you,” she muttered, throwing a quick glance in my direction. The moment no one was around, I seized the opportunity of telling her a few words from where I was seated close to her.
“I must admit I was hoping you’d make a better choice.”
“What’s wrong with this one?” she inquired calmly.
“Actually, I want to tell you that you deserve the very best.”
“How nice of you!” she said, smiling vaguely.
I told myself that I must close this chapter once and for all. Let us put up with the pain until it disappears altogether. If I give in to grief, I’ll go mad. When I heardthat the boss had arrived, I immediately went over to him and said:
“Excuse me, I’ve come to congratulate you.”
“Had you not given up on the matter, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought myself,” he said in a sympathetic tone.
“You always do the right thing.”
“Thanks and good luck. From now on, you must think in terms of your own best interest.”
I did not know what to say, so he went on:
“The path ahead is clear and all you have to do is think lucidly.”
“An excellent piece of advice, sir,” I said as I was getting ready to go.
“I’ve been asked to invite you … that is, my sister has invited us to a small tea party to celebrate her moving into the new villa,” he said hurriedly.
Indeed the path is clear.
“I’d be happy to go,” I said.
I accepted the invitation, although the idea of selling myself had not occurred to me. I went there around six o’clock on a hot and humid evening. The villa was not far from Anwar Allam’s building: small and elegant, with a garden full of pink and purple rose bushes. I sat in a brand-new rose-colored living room, with canvas pictures hanging on the wall. Gulstan sat between us, clad in a white dress that accentuated her attractive silhouette.
“The party’s limited to just ourselves, for you have been invited as a member of the family,” said Anwar Allam.
“He’s the only one of your colleagues whose manners I like,” said Gulstan softly. I thanked her.
“Indeed, you’re quite right,” said Anwar Allam with a laugh.
We had tea and I swallowed a big piece of the cake.
“There’s talk about the aftereffects of sectarian strife,” he went on saying.
“What does this mean?” inquired Gulstan.
“Where’s the government?” I asked in turn.
“These are uncertain times,” answered Anwar.
“That poor generation of yours has all my sympathy,” said Gulstan with compassion, looking my way.
“And rebuke,” I added, irritated.
“Excuse me for a few minutes, I have some urgent phone calls to make,” said Anwar, standing up.
When we were alone, she drew close to me and murmured gently:
“People like you deserve the very best.”
I was wondering what she meant by that. Politics or my own personal tragedy? But I was suddenly aroused by the proximity of her ripe and attractive body. I stared at it with a look of utter shamelessness. All I wanted at the moment was to have her as my mistress.
“I’d like to be alone with you,” I whispered, my throat parched.
“I’d be delighted to be alone with a decent person like you,” she said sedately.
The electric current running through me came to a sudden halt. She was saying a great deal in the least possible words. Although she had put an end to my recklessdreams on the one hand, yet she seemed to beckon me on the other.
“I respect myself and appreciate those who respect themselves,” she said in an attempt to clarify herself.
“I’m very happy to hear that,” I said, concealing my disappointment.
“You’re welcome to come here at any time. I know a great deal about you, but you hardly know anything about me.”
Randa Sulayman Mubarak
H e wants to get married as soon as possible and I can find no excuse for procrastinating. We decided to hold the celebrations in Gulstan Hanem’s villa. My father, though, was unable to attend. It was a silent party. The buffet was
“I must admit I was hoping you’d make a better choice.”
“What’s wrong with this one?” she inquired calmly.
“Actually, I want to tell you that you deserve the very best.”
“How nice of you!” she said, smiling vaguely.
I told myself that I must close this chapter once and for all. Let us put up with the pain until it disappears altogether. If I give in to grief, I’ll go mad. When I heardthat the boss had arrived, I immediately went over to him and said:
“Excuse me, I’ve come to congratulate you.”
“Had you not given up on the matter, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought myself,” he said in a sympathetic tone.
“You always do the right thing.”
“Thanks and good luck. From now on, you must think in terms of your own best interest.”
I did not know what to say, so he went on:
“The path ahead is clear and all you have to do is think lucidly.”
“An excellent piece of advice, sir,” I said as I was getting ready to go.
“I’ve been asked to invite you … that is, my sister has invited us to a small tea party to celebrate her moving into the new villa,” he said hurriedly.
Indeed the path is clear.
“I’d be happy to go,” I said.
I accepted the invitation, although the idea of selling myself had not occurred to me. I went there around six o’clock on a hot and humid evening. The villa was not far from Anwar Allam’s building: small and elegant, with a garden full of pink and purple rose bushes. I sat in a brand-new rose-colored living room, with canvas pictures hanging on the wall. Gulstan sat between us, clad in a white dress that accentuated her attractive silhouette.
“The party’s limited to just ourselves, for you have been invited as a member of the family,” said Anwar Allam.
“He’s the only one of your colleagues whose manners I like,” said Gulstan softly. I thanked her.
“Indeed, you’re quite right,” said Anwar Allam with a laugh.
We had tea and I swallowed a big piece of the cake.
“There’s talk about the aftereffects of sectarian strife,” he went on saying.
“What does this mean?” inquired Gulstan.
“Where’s the government?” I asked in turn.
“These are uncertain times,” answered Anwar.
“That poor generation of yours has all my sympathy,” said Gulstan with compassion, looking my way.
“And rebuke,” I added, irritated.
“Excuse me for a few minutes, I have some urgent phone calls to make,” said Anwar, standing up.
When we were alone, she drew close to me and murmured gently:
“People like you deserve the very best.”
I was wondering what she meant by that. Politics or my own personal tragedy? But I was suddenly aroused by the proximity of her ripe and attractive body. I stared at it with a look of utter shamelessness. All I wanted at the moment was to have her as my mistress.
“I’d like to be alone with you,” I whispered, my throat parched.
“I’d be delighted to be alone with a decent person like you,” she said sedately.
The electric current running through me came to a sudden halt. She was saying a great deal in the least possible words. Although she had put an end to my recklessdreams on the one hand, yet she seemed to beckon me on the other.
“I respect myself and appreciate those who respect themselves,” she said in an attempt to clarify herself.
“I’m very happy to hear that,” I said, concealing my disappointment.
“You’re welcome to come here at any time. I know a great deal about you, but you hardly know anything about me.”
Randa Sulayman Mubarak
H e wants to get married as soon as possible and I can find no excuse for procrastinating. We decided to hold the celebrations in Gulstan Hanem’s villa. My father, though, was unable to attend. It was a silent party. The buffet was
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