Polygamy

 

I followed Derek’s instructions and tried not to think of him seducing another raw recruit. He’d be fucking hot young women while she was getting humped by some geriatric camel jockey. Oh well, there had to be some silver lining to all this.

I followed my instructions to a tee while in Syria and now I was in the airport waiting for my flight to Riyadh. The call to prayer sounded. Since I wasn’t a real believer, I didn’t wash - just went straight into the prayer room, knelt then bowed. “Alahu Akhbar. Praise be to Allah, the Lord of the Worlds…” This would be my life until I finished this assignment – being covered except when inside – and praying five times a day.

Soon I boarded the flight to my new home. Middle Eastern airlines were so nice. I took a leisurely shower then waited for my meal to be served. Well-fed, I closed the door to my suite and snoozed till we landed.

 

The airport glistened and fountains made the airport seem like an oasis since as far as the eye could see there was only sand – miles and miles of it - save the occasional palm tree.

After going through customs, and praising the Prophet Mohammed many times, I descended the stairs to see an enormous crowd gathered below. All at once three women under heavy veils waved at me. They waved at me and called my name: “Hannan. Hannan. Welcome.” Their veils covered everything except their sparkling eyes. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, the enveloped me in bear-hugs. Soon, my bags were scooped up by servants and my new sister wives were shooing me to a waiting stretch limo. The inside was antiseptic white with pink mood lighting. The door closed - abayas and headscarves disappeared.

In front of me sat three gorgeous Saudi women. They took turns hugging me and I enjoyed their rich competing perfumes. Their make-up was incredible - swirling eyeliners and expertly-done contouring showed off high cheekbones.

Rawan and Fatima were the sheikh’s older wives. Rawan was close to 60, but you’d never know it. In spite of the make-up and layers of gold necklaces, I felt a warmth in her soft face. Fatima was a little younger and was vivacious with her constantly-moving hands that she accented with mile-long bracelets of alternating copper and gold.

Leen was in her upper twenties and showed a stifled wisdom, something rare in such an attractive woman.

They all wanted to hear about me. I started out with a Syrian proverb: “A narrow place can contain a thousand friends.” They clapped their hands and each of them told me how happy they were to have a new sister wife. I reached in my bag and pulled out the lavender perfumes and soaps. They immediately sniffed the lavender and told me they were glad they had a Syrian in the family.

As we passed through the city, they pointed out the skyscrapers and gave me the name of each. I thought we’d go to the house, but they insisted on going to a mall “to pick me up a few things”.

We all donned our veils and entered the mall. Opulence was definitely the rule here and the mall was no exception. Greenery and fountains met us, making us feel like weren’t in a desert. There was such a long array of stores that it would surely take days to see them all.

They rushed me into the first store and selected dresses, some formal, some casual and held them up to me. The ones they liked, they put them in the to-buy pile, the others they handed back to sales people. “Which size should we get for you?” Fatima asked.

“Oh, a 6 or an 8,” I replied.

“We’ll get a size 6, 8, and a 4, just in case.” The sales girls ran to accommodate the request.

Leen patted my arm. “Don’t worry. What you like we’ll keep and the rest we’ll send back to the store.”

I smiled. This was going to be fun.

We then hit at least five or six more stores and, in each one, I selected several outfits. By the time we’d finished, the servants were so laden down with boxes they could bare see over the stacked boxes.

In unison, they all turned to me as other shoppers hurried past. Fatima stepped forward. “We have taken the pleasure of picking out your wedding dress.”

Rawan rested her palm on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. If you don’t like it, we can have them make whatever you really want.”

Leen grabbed my arm and led me through a small door between two large stores. Soon we were in a different part of the mall. Small stores contained mannequins dressed in designs never seen in the mainstream stores. The fabrics, the styles. “Oooooh,” I gasped.

Leen and Fatima stood on either side of me and pointed at the clothing. “We come here to buy special things.”

Rawan had gone over to talk to one of the women in a booth; then beckoned me to follow. We went through a door to a world of lace, satin, and pearls.

Again, our veils came off and we sat down on ornate settees. We were served Arabic coffee in tiny gold-rimmed cups. We munched on sweet biscuits until a model walked in wearing a white mermaid gown with a firm bodice that held up a bust as large as mine.

They giggled. “We saw your photos.”

Leen pulled out her phone and showed the me the pictures.

Embarrassed, I covered my eyes.

Rawan hurried over. “What is the matter? Did we offend you?”

“Oh. No.” I wiped tears. “It’s just that – you know my mother is very ill – and she took that photo.”

Rawan rushed over and held me in her arms. “It is very difficult to lose a mother.”

Fatima patted my arm. “Don’t worry. When she comes to the wedding we will assure her that you are doing well.”

I shook my head. “No, she is not going to be able to make it.”

Leen squeezed my arm. “No, we can send a plane for her. That’s not a problem.”

“She is doing very badly. She has a cousin in France and they are giving her chemo now, but…”

Rawan hugged me tighter. “Don’t worry. A mother’s greatest desire is to know that her children will be all right.”

Fatima stood up. “We will talk to her and we will assure her that you have been accepted into a loving and accepting family and that you are very happy. She will feel much better.”

Leen knelt down in front of me. “Don’t worry. If she’s in France, I’m sure she’s getting the best treatment possible.”

Fatima and Rawan nodded, “Insha’allah.”

“Insha’allah,” Leen and I repeated.

 

I tried the dress on and the seamstress had done such a fabulous job with my measurements, it only needed a few stitches. And I looked beautiful. The lace was woven into a design that placed paisley designs over the bust and tapered to my tiny waistline. I looked in the mirror and realized that I’d never actually imagined myself being a bride.

Once we had agreed on the alterations, they brought out another dress. It was blue, very short, and low-cut.

Rawan and Fatima looked at each other and nodded.

Leen stood up and came close to me. “This is the dress you’ll wear to meet the sheikh. They took your photo and had them match the fabric to the color of your eyes.”

One of the sales girls brought out a matching pair of what we call in the U.S. ‘fuck me pumps’.

Rawan and Fatima giggled. “He will love that!”

Leen whispered in my ear, “I’ll explain later.”

 

When we arrived at the house, I gasped. Two men pulled back ornate metal gates and bowed as we passed through. The house looked more like a fortress than a house.

Leen explained, “We’ll go in the main entrance now, but normally you can go in the door that leads to your wing.” She smiled. “You’re going to love it. We have an interior designer waiting. Just tell her what you like. Pick out whatever chandeliers you like, colors, type of furniture. It just needs to be very very very Hannan.”

Rawan said, “Veils, ladies.”

The car door opened and I followed them. The foyer reminded me of a ballroom and the décor alternated between splashes of 16th century French and the geometric patterns of Arabia.

Fatima put her arm lovingly around me. “This is the main entrance, but the fun part is our area.”

Leen opened a set of double doors to reveal baby pink tile and crystal chandeliers and a series of etched-glass mirrors. “This is all for us!”

Everyone threw their abayas and veils on an enormous divan and headed toward a lounge with velvety tufted couches.

Rawan gestured widely, “This is home, Hannan.”

Fatima grinned from ear to ear. “We welcome you. You will make such a lovely bride for the sheikh. Anything you need or want. All you have to do is ask.”

Rawan and Fatima beamed at me. It felt like I had two moms.

Leen pulled my arm. “Let me show you.” She opened double doors. “This is Rawan’s suite.” The interior in the Bedouin style with oriental rugs thrown, one on top of the other, above sheer fabrics draped, making it feel like a wonderland.

She closed the door, took a few steps, and opened another door. “And this is Fatima’s quarters.” Fatima’s quarters were modern with lots of clean lines and geometric furniture. Her colors were dark greens and pungent yellows.

“And,” she walked to the other side of the very large room. “This is our side of the woman’s quarters.” She opened another door. “This is your suite.” I walked into a chasm of bare walls and a sole white couch sitting in the center.

A woman in a pair of dark slacks and a flowing white blouse emerged from one of the many doors. She rushed toward me with her hand outstretched. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Rina.” She raised her arms and spun around. “All of this.” She raised her arms and spun around. “We are going to make scream “Hannan.” She bowed her head. “Insha’allah.”

“Insha’allah,” I replied.

“First, tell me which colors you like and I’ll get to working on our first pass at your bedroom.”

“I like blues and corals,” I replied. “Will you do some drawings?”

Rina nodded, “Now, no. Ny tomorrow morning I’ll have your bedroom decorated. Don’t worry. For now stay in the guest suite.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and if you don’t like the way I decorate it, we’ll re-do it as many times as is needed.”

Leen smiled. “Take your time. Rina will design you a new décor every day until you’re satisfied.”

This was going to be great. I thought of one of the Syrian proverbs: “The mouse fell from the ceiling, and the cat cried Allah.”

“It is so nice having someone from your country.” Leen patted my back. “Let me take you to the guest quarters. I’m sure you’ll want to take a nap.”

When I emerged from my nap, Rawan was waiting. “Tomorrow is the day you’ll meet the sheikh.” She smiled demurely. “You will wear the blue dress and shoes.” She nodded. “The alterations have been made and it has arrived.” She pointed to the dress in a clear garment bag.

“That was fast.”

Rawan laughed. “When you marry a sheikh, things move very quickly.” She winked. “The sheikh will be very pleased with you so don’t worry about that. You are a lovely girl.”

Suddenly I lunged at her and gave her a bear hug. I don’t think I’d ever felt so happy.

 

 

In the morning I showered in the guest bathroom that was twice the size of many people’s houses. I tried on my new dress I’d wear for the sheikh.

I heard a knock. “Come in.”

Leen appeared. “I see that dress fits you very well.”

I whirled around, admiring how the dress fit me. “It’s really nice, but it’s much more revealing than I thought anybody would pick out for me.”

Leen fell onto the bed laughing. “That’s because the sheikh wants to see you,” her voice lowered. “A little slutty.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. My mouth dropped open.

Leen rolled over and her face turned devious. “I’ll tell you how it is here.” She propped herself up. “Our sheikh really only loves Fatima and Rawan.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that we’re here to simply be fluff – playthings.”

She rolled over on her stomach and grinned. “The sheikh likes to sleep with Fatima and Rawan in the same bed.”

I had to act shocked, “But the Quran says…”

“We all know what the Quran says, but what the sheikh wants...” She held up her hand. “You know.”

“So what happened to the sheikh’s wife that just left?”

“Oh, she really wanted to have children and the sheikh doesn’t want any more children so it just wasn’t working out.”

“So, she just left?”

“Yeah.” Leen waved her hand. “Believe me, the sheikh gave her plenty of money to get lost.”

“So, she laughed all the way to the bank?” We both laughed.

 

The sheikh was supposed to arrive at 10:00. I was very nervous even though they all assured me the sheikh would be very happy with me.

Fatima and Rawan got the cosmetician to do my make-up so I’d look exotic and mysterious. It was a different look for me, but Fatima and Rawan seemed to have a certain look in mind.

At precisely 10:00, I stood in the main room of the women’s quarters with Rawan and Fatima. A few minutes later there was a rap on the door. Slowly the door opened. Rawan and Fatima disappeared so quickly I didn’t even realize they’d gone.

A man with the typical Saudi attire of a long white robe - a red scarf that covered his head. He walked toward me then stopped. He raised his face and looked at me with partially closed eyes. “So, you are my new bride, Hannan Haddad.”

“Yes,” I nodded obediently.

He clasped his hands behind me and walked in slow circles around me.

“I believe I will be very happy here.” I said.

He chuckled. “Oh, I know we will all make you very happy.”

He sat down on the sofa and crossed his legs. “Can you walk around so I can see you better?”

I raised my eyebrows suggestively and gave him a catwalk in a circle around the coffee table.

“Oh, my dear, you are lovely.” He got up and continued to stare at me. He held his hand out. I took it cautiously. In Saudi Arabia it was verboten to touch a man other than a relative or your husband.

He bent over and kissed my fingers. “Enchante.” He grinned. “My love, I will see you after the wedding.”

 

 

Leen, Rawan, and Fatima hurried out of their rooms. Leen held my arms. “How did it go?”

Rawan and Fatima stared at their phones. Both squealed at once. “It’s a go. He loved her!!!!”

“Praise Allah,” I replied.

Leen clapped her hands together. “Yes, praise Allah, and praise the sheikh.”

The three of them ran off. “We’ll be right back.”

Soon they were coming toward me with boxes.

“What’s this?” I asked.

Rawan started, “these are our gifts to you.”

I opened Rawan’s gift first. I almost fell over. It was a diamond necklace with an emerald the size of a quarter. “It’s, it’s, so.” I couldn’t find the words.

“Don’t say more, just put it on.” Leen jumped up and clasped it for me.

I ran to a mirror. “Oh. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had.”

Fatima patted my arm. “Open mine.” She handed me a tiny box. Inside was a ring with a large canary diamond. I slipped it on - it fit perfectly. I looked at her. Giggling, “we know all your sizes.” She winked.

Leen walked toward me and she handed me a box. Inside was a diamond and ruby tiara.

Fatima and Rawan shouted, “Put it on, put it on.”

I set it on my head then ran to the mirror.

“Wonderful! Tomorrow you will be our queen.” They all laughed.

I barely slept that night. Life in Saudi Arabia was certainly exciting.

In the morning we ate a traditional Saudi breakfast that consisted of vegetable concoctions to be scooped up with bread. There were also cheeses and various types of olives. It was so delicious I devoured everything in my path.

Soon a crew of seamstresses arrived and we had another fitting for the dress. It was so tight and let my breasts overflow, I felt like a caricature of Marilyn Monroe.

Then they brought out a white abaya with a sequined veil from head to toe. I reminded myself that for the wedding, I had to be covered as long as men were in the room. Only after they left, could I show off my gown.

My suite now reflected my taste. I was beginning to feel at home, but I was nervous. I paced the floor. When I was with the sheikh, on my wedding night, I had to make sure I didn’t reveal I wasn’t a virgin. I’d have to simply lay there and act like I’d never experienced anything like this before.

I heard a rap on the door. Leen poked her head in. “I know you’re nervous.” She crossed the room. “Sit down.” She took my hand in hers. “The wedding will be nothing but fun and your ‘wedding night’”, she emphasized in air quotes. “Will not be bad at all.” She snickered.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it and I’ll explain it to you tomorrow when you come back. I promise.”

That evening at least 200 women gathered in a large room with endless buffet tables. At the far end of the enormous room sat an elevated area with a double throne covered in rose petals. Fatima gestured for me to sit. She and Leen helped me get my white abaya draping in all the right places.

The double doors opened wide, women parted. Loud and shrill, they ululated filling the room with festivity.

In walked my new husband with a self-satisfied gloat. He walked toward me, followed by a large entourage of men. With difficulty, my new husband feebly climbed the few stairs to our thrones. He sat beside me while everyone cheered.

The sheikh’s friends ogled me and whispered to each other. It looked like I was a hit.

Without warning, the sheikh (my new husband) rose, descended the stairs, and headed for the door with the men following. Once the doors were closed, loud rhythmic Arabic music filled the room, women discarded abayas and began to shimmy and twist their hips. Never had I seen so much gold and diamonds.

Leen came to me and removed my abaya and headscarf. She placed the tiara on my head and the women cheered and ululated.

Fatima and Rawan ascended the steps and hugged me, both saying: “You are one of us now.”

I stepped down and walked through the crowd. The women wore the latest styles and many wore plunging necklines and micro minis. And of course, their makeup highlighted their Semitic beauty. In the U.S. I was considered very attractive, but in Saudi Arabia my looks paled in comparison to these elegant ladies.

After much eating, dancing, and meeting tons of new friends, my new sister walked me to a waiting white limousine. I expected to ride with the sheikh, but I was alone as it passed new, shiny architecture that made up Riyadh. Finally, we pulled up to a large house of old-fashioned Arab architecture with gothic arches, exotic tiles, and covered wooden balconies.

I was instructed to walk toward the door. As I approached, the doors parted and the sheikh stood before me. He held his hand out and I walked with him through a room full of multi-colored carpets with pillows strewn around.

We came to a room with a lone bed, covered with rich tapestries. Fully clothed, he sat on the bed then laid on his side and leered at me. He said softly, “take your clothes off.”

I removed the headscarf then unbuttoned the abaya. I was about to remove the dress, but he held up his hand. “Let me look at you, in this beautiful wedding dress.” After a few minutes he instructed me to take off the gown. He got up and walked around to my backside and unzipped me. The gown slid to the floor.

The sheikh returned to his position on the bed, just watching me. “Take off the rest.”

I undid my garter and slipped my stockings down. Then I unfastened the bra. I stood naked before him.

He gazed at me and gestured for me to turn around. “Now come and lay here on the bed.”

He moved his girth to the side and pointed to the other side. I turned on my side to face him. He admired my body and finally reached over to tweak one of my nipples. A few minutes later he stuck one finger in my mound and let it slide across my clit. He continued to ogle me, then rose and walked to the door. “Get dressed. The chauffer will take you home.” He disappeared.

When I got back to my new home, Leen greeted me. She hugged me and pulled me to sit down beside her. “You see, it wasn’t so bad.”

I giggled. “What was that?”

She laughed quietly since Fatima and Rawan were sleeping. “That’s all he ever does.”

“So, he doesn’t have sex?”

“Every now and then he calls me in to his bedroom and has me get naked and he stares at me.”

It’s good we don’t have to have sex with that fat old man.”

“He only has sex with Rawan and Fatima.” She glanced at their doors. “They’re with him right now. I think he gets excited with us, but only before he does it with them.” My mouth dropped open and we had a good laugh. Finally she patted me on the back and said, “Let’s get to sleep. It’s been a long day.”

The next morning Fatima and Rawan had big smiles on their faces and snickered when I joined them at the table.

Leen kept her head down. A few seconds later, I realized she was trying to stifle a laugh.

Fatima laid her hand on mine. “Quite a wedding, huh?”

I nodded. “Yes, it was so beautiful.”

Rawan stopped eating. “Tomorrow we’ll call your mother. We can Skype so she can see all of us.”

I made myself cry. “Oh, thank you so much for thinking of her.”

“Even though she is sick, your mother will be comforted to know you are happily married and you are being well taken care of.”

 

I prayed my team had anticipated this phone call. I sure hadn’t.

The next day we gathered around the television screen and Leen dialed a number. Soon we saw the face of a very sick Syrian woman.

“Mama,” I squeaked.

“My daughter.” Her skin was sallow and her eyes sunken.

“Mama, I’m fine. These are my sister wives and they have welcomed me into their home.”

“Praise Allah.” Her voice cracked.

Rawan leaned forward, “We have welcomed your daughter into our home and she will be safe and sound in our family. We are very happy to have her.”

My supposed mother began to cough and the picture disappeared. I leaned over sobbing. The tears were real. Why couldn’t my mother have been like the one I’d just seen.
 

A few days later Leen asked me if I liked to ride horses.

“Yes,” I said. “I learned from a cousin and it was so much fun.”

“Great. I’d like you to come out to the farm with me.”

Fatima and Rawan nodded their heads vigorously.

“Wonderful.” Leen disappeared and returned with boxes. “I already bought you some riding breeches, a helmet, and a crop. You’re going to love the farm.”

 

As we rode in the limousine, Leen talked to me about Rawan and Fatima. “Most husbands prefer their younger wives to their older wives, but the sheikh always wants to be around Rawan and Fatima. Rawan was the first and she welcomed Fatima better than most first wives do.”

I helped myself to the dates on the table between us.

“The sheikh likes being with women he’s experienced things with. You know, they talk about the children and the people they knew when they first got married.”

“So, what do we do?”

“Hannan, we do whatever we want.”

“You mean we don’t need to be available for him?”

“Every once in a while, he gets us to lie naked on the bed while he admires our taut flesh and perky boobs.” She giggled. “I think he uses us to whet his appetite for Rawan and Fatima.”

“So glad.” I said. “I didn’t want to be with that geriatric thing. He can watch me naked all he wants.”

We both laughed till we were in tears.

This assignment was going very well and I would be able to develop a deep friendship with Leen, something I’d never actually done before.

 

The farm sat at the foothills of steep mountains covered with pines. As far as the eye could see sprawled a sheet of sand with irrigated circular fields. Surprisingly, the water made the crops a deep loamy green that contrasted with the taupe desert. Past the fields sat a modern pristine stable filled with white arabian horses. We had the hands saddle up two beautiful mares and soon we were climbing the craggy trails upward. The further we traversed up the hill, the cooler it got - very different than sandy, stifling Riyadh. As soon as we were out of sight of the stables, we took off our hijabs and spurred the horses upward. We stopped at an overlook where we could see the valleys below us.

“This is great.” I marveled at the rocky terrain.

“My favorite place to be.” She turned her horse. “Let’s go a little further, then we can have a picnic.”

I followed her till we came to a patch of cool grass surrounded by a few trees. I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven.

Leen slid down and grabbed a blanket from a pouch in her saddle. I unfurled it over the grass. Leen brought chunks of white cheese. “I’ve got a canteen in my saddle. Let me go get it.”

I laid down and looked up at the cedars. The sky was a brilliant blue and the sun that usually tortured me, felt good in the cool breeze.

Leen rested her head on my stomach. “Can you imagine any place better than this?”

I inhaled the scene of pines.

“I go to visit my father every so often and I’d love for you to come with me, but I have to tell you something.” She propped herself up on one arm.

“Tell me. There should be no secrets between sister wives.”

“Okay, but this might shock you.”

“Go ahead and shock me.”

“So, it’s about my father.” Her eyes blinked. “Well, my father prefers to be with men.”

How should I react? Should I be shocked since homosexuality was a sin in Islam. I breathed deeply. “I know some people are shocked, but I think it’s natural for some people.”

“You do?” Leen let out a sigh of relief.

“The prophet may have been wrong about a few things.” I waited for her reaction. The worst possible scenario would be that she was setting me up. I could be whipped for making such a statement.

Leen jumped to a sitting position. “Hannan, you’re in Saudi Arabia now. Not Syria. You can get into serious trouble saying something like that.”

“Don’t worry. I know better.”

Leen laid her head back down on my belly.

“What about Rawan and Fatima?”

“I’m not sure, but you never know so I just avoid such topics.”

“Best to be careful,” I agreed. A soft wind blew by making me recall the pines of the Blue Ridge mountains. “It’s so nice up here.” I looked at the rocky horizon across the ravine. Movement. I gasped. “Somebody’s over there.”

“Of course. Our sheikh, our beloved husband, has all this land guarded for us. We don’t have to worry about anything while we’re here.” She laughed. “We can even run around naked.”

I laughed out loud.

“I guess you can see. I am more liberal than most people here. T