what they laughingly called ’vulgarities’.

The food was good. Keturah has prepared lamb, something that she thought westerners no longer ate as often as they did beef or pork. She made rice, served sharp flavored goat cheese, a salad of tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce and olives with a lemon dressing. The hummus was served as a dip with flat bread. Each couple had its own plate and as they sat on pillows on the floor and ate Carlos mused aloud that Keturah was no longer chastising Urs about eating from her side of the plate. “Remember that you told us Kat, that only people who’ve shared a bed can eat from the plate and not observe the boundaries.” Whoo hoo, Carlos laughed.

Keturah had promptly slapped Urs on the back of his hand saying “I hadn’t noticed that he was doing that. That’s all.”

Everybody laughed but no one believed her at all. Especially when throughout the evening Urs had acted as if he lived there; Helping Keturah serve the food, going into her refrigerator to get more fruit juice and so forth. When Rana had asked him where she could find the bathroom, just to test him, he told her without having to give it a second thought. All of them compared notes on the way home.

To them it was like a fun puzzle that they were trying to unravel given the clues that they could ferret out. They came up with the conclusion that yes, Urs and Keturah were an item and that they were sleeping together.

That brought up another thought. They still did not know that Keturah was not a Muslim and they collectively began to wonder if they should worry about the welfare of their band mate. After all, Muslim men were not known to be easy going, especially about their women.

“Should we talk to him?” Sebastien wondered.

“Talk to him about what?” Carlos had answered. “He’s a big boy. Surely he knows that he’s playing with fire. Perhaps that is why they’re keeping it quiet. Surely if we haven’t seen many signs, people on the outside haven’t and won’t."

They agreed that so far, there was nothing they should do.

Meanwhile Keturah’s concerns that he would drop her after the class were proving to be unfounded. Urs and Keturah were seeing each other regularly, and they were not sleeping together. They had found a whole other world of things to do and things to talk about. Their discussions on the Eightfold Path Way led them into deciding just what each ’Right’ meant. They agreed that ‘Right View’ meant being non-judgmental and that one should question his own perspective and try to see things from a different viewpoint.

And they were finally able to agree that ‘Right Thinking’ meant that you don’t always have to be right, again to try to look at the world with a fresh view. They did not agree on what the Buddha had meant by ‘Right Speech’. Urs thought that it meant one should elevate his own speech as much as possible and Keturah thought that one should try to say the right things. This little discussion went on for quite a few meetings until they both decided that ‘Right Speech’ could possibly mean both of these things at the same time.

Too soon, it was time for the guys to go out on another tour. This time it would last for three months. Janice, the only American other than Keturah in the group was planning to return to her home in New York City. Her CD with a female group was doing well and they were just beginning to think about a third in six months or so.

When Keturah offered to teach them to belly dance, Janice decided to spend the three months in London with the other ladies. There was still quite a bit of distance work that could be done before the CD went into production. All of them thought that it would be fun just for them go hang out without the guys always in tow.

Two nights before they left on tour, Urs and Keturah had a farewell dinner at an upscale restaurant. They looked at each other through the softening light of several candles and for the first time Urs told her that he had fallen in love with her. She now trusted him enough to tell him that she loved him too. They had kissed tenderly but lightly, neither of them being too keen on public displays of affection. They did spend an inordinate amount of time looking into each other’s eyes and she frequently rubbed her hand over his beautiful jaw and he occasionally bit her finger if she came too close to his mouth causing both of them to laugh.

He had given it a bit of thought and knew that he wanted her in his life for good so he proposed to her that night. Marriage was something that he thought he’d never do.

There was not the getting down on one knee. There was no ring exchange. He merely asked her if she would commit to be his wife and spend the rest of her life with him. She had answered that if he also committed to her, to be her husband and to spend his life with her, the answer was yes.

“So what must we do? Do I have to ask your father? I will be in Los Angeles on this trip; I could go by and see him, if I must.”

“Oh Urs, she had laughed gaily. "No. I have to get both my parents’ permission, and you have to get your own parents’. But that is a good idea, I think my father will be much more content with giving his consent if he has met you and sees that you are a nice person, a person of character. I think he would do it anyway but you must admit if I were to write that I want to marry an entertainer, one who is not a Baha’i, I acknowledge that there are a wide range of possibilities of what that person could be like. Perhaps into drugs or alcohol, or women or - you’re not into women are you?”

He had laughed causing the folk at the next table to look their way. “Well I am certainly not into men. What does one have to do to be ‘into women’?”

“Will you be a faithful husband to me?”

“I suppose that I will have to be, seeing as how I can’t take four wives. Your religion doesn’t allow that does it?”

When she shook her head ‘no’, he became serious.

“I have never married before and I take this as seriously as I do anything else in my life that is important to me. Yes. I am now and will remain faithful to you. I won’t say that you can trust me because we both know what happened the last time I said that you could trust me.”

“At least I didn’t become pregnant from it. It could have been much worse.”

“I wouldn’t have been bad at all. I can just picture a little dark haired girl with your gray eyes and your intelligence. So, while we are in LA, I will go to your parents’ house and introduce myself. Will they be receptive you think, or will they be disappointed that you are marrying outside of your religion? How do you predict they will react?”

“I will write to them, to smooth the way. They will be happy for me; they have long despaired of me ever marrying. They will be kind to you and will want you to spend the night and will want to find out how you view life, you know those things that will give them a hint of your character, if you’re a good person, which you are, so I have no worries. They think that those things are much more important than what religion you are.”

“And when I return, I will take you up to meet my mom and my siblings. Perhaps my dad too, I don’t know. My mother will be so surprised if I ask her to sign that she gives her consent. But, I think she will be pleased too. I confess she might be a little concerned that you are not a Christian so be prepared to answer questions about that.”

Keturah had smiled, she was sure that she could allay Mrs. Buhler’s fears about that. And so they talked on even after they had left the restaurant and returned to her home.

When he would have gotten ready to go home, she suggested that he stay the night. He had given her a long look and sighed, only to decline.

“I think you are just making me a charity case.” he had replied. “This isn’t something that you are wholehearted about doing is it?”

“I think it would be all right seeing as how we have already been intimate once and after all, we are going to be married.”

“I think we should wait. You have your ideals and principles and I don’t want to interfere with those. Let me be noble while I can. These moods are very infrequent and far between. Besides, you could make me change my mind with just a little bit of urging and I will teach you how to persuade me soon.”

After he left she smiled. She knew how to persuade him but if it made him feel wise, she could do that. She could be a very adept student.

*****************************

It seemed that the three month hiatus from Urs wasn’t going to go as slowly as Keturah had thought. She and Gina and the other women got together at least twice weekly and she taught them the basics of oriental dance. She did it in full dress at first. The idea was that they get the movements down perfectly before they became infatuated with how good they looked in the costumes.

They started with the basic stance which was with knees slightly bent and arms out to the side. The first movement was from slow hip to staccato hip on to the shimmy.

“The trick is to practice, practice, and practice, “Keturah let them know. "This is not a dance of the feet. You have to let your hips do the work that in another dance the feet and legs would do."

On the second meeting she taught them the hip lift and the hip drop. Of course they wanted to learn the belly roll, which was an advanced movement that would only come when they had mastered the basic moves. They had so much fun and grew much closer. After all it is hard to be aloof when you are willing to be vulnerable, and learning this difficult way of dancing certainly took away ones feelings of invincibility.

After the third session in which they were taught the upper body movements which included free hand and the wave and the flutter, their favorite being the wave for it was used to accent any part of the body that one wanted to draw attention to. As Keturah had predicted, the three women became infatuated with their own ability to move their hips with controlled abandon. It was a very powerful and sexy feeling.

They went on line and ordered their costumes. Each got a different color and style. They then set to work putting together their dance. After they became very good they would be able to do it free form but for now, Keturah advised, it was wiser to do eight sets of each movement that they had learned and then to practice their transitions and then to move into the ending gracefully.

Keturah talked to Urs just about every night after a performance. She found that he was especially cheerful and upbeat when he was on the road because he loved being on stage. He told her that it was always this way for about the first two months, and then, it began to get old. Three months was just about right.

For the first two years they had been out on tour for six months the first year and seven months the second. That had been something that they would never do again. It was just too much of a strain; the constant flying from one city to another, the living out of a suitcase and in a hotel. But the part that he liked best, other than performing was the site seeing during the daylight hours.

Sometimes Keturah wished she were not so intellectual, she wished that she knew how to talk about ’sweet nothings’ as some called it. She even wished she sometime had the nerve to do phone sex but she couldn’t bring herself to talk about her deepest thoughts so she kept her end relatively elevated.

She wanted to ask him if he was being faithful to her but she didn’t want to hear the answer. Having no brothers she didn’t know what he might be doing. She only had that one wonderful time to judge what kind of lover he might be. She recognized good when she saw it, but she didn’t know what he liked or what he didn’t like or anything. She didn’t know it but she was soon to find out.