The Billionaire Sheikh Ch. 05

Introduction: Someone here on Literotica mailed me and asked if I could write about a billionaire. Others said they liked my Sheikh stories. Someone else reviewed my earlier stories and claimed they were degrading and using the F-word way too much. So this time I want to try to write an old fashioned romance story with no sex scenes (at least not in the beginning) but what still will have you ladies (and maybe gentlemen) dreaming hot dreams.

Feel free to comment, to suggest improvements or to point out factual errors. Or to suggest a story twist. Bear with me that English is not my mother language even if I am able to understand at least three others.

The setting of the story will be the fictious oil emirate Al Dahaab, famous for its golden beaches (hence the name Gold)

SO FAR: This is chapter 5. Dutch paralegal Lisa, single and in her twenties, has been seconded to Al Dahaab. Her consultancy firm did a lot of visa requests for local companies and institutions as the university whose personnel had to travel to the Schengen area (Western Europe). While it had been done from Amsterdam, recently the firm had thought it better service to let those cases be handled from their local branch in Al Dahaab. But that had turned into chaos. Hence Lisa trying to save thing so their clients would not switch to another firm.

One of their biggest clients is Khalid Enterprises, a big shipping multinational owned by the brother of the local ruler. Sheikh Khalid is a workaholic who is impressed with the work of the young woman and offers her a lift home in his jet to see her grandmother over the weekend. He is looking for a new office in Amsterdam as he wants to move his European headquarter to the mainland because of BREXIT. Lisa suggests however another city. The next weekend he picks her up at her grandmother's farm to check out potential new headquarters.

Khalid is a widower in his late thirties who realises how lonely he has been over the last few years when he is accepted as a kind of family friend by Lisa and her grandmother.

Khalid is impressed by the young woman and when Lisa gets her law degree he decides to hire her as one of his in-house lawyers.

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Chapter 5:

Mr Celebi the old in-house legal counselor had smiled to Lisa. "Now you can try you luck with something else. This is not a case of immigration law but international private law. I assume you had it in university?"

So the office in The Netherlands had ordered new matrasses for the bunk beds of the oil tanker the "Desert queen" that was sailing under the Al Dahaab flag. But the contract of the internet firm had stipulated that any dispute should be judged by Chinese law. And now there was a dispute. The mattresses stunk to high heaven because it looked like mice had peed in them when they were piled up in a storehouse.

Lisa had been glad she had packed a few boxes with all her study material from university when she moved to the Gulf and was now grateful for it. So what treaty was applicable here?

She shivered. Although it was already fall and in The Netherlands it would be grey and rainy somehow the Gulf had a week of extremely warm weather. She had made sure that she was wearing only a sleeveless t-shirt and a thin skirt under the abaya. However in a country where airco was considered a sign of modernity and wealth the old office manager had kicked the airco in high gear and she guessed it was now 17 degrees inside.

Gosh her toes in her sandals were so cold and her fingernails were even looking blueish. Would the guys not feel uncomfortable or did the headgear keep you warmer?

She rummaged in her desk drawers. In the lowest one she had stuffed a long scarf that she had taken with her in case she was going to sightsee and visit the great mosque and would need to cover her hair. She draped the long pashmina shawl over her head and shoulders, walked to the small kitchen to get herself a warm glass of mint tea and returned to her legal work.

The door opened. She expected it to be old Mr. Celebi but to her surprise it was the boss himself. She bowed her head and murmured "Good morning my sheikh" in her best Arabic, repeating what everyone did and said at the office in the morning.

Her heart was drumming a march in her breast. Somehow everytime she saw him it came as a shock how good looking he was. The square shoulders, the flat stomach, the long lashes, the sculpted jaw that now was more prominent now he kept his beard just a stubble.

He was frowning. What was wrong?

"Has he complained again about your looks?"

"Who has my Sheikh?"

"The office manager. Why are you covering your hair and your chest? I told you did not need to."

"No my sheikh he did not. I was just a bit cold with the airco and bare feet in my sandals."

Both looked down at her naked toes at the same time.

She realised the hot pink nail polish might also not be quite the local dress code.

She saw him swallow and then look into her eyes again.

"I was talking to you about the camel market in the oases when we came back from Venice. Would you like to see it? We can go and camp there over the weekend. There are races and a camel market but also lots of good food and music and ..."

Wow that was definitely not related to work.

"You said you had never seen a camel. We can remedy that now. Are you coming with me?"

"That sounds interesting. What day do you want to go there sheikh?"

"Well it is all weekend but I rather attend Friday prayer in the mosque first and leave afterwards. If we leave early in the morning we can be back at work on Sunday morning. Or we drive back on Saturday evening."

"Shall I make a lunch so you do not have to go home first?" she asked.

"Yes that would be lovely. I do not like pineapples or crab. All the rest will be fine. I will pick you up at 2.30 pm then.

He turned round to leave.

"Please my sheikh wait a second."

He looked over his shoulder.

"Yes miss Forest."

She saw he was trying to hide a smile. And when he called her Miss Forest as a pun to her last name all was definitely well.

"What do I have to bring for that camel market and how dressed up I need to be for the hotel?"

"Hotel my dear?"..."We will be camping in the desert in Bedouin tents like the old days and roast lamb over a fire. But I would suggest a black abaya that can survive camping and sunglasses and a long black shayla -- you know a scarf -- so you will blend in with the locals. Those blue eyes and your hair colour scream foreigner. I do not want to come home with hundred camels instead."

He grinned and walked away. The white bisht trailing behind him like a cape.

--0-0-0-0-

The rest of the week she had not seen her boss let alone spoken to him. She felt a bit on edge and nervous. Was he taking her on a date? Was this just a nice gesture to show her the country? Who else was coming?

She had never gone camping and had no clue about camping in the desert. She did not want to ask a co-worker. So she googled. It seemed that the camel market was a huge event where people in the past would trade livestock that had been born in spring. That there were contests for the most handsome camel, races, poetry contests, BBQ-ing and fun. And definitely not an expat thing.

It seemed the oasis was four hours inland from the city. It seemed that there was a string of farmland inland watered from springs. And that the locals had lived there before modern times and the skyscraper city had lured them to the coast and what used to be just a small village of pirates, fishermen and pearl divers.

So it was now 2.25 PM and Lisa was standing on the steps of the villa. A duffel bag and a cool box at her feet. She heard the sound of a car engine and a four wheel drive emerged through the gate to the family compound. Another four wheel drive followed. In the Range Rover sat Sheikh Khalid in a white thobe and a headdress tied around his head, his eyes hidden by a set of mirroring sunglasses.

He jumped out of the car and opened the back door. She swung her duffel bag in but when he reached for the cool box she shook her head.

"It is your lunch. You might want it on the backseat instead."

"Right", he said and closed the backdoor. She placed the cool box on the backseat.

"Wow what a cool car. I used to say to my grandfather that I wanted a jeep when I was a grownup. He said that was no car for a girl."

The sheikh smiled and held out his car keys. "So you would like to drive mine today?"

"Oh can I?" She had the feeling that she could jump up and down like a small girl. She could feel the huge smile on her face.

The car was great. The chairs were comfy and it seemed to float over the road but still the steering wheel gave her the feel of the road and the whole design screamed masculine and adventure.

"Are you sure Sheikh you do want me to drive this one in the busy city?"

"Yes my dear. I have seen you drive. You can do this."

Seen her drive? When?

She concentrated on the busy motorway.

"You have to tell me where to go."

"Just follow the signs that say Dubai/ Abu Dhabi and when we leave the city behind there will be an exit names "desert oasis". By the time we get there you probably want to switch drivers anyway."

She looked in her mirror and saw the other four wheel drive follow. It seemed Omar was driving and another man was sitting next to him. The security detail. But they had the car all to themselves.

The sheikh was reaching for the cool box.

"So let me see what lunch you made. I am quite famished."

He looked in surprise at two plastic bottles filled with something green.

"What might this be?"

"Oh that is a banana, mango, spinach smoothie."

"A what? Spinach?"

"Yes I know it sounds weird but they were selling it in our local supermarket and it was great. Please do try."

"Hmmmm miss Forest you are an adventurous cook. Shall I give you one too?"

He opened one and handed it to her and then cautiously tried a sip from his own bottle. Followed by a gulp and another big mouthful.

"You are right this is great. So let me see what more you have here."

He opened up a plastic container and looked at something triangular that smelled great.

"And what might that be?"

"It is called Appelflap and it is pastry with apple, sugar and cinnamon in it. But you might want to keep that as dessert. In the bottom there are sandwiches with spicy local mutton sausage and tomatoes."

They lunched in silence. Lisa wondered what it was that made her always so at ease with this Arabian prince. He was a lot older, very rich and virtual a stranger but somehow he felt like a big brother, an old friend, a husband.

-0-0-0-0-

When they reached the exit the road turned inland and the sea and the skyscrapers disappeared behind the horizon. The rocky coastal plane turned into a landscape of low sand dunes and rocks. The motorway was an empty line with just them and the security detail and sometimes a lonely pickup truck loaded with camels or a lorry.

"Do you have some music?" she asked him. He reached and pressed a button. Opera music flooded the car. The Italian operatenor Andrea Bocelli singing something with a pop star if she was correct. Yes Jennifer Lopez.

Siempre que te pregunto

Que cuando como y donde

Tú siempre me respondes

Quizás quizás quizás

Y así pasan los días

Y yo desesperando

Y tu tu contestando

Quizás quizás quizás

She started singing along Jennifer Lopez but almost lost her control over the car when he suddenly joined her. His warm voice a deep baritone. It felt so intimate to sing together in the middle of nowhere. She looked sideways and saw him smile reaching for the high note at the end.

"Ah miss Forest now I surprised you."

"An Arab that sings opera", she said with a look of awe.

"Remember that friend of mine who married in Germany? When we were studying and my wife was doing her internship in the hospital he would drag me to classical concerts and opera nights in Covent Garden. But if you like some Arab love songs I have those here somewhere too. "

He reached in the glove department and came up with a box of cd's and switched the one in the stereo. A male voice started to sing a lament and he sang along. The only thing she could made out was "beloved".

"Well which one you prefer? But I am not singing the whole cd!"

They laughed.

"Andrea Bocelli. I love classical music."

They switched drivers and talked about music. About the desert. About where they were going. That he had inherited a small farm in the oases from his father the king and that he raised horses there. That he had a surprise planned for her the next morning. And no that he was not going to tell her. The hours sped by and before she knew it they entered a small oasis town.

The sheikh steered the car to the other side of town and Lisa was surprised to see a sea of black traditional tents.

Sheikh Khalid parked the car and lifted a backpack and her luggage from the car leaving the empty cool box. He grabbed her hand with his free one and they followed Omar and the other bodyguard towards an area where four tents cordoned off a private square. She was shown which one was hers. It seemed the two bodyguards and the four men who had sat up camp were sharing two of the tents and Khalid and Lisa had each their own tent. Part of it was like a living room and a part behind a curtain was bedroom. It was so adventurous and romantic.

The guys had made tea and they all reclined on old carpets and cushions around a charcoal fire.

"Come", said the Sheikh. "Let us go and explore. When it gets too dark we will come back and bbq."

His large hand tucked some wayward strands under her veil.

"Are you enjoying yourself so far Lisa?"

"Oh yes it is so adventurous," she gushed.

He took hold of her hand again and they walked towards the festival area. Stalls with all kind of craftwork on exhibit for sale. The smells of herbs. Stalls selling food. She noticed an old woman selling embroidered tablecloths and napkins, bedcovers and baby blankets. She bought a nice tablecloth for her grandmother. Another stall had silverware for sale. She bend down to examine triple rings.

"You cannot buy those. Only we men are allowed", he said with mirth in his voice.

"Why only men?"

"Because those are wedding rings."

They continued along the stalls. She bought herself a strand of large yellow beads.

Then they came upon an old man and a plump woman in her forties and a marvellous bedecked camel. Tassels around its face and multicoloured reins and a beautiful saddle. The animal itself was almost white and very high.

The sheikh started to talk to the old man in rapid Arabic that was way too fast for her to understand a word of. He turned round to her and explained in English.

"This old gentleman is Zayed and his daughter Naeema. They are not very rich people but they own a very beautiful camel with who they breed. They sell her two year old calves when they are grown up. The daughter her made the reins and the ornaments to make her look so majestic."

Lisa thought the camel was scary. So much higher than a horse, the face full of disdain but with very long lashes.

The old man gave an order and the animal kneeled down.

"On you go," said sheikh Khaled.

"What? No way! She is scary. Way too high."

"What? Is fearless miss Forest scared?"

"Seriously sheikh I am afraid. Please do not tease me."

He stepped forward and climbed in the saddle.

"You get behind me and hold on to me woman. My people has done that for ages. Really Lisa it will not be dangerous and I can guide it for you. Just hold on to me."

She did not want to be a whoosh and they were attracting way too much attention. She climbed on the back of the camel and wrapped her arm around the prince. The camel lifted itself up in a jerky motion. So high. She gripped the white cloth of his robes, the rippling of his belly muscles under her hand. The animal started its slow swaying walk. The sheikh said something of coming back, people cheering them on.

After some time Lisa started to relax and feel more confident. The sheikh pointed her to various groups of camels for sale and an arena ready for the races of the next day. He weaved her fingers of the hand that was not holding the one rain between hers on his belly.

"See it is not scary and now you can say you rode a camel. This is in fact a very nice one. Those people are poor Lisa. Did you see her slippers? He will be getting too old to farm and she is his only daughter and a widow."

"That is sad she looked so sweet. Can nobody help them with a bit of charity?"

"Those people are proud they will reject coins. But I am thinking I can offer him a post as steward on my farm as old Ali is ill and has trouble coping. When her father gets too old the daughter might be able to step in without any fuzz. But first I am going to buy you this camel and they will have income."

He has sharp eyes she realised. And a kind heart under all that business aura.

They returned to the owners of the camel and the sheikh started bargaining. The men ended up smiling and shaking hands and the daughter smiled to Lisa. The men talked some more and afterwards Lisa and the sheikh walked back to their tents. Again hand in hand. She had not seen many women and some were heavily veiled but apparently walking hand in hand was something men and mixed pairs did often. Maybe to prevent loosing each other in the crowd. She liked her hand in his, their hips and legs sometimes bumping against the other person's.

"They agreed to bring your camel to the farm. I asked him a favour. If he could have a talk with Ali who is in need of help. With a bit of luck he will offer help and ends up with a job and safe housing for them both."

--- 0 ---

Lisa was in her bed in her 1001-night tent. Alone in her huge bed. They had eaten roasted lamb and hummus, baba hanous and fresh bread, fat rice and melons. Afterwards the sheikh and his men had lit a big waterpipe and shared a smoke, The tobacco was strawberry flavoured and sweet on her tongue. Performers were walking the different groups playing and singing for a few bills. The huge yellow moon in a dark sky that showed more stars than she had ever seen in her life. It felt like she was falling in an abys when she looked up. Star upon star, like velvet sprinkled with diamonds.

She had gone to bed before the men but was now planning to get up again. It was so cold her knees seemed to rattle along with her teeth. Who had thought it could be that cold in the desert. She got up and looked for an extra blanket but found none. Tossing her abaya on she left the tent. However it seemed the men had just retired as well.

She walked back into her tent and folded her two blankets and picked up the pillow.

She walked to the sheikh's tent and walked inside calling him. An oil lamp was burning low, one of the sides of the tent still open. He tossed the curtain of his sleeping area open.

"What are you doing here woman?" He gazed at her bedding that she was cradling against her chest

"I am so cold I could not sleep. Can I sleep in your bed?"

"We are here not in Amsterdam. People will talk if they see you. Come in quickly."

He grabbed her arm and more or less dragged her inside.

"I am sorry. I can go again."

He took her bedding from her. She dropped the abaya. His eyes focused on her chest.

"Woman what is that what you are wearing?"

"This? Oh a shortama. A t-shirt and a short. A summer pyjama."

"Oh girl did you not realise it can freeze in a desert. Bare legs..."

He draped her blankets of his bed and placed her pillow next to his own.

"In you go."

He got in beside her but his foot touched hers.

"You are frozen. Come here."

He wrapped her against his chest. He was wearing something woolen and what looked like a flannel shirt and loose pantaloons. He started to rub her back getting circulation fired up again.