to refresh your memory, Part I - III.
Part IV (for all of you incurable romantics who have been nudging me, and you know who you are (– jmb, sparx, jenny, wuastc, debio,…)
The breeze blowing in off the sea was cool on my face, and the moonlight was bathing the rocks in a soft glow as Hassan took my hand and we walked along the beach. The Moroccan night sky was doing its usual number – a light show of uncountable bright stars on a bed of black velvet stretching along a limitless horizon. It’s been a while since I took a romantic walk on the beach, all right it’s been a long time since a man held my hand; both actions were having an effect on my psyche and my physical vital signs (increased heart rate, flushed face, nervous tension in the abdomen). I felt my skin in such awareness I was sure I could feel the moonlight touching me on the backs of my legs.
“How long are you going to stay?” Hassan asked without looking at me.
“No chit chat, no small talk first? You want to go right for the blueprint?”
“If you are leaving Africa it puts a different perspective on my blueprint yes. I found in my absence from you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’d like to know your favorite color, and the first time you ate ice crème, the name of the first boy you kissed, and why you have no husband now. I want to know if your eyes always change from brown to green in the sunlight or only when you wear blue. He stopped walking and put his arms around my…. Blackout
This is not a story lovely readers, it’s my life so there are some things you will have to imagine for yourselves.
When we returned to the tent there was café au lait and Delamain Re’serve de la Famille cognac. “How did you get a bottle of the Reserve?! I haven’t even seen a bottle of this in years. I didn’t think Delamain sold the Reserve?”
“The vineyard began selling it in 1984.”
“That explains it, that’s about the time I stopped drinking obscenely expensive brandy,” I grimaced. “You aren’t having any?” I asked as I noticed the one glass on the table.
“I take Ramadan seriously.”
“That’s something we’re going to have to talk about isn’t it? I mean other than the fact I’m staying in Morocco for an indeterminate period of time, if we are going to continue seeing each other – it’s the elephant in the room isn’t it? I’m a Buddhist, you’re a Muslim. Q put it succinctly when she said you could either covert me or kill me. Is that true, or is there another option? Oh gods this is delicious!” I said as the cognac exploded in my mouth. It was a gastronomical orgasm as it flowered in the back of my mouth and paved a heated path to my stomach.
Hassan smiled then started to laugh so hard he had to put his coffee down on the table so that he didn’t spill it. “Gods you are magnificent! You are the only woman I’ve ever met who when beginning a serious discussion of the impact of our personal religious and political differences, and the worlds apart difference that can have on our budding relationship, stops for a sensuous appreciation of a singular taste.”
I stopped with the glass halfway to my mouth for a second sip, “And that’s a good thing?” Yes, yes, I was giving him my “aren’t I adorable smile”. I’m pleased to report it still works.
I’d love to tell you we settled our differences, it all worked out; that religion and politics don’t matter – but that’s a Danielle Steele novel. We decided we could put it off a bit longer and just enjoy the night. Ali drove me home around two a.m. and, of course, walked me to the door and insisted on checking the house before he would leave. I like that chap.
Hassan has gone back to Saudi Arabia. His six-month mission has been extended to a year by the king. Never fear, romantics among you, we have a date in Istanbul or Madrid (my choice ☺ the last week in November or early December. I find him more attractive each time I see him, and his depth and sensitivity are hard to resist. Yes, sparx, he kisses like you would expect _ warm, soft, lingering, and it makes me dizzy. Sigh.