The Little Taste of Marrakech

The only other woman on this earth that ever made him this nervous was his mother. Thank god at least she was back in Marrakech living it up off his father's money. That woman did some things to undermine a man's authority and bruise the ego, now here was Sasha tempting fate. When Sasha brought him the daggers, he said okay. When she brought him the sabers, Aziz thought about it skeptically and nervously before he decided to give it a try. When she brought him the fire without his consent, Aziz had a nearly had a nervous breakdown. Aziz prayed to Allah, Yahweh, and every other single god being and then some as he forced himself to keep his eyes open and face still. He was scared to death that the whole place was going to go up in flames cooking him, the guests and the kitchen staff too. Could you imagine the headlines?

Well, to sooth the soul, the edge of the spear wasn't flaming. First there would be flaming spearheads, then flaming swords and then some poor sod was going to end up with their arm cauterized on their dinner plate along with what they ordered. Imagine Couscous Marrakech made with grain, chicken, and lamb with a side of human fingers already cooked to perfection. Shut up, shut up before you project those ideas into her silly little head. He chastised himself. Aziz gulped his wine trying to stem the flow of his thoughts.

He knew he was getting ahead of himself. Really, Sasha could be quite sensible at times. But then there were other times that her stubbornness got the better of her and the infuriating part was that 90% of those times she came out on top. Given those odds, Aziz forced himself to relax and ran his fingers through his hair. He hated to sweat too much, it always left him feeling grungy and that was unbecoming especially in front of company.

At least the dance was subdued without any wild antics. In fact Sasha used the spear more like she would a cane or a pole. She moved and contorted herself in ways around the spear that he never thought possible while keeping in time with the music. He had no idea she was so flexible. Sasha did mention something about gymnastics when she was younger but her last competition had to be around 16, which meant that was ten years. Maybe yoga.

Sasha danced flipping the spear over and over in her hand and spinning it over her head moving hips and chest. When the song came to an end, Sasha leapt off the stage and returned to the back to change for the final dance. If she was nervous about the new routine, Sasha never let on. Aziz had to hand it to her for confidence. He settled back into his cool demeanor as the talk resumed at the table between the three businessmen.

"Hmm, where can I get more girls like that?" Ibrahim raised his eyebrows suggestively. His line of work as a club owner allowed him to scout out many beautiful girls and lure them to his club. Most of the women and some men at his club did a certain amount of double duty, which mainly entailed sexual favors. Ibrahim was quite a friendly and generous employer once he was getting a cut of the extra the girls made. In a way it seemed fair in his eyes considering he provided the girls with protection, a clean place to work, and decent wages.

"Nowhere here." Aziz bristled knowing full well what his old friend was suggesting. It said something for his character that he liked Ibrahim well enough as a businessman but his line of work was directly in conflict with Aziz's. Ibrahim gave his friend a questioning look but made a gesture to say he got the message.

"Come now, brother. Even Aziz knows good talent can go to waste in your establishment." Fahir laughed in high spirits. "Aziz, you've got an eye for good entertainment."

Fahir was a short, squat and graying man in his early 50s. On average, he was a very serious man who was sharp except for when he had one too many drinks. That's when Fahir almost became an open book. Although tipsy, age had taught Fahir what his limits were and how much he was willing to speak about. He worked in immigration for some time before retiring to open up stores that exclusively sold imported Arabic and Turkish goods.

While it was Fahir's first time seeing Sasha dance, it was not Ibrahim's. Unfortunately his old friend was annoyingly accurate when pushing Aziz's buttons. Ibrahim was only being a tease since he was quite familiar with the palm of Sasha's hand. However, tonight was not just a night for show. Aziz needed Fahir's help with immigration. One of his new workers was being held and he needed her out before she was deported back to whence she came. The second unfortunate circumstance came in the form of an expiring visa. It was always best to deal with the most pressing problem at a time.

"Shokran jazeelan, sadiqi." Aziz began and continued in Arabic. "But it wasn't just the talent of my part timer that incited your invitation."

"That doesn't surprise me." Fahir responded suddenly serious. "What can I help you with?"

"I have a girl of mine being held in immigration. She's come out of a very bad situation and I will need her to officially enter."

"I'll see what I can do."

"She can't go back there, Fahir." Aziz pleaded without actually sounding like it. "This was her family's parting gift."

"All of your girls can't go back to where they came from, Aziz." Fahir eyed him as he chewed methodically on prawn he'd stuffed into his mouth. "Your line of work comes with many heartaches and unhappy endings."

"Only if I let them." Aziz conceded, pouring himself another glass of wine.

"Does she have a visa?" Ibrahim asked just to join in.

"Mm." Aziz nodded, "Which is why I don't understand the level of hesitancy."

"It must be something small." Ibrahim continued sipping his drink. He had no qualms about consuming alcohol and made it a habit to do so on the most expensive of drink. "I wouldn't worry, brother."

"Ibrahim is right but I will look into it for you." Fahir looked up at Aziz then his attention turned to something beyond Aziz. Apparently Sasha returned sooner than expected and was in a coral sari with the blouse replaced by a bustier bra. As she danced suggestively, Sasha allowed guests to slowly unravel the long cloth.

"I have a second request if it is not too much to ask." Aziz asked as he was beginning to get distracted. Sasha was doing a strip number. Those always excited him because she never did it the same way twice even if the end result was the same.

"Mhmm..." Apparently Fahir was excited too. It took him a few minutes to answer with only that.

Before Aziz could continue, Sasha was upon them. The last length of cloth, Sasha thrust into Aziz's lap where he had to choice but to uncoil her. As it fell away, Aziz inhaled deeply, and quickly, at the sight of her ass clad in underwear and a cloth sash made to fit like a garter belt around her waist. On the sash were gold coins and tiny chains that clinked as moved.

Aziz didn't even know he was staring until the cold broad side of the dagger was under his chin forcing him to lift his eyes to Sasha's face. There was this satisfactory smirk plastered there and a mischievous twinkle in those eyes. As quickly as she came, Sasha danced away again, leaving Aziz with the sari cloth on his lap to cover his boner.

"You're next request?" Ibrahim asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"Maa? What?" Aziz blinked turning to him. Then turning his attention back to Fahir. "Right. One of my waitress's her visa will be expiring in two weeks, do you think there are any string you can pull to get it renewed?"

Fahir tore his lustful gaze from Sasha to Aziz. "Sure. Now let's talk payment."

"I can pay anything within a reasonable price range."

"Even her?" Fahir tilted his head in Sasha's direction.

Aziz's gaze turned cold and his voice hardened. "Sasha is not that kind of woman and I will not ask that of her."

"You're asking for death!" Ibrahim joked, "And I don't mean by Aziz's hand."

"Then a simple dinner." Fahir stated simply. "Just dinner and a thousand dollars."

Aziz glared at Fahir. Ibrahim looked between the two men before attempting to break the tension. Knowing how much it meant to Aziz to help out the women working for him, he leaned into Aziz.

"Just ask for the dinner. It can't hurt." Ibrahim whispered. "If she says yes, you won't have to pay the two thousand he normally asks and if she says no you pay the two thousand. Either way you get what you want."

Aziz held Fahir's gaze in silence for a minute then spoke. "I will ask but I won't make any promises. Whatever decision she makes I will respect it."

Fahir smiled triumphantly. "Deal. Hada shay'un Jameel."

"Well, Tosbeho 'ala khair." Aziz gave Fair a cutting glance. "I will call with the answer."

Aziz waited until the two men left the restaurant before heading to meet Sasha. By this time Sasha was already back in the break room getting redressed. Aziz slid out of the booth, cloth in hand, and walked to the back of the building where he knew she would be getting dressed. Aziz watched through the crack in the door as Sasha bent over, giving him a fantastic view of her ass before she shimmied into her skinny jeans, zipping up and buttoning them. She was still in her bra when she plopped down on the bench and pulled her socks on. It was a really nice view of her chest as it bobbed and dangled as Sasha stuffed each foot in her boot and bent to zip them up.

"Sasha?" Aziz knocked on the door as if he had not been watching her the last few minutes.

"Yeah?" Sasha looked up, smiled, and stood to face him. "Aziz, if you've come to chastise me about not running the spear by you, I'm just going to say it turned out fabulous anyway and no one else would have been able to make it work other than me."

"And what if it hadn't?" there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Then I was throwing Irena under the bus for talking me into it." She grinned as she dug through her locker. Finding her shirt, she pulled on the gold sequined top. "So since it turned out so wonderfully, I think I deserve an advance on my fee a little."

"Are you asking for a raise?" Aziz frowned. Acquiring these new papers was turning out to be quite the expensive task.

"No, I don't think that was quite asking." Sasha pulled out her dark blue velvet blazer, shut the locker and leaned against it, looking at him.

Aziz looked at the female before him. Somehow, he got the feeling that she was testing the waters. He looked down at the bundled sari cloth in his hands, then handed her one end as he took the other.

"Maybe." Aziz stated simply as they walked up to each other, touching the two ends of cloth, folding it in half.

"Hmm. Maybe isn't a no." Sasha smirked stepping back as they shook the folded fabric out that brought it in again to fold the half in half. "What do I need to do to make that a yes?"

"Dinner." Aziz began as he watched for her reaction and they folded again.

"I think that can be done for you." Sasha's smile turned seductive as her brown eyes locked with his hazel. Or at least that's what Aziz thought but then he was never quite sure how she was going to react to things. He'd seen that smile many times before never actually paid attention to it.

"Not with me but with Fahir." Aziz paused, surprised, as they came together. "You would actually want to go out on a dinner date with me?"

"Who the hell is Fahir?" Sasha snapped and dropped her end a bit disconcerted from the change. "Don't tell me the elderly man sitting across from you in that booth."

"Yes, him. He loved your dancing and wanted to repay your entertainment with dinner." Aziz continued to fold the cloth by himself now. It was more of a distraction really, Sasha temper was going to boil any second now as he'd hoped.

"Bullshit! You know exactly what kind of desert he is expecting after dinner!" Sasha reopened the locker and gathered things for her purse. There was a feeling of triumph seeing her annoyance to his request. At least she wasn't going down without a fight.

"No, I promise you it is only dinner. Fahir is a man of his word."

"And why in the seven levels of hell would I do that?" Sasha rounded on him, "Because it sounds like you're trying to convince me even though I have declined."

Aziz contemplated telling her the truth. Sasha didn't know about the service he provided to the women working in his restaurant. It wasn't that he didn't want her to know, but it wasn't something he made a habit of speaking about. Legally it was just as wrong as Ibrahim's work. Perhaps, she would accept the half-truth.

"He has connections in immigration and one of my workers, Leda, her visa is expiring soon. She doesn't have any family to go back too."

Sasha gave him a withering look before snatching the folded cloth away from him. "Curse you for playing on a woman's sensibilities."

Aziz knew it wasn't fair to back her into a corner like this so he said nothing. He studied her facial expression as she chewed the corner of her lip in thought. Sasha placed the sari back in her duffle bag in the locker then turned back to arranging her purse.

"Fine but understand I'm doing this for Leda," Sasha zipped her purse closed. "Not to save you money. I won't even ask how Mr. Fahir is going to accomplish this visa thing."

Yep, sensible Sasha. Sometimes Aziz thought she was too smart for her own good. Aziz picked a ball of lint out of Sasha's hair when she faced him.

"Fair enough." he gave her a once over. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah work is done and it is time to play." She stated coolly.

"In that case..." Aziz pulled out her scarf from the locker and draped it over her neck loosely. "The spring night is still a bit brisk. Take care and thank you for tonight."

"Mmmhmm... " Sasha walked past him, "Just remember to tell your pal that it is only dinner. Emphasis on dinner."

"Sasha?" Aziz stepped out into the hallway after her, taking an umbrella out of the bin by the door. Sasha paused and looked back at him so he continued. "I bet your hair will look, as you say, a hot mess if it gets wet."

Sasha snorted at Aziz's attempt making peace. She returned, took the umbrella from him. "You owe me dinner."

"I owe you dinner." Aziz smirked as he nodded, "I'll even come make it for you. My treat."

"Now you're just being cheap." There was a glint in Sasha's eyes the one she always got when antagonizing Aziz was in session.

"What? That's ridiculous!" Aziz frowned, "I thought women loved it when a man cooked for them. Only you ever call me cheap!"

"Nuh-uh. Not you. You like a woman that can cook and clean and take care of the kids." Sasha took careful, deliberate steps towards Aziz where her chest brushed against his. She looked up into his eyes. "You're a businessman at heart so you want as much revenue to stay in your pockets."

"That doesn't make me cheap." Aziz rolled his eyes. He took a tentative step back, Sasha knew perfectly well about his space issues. Everyone and everything must keep their own scent, dirt, and whatever else to themselves. Arms length away is what he preferred. "That just means she's a keeper!"

"But you'd rather cook one meal a month to show your appreciation rather than pamper her a little." Her breath smelled faint of citrus. Sasha pouted a little, pursing her lips. Aziz's eyes glued to those lips. The dark raspberry color of her lipstick helped to give the illusion of extra plumpness. "Such a slave driver you are."

"I mean not even a little tip for her to do a little shopping?" She wriggled her fingers in front of him, palm up, to indicate money. "Your kind of girl should be looking pristine, always."

"Sasha, you have a full time day job. Maybe a little less Christian Leboutin, Prada and Manolo Blahnik with a little more saving and you wouldn't be trying to squeeze another two hundred out of me." He chastised only half serious. Of course he knew her day job was with a company that entertained at parties and events using the kills of acrobats and dancers. They also hosted classes.

"For your information, these are Enzo Angiolini shoes bought on a sale rack with an extra twenty percent off, placed on my beautiful feet and paired with an outfit made to look expensive. " Sasha made a face, again pursing her lips. Then draped her arm around his waist, pressing herself against him. There was nowhere for him to go, considering his back was now against the break room door. "But I really do like where you are going with that; seeing as I was talking about a girl for you and not myself. She should save some money to buy all those things with a hard ass like you to date."

"I don't want a girl..." Aziz began, still looking at her lips as they curved into that smirk he so hated. "I want a woman."

He'd had enough of her teasing and gave it back to her in full force. Aziz pressed his lips to hers. His tongue snaked its way through her lips, which were parted in surprise. When he began to explore the inside of her mouth, Sasha tried to step away but Aziz wouldn't let her do that. Quickly and forcefully, he crushed her body to his and pulled her through the door where he pressed her against the wall. When their lips parted, Sasha gasped for air.

"Aziz..." she managed to whisper before he placed his fingers on her lips. She watched him with uncertain eyes as he brushed the hair out of her face and caressed her cheek. When Sasha opened her mouth again, Aziz kissed her. This time it was slow, sensual, and Sasha became a willing participant. She moaned into the kiss when Aziz's hands slid down and grasped her ass, hoisted her up. He groped and squeezed and Sasha only melted into him, legs locked around his waist.

Aziz was already semi hard after watching her strip tonight, but now he was harder than he'd been all night. Their lips parted again and there was only the sound of their ragged breathing as Aziz rubbed his hard member against her crotch, his lustful gaze burning into hers. For once she was the underdog in their usual tit for tat. Speaking of tits, Aziz continued to pin Sasha to the wall with his body as his hand snaked under her shirt and grasped her breast.

Sasha's breath hitched and she whimpered. If Aziz slipped his hand between her legs, he would feel how wet she was. In fact, Sasha's underwear was plastered to her bits and Aziz's insistent rubbing was helping the situation far too much. He tongued and sucked against Sasha's neck with an undeniable hunger that there was measure of fear in Sasha's whimpering. Maybe she pushed him too far? She was only teasing... maybe?

Perhaps she should stop him. Ground him.

"Aziz..." Sasha panted suppressing a moan, "...I... you can't do this... n-not to me."

Aziz looked her over like a hungry tiger, "Oh but I can, Sasha. You started it."

"But I-I was just having a little f-fun with you like always..." she whispered in a breath.

"Exactly." She gasped as Aziz pressed hard against where her sensitive bud is located. His lips found her earlobe and nibbled on it. A loud groan escaped her lips. "Like always but tonight wasn't the night."

Before she could answer him the door opened as a waitress backed in. As soon as she looked up and saw the look on her boss's face, she hurried right back out the way she came. Sasha took that opportunity to lower her legs but Aziz grasped them and kept them right in place.

"I didn't tell you could lower them, did I?" He grasped a fistful of her curly hair in warning but didn't pull. Sasha shook her head looking at him with eyes filled with questions. He leaned in kissing her gently, lips trailing down her jaw, and his tongue lapped at the hollow of her neck.

Suddenly Aziz chocked then burst out laughing then dropped Sasha's legs. For a moment Sasha looked confused as she studied his face.