The Hilton Taba

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
An excerpt of my book "The death sciences".

Submitted: January 24, 2014

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Submitted: January 24, 2014

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Samir was not hurt by her heated monologue. On the contrary, he was very impressed by her wisdom. He knew quite well, that if there had been a presence of a third party she would not have been as frank and direct as she had to be, at that instant.  No, she would not have exchanged her views with him at all. She belonged apparently to the other side, to the opposition. She must have been no doubt to those who were against the leading group's policy. Among those that opposed the ruling policy of the organization, which advocates violence at its extreme degree. The bitter frustration which had so unexpectedly been intertwined in her heated argument exposed without the slightest doubt her negative approach, to events and operations similar to the one he did experience on that same morning. In the heat of argument so to speak, she revealed to him every weakness she had, though she was not aware to it, or worse, could not help it. The apprehension his presence caused her must have driven her into it.

The fact she joined the operation unwillingly is not a supposition then. I won’t be surprised if the whole affair is causing her humiliation. He went on thinking with much interest. She was not whisked away herself; there was no imminent danger that could risk her. She was simply needed to complete his cover story, as his newly wedded bride. Now then, that matter of her betrothal if it includes any truth in it at all? If it was her wish to join her fiancée, that made her agree to be part of my rescue team… She wouldn't be this bitter, would she? He told himself amused by his own revelations. Her engagement it seems, is quite dubious, or simply her insurance policy! "Ya habibty" (my dear) you're in my hands, for better or worse! He concluded to himself gaily.

‘Didn't you wish to give the swimming pool a try?’ He reminded her.  

‘It depends... she said and hastened to explain. ‘...If our luggage includes bathing suits... Well let’s get in and check it.’ She added smiling assuming all her courage, turning to the bedroom's door. Samir followed her inside without delay.

‘We have to check the suitcase contents anyhow, for we must change for dinner – you in particular.’  She added with emphasize, sending him a sidelong captivating smile. ‘I'll better check the luggage myself.’ She suggested, changing her mind. ‘Wait for me in the living room; it won't take more than a couple of minutes.’

‘I'll stretch my limbs a bit if you don't mind, I'm simply exhausted.’ He muttered while he took off his shoes and sprawled himself lazily backwards, on the broad double bed.

Leila was already rummaging impatiently, through the contents of the open suitcase.  ‘Here it is!’ She declared proudly, pulling out a one-piece feminine bathing suit. She raised it with both her hands before her eyes, pleased with its shape, with its silvery shade, that was crossed diagonally with stripes of black green and red.

‘Don't tell me you haven't packed your own things yourself.’ He remarked casually.

 ‘Well as a matter of fact I haven't. I’ve left in a hurry, I had to, and do I have to tell you why? I'd to keep the watch dogs off my trail.’ She said with much ado.

‘Try it on then, use the bathroom.’ He told her as casually as he could, catching a glimpse of her worried face. ‘By the way, do I have one?’ He wondered aloud in the same casual tone.

‘Yes you have and a very nice one with a matching beach gown.’ She noted smiling.

‘Oh very well,’ he answered with a faint smile, hardly audible. ‘Do me a favor take your time; I'll have a short nap meanwhile if you don't mind I’m terribly tired.’ These few words he added with half closed eyes already.

Taking her bathing suit Leila moved to the bathroom; standing on its threshold she gave him a furtive last look, before entering swiftly and locking its door behind her.

A few seconds hardly passed, and Samir rose and left the double bed with much alertness, reaching for the veranda's door with a quick step. Gaining the veranda won't save her. But to prevent futile skirmishes... He thought quite amused, Anyway, I'd better secure its door, and we can't tolerate shameful scenes, scandals. Having secured it, he went over to the passage, between the suite's two rooms. To his own surprise he moved about very calmly – whatever he thought, considered or decided, was reached in complete tranquility. The reason behind it was perhaps Leila’s plain face. Or was it the fact that to screw her wasn't his utmost goal in life. But to miss such an opportunity, never! Wallahy, there isn't a key to the living room's door... He shut its door without locking it, and rushed back to fetch an armchair, to block any possible approach to it.

He had hardly put down the armchair, when the bathroom's door opened up squeaking noisily and Leila burst out of it, in a storm, charging forward in his direction. Bare foot, but fully dressed still she ran up to him with a heaving bosom, and disheveled hair.

 ‘My heart told me you were going to make a fool of yourself!’ She cried out gasping, raising an accusing forefinger to his face. Don't you dare to touch me, I warn you…!’

‘Ouskut,’ (shut up) He hushed her firmly and resolutely, though without raising his voice.

Her courage with which she faced him, that sort of “you won't dare to...” surprised him at first. Could it be the victim's unconscious yielding act – compelling the aggressor to react harshly... By cutting off all possible ways of retreat, for both sides of the fence?

‘Shut up!!!’ He repeated heatedly. ‘I'm your husband and you shall obey me!

 ‘I’ll jump to my death first, I'll commit suicide!’ She burst out in hysterical fervor.’

‘I might throw you down to your death myself, or strangle you in that bed with my own hands! That's my right as your husband, I can always claim I found out you weren't a virgin! You've no right to refuse me! Take your clothes off I am telling you!’ He hissed cursing her angrily.

‘I'm betrothed to another!’ She screamed desperately, gesticulating wildly, raising her hands before her, to keep him away. ‘They'll run you down like a mad dog... Do you know who my fiancée is? How powerful he is!’

The fear that distorted her plain features, her furtive movements, and her readiness to flee aroused his scorn. Deprived of her high heel shoes she seemed so small and so miserably helpless. Without a second thought he raised his arm and slapped her face; with some restraint at the very last second but hard enough to inflame her cheek.

Incredulously she touched her inflicted cheek, staring at him with bulging out eyes and a mouth thrown wide agape – terror stricken. Her utmost fears seemed to have been realized. Turning her back to him she rushed to the safety of the bathroom. With just two long and swift strides he caught up with her, grasped her hair and pulled her towards the bed. Her hysterical screams and shrieks of pain, distress and sheer horror, only enhanced his resoluteness. Turning her about, he slapped her again on both her cheeks with his open palm and with the back of his same hand; pulling her head at the same time with the hand grasping her hair, off the ground almost – and that did it. She stopped shrieking and flapping her limbs, like a butchered hen.  Catching her by her waist, he threw her with all his might upon the wide bed.

Sprawled upon her back, covering her face with both the palms of her hands – she whimpered helplessly, with every limb in her body shaking. Samir was standing above her watching, uncertain – ready to beat her up again.

‘Undress, He ordered. ‘Take your rags off or I'll tear them off you! He ordered her once more, raising his voice impatiently. Obeying him right away, she sat up shedding tears, and emitting low continuous sobs – which were interrupted only by her irregular breathing; and with a lowered head she started to peel off her garments one by one –tears still streaming down her cheeks, while Samir kept watching her astounded. Neither her fair skin which was paler than her face, nor her firm breasts with her dark purplish nipples excited his lust – but her utter submission to his will did it; the submission of a born slave! She lay on her back again, her right arm covering her face, her black pubic hair protruding, just like a smallish isle amid the curving lines of her limbs. Unable to take his eyes off her naked body, he hurried to get rid of his own cloths, throwing them carelessly, in a heap beside him and rushed to her. Gripping her waist firmly, squeezing hard her soft flesh – he pulled her up to the edge of the bed, raised her knees and with swift and impatient sharp sequence of movements, stepped forward pushing himself between them. With eager spread fingers he grasped her rump and penetrated her lustfully. He was forcing his way in, hard, mercilessly – with swift deep thrusts, while his legs were well set on the floor. What a blazing reception... What a scorching furnace she has! He could not refrain from wondering at the unexpected bliss, grasped that easily – while he was plowing her deeper and deeper; pulling the dagger a bit out and pushing it back to the hilt in its hot wet sheath! Her heart told her...whispered to her... He thought with scorn, remembering the heated dialogue they had – watching her widening nostrils, her parted lips, her throat arteries blown up overflowed with her boiling blood; her firm breasts which he did not touch yet, raising and falling in a swift rhythm. 

Her heart told her... Amused he turned the thought in his mind again. That she'll get it soon...Oh yes, she'll get screwed the tortured martyr! The organization's Jeanne D'Arc... One glimpse on her plain face is enough to extend the intercourse for some additional fifteen or twenty minutes – praised be Allah, she covered that face of hers with her arm!

Right at that moment while still musing ironically, the urge of his lust was sweeping his senses, hastening wildly his waist movements and with a few more frenzied thrusts, he discharged his sperm inside her.Exhaling the air caught in his lungs, he crushed down on her prostrated body, laying his cheek on her firm breasts. Having retrieved his normal breathing again he raised on his elbows over her, rubbing his face against her hardening breasts, covering her dark purplish nipples with kisses. But she started to move under him with annoyance. Against his will he let her be and stood up erect, on the floor, towering above her prostrated body. She moved her limbs uneasily, lowered the arm that shielded her face and crawled with shut eyes to the center of the wide bed;  turning her back on him resting on her side, exposing her beautifully shaped longish rounded buttocks.

Does she really think her trials are over? Does she believe she is done with me? Or is she provoking my lust again, out of unconscious urge? What the hell! I’m going to screw her again, whether she wishes it or not!

Upon the bed he clambered with bended knees and lay besides her, clinging to her soft warm body; embracing her round belly with one hand, and crawling under greedily toward her breasts with the other. Caressing her flesh and squeezing it slightly with his palms. ‘Enough let me be...’ She wept beseechingly, as if she was trying to evoke his pity.  You righteous bitch, you hypocrite! Once more her weakness rekindled his lust! Gripping her thigh with one hand, he raised it in the air and zealously, invaded her body again. She moaned loudly feigning feeble efforts to tear away from him, while he was storming her with exigency, rushing desperately towards an unattainable yet climax. Exhausted once more he at last gave up his futile efforts – but did not withdraw, and kept on clinging to her smooth and warm body, clutching her with his arms.

Leila did not dare to stir or utter a single word, she was breathing hard, and excitedly it seemed – awaiting expectantly to his next assault on her senses.

I’ve tamed her at last... He thought pleased with himself smelling her skin scent, kissing her neck and shoulders tenderly; arousing gradually his passion and once more he was moving back and forth inside her – plowing her laboriously, endeavoring to reach an evasive climax, on and on… Till at last it was attained and was over with.  Satisfied but nearly out of breath he was lying motionless beside her – a bit surprised though how exhausted he was. What’s wrong with me, I hardly screwed her twice – am I that tired?

A few moments passed and Leila's regular breathing and relaxed body caused his drowsiness.  In full daylight that filled their bedroom he was sleeping embracing Leila's body.

© Haim Kadman 1989 – all rights reserved.

 

THE DEATH SCIENCES

SYNOPSIS

During a clandestine meeting in the old city of Jerusalem, not far from the holy shrines to Islam, Christianity and Judaism; Samir Mashrawee is persuaded in a sophisticated brainwash procedure to murder his ex rector in the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, and thus gain the right to become a member in a terror organization.

The story is told through Samir’s viewpoint, a Palestinian youth who lives in Silowan, an Arab village at the outskirts of Jerusalem. After the war of 1967 Silowan was annexed to the state of Israel, its habitants became Israeli citizens. Thus Samir carries a blue identity card and is entitled to work in Israel and study in its academic institutes. He is a tall good-looking youth, and his appearance does not reveal his Arab origin. His social connections during his studies at the Hebrew University were mainly with his compatriots, the few Israeli Arab students and with Ghill, the Israeli student with whom he shares an apartment not far from the university.

Right after slaying his ex rector, he is whisked to the southern resort region of Taba near Eilat, on Egyptian soil; by two organization members, Leila and Taher, an Israeli Arab taxi driver. According to their cover story Leila is his just wed bride, and they are on their way to their honeymoon. He spends about a week with Leila at the luxurious five stars Hilton hotel at Taba.  The fact that their relationship is a cover story, and the fact that Leila in on her way to wed her fiancé, who is a prominent P.L.O leader, does not impede Samir from raping her, on the first opportunity he has, when they are left alone in their luxurious suite. A week later, on reaching Cairo he parts with Leila, who proceeds to her awaiting fiancé in Tunisia.

According to clandestine rules he has to keep away from the P.L.O. offices and await instructions. As the whole operation including his rescue, has been executed not long ago and in haste; his compatriots in Cairo are eager to get rid of him. They fear the Mossad long vindictive arm, and send him on a roundabout course to Amsterdam, to join the local P.L.O group over there. His arrival causes mistrust and alarm among the small group members Thus they decide to send him on to the London group – that group’s lack in manpower is well known. Samir lands in Heathrow Airport to meet Karim, who becomes his operator and trusted comrade. There he hops to pursue his academic studies. But things change in a very drastic manner, when he is suspected of

being an Israeli, a spying mole inside their organization.

 

18 chapters,

120 pages

71.373 words

www.amazon.com/Haim-Kadman/e/B009Z7XL8C


© Copyright 2018 haimkadman. All rights reserved.

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