Desire's Sirocco by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Brother Qutaybah,” she said over her shoulder.
    The Master’s chancellor was quivering with outrage. His mouth opened and closed but he seemed unable to voice the words upon which he was choking. When Jameela turned and gave him an inquiring look, he snapped his jaws closed, his teeth clicking together loudly. With a sniff, he spun around and slammed the door behind him as he left.
    Jameela giggled. For the first time she did not fear the hideous man and knew a moment of victory she savored as she turned back to the window. The savage display of nature beyond the panes thrilled her and she gloried in watching the spectacle. When the door opened behind her, she did not turn, expecting Dagan to join her at the windows for he, too, enjoyed the fiery display of a good sea storm.
    “It is unwise to stand by a window during a storm, milady,” a strange voice warned.
    Jameela turned around, shocked to see a woman standing in the doorway. This was the first female she had seen at Lalssu Keep. “Who are you?” she asked, taking in the beauty of the stranger.
    “I am called Astrid,” the woman replied. “I am here to continue your training.”
    Despair drove a sharp spike through Jameela’s heart and she put up a hand to clutch at her throat. “Where is Dagan?”
    Astrid cocked her head to one side. “I do not know the name,” she said.
    “He wasn’t your trainer?” Jameela asked; one part of her thankful if such was the case.
    The beautiful woman’s head cocked in the opposite direction—the movement reminding Jameela of a pet dog she had had as a child.
    “No, I belong to the Master,” Astrid replied. “It was he who trained me, as you say.”
    Despite the fact that she would rather be with Dagan than the one who had taken her maidenhead, Jameela knew a brief moment of jealousy that she would be sharing the Master with this lovely vision.
    And vision the woman was with long blonde hair to her waist, the thick tresses falling in waves to a slender waist Jameela knew she could span with her two hands. Looking at those velvet blue eyes framed with long, spiky lashes, pouting coral lips, high cheekbones, a swanlike neck and a shapely figure made Jameela feel almost masculine in comparison. Even the woman’s voice was pretty with a lilting accent that spoke of the highlands.
    “I have been assigned to teach you the art of self-pleasure,” Astrid informed her.
    Jameela blinked. “But what about Dagan?” she asked, alarm building in her chest.
    “A male can not teach a female how to pleasure herself,” Astrid replied. “I will be your trainer for this session.”
    Somewhat relieved that the woman would not be her trainer permanently, Jameela let out a long breath. “I did not know such a thing was possible,” she said.
    “The Master is often away for prolonged periods of time,” Astrid explained in her soft voice. “When he is gone, he does not wish for you to grow overripe with passion.”
    “I doubt that will happen,” Jameela said under her breath.
    “Beg pardon?”
    “Nothing,” Jameela said. She glanced at the stool. “Do I need to sit or can you lecture me while I watch the storm?”
    Astrid frowned but even the frown looked attractive on her beautiful face. “I would prefer you move away from the window, milady,” she replied. “It is dangerous when the heavens are in such turmoil.”
    Sighing, Jameela abandoned her position at the windows and walked to the loathsome stool she had grown to hate. Seating herself, she crossed her arms and looked up at Astrid.
    Astrid shook her head. “You will need to disrobe, milady.”
    Jameela flinched. “Why?” she countered.
    “You can not experience the intensity of what I will teach you through the constriction of your clothing. You must disrobe.”
    A heated blush tinted Jameela’s cheeks. “I’ve no desire to stand naked before you,” she stated. “I would not feel comfortable doing so.”
    Astrid’s lovely head cocked from one side to the