Authors: Roberta Latow
It was true, Laurent did understand her sentiments. He had always known how grateful Eden was to have such a profound musical talent. One of the things he’d admired about her was that she understood that music is something innate and internal, in her case a creative gift attached to an unerring intuition and enriched by her capacity for profound emotion. He suddenly understood what he had missed when they had first been together. Eden possessed a rich emotional inner world that made her whole and complete. He loved her for it now more than he ever had.
Eden could not sleep. From the heat? The excitement of preparing for the concerts? Or maybe seeing Laurent again and knowing that he still loved her, was still attracted to her in a sensual way. She was certain of that, had seen it in his eyes and in the manner in which he had caressed her on the beach. It was impossible for her to decide which of these queries was disturbing the rest she was so in need of. Sleepless nights were a torment to Eden. She was one of those people thoroughly unnerved by sleep deprivation. There was, too, another question that kept her tossing and turning in bed. It loomed large and kept her on edge. Her sexual attraction to Laurent … She had thought that dead long ago. From the day she ran off with Garfield and all the years after she had never thought of Laurent in these terms. For her he was in the past and that was not a place to dwell in. Now, seeing this ten years older Laurent, had aroused her libido.
Eden knew that he was in the next room, that he would be receptive if she went to him. But she wasn’t sure that she wanted to. Such a bold move was not her style. She actually could not imagine how she would handle the situation if she were the one to initiate a sexual move towards him so she tried blocking any thought of sex with Laurent out of her mind and finally fell asleep.
It was a light and disturbed sleep and she came out of it when she heard the door of her room open and saw Laurent move towards her by the moonlight falling across the floor. She sat up against the pillows and drew aside the white mosquito netting draped tent-like from the ceiling over the bed.
‘I promised myself at dinner that I would not do this, I would make you crawl to me for sex if you wanted me. And look, here I am,’ he told her in a voice brimming with emotion.
‘Now look at me,’ said Eden as she stood up on the bed and removed her nightgown then got down on her hands and knees and crawled to the edge. She untied the sash around his white silk robe. He opened it and dropped it to the floor then climbed on to the bed as Eden made room for him by crawling backwards.
That was all they had to say to each other. From the moment the mosquito netting was released and fell into place they were cocooned in a chrysalis of sexual ecstasy.
Tonight’s sex with Laurent was like nothing she had ever had with him before. He devoured her with kisses deep into her mouth then over every inch of her flesh while he used his hands to excite her, his erect and formidable penis skimming over her body, teasing between the outer lips of her cunt. He toyed with her by slowly, ever so slowly, easing into her then withdrawing, each time a little bit further until she begged him to complete the entry, she so yearned to be filled by his hard and pulsating member.
Laurent was more excited by her than ever he’d expected to be. She kept coming in rapid orgasms, one after the other, where she could hardly catch her breath. When he finally gave in and thrust deep and hard into her she called out so loudly that he had to place a hand over her mouth. He felt her grab him tight with her cunt on his penis and the pleasure was so immense he thought for a moment he would be unable to continue. His natural instinct now that they were in the throes of fucking saved him. Laurent found his rhythm and penetrated and withdrew with a passion for sex he had not had for years. Eden joined him with every thrust so as to make it more exciting for him. They found one different position to fuck by after the other. Eden gave herself up to Laurent, only too delighted to give him every sexual pleasure she could. When he had her on her knees and took her from behind, the penetration was so deep and pleasurable for her that she began to cry. Her tears had nothing to do with his roughness and the moments of heightened sexuality so strong as to be akin to pain his lust was causing her. He had transported her to a sexual
nirvana one would give anything and everything to reach. Pure bliss.
He found a way to enter both her most intimate orifices and her pleasure ran over the edge of lust while Laurent was transported to another world, the world of erotic salvation. He came not once but three times before they were both sated. They lay and caressed each other with the sexual elixir they had between created them. Eden and Laurent never spoke to each other. Neither of them seemed able to verbalise their feelings. Words after such bliss seemed superfluous.
It was dawn when Eden woke. She reached over to touch her lover but he was gone. It suddenly seemed right, very right, that he was not there. Eden sensed that he never would be again and fell asleep, this time into a deep and dreamless state.
Max and Eden were at breakfast when Laurent appeared. He walked straight to Eden, raising first one hand and then the other to kiss them. When they gazed into each other’s eyes there was kindness, love, affection, enough so that yet again no words were needed. They sensed they would never discuss what had passed between them the night before.
Eden, Max and Laurent spent the day together working out the programme for the appearances at Epidaurus. They swam in the sea, dined together, walked the beach. But always the three of them. Until they had gone to bed. This time Eden was awake when Laurent entered the room.
The men were gone when Eden went down to breakfast the next morning. It was no surprise, they had discussed their departure with her the night before. She thought of Laurent. Memories of sex with him could not easily be put aside. It had been thrilling. She felt every inch the loved and adored woman, newly sensual. It was marvellous to be erotically desirable once again and to such a young and handsome man.
After breakfast she practised for several hours. Eden had always been her own most savage critic but knew she was playing incredibly well now. She had no doubt that she would give an extraordinarily vital performance at Epidaurus. It was not
arrogance that made her feel that way so much as an abiding belief that destiny was at work and she had only to play along with what was meant to be.
From the very first time she had made a trip to Egypt with her mother and father the country had always held an exotic and romantic place in her heart. Every few years she would return. She found it a place that touched her deeply, excited her imagination, was remote from the world she lived in. There was a sweetness and vulnerability about the Egyptian people, an innocence, she found appealing and easy to live with while she was admired by the more sophisticated Egyptians among whom she had many friends. Over the years she had given charity concerts at the Opera House and at the foot of the pyramids in Ghiza. The proceeds built an eye clinic in Cairo, funded a program for visiting nurses in Luxor, created an orphanage and a school in Alexandria.
Eden had always insisted that outside Egypt Max was to play down her good works. They were very private, personal to her, something important she did not want to be exploited in any way. Egypt held a special significance for her as a place both of work and play and that was why it was the place she chose to visit after Hydra on the quest to rejuvenate her life.
For several days after Laurent and Max had left she remained in Magdi’s villa practising, walking along the near-deserted beach and re-evaluating all the things that had happened to her in the few weeks since that fateful lunch at Frog’s Hollow. It was all happening so fast that the ten-year hiatus she had subjected herself to made her feel as if she had been drugged in some way and merely sleepwalking through those years.
Eden did not miss sex with Sebastian or Sotiri, but she did miss sex with Laurent. It had been exciting beyond measure because emotions such as love and commitment that she knew Laurent wanted from her were for the time being banished. Overpowering erotic desire was what had gripped them and they had indulged in it. The aura still lingered all around her.
Magdi called her every day from Paris. They had not seen each other in several years but had always kept in communication. Now he was returning to Alexandria and made it clear it was only
to see her. Eden knew that her routine would be shattered and it would be party time, then, including travel to Upper Egypt. She wondered what Magdi would think of her nowadays. They had, before her affair with Garfield, been lovers but in these past ten years he had not shown any interest in her sexually. She felt quite nervous about his return. Would he want her as he once had, as an exciting, sensuous woman? That was after all what she wanted to be, why she was revisiting the places of her past where she had never been invisible to a man.
The villa was suddenly a hive of activity all around her. The master of the house was expected. Her privacy was at an end. But she had accomplished much and was ready for playtime and a few adventures. It was time to visit the school she’d endowed and all the lost and abandoned children she had rescued.
Magdi arrived just as she was about to drive off on an outing. Already seated in the back of the 1934 Daimler that was placed at her disposal with Gamal as chauffeur, she all but jumped from the seat to greet Magdi as he alighted from the vintage Rolls-Royce that had met him at the airport. Eden was incredibly happy to see her old friend. They kissed and with arms around each other’s waist walked up the stairs where all the servants stood waiting to attention. He greeted each and every one of the staff with kind words and a keen interest as to how each of them was and extended his thanks for their taking care of the house and his honoured guest.
Eden watched the expressions of joy on each of the servants’ faces. Magdi had the ability to make everyone feel happy. There was a generosity of spirit in the man that was infectious. At last alone in the drawing room with Eden he told her, ‘You look marvellous, transformed from how you were the last time we met. You must tell me everything.’
She laughed, amused by his request. Of course he would want to know everything. All Alexandrians, men as well as women, adored gossip. It was a pastime they held in high esteem. ‘Yes, but not now. I was on my way into town to visit the children. They’re expecting me and I don’t want to keep them waiting. Come with me?’
Magdi accepted the invitation without hesitation. He too was one of the patrons of the orphanage and delighted at any time to visit the children, most especially with Eden.
On their arrival they were greeted by the headmistress of the school and the director of the orphanage. Eden never quite knew why these visits were always an emotional experience for her. She always supposed because these were the children she’d never had.
These were the privileged few of the lost children of Egypt. There was, of course, a substantial music department for those talented and interested. On this visit Eden was treated to an ‘impromptu’ concert that must have been carefully planned for ages and merely waiting for her to appear before being performed.
The children’s concert of the Wabi Sharif Institute brought tears to Eden’s eyes while Magdi was choked with emotion. Eden had fashioned the music department after Yehudi Menuhin’s school for talented violinists in England. The more intellectual society ladies who lunched in Alexandria had worked miracles to raise money for the Institute. They had really taken over what Eden had started and she was indebted to them for their support. Magdi, of course, was a guiding light to them and without his patronage the initiative would have failed. He had political savvy and knew how to cut a swathe through the miles of red tape necessary to get anything done in Egypt.
The bright sunlight, blue skies, and steamy heat are all conducive to a lazy and fun life in Alexandria. The Yacht Club and the various other clubs that Alexandrians frequented made this the ideal playground for Eden, one like nowhere else in the world. She enjoyed the luxury of playing with life while she was here but it could become boring if she was at it too long. She was, after all, a working woman. Work had been her life. Playtime, whether in Egypt or anywhere else, was only a momentary escape from what was essentially an artist’s life. The only one that made sense for her. She had sacrificed much – marriage, having her own children – for the excitement and adventure her musical talent brought her.
The coffee house of any city or town in Egypt is always the hub of activity, the place people seek out to get away from the sun,
parch their thirst for gossip as well as a cool beverage or delicious sweet. The women were all beautifully turned out in chic Paris couture or New York labels: Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren, Donna Karan. They were coiffed daily and always made up, as chic a group of pampered women as one will find anywhere. They were also uncommonly nice to one another and particularly to visiting strangers, especially one who was a success of any kind in the working world: an archaeologist, doctor, diplomat, or a great name in music or art circles was always a good excuse for an interesting dinner party. It was almost unheard of for any couple or family to dine without guests.
The Egyptian women who had befriended Eden had one object in life: to be as beautiful and interesting to their husbands and lovers as possible, and always in control of their children whom they wanted to receive the education they themselves had missed. Their personal grooming was made easy for them by the many beauticians, hairdressers and masseuses who came to their houses and bathed them in marvellous scented oils, massaged and pedicured them to perfection, all for pennies compared to beauty upkeep anywhere else in the world. These were females from a different era. Most of them could still remember the glamorous times when Farouk was fresh in memory as King, when princes and pashas had still run the country and its social life. They were around when Laurence Durrell wrote the
Alexandrian Quartet
and captured life there so perfectly. A different world existed now but whenever possible they lived in the old one to which they had been born.
These were the wealthy Egyptians, a minority group compared to the poverty-ridden souls who eked out a living: the country peasant who worked the land, the uneducated who for the most part were being dragged into the twenty-first century kicking and screaming, and those who simply preferred the ancient ways of life on the fringes of or in the desert.