Dan slept late on Saturday morning, and when he got
up he went for a quick swim before calling for the duty
driver to take him into the embassy to go over the cable
traffic. All of the cables were routine, and after
gossiping with Greg Chandler, the duty officer, for a
while Dan rode back to his beach hut. As he passed the
Italian Beach Club he noticed that Liliana's little red
Alfa was already sitting in the parking lot, and this
only quickened his desire to see her and hear the
cheerful sound of her voice, but Dan did not stop. He
returned to the hut to pull out his sunfish sailboat.
The tide was low and the water was calm behind the
exposed barrier reef as Dan sailed ahead of the wind on
a reach toward the beach club. As he came about to
beach the craft in front of the club Dan spotted Liliana
standing with her daughter, Juliana, at the edge of the
water. Liliana was wearing a small, bright print Bikini
bathing suit and she waved then waded into the water to
help him with the beaching.
"Bon giorno," she said and kissed him on the cheek.
"Bon giorno, Liliana," he replied then dropped the
sail and slipped into the warm, waist deep water. Dan
pulled up the keel, and together they dragged the boat up on the beach where Juliana waited with her boyessa.
"Dan, this is my daughter, Juliana, and Hibo, her
boyessa."
Dan held out his hand to Juliana and practiced the
little bit of Italian that he had learned. It was not
enough, however, to carry on much of a conversation with
a child who wanted to go beyond the contrived social
situations contained in the conversation lessons of the
Foreign Service Institute textbook, so it was not long
before Liliana had to act as interpreter. "Juliana
wants to know if you will take her sailing, but I told
her that I was going to go first to make sure it was
safe enough for her."
"I will take you, Juliana, but we'll have to find a
little life jacket for you," Dan said. "I think I know
where I can borrow one, and maybe next week I can take
you out. How does that sound?"
"Va bene," she said and turned to play with the
Somali boyessa.
Together, the four of them walked toward the sun
deck of the club, and when they reached the steps
Liliana leaned down to kiss Juliana goodbye. "I'm going
to send Juliana and Hibo home in a taxi so we can have a
quiet lunch together," Liliana said. "We've been out
here since nine o'clock and it's time for Juliana's nap."
With no complaints the child took Hibo's hand and
they left to walk to the parking lot where several taxis
waited. Liliana and Dan climbed the steps to the
crowded sun deck of the Italian Beach club.
In Mogadishu everyone worked by the Muslim
calendar, Friday and Saturday constituted their weekend,
and Saturday was, for most people, like Sunday. It was
the family day, or the day when one slept in. Dan saved
his airmail editions of Sunday's Washington Post and New
York Times to read on Saturday morning the same way that
he read them on Sunday morning back in the States.
Depending upon their nationalities, people gathered on
the terraces of the Anglo-American, Italian or Russian
Beach Clubs, and those who were affiliated with the
United Nations, World Bank and other international
organizations flocked to the U.N. Club. The Anglo-American Club had a clear, though unstated, preference
for an all white membership, but they allowed the one or
two black members of the U.S. Mission to belong. The
blacks, however, clearly preferred the U.N. Club.
The Italian Beach Club was the oldest and most
exclusive of all of the clubs in Mogadishu and its
foundation dated back to pre-independence colonial days.
The membership included all of the old Italian colonial families as well as the more recent arrivals who worked
for the Banco di Roma, Alitalia, the Italian Embassy and
the few Italian Civil Servants, who like Carlo Brancuzi,
had been detailed to work in the Somali Government. The
handful of French nationals, who were mostly associated
with the French Embassy, had no club of their own, and
they divided their time between the Anglo-American and
the Italian clubs, but they seemed more at home with the
Italians because of their continental affinity. As the
American Ambassador Dan had a membership in all but the
Russian Club, which limited its membership strictly to
Russians.
The ambience of the Italian Club was much different
from that of the more staid, heavily Anglo influenced,
Anglo-American Club. The atmosphere in the Italian Club
was boisterous, chaotic and lively - it was, like Italy,
a somewhat ordered anarchy where husky, well nourished
grandmothers sat in the shade wearing cotton print
dresses fanning themselves while keeping an eye on small
children. The older men gathered inside the clubhouse
to sip red wine or Strega while they played dominoes and
cards much the way they would in a small rural village
in Italy. The younger men strutted bare chested around
the sun deck with gold chains and medals around their
necks, or they clustered together to talk about soccer games back in Italy, hunting, farming or the latest
restrictions on foreign exchange imposed by the Somali
Government in what the ex-colonials feared was a policy
to squeeze them out.
The younger Italian women pranced around the sun
deck in Bikini bathing suits and high heeled sandals,
and alternated their time between gossiping, flirting
with an occasional stray man and caring for their
children. Families and groups of close friends pulled
several small tables together to make one large table
around which they congregated to eat huge Italian style
lunches that included prosciutto, melone, pasta, and
both fish and meat courses, all of which were washed
down with several bottles of red wine and acqua
minerale. The conversation was always lively,
rambunctious and well punctuated with energetic and
frequent hand and arm gestures.
Liliana, of course, knew everyone, and she was like
a cheerful and sociable butterfly as Dan followed her to
a folding chair where she had her beach basket. Dan
waited while she pulled a Mediterranean silor's, blue
and white striped cotton shirt over her head, then
slipped her feet into a pair of white, high heeled,
leather sandals. "I've reserved a table over in the
corner away from some of the hubbub," she said and smoothed her hair. "How do I look?"
"Beautiful," Dan replied then walked beside her
across the deck to a small table shaded by a Martini and
Rossi umbrella.
A white jacketed Somali waiter, who wore a cocked
red fez on his head, took their orders for drinks, and
said the luncheon special that day was scampi Fra
Diavalo with riso a la Milanesa i insalata. When the
waiter returned with Campari and sodas, they both
ordered the special.
Dan raised his glass to Liliana in a toast and
sipped the cool bitter drink. "I'm glad you suggested
this, Liliana. I need to get out more with the people,
the ordinary people. I spend too much of my time
talking to other diplomats, and to tell you the truth,
other diplomats bore me to tears."
"What do you like to talk about?" she asked.
"Oh, I don't know. The things you like. Your new
car - your work - that surrealistic trip we took last
night into the bush. Anything that is not high policy,
earth shaking and precedent setting."
"Ciao, Liliana."
Dan looked up to see Antonio di Paulo, a tall
handsome, suntanned man, whom Dan knew was a banana
grower, standing beside their table.
"Ciao, Antonio," Liliana replied and held her hand
out for him to kiss. "You know Ambassador Thornton,
don't you?"
"Yes I do," he replied. "Mr. Ambassador, it's nice
to see you again."
"Nice to see you, Antonio. How are things in
Afmadu?" Dan said and shook Antonio's hand.
"Oh they're just fine. We just finished a large
harvest, and I decided to come into town for a few days
before heading up north to do some hunting with Mario
Bianchi."
"That sounds like fun," Dan replied.
"Do you want to come along. We have room for one
more in the plane," he said.
"Thank you, Antonio, but no. Not this time, but
keep me in mind for the future."
"I will," he said. "You know you have a standing
invitation to come down to my farm anytime you like."
"That sounds like fun, too," Dan replied. "Maybe I
can get Liliana to drive me down in that flashy new race
car she has now."
"Do it," he said then took Liliana's hand again to
kiss it before saying goodbye. "Ciao."
Antonio walked away, and Liliana leaned across the
table with a conspiratorial smile, and spoke softly.
"Can you keep a secret?"
"What do you mean, can I keep a secret. I'm a
diplomat, and that's all we do is keep secrets," Dan
said and smiled at her.
"I shouldn't tell you this, but you know how I love
to gossip."
"Tell me what?" he asked.
"It's about Antonio," she said in the same soft
conspiratorial tone of voice.
"What about Antonio?" Dan asked.
"He's having a love affair." she whispered.
"So? From what I hear that's all anybody does out
here," Dan said. "In fact, by this evening people will
probably be saying that you and I are having a love
affair."
"Do you think so," she said with a wicked little
grin.
"Yes, I do," he replied. "But tell me more about
Antonio. As you can see I love to gossip, too."
She took a sip of her Campari. "I really shouldn't
tell you this but I'm going to anyway. He's having an
affair with an American woman."
"An American?" Dan said. "Who?"
"Maggie Chandler," she whispered and smiled.
"Maggie Chandler!" Dan blurted.
"Shh," she said and held her fingers to her lips
while nodding her head.
Dan was stunned. Maggie was the All American girl,
the epitome of stability, a loyal and dedicated Foreign
Service wife and mother who could always be counted on
when the chips were down. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," she said as the waiter served their
lunch.
"How do you know?" Dan asked, and he was amazed at
how little he knew about what was going on right inside
his own embassy.
"Carlo knows his sister in Rome, and she told
Carlo. Antonio is really in love with Maggie and he
wants to marry her," Liliana said and picked up a fork.
Dan was surprised by the intricate, spider web like
network of gossip that reached all the way to Rome, but
he felt somewhat relieved to know that the story had
come from Rome - that it was not something that
everybody but him knew about.
"Does anybody else know about it?" he asked.
"Most of the Italians know," she said.
"Then the Americans must know about it, too," Dan
said and he was again dumfounded by his ignorance. "I
was just talking to her husband Greg this morning down
at the embassy and I don't think he knows about it; at least he didn't act as though his wife were having a
love affair."
"Maybe he's having one, too," Liliana said with her
impish conspiratorial smile.
"Maybe you're right," Dan said. "Obviously, I'd be
the last person to know about it if he were."
It was almost four-thirty by the time they finished
lunch, and after Italian espresso coffee and a Strega
Dan asked Liliana if she wanted to sail up the beach
with him.
"Of course," she replied. "Just let me put my
beach basket in my car and I'll meet you down by the
boat."
Dan walked down to the beach and mobilized a Somali
beach boy to help him with launching the boat
by promising him some baksheesh later. Once the boat
was in the water Dan dropped the keel and raised the
sail, then turned it into the wind to let the sail luff
while he waited for Liliana.
Liliana ran barefoot across the hot, fine coral
sand, and waded into the water. Grasping the mast with
her hand she slipped up on the lee side of the bow, and
they set off on a starboard tack toward the northeast.
The boat heeled over under the strong afternoon wind,
and she, without being told, shifted her position to the windward side. "You've sailed before?" he shouted to
her.
"Yes, and I love it" she shouted back to him. The
tide was rising. The waves were now breaking over the
reef, and the wind churned up the water so that they
pitched to and fro in the whitecaps. It was not long
before Liliana's face and hair were wet with the spray,
and to Dan she looked like a Mediterranean sea nymph
with the strands of her long black hair plastered to her
suntanned cheeks.
He sailed as close to the wind as he could but the
direction was such that they had to make long zigzag
tacks between the beach and reef, so it took more than
an hour to make it to the northernmost point where the
rocky limestone cliffs jut out to join the reef and
pinch off the beach. There was a window between the
rocks and the reef through which, at low tide, he could
sail on up the coast to a small secluded beach, but now,
with the tide rising and strong winds blowing, Dan
decided against it. He came about, and they sailed
ahead of the wind on a reach straight back to his hut
where he beached the boat.
Both Liliana and Dan were soaked as they rode the
little boat through the surf to the beach where two of
Dan's servants waited to help with the beaching.
Leaving the boat with the servants, Dan took
Liliana's hand in his and they walked together across
the sand to the steps leading up to the deck of his
beach hut. "I think I can find one of my old sailing
jackets and a dry bathing suit bottom that will fit you
if you want to take a shower," he said. "Then, after
that, I offer you a sundowner."
"Sounds like a perfect ending to a perfect
weekend," she said as they climbed the steps.
Liliana followed Dan into the bedroom where he
opened the closet and pulled out a faded denim sailing
jacket along with a box of old bathing suits that he
kept for guests. "Somewhere in this box of suits you
can find a bottom that will fit you, and this jacket
will suit you very nicely," he said and handed the
jacket to her. "The shower is over there."
She took the jacket from him then tossed it across
the bed. Reaching behind her she pulled the strap of
her bathing suit top to untie it, then let it drop to
the floor. "Why don't we take a shower together," she
said and let her arms hang loose beside her. "Then it
really will be a perfect ending to a perfect weekend."
Dan unzipped his own jacket, pulled it off and
tossed it on the floor. "You are filled with wonderful
ideas for me, Liliana," he said then walked to where she was standing to slip his arms around her. He pressed
his body against her bare, firm breasts and kissed her.
She opened her mouth and ran her tongue over his and
pressed her pelvis against him. "You have bewitched and
enchanted me, Liliana, and I am hopelessly in love with
you."
"Oh, I love you, Dan. Come, let's shower."
They both pulled off their bathing suits, and Dan
took her by the hand to the shower. Taking a bar of
soap he lathered her body and rubbed his fingers over
her long purple nipples so that they became erect and
hard. She then took the soap and lathered her hands
before grasping Dan to stroke an erection that he did
not know was still in him. He was as hard and rigid as
a boy sixteen, and to say that it felt good is
diplomatic understatement. From somewhere in the back
of his mind, Dan realized, he had feared that the
erection would not be there when he wanted and needed
it, but those fears were totally dispelled in that
moment. He took the soap from her again and rubbed it
through her soft, Italian silk pubic hair then let his
fingers slip between her legs. She was moist and open.
Leaning her against the wall of the shower he slipped
into her to turn and press deep within. He was on the
edge of ecstasy and it was only with great restraint that he withdrew before orgasm. Taking rough, sun dried
towels they dried each other then moved to the bed where
they lay down to entwine their legs, stroke and caress
one another.
Dan kissed her open mouth, then she found him and
took him in her mouth to let her tongue slip around the
head of what was now a throbbing, hard and long
erection. He wanted to press back into her, but he rose
on his knees to kiss her nipples, her flat firm belly
and finally the sweetness that was between her legs. As
his tongue slip ed over her swollen clitoris he felt a
shudder run through her body, and she moaned, "Oh, Dio,
oh Dio, oh mi amore ven a dentro, oh Dan, come inside
me. Fuck me, fuck me hard!"
He again shifted his position, then he was on top
of her pressing deep within her. She was pulsating with
vaginal contractions, and her entire body trembled and
shuddered "Aye, si, mi amore, aye si, Dan. Fuck me! Fuck
me! Fuck me!"
He burst inside her like a screaming rocket, and he
felt a wave of warm, soft tenderness rush through him
before rolling to her side.
She turned on to her side, with her face away from
Dan, and he held her close and pressed his body against her back. He kissed her shoulders and stroked her
breasts as, for what seemed a long time, they lay
quietly with just the sounds of the wind blowing through
the hut and the sea breaking over the reef.
"Will you believe me if I tell you something?" she
said after a long silence.
"Yes, of course," he replied. "Why wouldn't I
believe you?"
"Oh, I don't know. I think men think that women
tell them things about love making that aren't true, but
this is God's truth."
She rolled over to face him. With her head on the
pillow she looked into his eyes, then took his hand in
hers and kissed his fingertips. "I'm forty-one years
old. You are the second man in my life with whom I have
made love, and that was the first orgasm I have ever
had. I swear, it is God's truth."
"I believe you, and that may explain your passion
for high-speed driving and other little compulsions that
you must have," he said and ran his fingers over her
lips as he smiled. "Now you know that what you've been
looking for with all of that fast driving is really
inside of you, and it's been there all of the time."
She laughed with a deep throaty laughter that he
had never before heard. "You may be right," she said. "I have always known that there was something missing in
my life, but I did not, until this moment, or rather a
few moments ago, realize how much was missing." She
reached down and took him in her hand. "Now that I
know, I'll never give you any peace."
"What makes you think I want peace?" he said with a
big smile and rubbed his fingers over her nipples.
They lay silent, looking into one another's eyes
for several minutes. "What are you thinking about?" she
asked.
"About Maggie Chandler, about you and Antonio di
Paulo," he said.
"Just like an American man. You make love to me
and you think about another woman," she teased.
"I was not thinking about making love to Maggie
Chandler. Do you know who Lilith was?" Dan asked.
"No," Liliana said. "Now you're talking about yet
another woman. You men!" She giggled and squeezed him.
"I guess I should know about Lilith, though, since she
has a name like mine."
"Lilith was Adam's wife before Eve, and she was
banished from the Garden of Eden to live in the desert
near the Red Sea."
"Oh, tell me more," she said.
"Lilith was passionate and fiery. She was a seductress and she wouldn't consent to Adam's being on
top when they made love. She wanted to dominate, or at
least be equal to him."
"Um, this is getting better. What else?" she
asked.
"I don't know much more about her, but what I was
thinking is that this is Lilith territory. Her spirit,
her vibes, must be strong around here and that explains
why you and Maggie seduce men like Antonio and me."
"How do you know Maggie seduced Antonio?"
"I don't," he teased her. "I just know that you
seduced me."
"I guess I did, didn't I," she said and smiled that
impish, coquettish smile then gently stroked him with
just her thumb and forefinger.
He could feel the passion welling up in him as
Liliana again took him in her mouth, then she was on top
of him and he was deep inside of her. She undulated and
swayed, and held her arms out in the same way that a
Spanish flamenco dancers does. Then the expression on
her face was just exactly like the expressions Dan had
seen on the faces of Spanish dancers in the Feria de
Sevilla. It was an expression of rapture, as though she
were looking at the face of God.
"Aye Dio, grazie,
grazie, grazie," she moaned and he could feel the tremolo in her body as he again burst inside her.
