Copyright © April 2015 by Mariah Violet. Publisher: Jessica Watkins Presents. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages to be printed online, in a newspaper, or magazine.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be assumed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements:

  To my Mama and Daddy, thank you for telling me there is greatness in me.

  To my siblings, JCSO, JCS, NMST, I love you and am so grateful for your presence and support.

  To Dime and a Nickel, we are still trying to make a dollar out of fifteen cents.

  To 30 Degrees, well, it looks like we have turned out quite alright.

  To Julia V and Perri F., thanks for your eagle eyes and insights!

  To God be the glory, Father, you do all things well and at the right time. Thank you.

  To My Readers:

  Beloved, willfully suspend disbelief. Let’s go down the rabbit hole together. Follow the glitter.

  Glossary

  Habbibti – Sweetie or sweetheart.

  La – No.

  InshaAllah – God willing.

  Shukkran – Thank you.

  Mafi Mushkala – No problem.

  Jessica Watkins Presents

  Laid (over) in Dubai

  Mariah Violet

  Chapter One

  Dubai International Airport is quiet. The announcements are kept to a minimum and the voice is pleasant. The call to prayer is sung in a lovely tenor and complements the ambiance.

  Tall men in white kandouras are everywhere. Their head dress, called a keffiyeh, is stunningly white. They smell wonderful. The scents of expensive cologne precede them and linger in the aftermath of their passing. They have manicured hands, razor edged beards and long eyelashes which make the men everywhere she looked beautiful.

  The American was surprised to find that she was wondering what exactly was under that crispy white attire. Not that Lari had time to wonder. She was on an extremely tight schedule. She was on a 16-hour layover, which gave her just enough time to rush out to see a few sights, and hurry back to make her connecting flight to Amsterdam.

  However, no matter the amount of time, if there was trouble to get into, Lari would definitely find it.

  Smiling, she greeted the silent man at the passport station. There were rows upon rows of the stations, mostly unmanned. Thankfully, there were not many people, so the line had moved quickly. He stamped her passport, welcomed her to Dubai and waved her on without cracking his lips. Shrugging, Lari carried on with just her hand luggage.

  Exiting the airport, she was delighted to be given the choice of a cab exclusively, for ladies. Up for the novelty, she hopped inside and asked to be taken to the Burj Khalifa. No point stopping in Dubai if she wasn’t going to see the world’s tallest building.

  Her friend, Leann was working in Dubai and had left her key with the security personnel in the lobby of her building. Lari was in no way tired, if and when she needed to rest, she would take advantage of Leann’s hospitality. For now, she was moving right along.

  She made her way to the impressive building, took some pictures, used her selfie stick to take a rather impressive picture with the Burj Khalifa behind her then moved on to her next stop, Dubai Mall.

  Arriving at one of the world’s largest malls, she breathlessly took it all in. She realized she was starving and as soon as she entered, she had the good fortune to see an enormous Starbucks, one level up to her right. Once there, she ordered a cheesecake, quiche and cappuccino. While awaiting her order, Lari eyed a spot she determined to make her own. Just as she approached the table, a tall man in a white robe slid into the seat.

  “Really?” Lari asked, with a hand on her hip and her head leaning to the side.

  “What?” he asked, without even a hint of shame.

  “I was about to sit here,” she insisted.

  “Do it,” he replied.

  “What?”

  “Sit down. There are two chairs.” With that final announcement, he shook his paper open and began to catch up on worldwide current affairs, effectively dismissing her. Lari had no idea what topics held his attention as she didn’t read Arabic.

  For a moment she contemplated another table; however, this particular café was busy and there were no tables available that she could see.

  “Have it your way,” she said, as she parked her hand luggage, and returned to the counter to retrieve her order.

  A few minutes later, Lari made her way back to the table with her late breakfast and prepared to eat.

  From behind the newspaper, drifted, “Aren’t you going to offer me a bite?” the stranger asked.

  “After you stole my table? I don’t think so,” she replied, dryly. “You haven’t even introduced yourself to me and you’re begging for my cheesecake.”

  “Well, I am not begging. I am simply surprised at your rudeness.”

  Lari’s mouth dropped open in a most undignified fashion. “Ree-ally?” she said, very softly.

  “Got you,” he said, as his twinkling eyes appeared over the edge of his paper.

  Lari nodded. “Yes, you did,” she agreed, choosing to be amused rather than irritated.

  Chapter Two

  Lari settled into her seat and decided to be friendly, even though he had jacked her seat. After all, why else would one venture out into the world if one did not intend to meet new people?

  “I see you’re in traditional dress, but your English is almost without accent. Tell me about that,” she asked.

  “Well, my father is a practical man and although I was raised here among family, upon my acceptance to higher education, I relocated to North Carolina for about 6 years. Just long enough to get a degree in International Business and Finance, followed by a Master’s in the same.”

  “Ooo, aren’t you a smart man. International Business, indeed. How did you find America?”

  “It was like attending school at Disneyland. So much to see, do and buy. I have exceedingly fond memories. I even thought about joining a fraternity.”

  “You don’t say; which one?” Lari asked, genuinely curious. She had pledged a sorority in college and wondered which way he had been leaning. He had very tanned skin, almost like toasted wheat, she noticed now that she wasn’t irritated. She too was melanin rich, always choosing the Brown and Burnt Sienna crayons for her elementary self-portraits.

  “They were called Men of Omega and very impressive, but it was explained to me that it was a lifetime commitment and not just for college, so I was forced to reconsider.”

  “Why?” Lari wondered aloud.

  “My father says one should never make a commitment one is incapable of honoring. They were great guys though and I am still in touch with the ones I met during that time.”

  “That is very cool,” Lari responded, with a warm look. Then, realizing that she had been in full chat mode and didn’t know who he was, she asked “What is your name?”

  “I am called Mohammed Sultan Abdulla Bin Zayed, named for my father and his father.”

  “I am called Lari Alina Melandra Kize, named for my mother’s best friends and her sisters.”

  “So, Lari, named for friends and sister, what will you do while you visit my city?”

  “Well, Mohammed, I am only going to be here for 15 more hours; one hour will be spent roaming this mall; after that I plan to see the aquarium, and then the dancing water fountain before heading elsewhere. What do you recommend?” she responded.

  “Fifteen hours? So I will call you Layover Lari for the rest of our time together,” Mohammed teased.

  “Well, I guess that will be for about 10 more minutes, I’ve got an aquarium to visit,” Lari explained.

  “Do you mind if I offer to be your guide for the day?”

  “Wow. I’m happy to take you up on that offer!” Lari responded with great enthusiasm, to Mohammed’s unexpected offer. “Surely you know the best things to see and the fastest ways to get there! Just let me text my friend and let her know I won’t be stopping by her apartment today.”

  “Well, Layover Lari, eat up and message your friend! Time is precious.”

  Chapter Three

  As they drove along, Mohammed looked at the woman dozing next to him in his Nissan Patrol and silently wondered what made him decide to play tour guide today.

  They had a whirlwind of a time. He escorted her to the aquarium and paid for their entry. He whisked her to the fountains which started as soon as they chose a spot to watch from. It thrilled her to no end.

  He drove her on a short tour of the city and pointed out all the points of interest. They visited Dragon Mart, Burj Al Arab, and made an exceedingly fast stop and run through Global Village. He fed her at Bu Qtair, near the Burj Al Arab. Then, he rushed to Deira so she could quickly shop in the souq.

  He had worn her out.

  Suddenly focusing on her impressive bosom he no longer questioned what compelled him to offer his services as her tour guide. Big tits. Tight, rounded ass. Skin made for licking. Lips made for kissing. Hair made for pulling.

  America had absolutely been a great time in his young adulthood. Mohammed had developed a taste for those free- spirited, fun, brown girls; much like the one he was presently in the company of. He had no shame in tasting a

s much as he could. He was hungry for her. She looked soft, warm, and delicious. Like a cookie.

  Before she fell into an exhausted sleep, she had been a laughing, teasing, touching chatterbox all day long. She had been exceedingly grateful for his tour and made it clear she was having a truly wonderful time. At no time did she seem to be afraid to run around an unknown city with a man half a meter taller and many kilos heavier than her.

  When he asked her about that lack of fear, she looked at him very seriously and responded, “My brother is a bone crusher. He taught me how to deal with wolves in men’s clothing.”

  “What about your father?” he inquired.

  “He taught me how to shoot.” Then, feeling satisfied that she had answered his original question, she smiled and changed the subject.

  She told him all about her two week Spring Break, from her teaching job in Oman. She was going to spend her time flitting about Europe. All she had was a ticket and a room for the first night booked through Airbnb.com. She planned to hop the Euro Rail and wing it! No fear at all!

  She delighted him.

  He made an on-the-spot decision to keep her.

  Smiling, he parked and ran a finger down her shoulder.

  Tension in her frame told him she was awake. Slowly turning her head, she opened her eyes and smiled.

  “Sorry, I fell asleep on you. That’s undignified. Did I snore?” she teased.

  “No, not at all; I have a surprise for you. Look, there,” he pointed.

  She looked out the window, her eyes falling on the beautiful Grand Mosque. It was fully lit, white marble glowing, and its towers were gleaming.

  She gasped and looked at him with eyes shining.

  “I saw this on the Travel Channel!” she exclaimed, excitedly. “It is made of white marble, all from one mountain. The world’s largest hand woven carpet covers the main prayer hall. There are mosaics, pillars inlaid with mother of pearl and semi-precious jewels, and eye popping chandeliers of enormous size. Is it too late to walk in? Can I wear what I have on now? Should I put on my abaya I bought? I can’t believe you drove to Abu Dhabi! Oh my God!” she responded, excitedly.

  He laughed and squeezed the thigh he planned to have over his right shoulder later, “No. No. Yes! Of course! You can’t come to the UAE and see only ONE Emirate! We are too beautiful for that.”

  He went to the rear of the vehicle and pulled her bag out so she could put her abaya on over her long fitted skirt and tank top. He had no problem with her look, but one must be covered in a mosque. Show Allah some respect.

  In no time at all, she was changed and they had crossed the freeway to park and enter the mosque.

  Its show-stopping beauty was everything she had imagined.

  “Have you ever come here to pray?” she inquired of her tour guide.

  “Just once, about a year after it was opened,” he answered. “I pray in my home six days a week. I typically only make my way to the masjid on Fridays.”

  “You say you came here once? How was it when you came?”

  “Busy. Crowded. Since I prefer to pray with my neighbors, I probably wouldn’t come again. However, I thought it was a lovely place to pray with my brothers and sisters from all over the world. Many tourists come here to pray.

  She shrugged. “That’s reasonable.”

  They continued in a very companionable silence as she listened to her prerecorded tour through the headphones provided to visitors. In a very short time, after much picture taking; they finished and were headed on to the next adventure.

  Chapter Four

  Lari felt entirely satisfied. In nine very busy hours she had seen and learned so much. The first thing being, Mohammed drove fast and aggressively. He exceeded the speed limit and anyone in his way got a horn blown at them, and flashing high beams until they moved out of his path. Aggressive? Absolutely. Effective? Completely. It made it easy for them to see an entire city within a very tight window of time.

  She couldn’t believe he had driven to Abu Dhabi after their meal.

  Belly full, she had fallen asleep watching the sunset. The next time she opened her eyes, the Grand Mosque filled the windshield and a full moon had chased the sun from the sky.

  “So Mohammed, you have made spectacular use of nine of my fifteen hours. Thank you. I guess we better head back to Doo-bay shortly. I would hate to miss my flight trying to play tourist with you all day AND night,” she gently teased, pronouncing Dubai the way he had taught her.

  “I don’t think so,” he stated, cryptically.

  With those words, the atmosphere in the car immediately altered. Lari didn’t move. Her eyes shifted. The lines of her face, creased in a smile just moments before, had smoothed. “I’m sorry?” she queried, with a tilt of her head.

  Perhaps his earlier question about a fear of traveling alone, was a pre-warning of sorts. Running through her head was a litany of warnings her brother had issued when he first heard of her planned Solocation: “Lari, keep a weapon on you, use a sharpened key. I’m entirely serious. Buy a perfume bottle and put pepper water and oil in it. Don’t put yourself in positions that will require you to use your weapons. Don’t be so damned friendly!”

  She remembered what her father taught her, “Fighting hurts. If you know it will hurt, the pain won’t shock the shit out of you. It hurts, but just roll with it. Use the adrenaline rush to help you win. All you have to do is get away…but sometimes you have to fight to do it.”

  She squared her shoulders and prepared to get hurt. Mafi mushkala. No problem. She might get hurt, but she would also get away from this man who had seemed so genial all day long.

  Mohammed was amused. He saw through that stillness. She was preparing to fight. He didn’t want to fight though. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to fuck her and he wanted her to participate with joyful abandon and lots of cumming.

  He was old enough to know one wrong move would ruin his plan. He wasn’t a fool. A wise man didn’t just assume he could tell an American woman any old thing; they were not used to men who understood their role. They were used to telling and not being told. Mafi mushkala. No problem. He was here to demonstrate how nice it could be to be told something good.

  “Ahhh, you are frightened, yes?” he asked, gently.

  “No.”

  “Good. I don’t want you to be. I want you to be excited.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Yes, really. I want you to be excited because you can stay here for your break. This flight to Europe can be rescheduled. I will call my uncle and fly you to Europe on the family plane if you decide you don’t want to stay past tomorrow. Give me 24 more hours. Then, if you want to go, I will send you.”

  Now, Lari was nothing if not spontaneous, but Virgos have questions. So many questions. They like to know what is happening, when, for how long, with whom and what the backup plan is for every circumstance and situation. This shit right here? It pushed her to the very edge of her ability to fly by the seat of her pants.

  While a trip through Europe on the railway seemed like a big adventure, the fact was, there were many hotels along the way and she was a simple girl (on a budget). So if nothing else, she would bed down in a hostel if necessary. It was an adventure with safety nets.

  Mohammed’s adventure didn’t have any safety nets. Family plane? Yeah, right. She wasn’t that dumb. Sure, there were lots of rich men in Dubai, but they weren’t hanging out in Starbucks offering up their services as tour guides. This isn’t a romance novel. That shit doesn’t happen in real life. Especially to kindergarten teachers.

  Still, she was tempted. She could reschedule her flight for the next day. It would cost an additional $150 USD, but it might be worth the extra day. Of course, there was the lure of Mohammed. She had been imagining sitting on his face throughout the day. That beard. That crisp white attire. That cologne. It made her want to do nasty, slutty, hood rat shit to his person.

 

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