After a 16-hour flight we are approaching Houston’s George Bush International Airport, and at about 4:30 a.m. local time the descent starts. I have completely lost all sense of time but sure could use some food, since the dinner that Natasha served was quite a while ago.

There’s a nine hour time difference between Houston and Dubai. Natasha served us breakfast in bed, a luxury I have a hard time getting used to. Here I am above the clouds in a bed with Shamar and someone is serving breakfast.

We don’t leave our bedroom until later. Raoul’s already in his seat shuffling papers. He had the 2nd bedroom at his disposal, and before we join Raoul, Shamar shows me the rest of the plane, that has a total of three bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. Then the sitting area where Raoul is, and a small kitchen. Between the cockpit and the sitting area is the space for the crew, where a second crew sleeps when it’s a long haul flight.

I glance out of the window. The airport lights are bright, and it will be daylight soon. I fill out the immigration papers the stewardess handed to me before as I’ll be needing them for customs soon. The plane is reaching the final stage of its descent, and we are apparently about to land. We sort of sink the last few feet and gently set down on the runway. Houston’s skyline is lit and bright against the dark sky in the background. I admire it while the plane taxis along the runway, about to reach the parking position.

Even though I’ve spent the night in the sky, I feel quite rested. Shamar and Raoul also look rested, too and look like they are ready to go. They are used to traveling more than I am. I wonder what the time difference is going to do with me. Probably wreak havoc, although I have heard that it is easier to travel from East to West than West to East.

Then the doors of the plane open. As we disembark I realize that the temperature here in Houston is a lot cooler than it is in Dubai, and much cooler than I expected it to be at this time of night, even though we are far to the south. A large Mercedes is parked next to the plane. It’s a black SUV Mercedes GL 65 AMG. It’s huge, and the windows are tinted so that you cannot see inside the car from the outside. Aha, so Shamar is worried about his safety here in the United States, too, and not only in the Emirates.

A man in a dark suit gets out and opens the rear door on our side. He’s older than Shamar, and I’d say he is in his 40s. Raoul and Shamar greet him cordially and call him Kieran.

Shamar introduces me, and I say hi. Afterward I get into the car behind Raoul and enter the dark interior. The back consists of two individual seats that are separated by a seat. Pretty complex, I think to myself. Lots of space. Wealth is space, and space is a luxury.

Raoul, Shamar and I settle into our comfortable seats. I notice that there are various buttons on the side, but I can’t figure out what they are for. But that doesn’t matter because the car starts moving the minute we are settled, and our seat belts are fastened. We leave the airfield and head for a separate exit where I have to hand over my passport again, but the immigration formalities only last a few minutes. Raoul and Shamar quietly continue their business discussion while I have a look at the buildings and the landscape we pass by on our way to Shamar’s house.

We are heading north on Interstate 45. Shamar said the area where he lives, The Woodlands, is about 30 miles from downtown Houston, so I assume we’ll be arriving in about half an hour. I settle back and close my eyes, feeling jet lag catching up with me, and the sound of the car’s engine is really making me feel like going to sleep.

All of a sudden there’s a jolt, and I’m awake. A security person is discussing something with our driver. We seem to have arrived. Woodland Hills is an old gated community with huge mansions, somewhat remote and not near roads. At this time of early morning, people are still asleep and the houses are dark. Nobody is to be seen except the security people who drive around.

Eventually, we turn off on Tranquil Path, where suddenly the atmosphere appears to be even more refined. We take a left and an electronic gate opens automatically. You cannot see into the grounds from the street. Trees line the path leading up to the house, and we approach a white building that looks like a conglomeration of various smaller buildings, with the one big building seemingly constructed of many smaller ones. It is absolutely gigantic. I see several saddle roofs and gables. Large, floor-length windows with smallish outlets are distributed across the whole surface. The house has two stories, whereby the top floor is situated under the gables of the roof slopes.

This is not simply a house - this is a giant estate. Even the distance from the street to the house is immense. As far as I can see the property continues behind the house. We pass by a dark green, immaculate lawn covered with flower beds surrounding trees and bushes that have geometric shapes.

There’s a roundabout in front of the house that makes it possible to back up without having to turn around. The driveway passes by the house, but I cannot see where it leads to, because we stop in front of the front door. Raoul remains seated while Shamar leaves the car.

“Raoul lives close by, and Kieran will take him home from here now,” Shamar explains to me. So I say goodbye to Raoul, who wraps both his hands around mine and beams at me. I climb out of the car after Shamar, and he puts his arm around my shoulders as we walk up to the entrance where a woman is waiting for us. Although it is so early, she looks fresh and rested.

“Annie,” Shamar greets her, obviously happy to see her. “Nice to see you again. Are you well?”

Annie is dark blond, and her hair is put up in a bun. She smiles at me. “Annie, meet Luna. She is going to be living here,” Shamar introduces me.

“Luna, meet Annie. She’s Matthew’s wife and keeps the house in order. No matter what kind of problem you encounter, Annie is the right person to turn to. She always has a solution. Aside from being the best cook in the world.”

Now Annie shakes my hand and greets me warmly. She seems really nice, and even her handshake is warm and firm. My instinct tells me that I will probably get along well with her. And while we are standing there saying hello, my stomach growls. Shamar and Annie look at me, alarmed. But the hunger is not my fault. In Dubai it’s time for lunch now, and I have so far only had breakfast.

“Annie, do you think you could perform some magic and conjure up some food? I’m afraid Luna is dying of hunger.”

She smiles at me. “But of course. Would you like anything in particular?”

“Anything. Whatever you have. I’d prefer something warm, but only if it is not too much bother.”

“No problem, Miss Luna. I’ll prepare you a nice meal. In 15 minutes it will be ready,” and with that she turns around and walks away.

---

“Would you like to have a tour of the house in the meantime, darling?” Shamar asks me.

With a house this size I wouldn’t be surprised if the tour took longer than 15 minutes, but I’m so curious to see what his house is like, so I nod and say, “Yes I would love to, Shamar.”

He smiles, takes me by the hand and commences the tour. It takes us 15 minutes to rush through the house. The kitchen is situated to the left of the foyer that has a floor of white gleaming marble. At least I assume it is the kitchen because it is the room Annie disappears into. From this foyer we head towards a wide, curved stair-case that leads up to the second floor. It has an ornate, dark wood banister. We walk upstairs via this impressive stair-case. The hallway upstairs is wide and covered with thick, expensive carpets that swallow the sound of my steps.

Shamar opens one door after another, and behind each door I discover beautifully decorated guest rooms. There are a total of six. Each one is designed and furnished differently. They are all modern and have a huge bed that dominates each room. Each room has its own bathroom, but I can’t see what any of them is like because of the speed we are moving along at.

Shamar’s bedroom is the most impressive room in the house. It has a huge wooden bed that completely dominates the room. Semi-transparent floor-length curtains move in the breeze that is coming in through the open windows. Its adjoining bathroom is not separated by a real wall but instead by the spiral shower in the bathroom, which consists of gorgeous, heavy crystal glass walls, separating the bathroom from the bedroom. Amazing, it appears as if you can watch your partner taking a shower from the bed. But there is an automatic wall that can be set in motion if needed to give the person taking a shower privacy when they’d like some.

Aside from a walk-in closet that is about as big as my bedroom at home there are lots of oriental looking chests and cabinets with ornate carvings. The colors of the silky drapes are bright green and blue, and they billow in the wind, giving the room a sort of other-worldly atmosphere. After a while, we head down the stairs again so that Shamar can show me the downstairs area.

There is a huge terrace behind the house and a big pool, parts of which are roofed over. Teak furniture with thick, comfortable looking upholstery surround the pool, and the surface of the water is covered with tiny little ripples. It is certainly more worthwhile to have a pool in these latitudes than where I come from, I think to myself. The garden starts behind the pool, but it’s hard to tell where it ends because thick bushes separate the pool from the rest of the garden. There is also an exercise room with a view of the garden that even includes an Oriental steam bath adjacent to the exercise room.

We come through a library that looks like it has been imported from an English mansion, adorned with dark leather armchairs straight out of a Charles Dickens novel. This is what I would imagine the perfect gentleman’s smoking room to look like. I wonder what kind of books Shamar likes to read, and I tell myself that I will go and check up on that later. The library even has an open fireplace, although Shamar probably does not get much use out of it here in Texas.

The library is located between Shamar’s office, which is also huge, and an open living room. His office has its own conference room, which looks just like the one in his suite in Dubai. On our way back, we pass through the living room again. A humongous sofa and armchair arrangement with all different sized pillows looks really comfortable and inviting, as does the second open fireplace which is located right across from it. The really large flat screen television which is about six feet across diagonally is right smack in the middle of the room. It probably eliminates going to the movies. Popcorn is probably served with the news.

Behind the office space, there are various staircases leading upstairs to the two apartments. The larger apartment is for Matthew and Annie, the smaller one for Kieran, but of course we don’t tour those apartments, they’re private and off-limits. I’m just so overwhelmed by the luxury surrounding me. I’ve never been in a place this large, not by a long shot. That is what I think as I gaze out in the garden again, the outside perimeter of which I cannot even see because of the bushes behind the pool. Everything in this house is light and airy, yet bigger than life. Everything except for the conservative English library and its dark wooden shelves.

---

We turn around and return to the dining area, where Annie has already set the table. The table could easily seat twelve people, without leaves, and its gleaming wood has been covered with a heavy damask table cloth. We sit down, and she appears immediately with a large plate of scrambled eggs, ham, toast, tomatoes and various drinks. As if on command my stomach growls again, and we both laugh and start eating.

---

“You eat ham?” I ask him. I’m surprised. I thought Muslims did not eat pork.

“You think this is pork?”

I nod, chewing.

“It isn’t pork. Everything that can be made of pork can be made of beef, too. This just looks like ham but it actually tastes better.”

I had noticed the different taste, but I thought it had just been prepared differently. Now I know that the taste is different because it is beef.

Shamar puts down his fork momentarily and stops eating.

“Don’t you like the food?”

“Oh, I love the food. It tastes great. I only thought that you are a child of two worlds that is why I asked.”

He smiles and looks amused.

“Well, if that is the case, Luna, then just help yourself.” A while later I lean back and enjoy the rest of my coffee. Shamar is also done eating.

“I have to make a few phone calls. Why don’t you just relax and take it easy, maybe get acquainted with my place?”

“Yes, I’d love to. We toured pretty fast before, so it would be great if I could just walk around and get my bearings.”

He nods and I get up, then we kiss, and I leave. I can well imagine that he has lots of work to do here and I don’t want to be in his way. So I start walking around the house again and head upstairs where the bedrooms are located.

The hallway upstairs seems to go on and on, leading to various parts of the house. The paintings on the walls are modern and somehow interwoven with the large plants that line the wall. Each of the bedrooms has its own balcony, and every bedroom has its own bathroom equipped with Jacuzzi and a bathtub in the floor.

I walk back down to inspect the fitness room which is equipped with a treadmill, bicycle, cross trainer and various weights for weight training. There are fresh towels lying everywhere, and there’s a door to a steam sauna. I walk in and can tell that the room is warm but not warm enough for a steam bath. The interior is black and white marble, like something out of a Turkish bath. There are marble benches along the wall, and there is a kind of marble platform and large marble sinks with large, vintage copper faucets. In the back of the room, there is a walk-in shower with the same kind of copper faucets and handles.

This house reminds me of Shamar. It is a conglomerate of two worlds. The house’s design is American, yet the interior has the flair of the Orient. It is exactly the kind of house I could feel at home in, I think to myself, even though I’m not used to this kind of luxury and space. On my way back, I land in the kitchen and find Annie, who is busy putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

The kitchen is absolutely huge, too, which does not surprise me. The center of the kitchen is taken up by a cooking island and a counter and bar stools. The stove looks like it is large enough to cook for an army on. Above it is a fume hood.

“Hi. Is there anything I can do for you?” She momentarily stops putting the dishes away and walks towards me.

“No, thank you. I’m just walking around the house taking everything in. It is beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” she smiles. “Would you like some coffee or orange juice?”

“No thank you, Annie. I’m fine. I think I’ll go looking

for Shamar.”

“He’s in his office. When you walk out here it is on the right side of the long hall,” she says, gesturing in that direction.

I thank her again and get going and find Shamar sitting at his desk in his office. He is busy writing something in his laptop. When I walk in he waves and gestures that I should move closer.

“I’m writing an email, darling. Just come right over here.”

So I do and look around the room. The room is dominated by dark colors and chrome, very masculine, I think to myself. I walk right up behind him and while I watch him writing I cannot resist and place my hands on his shoulders and give him a kiss on the back of his neck. He closes his eyes and seems to enjoy being touched.

“It can wait,” he mumbles and turns the chair around to me. I lean on the armrests and kiss his mouth.

I discover the little buttons under his armrests with which one adjusts the height, and it occurs to me that it would be fun to seduce him. I press the buttons that make the armrests go down. Shamar looks surprised and arches his eyebrows.

“What are you doing, Luna?”

“This way I can move closer, darling,” I say and kiss his lips while I swing my leg over his lap and lower myself down on him. Our faces are really close. So close that I can detect his eyes getting darker again, so I know that he likes what I’m doing.

I like taking the initiative with him, and being together with Shamar makes me want more. I unbutton his shirt while I continue to kiss him. He opens my brassiere to get at my nipples, and his teeth nibble on them appreciatively. It’s as if there is a direct link between my nipples and my inner muscles because they start contracting, apparently in preparation for the next round.

“What are you doing, darling?” he groans loudly.

“What do you think?” I ask him teasingly. My hands stroke his naked chest and find his hard little nipples. I’m feeling courageous, so I gently pinch them. He groans and his eyes darken even more. Now the irises look almost as dark as the pupils. He gets up from the chair with me on his lap, while positioning me a bit higher on this waist, and I clamp my legs around him as tightly as I can. While he laughs and continues kissing me, he carries me up the stairs to his bedroom.

On our way there, I free him of his shirt that lands somewhere on the stairs. My blouse follows a few steps later, then my brassiere. While we kiss, he walks into the living room and closes the door, and puts me down on the floor. As soon as I’m standing I start fooling around with his pants, and while I open it, I kiss his smooth brown chest. My mouth finds his nipples, and I bite them gently, sometimes increasing the pressure on them. Shamar inhales sharply.

“Darling, you’re a natural,” he moans while he throws back his head.

I wander upwards and cover his shoulders and his neck with little kisses and bites. Very lightly, so that there are no traces. My pants have also slipped to the ground, just like his.

He lifts me up out of my clothes and gently puts me on the huge bed. Then he joins me, and we kiss and fondle each other. He moves deeper and deeper and buries his head between my thighs. His tongue moves over my clit, again and again. I won’t be able to restrain myself much longer. A huge orgasm hits me like a truck, but Shamar has more to give with his tongue. I want to have him in me and start pulling him to me as he returns to my clit.

“Please,” I moan breathlessly. “Please come to me.”

“No, darling, I can’t.”

Why? Why not?

“Why? What’s wrong?” I feel confused and sit up and lean on my elbow.

He stops rubbing my clit and sits up and looks at me. “Because I don’t have any condoms here. I was not expecting you.”

“Does that mean you don’t have a single condom in this whole house? How about a different bedroom?” I feel confused. How can that be? I wanted to feel him within me so badly.

He shakes his head.

“No, none. You’re the first woman here in my bedroom.”

What? I can hardly believe that. Someone like Shamar must have had other relationships. A thousand different thoughts flood my brain.

“So this is a first for you?” I ask him and look at him? It sort of changes my mood.

“Well, yes, actually.” He rests his head against his hand while we lie there gazing each other. He kisses me again.

“So now it is your turn to experience something for the first time. Good to know that I’m not the only one,” I tease him gently, while I nibble his lips.

For whatever reason no other woman has ever shared this bed with him, and it is good to know that I’m the first. This thought alone spurs me on again and rekindles my lust. I kiss him and let my hands wander over his chest and stomach. Then I wander even lower. The smile disappears from his eyes and the expression on his face is replaced by an expression of lust. He wants me just as bad as I want him.

Our bodies are all wrapped up in one another as we caress one another. Shamar gives me yet another long and luxurious climax. He is overly aroused, and I can see a few drops of moisture that are flowing down his penis that looms in front of me. The drops remind me of tears, and they’re mine. I lean forward and lick off each one. He moans deeply in his throat, but he doesn’t open his eyes.

Every time I experience my sexuality it arouses me even more when I see the reaction I can cause in him with the things I do. It makes me feel very attractive and very sexy. Carefully I take his penis with my mouth, and my tongue goes on an expedition while my hand is holding and massaging his shaft in a rhythm that I take up with my mouth, too. First slowly, then faster and faster. His hips start moving in the same rhythm, and he starts losing any inhibition he may have had, pushing back into the caves of my mouth, and moaning while he has an orgasm.

He collapses beside me, breathing heavily. Slowly he seems to calm down again.

“You are insatiable, darling,” he whispers into my ear.

“You are, too, sweetheart,” I whisper back.

After a while, we get up and take a shower together in his huge bathroom. We gently soap each other and laugh and joke. And for the first time in a long time I’m completely happy. I realize that I have fallen in love with Shamar, hopelessly and forever. I think this became clear to me the very first time that we met in the conference in the Burj al Arab. Even though I turned him down then and cut off all interest in him I liked him the moment I met him, and it aroused my interest. Now I feel so free and happy. This has not happened in a long time.

“What’s wrong? You are lost in thought?” Shamar is looking at me intently. I drop the towel I have been drying myself off with. I blush. I have to tell him. I have to tell him what I feel for him. I feel like I cannot live this feeling for a second longer without telling him.

“Shamar, I love you,” I say quietly. I feel totally raw and vulnerable. How should I know that he does not feel the same way? Maybe I should have waited. In situations like this one, I wish I had more experience.

His reaction to my confession comes as a surprise, but it is very welcome, and I’m so relieved.

“Luna, I have wanted so bad for you to feel the same way for me. How should I explain that to you? I love you. I loved you from the very first moment I saw your picture. I cannot tell you how happy it makes me that you feel the same way.”

Shamar is standing in front of me. We are both naked. He takes my head and kisses me gently. His eyes are closed, and it feels like he will never let go of me again.

“I love you,” he repeats.

I take his head in my hands, just the way he just did and look into his eyes. “I will always love you.”

It is like an oath. Nothing between us, not even a piece of clothing. I can feel my skin tingle. We kiss again, and I can feel his erection, which makes us both laugh.

“We should get a handle on birth control,” he says to me, grinning. “And if you don’t mind, you could go and see Raoul’s wife. She’s one of the senior physicians at the OB/GYN ward at the Memorial Hermann Texas Medical Center Hospital in Houston. Maybe she could even come by today. How about it?”

I don’t care either way. I don’t know anyone here, anyway. So I nod. “Yes, sure.”

“Okay, good. Let’s get dressed. I’ll see if I can get in touch with her.”

We dry off and go back to the bedroom to get dressed. My things have been folded and piled in Shamar’s closet. Shamar pulls out jeans and T-shirt and looks mind-boggling in them. I love it when his black hair is all tousled and falls into his forehead. I choose my own clothes and put them on.

In the meantime, Shamar has returned to his office, and while I have gotten dressed he calls Raoul. I could just sit there and watch him. Everything about him is sexy. He ends the conversation and says “come over here, darling.”

Î walk over to him and since the arm rests are still down I just climb right back up on his lap.

“Mayenne will be coming by this evening at about 7 p.m. and you can talk things over with her.”

“Great. That was fast,” I answer. It will be interesting to meet Raoul’s wife. I look forward to meeting her and getting the birth control issue settled.

“And, by the way, Raoul told me that he would like to include you in our project team that deals with tapping into new resources.”

Wow, that is a job offer. I wonder if I only got the job on account of Shamar.

“Oh, thank you.” I kiss him on the mouth. “Did you make sure I got the job?”

He leans back, thus increasing the distance between us slightly. “No, darling. It was your own doing. As I already told you, I’m not objective enough to offer you a job that would suit you. And that is why Raoul interviewed you. And he told me that these were the subjects that the two of you talked about in detail.”

“That is right. But not until later.”

“I know. The first part of the interview is always to loosen up the applicant. That makes it easier for Raoul to judge them.”

“And the second part is to find out where my strengths lie.”

“Correct. We will really be able to profit from your expertise in this area. And it has nothing to do with the fact that we are together.”

I pull a face and roll my eyes because it suddenly occurs to me that there are all sorts of issues that have to be solved before I get a work permit. “And so how do things continue?” I ask Shamar. “What do I have to do to get a work permit here? Apply for a green card?”

Shamar nods. “Raoul will be meeting you tomorrow to talk it over with you. I’ll take you along to the office, and that will give you enough time to get things sorted. As far as I know, there is a kind of temporary green card you can apply for when you have a job offer – and you have one – and then the real thing arrives much later.”

“Wow, I have a job. A real job. Thank you, Shamar.” I hug him and kiss him. I’m overjoyed. I’m unable to hide just how happy that makes me. I believe Shamar when he says that it was Raoul’s decision to offer me a job. In terms of money, it wouldn’t matter either way to Shamar whether I had a job or not. But it’s important to me. I want to have my own money to be independent. And who would have believed that things would work out this way.