Dilara in the Harem Ch. 01

She watches interviews with women who've been to El Paraíso, who've had a child with him. She reads lots of advice for women who, like her, are aspiring to go there. Tens of thousands of girls around the world have publicly (at least online) sworn to save their virginity for him.

One of the more interesting sites is about his ancestry. It has great pictures and charts, and he seems to be part everything, including things she hasn't heard of — not simply Chinese or Dutch or English or Filipino or Haitian or even Bahamian or Cajun or Choctaw or Cuban Sephardic Jewish or Louisiana Creole or Malay or Tamil, but Black Seminole, Dutch Burgher, Hakka, Hokkien, Maori, Peranakan, Rajput, Redbone, Tlingit....

Learning about his ancestors, what they did and how they all met each other, amounts to a world history lesson: wars between Chinese secret societies in Southeast Asia, gold rushes in South America, lots of colonialism and lots of gangsters, people with names like Eulalie Marigny dit Coincoin, Clarus d'Alleau et L'Avoyraci, Léon López de Rosas, Tan Dusheng, and of course John Steed!

But Dilara can't find a single Persian! The closest she can get is Mir Aslan, Raoul's great-great-great grandfather, an exiled prince of the Soran Dynasty who was basically Kurdish though his mother was Armenian and Circassian. He married the daughter of a polygamous Coptic merchant (by his third wife, an Ethiopian woman), and his daughter married one of Baba Singh Jaswal's sons.

When she finally gives up trying to find any kind of family connection, she goes back to the "more information" page of El Paraíso's website and reads what it has to say about Raoul again. This time it seems modest, actually, barely mentioning his wealth, his acting or modeling, or even his work for the CIA. Listing his athletic accomplishments at Hedera and the medals he earned as a US Marine still seems a little boastful, but nothing compared to the gushing about his heroism that she found elsewhere on the internet.

She watches a video of May and two of Raoul's sisters talking about him.

"Well, he's insufferably spoiled," his twin Sam (short for Samantha) laughs, her lovely dark features highlighted by a florid teal and green dress.

"He doesn't just get his way," Reza (Theresa) agrees. "He takes it. He just assumes it." She wears a lacy white dress that draws her bust up impressively above her curvy waist and hips. She could almost be one of the Sharkadians, Dilara thinks.

May sits across from them in another tight red dress, now with simple golden jewelry. At least a foot taller than either of his sisters, she has legs that seem to just go on forever and ever, sexier every time Dilara looks at them. Seeing her with Raoul's sisters reminds her of her tenth grade English teacher's photo with LeJames Brawn: the top of her teacher's head was below Brawn's shoulders!

"The problem," Sam sighs, "is that everyone is so eager to do whatever he wants anyway."

"Yeah, but even when he's with other big strong guys like him, he's always the dominant one. He just has this commanding presence, and he's..." Reza pauses to search for a word.

"Arrogant," Sam suggests.

"Yeah, in a way. I mean obviously he enjoys a fight. He's not mean, but he's competitive. He likes to be challenged, and he likes to be aggressive, and he likes to beat people, I mean to win, but everyone around him is already so submissive...."

"Not only submissive, though," Sam says. "Eager to please. Especially women. The way they grovel, it's downright embarrassing sometimes just to watch it."

"But men can be even worse, almost," Reza objects. "They just, like, cower. Or they puff themselves up absurdly, like balloons about to pop."

"No one can be completely normal around him though. He's just too big and too handsome and he moves with too much confidence and he charms people."

"He's smart, too, though. That's the thing. People are so dazzled that they don't realize how clever he is, and he takes advantage of them."

"Not as much as he could," Sam says. "He's actually really nice, when you think about it. He could take advantage of people so easily, and when he wants to he can be really manipulative —"

"Not manipulative. Bossy."

"Well, both actually."

"Yeah, both, you're right. He just gets people to do what he wants. He'll tell you what he wants, or he'll make you think it's what you want, or whatever, but you'll do what he wants, and you'll find yourself liking it."

"So he could be so bad, but he's surprisingly considerate."

"Yeah, he has a lot of empathy."

"Yeah."

May speaks for the first time. "He's actually really thoughtful. He cares about people. Everyone kind of assumes he's as selfish and as hard as a man like him would usually be, and he could be, he could get away with it, but he has a really soft heart. I mean, he's suffered a lot, and he's seen a lot of suffering, and he's actually really humble because he's disappointed himself so much."

"Yeah, I guess that's right. It's like, he knows who he is, but at the same time...." Reza pauses.

"He knows his limits, like," says Sam.

"Or he actually thinks he's great," Reza laughs, "but we expect him to be even more arrogant than he is, so he seems humble to us."

The ladies laugh, then My explains, "I think you were right when you said he knows who he is, but he doesn't take credit."

"Yeah," his sisters nod.

"But you know," Sam adds after a few moments, "he's such a good man. He can be cold, although he's actually affectionate sometimes —"

"No, he's really sweet," May interrupts.

"Yes, sweet," Sam continues, "sometimes at least, and with some people, but the thing is, he's loving in a really manly way. Like god forbid that a man treat one of us badly. I remember when he was... probably about fourteen years old, and of course he was huge for fourteen, bigger than most adult men, but even so, it was when we were in Singapore and he was trying to convince us to move to LA with him, and a man our aunt was going to marry hit her."

"Oh my god, I remember that," Reza says.

"It was instant, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, I mean, my god, Raoul would've killed him. I mean...."

"But first he just yelled at him. He was like," and here Sam lowers her voice as deep as possible to imitate her brother, "'Hey! Don't ever do that again!'"

"That's right, I remember him yelling like that. Big commanding voice. That was when I realized, oh my god, my brother's a man! We were still teenagers, middle schoolers, and we're his twins! But he was a man already."

"Yeah. He had his big hand pointed across the room at him. Like he was giving orders to a child. But the man wouldn't listen, and he moved to slap our aunt again, like to defy Raoul, just to prove he wasn't afraid or something, and Raoul just leapt at him."

"I remember that. Like a tiger. That's what I thought at the time. I mean across the room, right in front of me, so fast I almost didn't turn my head fast enough to see him."

"Yeah, in a flash. The guy couldn't even hit our aunt because he flinched away, like to protect his head, but Raoul grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall."

"Like, hard."

"Very hard. I thought he might've killed the guy. Everyone was screaming and begging Raoul not to hurt him, so Raoul just threw him out."

"She means he carried him across the room by the throat, the way a normal person might carry a puppy or something, and just literally tossed him out."

"Yeah, into the hallway. The guy was crying and started to say something to Raoul, so Raoul took a couple steps toward him and the guy was gone. Never came back either."

"That's right. He left his shoes, didn't he?"

"Too scared to come back and get his shoes. He stood begging barefoot in the street until someone threw them to him out the window."

"He was a fool. Everybody with any sense always knew better than to mess with any of us."

"He beat up your dad, too, right?" Sam asks May.

"First of all, it's very important to me to note that he turned out not to be my biological father."

"Oh, that's right. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. A lot of people still call him my dad, but I want to point out that it's not so. And actually, Raoul didn't even really beat him up. It was more pathetic than that. Tranold threw a punch and Raoul just calmly moved aside, just got out of the way, and Tranold lost his balance and fell face-first into an end table. It was a pretty hard crash, and the table fell over, and then the big lamp that was on it fell on his head. It was like slapstick comedy. Tranold would've been so much less humiliated if Raoul had actually hit him."

"Oh, that's so Raoul too. He'll humiliate a guy. Not even throw a punch, just let a guy flail and fall over."

"That's what happened to Tranold," May confirms. "It was impressive. But Raoul didn't even touch him."

"You know he loves doing that, right? It's like making a point. 'This is what happened to you and I didn't even fight. Imagine what happens if I fight.'"

"Right. I mean he'll bump a guy with his hips or something to help him fall down, but it's like, 'Do you really want to see what happens when I raise my hands?'"

"So you must feel so safe with him," Sam tells May.

"Oh, completely. Everyone around him is safe."

"As long as you're on his side."

"Yes, you've just got to be on his side."

"And we, fortunately, are all on his side!" the women laugh together.

— — — — — — / — — — — — — — — —

"No!" Dilara giggles. "We're using my phone!"

"You think I'd share your video with anyone?" Jasmine teases, pretending to be offended.

"Accidents happen," Dilara wags her finger. "So we're using my phone."

"Okay, fine," Jasmine concedes, taking Dilara's phone. "Are you ready?"

Dilara takes a deep breath. They've set up everything perfectly: she can be clearly seen against the gleaming white wall and furniture of her family's dining room, and the lighting shines on her. She treated herself to a session with a professional makeup artist, so her face actually looks prettier than it probably ever has. That's too expensive to do again, so the video has to happen today.

"Yes."

"Okay," Jasmine says. "Go!"

When Dilara had finally worked up the courage to click the "apply" button, she'd simply had to fill out a form with her name, age, country of residence, and email address.

Following the instructions in the email they sent, Dilara now holds up a piece of paper with the number they emailed her (3011 1474 3090 1726) written on it and speaks to the camera.

"Hi," she smiles her prettiest smile, "my name is Dilara Ilana Khorasani and I was born on November 5th, 2000, and I'm applying to visit El Paraíso de las Doncellas Bellas" — she shows off her best Spanish pronunciation — "because I want to have a baby with Raoul Cock."

Now she has up to five minutes to say anything she wants about herself. The email instructs:

"Many women agonize over what to say, but it almost doesn't matter what you say. What matters most is how cheerful and cute you seem. You don't need to be an airhead, but you should smile a lot and laugh naturally. If you're shy, fine; if you're brazen and cheeky, fine. Just let your personality shine."

The email goes on, "You may also want to demonstrate a certain level of intelligence. No matter what your interests are, describe them intelligently."

It even gave instructions about her appearance. "Have your hair pulled back out of your face, and while you can wear makeup, you should not hide behind it. Let it bring out the natural beauty of your face."

So she tells the camera that she's a senior in high school, an honor student, that her ambition is to study media at USCLA and eventually make documentary films. Her hobbies are reading poetry, listening to music, and dancing. She studied ballet until she was fifteen. Now she's on her school's dance team, which she admits is just a fancy way of saying that she's a cheerleader.

"I saw the photos and videos about El Paraíso on the website, and it's just so beautiful, I'd really love to spend some time relaxing in the gardens there. And I've read all about Raoul, and he seems like such an amazing man, and oh my god he's soooooooo handsome," she rolls her eyes.

"Anyway, I really hope you choose me and if you do I will do my best to, um, be a good guest," she smiles, embarrassed. "I guess that sounded really dirty but I didn't mean it that way! Oh my god, stop recording!"

"No," Jasmine says, "You're doing great! That's perfect."

"No! Give me the camera!"

"No, you're so cute right now! Just keep going!"

"Oh my god, that's my friend Jasmine," Dilara explains to the camera. "She totally put me up to this and if I get invited she'll be my companion. She applied too, and you should look at her application. She's really pretty, and she's usually nice, but" — Dilara widens her eyes threateningly — "she needs to stop recording when I say to stop recording."

"But you're doing so good," Jasmine encourages. "Now dance for the camera a little bit, like it said. Or at least turn around so we can see that sexy body."

The email instructed Dilara to wear something that shows her figure and to let the camera see her body at the end of the video. Among its suggestions were yoga pants and a sports bra, and after Dilara pulls off her top, that is what she is wearing. The yoga pants are black to make her legs look slimmer, but the sports bra is bright orange for the opposite effect.

The email said she can dance if she wants to, but she only has to slowly turn around, and that's what Dilara does.

"Oh, come on," Jasmine scolds. "Shake ya' tail feather, girl! Show us whatcha mama gave ya!"

Flattered by the attention, Dilara shimmies for a moment, but then she loses confidence.

"Okay, stop!" she says, covering her face in embarrassment. "That's all I have to do! Give me my phone!"

She rushes at Jasmine, and a little tussle ensues, with plenty of girly squeals and screams, during which the camera happens to record a rather clear view down Dilara's bra. From that angle, her breasts look much bigger than she thinks they actually are.

"Wait!" Jasmine cries. "You have to show your number again. Don't forget, Go get the paper and show your number!"

The video shows Dilara run across the room, squat down lady-like, bending her knees, to pick it up, her tiny waist and pretty hips and thighs clearly visible against the white background of the wall, and then twirl around like a ballerina, holding the paper out for the camera.

— — — — — — / — — — — — — — — —

"Oh my god," Jasmine groans when they finish watching the video together. "That is so perfect. You have to submit that. You are totally getting accepted."

"Why?"

"It's like a million times better than any of my videos. You're so cute in it the whole time. Sweet and innocent and shy, but with some naughty thoughts."

"Hey!"

"Seriously. Look at how you glance aside when you say 'be a good guest.' You totally knew how dirty that was."

"I did not!"

"It's okay! You can admit it. That's how nice little girls like you look when they have dirty thoughts. It's perfect."

"Oh, god," Dilara groans.

"Imagine how hard Trevor's dick would get if he saw..."

"Jaz, if you don't shut up..."

"I'm just jealous, that's all. But really, your body looks perfect in it, and your face is lovely, and I bet you get at least an interview if you submit this."

"You really think so?"

"And if you get an interview, did you see, they give you two thousand dollars?"

"I know, I saw that."

"For two thousand dollars, and a free weekend vacation in Tijuana to boot, wouldn't you submit this video?"

"I guess."

"Okay, let's submit it then. Are you ready?"

"Give me a second."

"No, you have to submit it."

"No, I can't. It's just too...."

"Come on, Dil. If you don't submit it I'm going to share it with everyone. Even Trevor. Especially Trevor."

"How? It's on my phone."

"Do you think I don't know your passcode?"

"You do not!"

"What kind of passcode is four sixes anyway?"

"Oh my god!"

"I know everything about you, girlfriend. You can't fool me. So just submit it."

"Okay, here we go. Here we go. Oh my god. Here we go."

"Do it."

"Oh my god, I did it! Wait, did I do it? Oh no! I did!"

"You did? Let me see? Oh my god, Dil, oh my god! You're totally going to get an interview!"

The girls hug each other, squealing with excitement.

— — — — — — / — — — — — — — — —

Dilara lies awake staring at her bedroom ceiling.

According to the website, only members of the admissions teams can see her video. But there are 448 teams, each with eleven members and a team leader. Over five thousand people might see that video.

But dread of that turns to despair: collectively, the admissions teams watch videos of nearly eighteen million girls every year. They probably won't even notice her. She'll just be one more girl. They'll watch her video for ten seconds, reject her, and move on to the next one.

The website says that in 2017 only 4.2% of the women, 123 total, who went to El Paraíso — just as applicants, never mind actual lovers — were from the United States.

There's no way that she's one of the 123 prettiest women in the United States. Forget homecoming queen, she'd be at least a Miss California contestant if she was anything like that.

And if she somehow does get invited, they'll expect her to have a baby. Dilara looked into the camera and literally said that she wanted to have a baby with Raoul Cock. And at the time that she said it, she meant it.

The website says that about eighty percent of the women in El Paraíso eventually have a baby. Maybe she'll just take a chance.

She catches herself hoping: maybe she could have sex with him just once without getting pregnant.

On the other hand, if she has a baby with him, he'll give her so much money. A trust fund worth millions of dollars, paying hundreds of thousands a year. She'll make more money in a year than her dad does — and people consider her dad successful.

Besides, Cock also hires a trained social worker as a nanny for every baby he has. They are spies for him, some moms complain online, but the point is that with a free baby-sitter Dilara would still be able to go to college, get a job. Other women from El Paraíso did it that way. It might even be easier than the normal way to do college.

But only 123 American women a year. There's no way.

Maybe she should make a naked video. The website said it wouldn't necessarily help, but it also said many women do it, and Jasmine said it definitely would. She'd read about it online, she claimed. It would be embarrassing, but Dilara could do it by herself, without Jasmine even knowing.

But thousands of people would see it. And it's not like El Paraíso's so far from LA. Maybe some of the admissions officers even live here. They might see her somewhere, recognize her.

No, no, she can't possibly take that risk.

— — — — — — / — — — — — — — — —

Hello Dilara,

My name is Carla Kachmar, and I am a member of the "Charming" admissions team here at El Paraíso de las Doncellas Bellas.

We really enjoyed your video. You're obviously a joyful, intelligent, and very beautiful young woman, and we'd like to move forward with your candidacy. The next step is for us to have an interview with you by Spyke.

If you're serious about coming to El Paraíso and having a baby with Mr. Cock, please respond to this email with some times that would be convenient for you to have an interview.