I Am Not... A Coward

   Fresh mortar has been laid to raise the walls of Lady Farah's establishment. She smiles at the workmen and nods at the young woman to her left. Lady Farah is a tall, beautiful woman with a wide gap in her teeth. The lovely white floral facade of the building is much more inviting than the drab, colorless setting it once had. All that needs to be done is replacing the cobblestones leading into the building.

  The smell of sandalwood incense wafts in the air. Gentle billows of smoke from a hookah enchant the air and cause one to feel as if they are in a dream. Curtains of colorful silk and tightly woven wool tapestries hang in a slant, beckoning weary travelers in toward the open, sunken stage. In various places thick rugs are set, providing comfort among the worn marble tiles that make up the floor. Sharp, metallic sounds of plucked strings warm the ears with their gentle melody and simple rhythm. Satin pillows are strewn about the steps that surround the stage. Upon them, various, pale faced men recline. Some are picking plump dates from silver platters carried around by graceful, thin women. Other men are wistfully puffing from the mouthpiece of their hose pipes that attach to the glass kailans scattered about the room.

  Now a soft drum begins to beat. The young woman from earlier stands behind a wool tapestry awaiting her time to perform.

  As seems the custom, this girl must wear a mask to hide the hideous scars on her face and neck. She wears her head piece slightly forward to conceal her thin black hair. Unlike her fellow dancers, her hips are wider set and the rest of her body is very muscular. It is something that in this day would be considered unattractive.

  Many men begin to congregate around the circular stage. Word has reached around the city that a talented dancer with mysterious green eyes performs here. This must be her. Very few have seen her face, even fewer know her name. She cannot help but hum sweetly to the tune she knows so well. Suddenly from behind her a large, cold, rough hand touches her hip. Well startled she glares back, preparing to trounce the scoundrel who would dare touch her. Immediately she stifles herself when she recognizes who it is. He is tall, pale for this middle eastern city, but handsome. His eyes are dark, hazel if you catch them in the right light. Quietly she whispers,

  "What are you doing here?"

  Shyly he places his mouth closer to her ear. He smells of aged ambergris and rusted metal, a rousing scent to her. His deep voice tickles her ear,

  "There is a man here I need to dispatch."

  His shy demeanor changes to one of hardened resolve. Ever so slightly he moves the wool tapestry and gestures toward a heavily built man in the center of one of the granite steps. The man is surrounded by the most expensively dressed, as well as the most attractive of the courtesans in Lady Farah's establishment. Expertly they caress and charm him, as their advances are returned eagerly. The young woman turns to the slightly older man with a nod,

  "I will lure him. You blend with the crowd and take him out."

  Swiftly she takes her bound to the center of the stage, forsaking the dark eyed man. Instantly she sways and swaggers in an enticing dance. She makes brief eye contact with the thickly set man. To the left she moves so sweetly that even the dark eyed man, as he makes his way to his target, is enchanted. Her wide hips cause all the audience to be silent. Nothing dares make a sound except the lovely melody, and occasional tapping as the mysterious green eyed woman moves to the floor in this exotic, erotic dance.

  Skilled in her craft, she moves closer and closer to the man in the middle of that stone step. Subtly she searches for the other man who plans to take this one's life. As she moves her body in amazing ways, the dark eyed man nearly forgets why he is there. Her exposed stomach causes him to feel a curious longing in many places on his body. The air grows a bit thicker as she spins and unexpectedly beckons the man in the middle of the room. Boldly he stands to begin walking toward her. Before he leaves the rug he was resting on, one of the courtesans gently warns him,

  "She is one not to be touched, sir. She is only a dancer."

  The man snarls and pushes her away, seeming almost mad with lusting for the alluring, rare green eyed woman. Now is the chance, but the hazel eyed man is no where near them. Her expression fills with terror, she knows well the situation grows dire. Greedily the man grabs her arm, attempting to pull her close to him. Within her is burning, paralyzing fear; she must fight it. She cannot allow this, she will not be touched by a fool such as this. Quickly she examines him and finds a dagger at his belt in plain sight. She knows this may land her in huge trouble, but she must help that man.

  Hardly an eye could blink before the young woman grabs the dagger and lunges into him. She stands so close that she can smell him. A grimy, sea salt and beer stains his strangely fashioned tunic. In shock he stammers backwards, staring at the ceiling. The young woman in her daze, shakes profusely, completely afraid.

Soon, the blood on her hands comes into dreadful focus as one of the instrumentalists screams in horror. The pale faced man leaps from the crowd and grabs the green eyed young lady, pulling her away as a chaotic crowd attempts to flee the scene. Into the narrow streets the man drags her; he blends well into the human herds until he knows they are safe. She is still trembling, tears leak from her eyes.

  "Why didn't you at-attack? I-I... I may never be able to go back there now... I can't, my things, Lady Farah!" She babbles in a mess of herself.

  The man quickly takes some water from a free flowing basin to wash her hands of the blood. Gently he removes her mask to reveal her soft, deeply scarred face. Carefully he wets his fingers and palms, then touches his hands to her face. Angrily the young man snarls at himself,

  "I should have moved faster..."

  He continues to sprinkle water on her face, daring to touch her sensitive neck. Each time he does this, his face becomes red, and his body trembles.

  "Adha, why didn't you just move away?" Finally he asks when he thinks she is calm.

  Abruptly she falls onto him, unaware of why she is doing so. His scent is intoxicating, it makes her body tingle; his tight muscles force her heart to sputter. The rough hair on his face sends her mind into a state of calm. No one touches her like this, no one gets this close to her.

Still she has made no answer, not that the young man seems to remember his words. Himself in a state of unconscious doing, moves his hands to her hips. For a moment in the narrow street as they sit upon the steps of a stairway, he holds her tightly, breathlessly. Little thought comes into his mind except memorizing the details of her body. She constantly told him she was ugly, rough, and vile. In his perspective, at least now, Adha is no such thing. Her hair is very long, soft, and beautiful, she smells of lavender and sandalwood, and her skin feels like silk. Some time passes when an answer finally spills from her mouth,

  "I am not a coward."

  "I know that." He replies, his throat tensing as her breath tickles his neck.

  Adha tries to break away from the man, but his grip on her only becomes tighter.

  "Altair, I have to... I have to face what awaits me. Or at least I must go get what little I have while I can." She growls at him.

  "When the time is right Adha, you can lay the blame on me."

  In shock she looks at him, studying his well sculpted features, as well as his deep hazel eyes. Despite of himself, and the circumstance, Altair leans into her and forces his lips onto Adha's. Immediately her eyes grow wide; she grasps his robes tightly. She does not understand what he is doing to her. When he tries to open his mouth onto her lips, Adha pushes him away and stares at him confoundedly.

  "What was that?" She mutters.

  Altair's eyes flash with fear, embarrassment, and rejection.

  "I- I kissed you." He tries to explain.

  "Kissed?"

   Swiftly Altair understands and blushes madly, placing himself closer to her yet again. Gently he brushes the hair from her brow,

   "Close your eyes... feel me here..."