Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 05

Rose was the antithesis of these women, unflustered and totally unaware of any rivalry another beautiful woman might bring.

"Mr. Emerly, your first lesson here tonight is proper table manners. One little hint I will give you is that should you be uncertain which of the utensils to use, simply watch your hostess. With careful observation and quick reaction, no one else at the table will realize you hesitated for a moment." Agnes once again entered with a silver ice bucket she sat to the side of the candles, and Rose reached out to pour the wine into the first of our glasses, "Wine is an intricate part of any extraordinary meal ... we use the white with soups, salads, fish, or poultry ... in this case a nice Riesling to compliment the soup." And I watched as her hand drifted over to the soup spoon. She smiled as I mimicked her motion.

And so our dinner continued through roast beef, red wine, and dessert eclairs frosted with a bittersweet chocolate. When we had at last finished, as if on cue, Agnes once again entered to clear our plates. "Agnes, Mr. Emerly and I will go to the study now, please bring the brandy in there." She arose from the table and once again I found myself following her and more fully mesmerized by the sight of her ample bottom just below a layer of thin fabric. I wouldn't help but raise my hands slightly, only inches from that undulating bottom, and make a get-cha get-cha motion ... I grinned because I felt I had gotten away with something.

We entered the study and she sat behind her desk and motioned for me to take a seat in one of the upholstered chairs. She was silent until Agnes brought in a decanter of brandy and two matching lead crystal snifters. "Thank you, Agnes, that will be all for tonight."

Agnes smiled and said, "Yes, Miss Rose." As she pulled the doors to the study shut.

"Mr. Emerly," Rose began, "have you ever considered the consequences of America being primarily settled by Puritans and Huguenots?"

Undoubtedly this was the most unusual opening to a conversation I had ever heard, so I shook my head 'no' and kept my mouth shut.

"Actually", she continued, "it's appalling what Western religion has done to our sensibilities regarding the erotic. In the East they have a much healthier attitude and I'm proud to say these notions have been passed down untold generations of my family to me. But first, let me tell you a story about a school of erotic arts.

One of the most innovational schools I ever heard of was run by a Sultan long ago east of Constantinople. As was the custom, in addition to multiple wives, any man could acquire as many concubines in his harem as he could afford. Of course, in exchange for living in comfort and luxury, these women were eager to please their Sultan.

Young women from the lands within the Sultan's rule would gather once a year in the spring, before the blazing heat of the dessert encroached on their tents and homes. It was not unusual to see the most beautiful women line up to be inspected, interviewed, and hopefully selected.

The lucky few chosen would live in the wing of the palace designed for their use. The food would be the best, the silks would be the softest, and their lives would be infinitely better than the ones not chosen ... they would have to make their way back to their villages and choose illiterate farmers or herdsmen as husbands. Their lives would be dull, full of hard work, many children, culminating in failing health and beauty.

At dawn on the auspicious day, the young women would awaken, bathe themselves in scented oils, and don their best robes. In the tents surrounding the city laughter and sisterly teasing could be heard throughout the morning.

In the center of the circle of tents the Sultan's servants and kitchen staff would begin also at dawn. They erected silken pavilions and rolled out plush carpets upon which set innumerable low tables. The tables, themselves, would be loaded with sweetmeats, dates, figs, roast fowl, honey, pastries, and an aromatic mead.

When the preparations had been completed, a massive gong was struck to call the women into the pavilion. Once they had assembled, a parade emerged from the city led by trumpeters. Behind the trumpeters came many young women strewing flower petals. Upon these petals walked the Favorites from the Sultan's harem who would participate in the choosing. The harem women were followed by a physician, an astrologer, and a scribe.

Lastly, a golden van came into sight carried on the shoulders of four sturdy servants. All sides of the van were curtained in purple ... there was no mystery however, that the occupant was the Sultan himself. The only mystery which remained was the Sultan's appearance.

These young women from outlying areas had no way of really knowing, but the night before the choosing, rumors flew rampant around the camp. Some said the Sultan was an old grandfather with a round belly and a sour disposition. Another said the Sultan didn't like women at all, but just kept up this pretext to cover his darker desires. Another said he was as insatiable as a satyr, frolicking everyday in the gardens of the harem with a steady succession of women. One rumor said his private parts were so huge that women fainted when they first laid eyes on him and that it took many times before a woman could fully accommodate such a menacing staff.

However, when the gong rang, all rumors were forgotten because no matter what the truth, those chosen today were among the luckiest women in the Province.

The Favorites of the harem were the first to sit on the silk pillows surrounding the low tables then the Hopefuls were ushered in and sat six per table. On a dais overlooking the entire tent, the physician, astrologer and scribe took their places at a long table. Finally the golden van was brought in and the sight of it silenced everyone gathered. As it was gently set down, two of the bearers turned and opened the purple silk curtains and out stepped the Sultan.

All dark almond eyes were on this man as he represented their best hope for the future. Many were relieved to see that he wasn't a grandfather after all, but a tall man in the prime of his life, no more than forty years. He wore a white silk turban on his head with the tassel hanging down the left side of his face. His simply cut gauze djalaba had full billowing sleeves and a neckline cut in a 'v' to the bottom of his breast bone. The djalaba fell to the ground so the girth of his chest and legs could not be judged, neither then of course, could a hint be observed as to the size of his manhood.

The women lucky enough to be chosen would have to wait for the end of their training before actually witnessing his strength.

Once the Sultan was in place seated two steps higher than the other men the meal began. It was relaxed and pleasant. The Favorites of the harem guided the women at each table in conversations about themselves and their families. The Sultan's women paid particular attention to the personalities of the Hopefuls at their tables ... was one more aggressive, another too passive? Did one back down when challenged or did her chin rise with pride? Were there remarks that slighted another of the Hopefuls? All manner of things were carefully studied.

At the end of the meal, the Favorites retired to a dais set up at the opposite end of the pavilion from the Sultan and his advisors. The scribe walked to where the Favorites were sitting bowed before each of the them and received from each a piece of paper from her and then returned to his place beside the other advisors.

Musicians were called in to entertain and dancers whirled and twisted in brightly colored veils. The physician and astrologer made their way to each of the Hopefuls. Sometimes they spoke, sometimes they merely observed. At the end of the entertainment they each resumed their places on the dais and added their observations to the ones already received by the scribe.

The scribe compiled the information before him and stood to face the gathering. He announced that the first phase of the selection process had been completed. He would now read the names of twenty young women present and he asked that they stand when their names were called. Those who remained seated would each be given a small bag of gold coins and the thanks of the Sultan for taking part in this year's selection.

Twenty young women, each seemingly more beautiful than the next were standing when the Sultan once again entered his van, drew the drapes, and returned to his palace.

The chosen Hopefuls were asked to follow the Favorites back to the palace for instruction as to the rest of the selection process and an explanation of the training they would received. They followed eagerly through the streets of the city to the palace itself. There before them stood the grandeur that would become home to a select few of them and each sent a silent prayer to Allah.