Maggie's feelings of confidence and well being had
dissolved by the time she arrived back in Mogadishu.
The warm glowing sensation that had filled her breast
while sitting next to Antonio on the veranda of his
house was gone, and in its place was an empty gaping
hole that felt like the Grand Canyon. She could hear
and feel the winds whistling through her, and they
buffeted, and shifted her moods like a leaf caught in a
whirlwind. One moment she was in a soaring updraft as
she thought about returning to Antonio the next day to
fulfill and consummate her love, or recalled feeling his
presence as he sat beside her to embrace and kiss her.
But in the next moment she was filled with self-loathing
as a swirl of torturing doubts and questions about her
morals and the state of her mental health overwhelmed
her. At one point she seriously considered throwing all
of her cards in the wind by dropping the children at
home and immediately driving back to the plantation; in
the next second though she thought about catching the
once-a-week Alitalia flight that would arrive in
Mogadishu the next day to flee to Rome or Madrid. The
only problem with that idea, she realized, was that she
would simply take her agony with her, and the hole that only Antonio could fill would still be there.
Maggie knew that she was clinging to sanity by a
frail reed and the cocktail party which she and Greg
attended that night did nothing to improve things. She
was in no condition to drink, make small talk and smile,
and by the time they reached home after the party she
knew that she had to go directly to bed or take an
overdose of sleeping pills. She declined Greg's offer
of a nightcap, and left him sitting alone on their
terrace with a very dark scotch and water in his hands;
she barely noticed it when an hour later he climbed in
bed beside her, and she slept fitfully until five
o'clock when she awakened to the now familiar cadence of
his heavy alcoholic breathing over the purr of the air
conditioner.
Slipping out of bed she pulled on her robe, walked
out to the kitchen where she made coffee then carried a
hot steaming cup of it out to the terrace. It was just
over one week ago that she had done this for the first
time, but it seemed to her that a lifetime had elapsed.
The swirl of negativity and doubt which had
engulfed her the night before had vanished, and she knew
exactly what she was going to do that day. When the
alarm sounded in the bedroom she got up from her chair,
walked to the bedroom to see that Greg was awake, then went to the kitchen to make certain that Yassin knew
what to do. Breakfast was no different from any other
morning except that she was silent and deep into her own
thoughts, and Steve, without his knowing it, carried the
day for her. He chattered on endlessly about the visit
to the plantation even though Greg's attention was split
between listening to Steve and the news on BBC.
When everyone had gone she pushed herself away from
the table and walked into the bathroom to bathe before
placing bottles of scented bath oil, perfume, her
toothbrush and toothpaste into a large handbag. Then,
returning to the bedroom, she slipped a short white lace
nightgown in the bag. She would bathe again at
Antonio's, she thought, and her attention focussed on
selecting a dress that would endure the trip so that she
would appear feminine and appealing to Antonio from the
moment she stepped out of the car.
Pushing hangers from side to side she went through
her closet, taking one dress and then another to hold it
up to her and inspect herself in the mirror. She
finally selected one made of a light cotton gauze-like
material with a pink and green flowered print that she
liked to wear to afternoon cocktail parties and teas.
It was light and air; fluffy and feminine without being
formal and reminded her of the dresses that women wore to afternoon teas in India during the days of the
British Raj.
By seven thirty Maggie was again picking her way
through the early morning chaos of Mogadishu's traffic,
and when she turned on to the highway she felt a rush of
freedom and excitement as she left the sights and smells
of the city behind her to speed across the vastness of
the African bush toward Antonio and what in her mind had
become Shangri-la.
Even though she drove much faster, and knew exactly
where, and to what and whom, she was going, the trip
seemed much longer than it had on the day before. By
the time she reached the old dilapidated tea house her
body was on fire with desire, and if the trip had
required one second more she would have melted down, or
exploded. When she emerged from the dark tunnel of
green, yellow and red flame trees her heart overflowed
with joy at the sight of Antonio standing beside the
Landrover waiting for her.
During the next four hours this joy expanded and
multiplied to reveal a panorama of preexisting ecstacy
inside of her that until that day had been totally
unknown. She was being pulled inward to explore new
vistas as vast chunks of defensive fear and narcissistic
self-consciousness dropped away and left her absolutely naked, vulnerable and free of both the past and the
future. For the first time in her life she felt that
she was living her life in only the now, and that now
was sweet beyond any of her wildest fantasies and
dreams.
When she climbed out of the car to embrace him she
knew that Antonio approved of her appearance, and she
knew that Antonio felt exactly as she felt. The sense
that they were joined by a fragile web of shared love,
tenderness and passion that she had felt the previous
day was even more powerful today, and she knew that this
moment, this day, this place, this man had existed in
time and space long before she became aware of them.
She knew that she was fulfilling her destiny, that she
was exactly where she was supposed to be in some grand
cosmic scheme that transcended her understanding, and
that, just as she had written in her journal, "to think
that I have a choice is an illusion."
As she sat on the veranda next to Antonio in the
same love seat as the day before, it was as though none
of the doubts and fears that had haunted her during the
time that had intervened existed, and that she had never
left this place. All of those anxious moments, the
cocktail party, the thoughts of trying to flee to Rome
or Madrid were like part of a "bad trip" on LSD or marijuana, and she had now "come down" to a sweet
reality that was more precious than any fantasy or
illusion could ever be.
"Would you like coffee?" he asked.
"I don't think so," she replied. "But even though
it's early, I would like a very light Campari and soda.
Very light."
"I'll join you," he said and got up to walk to a
small tea cart which he used as a bar. "I usually have
a rule when I'm out here alone to drink nothing before
sundown, but today is a special day, and I'll break the
rules."
Returning with the glasses, he handed one to
Maggie. "I love you, Mahgee."
She looked into his eyes. "Oh, I love you,
Antonio. I love you so much. Cheers," she said and
touched her glass to his then took a sip of the cold
bitter-sweet liquid.
They sat silently looking at one another, both
feeling self-conscious, but at the same time self-assured in their love for one another. "I don't know
exactly what you have in your mind, Tonio, but let me
tell you what I have in mine," she said.
"Alright," he replied and smiled tenderly, then
took her hand in his. "Tell me what you have in your mind."
"I would like to take a bath. I brought along some
bath oil, and something to wear," she said and tapped
her hand bag. "and then I offer myself to you to do
with as you please."
He took a sip of his drink, then placed it on the
coffee table. "Fine," he said. "Take your drink and
your bag and come with me, please." He stood up, and
still holding her hand, he lifted her gently from the
love seat.
She walked beside him inside the house, through the
living room, and then down a corridor to a darkened
room, lighted only by the sunlight filtering through the
louvers of the closed shutters. "This is the room where
I was born," he said then took her in his arms and
kissed her. She again had a vision of wild flowers
blowing in the wind.
She opened her eyes and let them become accustomed
to the darkness. The room contained old fashioned
Italian furniture, a tall dresser, a wingback Victorian
chair and a high double poster bed with a fluffed up
feather mattress. On top of the dresser there was a
display of old photographs which she knew were of his
mother, father and sisters.
"And over here," he said and tugged gently on her hand, "Is a bathroom." He opened the door and they
entered a large tiled bathroom that like the bedroom was
lighted only by the sunlight coming through the closed
shutters. The tub was the old fashioned deep kind that,
when filled with water, allowed a person to completely
submerge themselves in it. He leaned over, placed a
stopper in the drain, turned on the taps, tested the
water and then stood up. "With that, my love, I will
leave you," he said and brushed a kiss on her lips.
She stripped her clothes off and hung them on a
hook on the back of the door. Then standing naked she
removed the bottle of jasmine scented bath oil from her
bag and poured some into the steaming water. Slowly she
let herself slip into the hot water and felt a further
release of what ever tension remained in her body.
Closing her eyes, she soaked for several minutes and
reveled in the expectation of communion with Antonio.
Then with a bar of soap she washed herself under her
arms and extra carefully between her legs where she
could feel she was already moist and ready to give
herself to him.
Climbing out of the tub she took a big bath sheet
that, like the towels in her own house, was rough from
sun-drying and rubbed herself dry. After brushing her
teeth, she perfumed her breasts and thighs, ran a brush through her hair then slipped the short lace nightgown
over her shoulders and opened the door to the bedroom.
Antonio lay naked in the darkened bedroom on top of
the sheets on the bed; she walked to his side, then
climbed up beside him. While she had bathed he had also
showered and shaved. His body was still cool and damp,
and she could smell the lavender scent of his after
shave lotion. "I hope you will not be disappointed in me
as a lover, Tonio. I have only made love to one man in
my life. I was a virgin when I married, and I want you
to think of me as a virgin now, because in many ways I
am a virgin. What has been happening to me over the
last few days has stripped away every semblance of the
woman I used to be. I am new and virginal and I am
yours, Antonio."
"Mahgee, come to me," he said and slipped his arms
around her. He pressed his body against her and she
felt herself merging with him as his rough calloused
hands roamed over her breasts and body. He stroked her
back, then pressed his mouth to her. She opened her
lips to feel his tongue slip over hers, then pressed the
soft delta of her pubic hair against him. Taking him in
her hand she stroked him, slowly, at first with just two
fingers, then gripped and enclosed him with her entire
hand.
Slipping his hand between her legs he caressed her
thighs, then lightly ran his fingers up and down to
stroke her before gently slipping them just inside her
lips. She was moist, and when his fingers were wet with
her love he rubbed them over her nipples then kissed
them with his mouth. Her nipples swelled and became
erect as he swirled the tip of his tongue over them.
Then his tongue was in her navel, and finally between
her legs. Shifting positions, he rose to his knees and
straddled her, then pressed his face into the perfumed
softness between her legs and she took him into her
mouth. He was hard, erect and large. From somewhere
deep within her, beyond infinity, she felt a rising tide
of desire as the orgasms started, and she moaned with a
primordial voice that was not her own. It was the voice
of another woman; it was the voice of every woman; it
was the voice of the essence of her femininity crying
out from some wild place where it had been in exile,
waiting for this moment to be released and set free by
Antonio. "Antonio, come into me, come inside me."
Although Antonio was a big man, his movements were lithe
and feline; he moved swiftly and gracefully like a
jungle cat to press his weight against her; she opened
her legs to let him come deep inside; pressing,
pounding, thrusting her into a paradise where fear did not exist; where all conflict was resolved, all desire
was fulfilled; it was a place of infinite love, where
their souls coalesced to join in eternal union. "Oh,
God," she cried out. "Antonio, I love you."
They lay silent, side by side, for several minutes.
Then turning over on her side she reached behind her to
grasp his hand and draw him close to her. Rolling over
on his side Antonio pressed against her back then
slipped his arms around her. While kissing her
shoulders he ran his fingers lightly over her breasts.
From outside the bedroom she could her the sounds of the
other world. Close by, from the mango tree that shaded
the bedroom, came the chirp of birds, and so still was
the air she could her the flutter of their wings. In
the distance there was a background murmur from the
voices of the Somali laborers who worked in the fields,
and from farther away, and almost imperceptible, came
the muffled roar of the cheetah. Maggie wondered if the
big cat could sense the wild feminine sexual energy that
had been released in her. As Antonio stroked her
breasts harder, she could feel the tide rising again,
and she rolled over on top of him to make love to him
one more time before returning to Mogadishu and a world
that she could barely remember..
