A young florist’s carefree life—including sexy beach play with a cool surfer dude and backseat bingo with a leather jacket-wearing hotrodder—is about to end when she gets an eviction notice. An enamored town clerk’s help can only go so far before losing his job. Her friends are all tricked by the property developer and his shady lawyer. She falls for the wiles of the property owner. Will she be able to save her flower shop? And who will she end up with?
These are the adventures of Merchant Arash Zayed. This episode consists of ten threads of ten tweets, published from March 2023 to August 2023. This story is set in the Persian world of the 1001 nights. Merchant Arash Zayed is in love with Rohzin who happens to be a zambānūg—a woman built from magic by Seeress Ruksana and his mother Cyrene.
Arash kisses Rohzin’s lips. She’s in his bed, under a cotton sheet draped over her. He can see it dip between her legs and prick up around her breasts. He only knows her a few weeks, but he is certain this was the one. After his audience with the emir, he will marry her.
Cyrene hurries down when Merchant Zayed returns. He’s screaming and cursing, and calling for her. She has dreaded this moment ever since Ruksana and she cooked up their plan to have him find Gaokerena, the live-giving plant. They told him it was a request from their ruler.
Although she has been rehearsing this part the last couple of days, it still pains her how she tricked her son. It was for his own good, of course—but still. Before she can start, Rohzin enters their home and hugs Arash. Cyrene is still impressed with how perfect she is. She claps her hands and orders a jug of Sekanjabin Syrup.
“Mother! Who told you the emir was looking for that plant? You said his servants came to pick it up when I returned from the Vourukash Sea!” He suppresses a quick blush remembering frolicking with Magali, the mermaid.
“I heard about that.” Rozhin pours him a glass. “My brother wanted to go look for the plant as well. He told me the court wizard used the emir’s name to have someone bring him some rare plant.”
“Seeress Ruskana said the same thing.” Cyrene took a quick sip. “The wizard is dead.”
Rohzin looks pained and Arash is concerned for her.
“Are you alright, my dear?”
Rohzin suggests it’s best to keep away from the emir’s affairs if this is what life at court is like.
“The seeress told me the emir would bring me wealth…”
“Your heart,” Cyrene corrects him.
Arash frowns. Was that what the seeress said? Yes.
Decided, he turns to the beautiful merchant who brought him light and lust. And now love.
“Will you be my wife, Rohzin?”
Tears trickle down her cheeks, and her smile lifts his spirit.
Cyrene has both, and rosy cheeks.
Her breasts are round and firm. His hands knead them like fresh apricots. Her nipples pip out like pink raisins. His tongue rolls its way around them.
Rohzin kisses the top of his head. Her eyes are half-closed with passion. Her ladyhood tingles with warm, syrupy wetness.
His fingers tussle through her bush. He plays around her slit. Rozhin’s flower is growing full of bloom as he does. In her mind’s eye she takes in a field of spring flowers that has not been there a few days before. His dexterity makes her feel as if one by one they open in her.
The next day, Cyrene and Rozhin starts preparing the wedding. Arash already dreams of how her dress would be sculpted on her, how their guests would be brightened by her radiance—just like he has. She is already his wife. The ceremony will be a retelling of his heart’s wish.
Seeing Parviz fills Arash’s heart with joy. Even though they are very different, they’re family. The merchant kisses his brother’s cheeks and welcomes him to his home. They have a friendly rivalry about who can accumulate the most wealth. For now, Parviz is in the lead.
Parviz hasn’t seen his brother or his mother for years. His household and business in Isfahan claims all of his time—along with some extra activities with the wife and daughter of a wealthy salmon farmer. Of course, not at the same time. He keeps it secret from everyone else.
Cyrene is happy to see her eldest son. He has already gifted her with daughters and grandchildren. But they live faraway. The last time she undertook the long trek to the famous city was many years ago. She was sorry to hear that Parviz came without wives and children.
“Well, little brother. Show me this wondrous woman who has finally managed to capture your heart.” Parviz winks at his mother.
He followes Arash’s hand pointing to the top of the stairs. Rohzin, all smiles, glides down. Parviz catches his breath. ‘What would she look like naked? What would she look like underneath him in his bed?’
He rushes towards her and holds her in his embrace. He kisses her cheek, dangerously close to her lips. His eyes—full of promise—look into hers. After a moment, he turns to his brother and shakes his hand, forcing a smile.
Parviz is impressed by the lavish dinner Arash prepared for him. He is obviously doing well. Although, not as well as he does, otherwise his little brother wouldn’t stop boasting. Seeing, Arash and the delicious Rohzin together, his smile looks like it hides a toothache.
Early the next morning, Parviz corners Rohzin in the garden.
“I must congratulate my brother with finding such a beautiful woman. The description in his letters does not do you credit. Of course, Arash was always serious. Doesn’t a tulip like you deserve a more playful husband?”
Rohzin can’t find an easy way to move away from him. His grin tells her he is very well aware of this.
“Arash is a good man, of course. You are happy to find him. But I can’t help think that a marvellous and luscious woman like you could do much better. Don’t you agree, dear?”
Agreeing or not agreeing will only play into his hands, Rohzin estimated. She chooses: “Really?”
He obviously enjoys the sound of his own voice. “My ‘little’ brother,” he lifts his eyebrows, “and I compete on who has the most riches. He’s losing. Has been for many years now.”
Rohzin is aware that, in a blink, Parviz can turn the situation into one where it would appear she’s seducing him. Again, she chooses her words carefully.
“The emir will only grant Arash an audience if he’s married. Someone with two wives has a much better chance.”
Merchant Zayed locked himself up in his quarters all day. After his brother told him he was visiting the emir, Arash stormed off. Nothing his fiancée, Rohzin, or his mother Cyrene said could lure him out.
Parviz announced that the emir had a “very special trade mission” for him. It was so important that he wouldn’t be able to attend the wedding.
Rohzin had a knot in her stomach. She had given Parviz the tip about the mission. She was sure Arash would hate her. The maybe-bride-to-be decided to consult Seeress Ruksana. After all, she was her creation.
The air was thick with incense. Ruksana isn’t moving. Her head is tilted down over her table. Her hands are decorated with henna: an eye on the backs, vines on her fingers. Fāl-nāma cards are laid out before her. Rohzin recognizes the WakWak tree, because she likes its name.
The seeress looks up. Rohzin is intrigued by the henna patterns around her eyes. She can almost see the butterflies dart about.
“Soul and beauty of many women, breath of life. Sit down, my child.”
“I come to seek your wisdom, O Seeress.” Rozhin takes a deep heavy breath. “In order to save my chastity, I helped Arash’s brother Parviz. If he gains wealth on this mission, my husband will hate me. If some accident befalls him, my husband will hate me. If I tell him about his brother’s advances, they will hate each other.” Rozhin’s voice is cracked.
“Tell me about this mission.”
“Parviz is to establish a trade route with the Xšāça.”
The Seeress squints. “Is that so? Tell me more about Parviz, his heart, his soul?”
Rohzin tells Ruksana everything.
“So, greedy and lustful, like many men.” The Seeress’s purple eyes look up.
Rohzin’s heart is still thumping when she returns. The servants inform her that Arash is still in his quarters. He has been calling for wine since yesterday afternoon.
She finds Cyrene in tears, black streaks running down her cheeks. Would her sons ever get over their feud?
Cyrene can’t breathe. She is losing her sons and now she will lose Rohzin as well. Arash will cast out everything that could bring him joy, starting with the wedding. She only wanted to give him love, and all he found was hate. Darkest of clouds gather over her family.
‘Trust comes in little steps, and leaves at a horse’s gallop’, the Seeress said.
“We need to get Arash out of his room first, Cyrene,” Rohzin tells his mother. “For that, he must see an opportunity. It will help him push his anger way for the moment. Only then can he move on.”
Rohzin knock on his door: a self-assured knock. “My love?”
A muffled ‘go away!’ answers.
“What does Parviz know about the Xšāça that you don’t?”
Silence, followed by a less drunk sounding ‘nothing!’.
“So, your brother may not succeed where you could?”
The door opens.
Still bleary-eyed from his three-day drunken and self-pitying blur, Merchant Zayed now feels energized again. And he owes it all to the wonderful woman who came into his life. He will reward her later. But now, he needs to make preparations for a trip to the secretive Xšāça.
Her pomegranate scent, mixed with roses and the wholesome earthiness of her pussy enthuse Arash. Not only does he dart the tip of his tongue on her clit, he envelops it with his lips as well. He looks up and takes in the two wobbling mounds rising with her passionate breaths.
He sinks his erect manhood into her folds. Seeing Rohzin’s stiff nipples envigors him. He stops counting how many times he brings his bride-to-be over the edge of lust. And she enjoys every splash of his essence on her breasts, her face and in her wet womanhood.
Rohzin is sore, but satisfied with sex. Loving little ants tingle in her pussy, her nipples, her breasts for the better part of the night. Straddling his lovely cock, she sees the sun rise outside. Wriggling in circles, squeezing him with her pussy, she orgasms again.
Arash hadn’t known real love and passion before Rohzin. She belly-dances on his manhood. A thousand hands and tongues in and on his legs, stomach, chest, nipples and balls mean only one thing. His jizz geysers out, filling the woman of his heart, and thanking her for her love.
After sharing a bath in his rooms, they lazy the rest of the day away. Rohzin asks Arash about the Xšāça and why they are so secretive. Zayed tells her that they are remnants of an ancient empire that came before theirs. Many merchants have tried to reach them without success.
“How did Parviz and you become familiar with them?” Rohzin asks.
Arash grimaces at his brother’s name. With a wry smile, he tells her about his father’s stories. The Xšāça held onto their imperial wealth. They didn’t need trade because they had fertile lands and good cattle.
“Parviz stopped caring about them when he left home and started his own trade. I kept looking for anything I could find out about them. There are some eyewitness accounts, but most of these are old—more than a hundred years. And there are reports about caravans disappearing.”
“Yes, around the plains of Marvdasht: ancient Persepolis. The emir and others sent patrols and troops. Adventurers and merchants attempted to find the Xšāça. No one ever returned. Just stories, my dear. There hasn’t been an expedition for some decades.”
“Are you worried about him?”
“I want to believe he deserves what happens, but I can’t. He’s my brother.”
Rohzin frowns. Arash kisses her on the lips. “Don’t worry, my love. I will be back for our wedding.”
That night, Rohzin prays for his safe return… and that of his brother.
The trek to plains of Marvdasht to find the evasive Xšāça will take several weeks. Merchant Zayed misses Rohzin already. He thanks whatever forces were involved in bringing her into his life. He hates himself for postponing the wedding in order to find his cheating elder brother.
Parviz had always been sneaky and ruthless in business. So, it really shouldn’t have surprised Arash that his brother took the emir’s mission for himself. Of course, Arash wants to save him, although not deep and dark inside. He pushes the feeling away in reverence to his mother.
His nights are cold. How quickly did he get used to Rohzin’s warmth against him. Arash feels sunshine from within, remembering his last night with his beautiful bride-to-be. He has to relieve two erections before finding slumber in her arms of his dreams. He awakens to her smile. Her rounded hips, her green yes, her luscious lips. How could that wonderful woman have captured him so? How does she manage to live in every breath, in every sigh, in every heartbeat? The Fates had truly been kind to him. From the first moment he saw Rohzin, he felt certain.
He smiles as the mere hint of her stirs his loins. Twice last night was obviously not enough. His lips on her neck, his hand on her breast, his eyes on hers, Arash inhales her pomegranate scent. Lying on his side, he catches his breath imagining her hand teasing his hard manhood.
After the third day, Arash decides to write letters to Rohzin. Every morning he takes time to tell her about his love for her. He uses his blanket and charcoal. It’s crude, but it fills his heart with joy to do it, even if he won’t be able to decipher it anymore when he returns. It will be proof of his devotion. If he doesn’t manage to finish his mission, Rohzin will be comforted by the knowledge that his dying thoughts, all his thoughts, were of her. They will have no life together, but everyone will recognize that this was his furiously devoted wish. His mother will be satisfied that he had found the soul mate she had wished for him. His eyes sting. His mother never gave up hope for him. She will know her prayers for him were answered. That is the only thing he can give her now. He hopes Cyrene asks Rozhin to live with her.
Arash is close now. His horse’s nervousness means something is near—or someone. Whatever happens now will happen.
That night he remembers how, with flushed cheeks, he asked Rohzin to please him with her feet, her painted toenails, her oily caresses, her eyes under her lashes.
Arash bought an old map of Persepolis. Outside the city walls is an oasis. His horse finds it before he does. The water is sweet. It refreshes his soul. Rozhin guided him here. He won’t disappoint her.
When he sits up from drinking, two strong pairs of hands push him back down.
Someone pulls the hood from Zayed’s head. It’s still dark. Worse it smells dank and dirty. He blinks to help his eyes adjust to the poor light. He looks back. A burly man with a big sword has the hood. Next to the guard there’s someone who isn’t accustomed to come down here. The hand-kerchief over his nose, gives it away.
“You are here in search of the Xšāça, yes?”
The man speaks something that resembles Persian. Some kind of dialect, Zayed hasn’t heard before.
“Yes, my lord. But also my brother. Another man who came here recently. Have you seen him?”
“Your brother? Are you on a family quest to find him?”
“Yes, I am. Have you seen him?”
“We are aware of this man. He is not… proper.”
“Not what? I don’t understand. May I see him, please, my lord?”
“Are you truly both of the same family? You have the same father and mother?”
“Yes, we do. Is he alright? Has something happened to him?”
“You are different men. I must consult.”
The man with the handkerchief is about to leave.
“Please, my lord, do you know where my brother is? Is he safe?”
“He is in that corner there. Safer now that you have arrived.”
Arash turns as the two men leave the cell, locking the door. His brother’s hands are chained to a big ring above his head. His face is bloodied and his upper body shows bad bruising. His hair and his beard are disheveled.
“Parviz! What happened to you?”
Arash looks for water.
The stale water in a dirty bucket won’t do. Arash is glad that the wounds on Parviz’s face aren’t deep cuts.
“Brother! What did they do to you?”
Parviz’s mouth is dry. He can barely speak. “Arash, leave! Leave quickly!”
Zayed sees fear in his brother’s eyes. What happened here?
“Help! Help! Can someone bring me water, please?”
It takes some more calls for the guard with the big sword to return.
“Can I have some water for my brother? Please?”
The wait for the guard is long. When he returns, the man with the handkerchief accompanies him.
“You need water?”
“Yes, my lord, to clean my brother’s wounds.”
“Do you have trade?”
“Trade? Sure, I was carrying gifts for your leader. You can have them.”
“They have already been confiscated. They are good gifts. Do you have other trade?”
“Can I do work for you? Please, let me have some water.”
“Will you trade your meal?”
“Yes, my lord. Please, let me help my brother.”
He nods. “This is acceptable.”
“Oh, and could I have my blanket as well, please?”
“Is this important to you?” He is surprised.
“It has letters to my bride.”
“You have a wife?”
“When I return, I hope to.”
After Arash washes him, Parviz falls asleep. He looks better now.
The next morning the man with the handkerchief returns.
“Your brother failed his test. Will you take this test for him?”
“Can I leave with my brother if I pass the test?”
“Yes. But be aware the test is not easy.”
Merchant Zayed hates leaving his brother behind. The guard’s grasp hurts his arm. The man with the handkerchief shows the way towards an enormous brass door. It screeches open. Arash can also hear gears rattle inside. The guard hands him a torch and pushes him into the cavern.
For some reason, Arash waits until the door bangs shut. He walks on. In his head, he recites the letter he wrote to Rohzin last night.
“My star. You brighten my soul. You guide my path to a better self. Your light in the night gives me hope. It gives me courage to move forward.”
Fireworks erupt in a chamber to his left. He heads there. In the clearing of the lush forest, two naked women bathe in the stream. Their laughter sounds like glasses clinking. They bloom like youth on the cusp of womanhood; perky breasts exposed, their bush fake-modestly hidden. His cock awakens, pointing the way. His married friends often told him about the delight of making love to two women at the same time. To be embraced by boobs. Two tongues licking your balls and shaft. The taste of two pussies. Four soft hands caressing their way along your body.
One helps him out of his clothes. The other kisses his chest. In the water, they wash his ass and his cock. Arash closes his eyes. He tilts his head upwards in delight. He gulps and opens his eyes again. A soft light peers from outside in. It looks like a faint star. Rohzin!
Having managed to pry himself loose from the clingy girls, Arash hurries forwards. He ignores the two next chambers. From one he heard music and singing. From the other, sounds of passion hook into his lust. Almost sleepwalking towards them, the image of his bride releases him.
He follows the path to a lake. On a stone in the water, Magali delights at seeing him. The mermaid pops into the water and climbs out onto the shore. Arash is filled with joy to see her. Their embrace leads to a passionate kiss. He revels in the feeling of her mouth on his cock. Arash aches at how much he missed her. The mermaid saved his life from a treacherous sea captain. She needed his seed then too. So, he will gladly give it to her now. He loves how her green eyes sparkle. Green? Those are Rohzin’s eyes! He pulls out with a ‘plop’ and runs away.
Retching against a tree helps him regain his senses. What kind of sorcery is this? He locks his mind on the most beautiful recollection of Rohzin’s face.
“My star… You give me courage to move forward…”
What looks like a last cavern, Arash sees a golden woman on a throne. He steels himself clenching his jaw. Nothing will lead him astray now. Arash is ready to bark her away, but remembers this is a test.
“My dear lady, please. I wish to return to my bride. I no longer seek trade with the Xšāça. I want to go home.
“You will do both, Arash Zayed.”
His brother Parviz is looking better, washed and trimmed. It’s obvious he still feels his ordeal as they walk into a great hall. Merchant Zayed still smells the scent of his bath. The Xšāça dressed him in clothes fit for a prince. The beautiful woman’s last words still resonate.
Now, Arash finds her sitting in the throne. Her clothes seem almost transparent. It is hard to look away from her curves. So, Zayed fixes on her amber eyes. They are intelligent and look back. An amused sparkle dances within, like the flame of a candle flickering in the wind.
The courtier the merchant met in the dungeon prepares the introduction.
“May I present Her Illuminescence Princess Atossa, Daughter to the Throne of the Achaemenid, soul bearer of the Basij Oasis, Keeper of the sacred orbs of Din, and betrothed to Arash Zayed.”
He nudges Parviz. A guard helps him down.
Arash peeks up at the throne. A dainty eyebrow rises.
“Illuminescence, may I present Arash Zayed of Qazwin, emissary of Emir Khalaf ibn Ahmad, and husband-to-be to the Imperial Princess.”
“Arise, my groom. Your brother is free to leave.”
Arash seizes the moment, while his brother leaves with subdued groans.
“Illuminescence,” he is happy it came out right, “I’m captivated to be in your presence, and honoured by the invitation into your family. But I am also confused. I believe I mentioned my bride who awaits me.”
“Not many resist the temptations in the Cavern of Desire. Your devotion to your beloved saved you. I did not think myself jealous until I heard the poem you recited for her. Your words reached my heart as well and pierced it at the same time, because they were meant for another.”
Before Arash can answer, the courtier politely continues.
“Merchant Zayed, the Empire grants you the right of trade. Your route will always be safe. This privilege has been bestowed upon you alone. As long as the caravans carry the seal of House Zayed, they will be welcome here. Your goods are being returned to you and packed upon your mount. However! You brother Parviz will not set foot in realm ever again. This is not a decree, but a request. We expect him to abide to it.”
“Of course, I will see to it. But please accept the gifts I brought with me.”
“My betrothed, there will be time to get more acquainted. Your custom allows you many wives. I will be glad to join a man such as you, who knows how to woo the heart of women. I look forward to meeting Rohzin soon.”
“Then please come to our wedding, Princess.”
Atossa smiles. “I must pray first. I promise to contain my newfound sense of possession. Only then, will our union be a happy one. Return with the wind. We both have a wondrous future ahead of us. Accept the wedding gifts I will send along with you to your home. A home I soon hope to share.”
“This cloth is of excellent quality, Merchant Zayed,” Emir Khalaf ibn Ahmad said to Arash, motioning him to arise from his kneeling position. “In their letter, the Xšāça commend your sense of fair trade, your honesty and your virtue. It also mentions the other Merchant Zayed.”
In the corner of his eye, Arash sees that Parviz is still kneeling and has buried his head as deep as he can.
“What to do with you?” The emir taps his lip with his finger. The ruler looks even more imposing.
Before he can speak, Arash is silenced by the emir holding up his hand.
“You have done enough to save your brother. I will fine him an additional ten percent of his taxes. It would be cruel of me to sentence him to death after you saved his life. Neither do I wish to distress your bride days before her wedding, not after it was postponed already. No, we celebrate! By establishing the Xšāça trade route, not only have you accomplished what no one before you could and you have honored your family. I applaud your dedication. You and your wife are welcome in my court,” the emir smiles.
“Thank you, My Emir.” Arash bows deeply.
Rozhin’s embrace is even more loving than Arash remembers, her kiss sweeter. Parviz is already recounting the visit to the emir with more color, more detail and more imagination. Then he tells them about the hardship of his imprisonment and how he waited for death. Cyrene cries.
Arash made Parviz swear he would not speak of the betrothal to Princess Atossa. He wanted to tell Rohzin himself. He gulped. He could feel his bride’s sexiness as she approached the bed. Facing down Nisbad was nothing compared to his current duty.
“My love, I must tell you something.”
Rohzin is silent and listens to Arash’s story. Her face brightens at the news. After all, she is a zambānūg born from Cyrene’s concern for her son’s solitude. The princess will bring happiness, prosperity and standing to his house. Rohzin looks forward to meeting her kin-wife.
Rohzin’s slides over his cock. “You are building us a strong house, Arash. How can I not love you.”
Zayed feels her squeeze her vaginal walls as she belly-dances on him. And here he thought he could not adore her more. He kisses her breasts, feeling her, wanting her, needing her.
It’s Arash’s turn to show Rohzin his devotion. He pushes his tongue into her pussy as far as it can go. He exhales warm air onto her clit. She doesn’t know which arouses her more. It doesn’t matter. Her climax enclouds her with the warmth of passion and the oneness they share.
The next morning Cyrene almost faints when Arash tells him about the princess. All the worries she ever felt for her younger son evaporate in the spring sun. She hugs him tighter than she ever has, and kisses his face just like when he was a baby.
Parviz’s smile drops an instant.
In the early morning, Arash, Rohzin and Cyrene visit Ruksana the Seeress. Her colorful Fāl-nāma cards are already laid out on the table. She invites Rohzin to take one. It’s Feast for abundance and hidden knowledge. Arash is unhappy to pick Jealousy meaning danger and deception.
Together they pick Jinni for unexpectedness.
Ruksana smiles: “You will have an interesting life together. On this propitious day, these cards mean that you need to hold on to each other, and trust that you will overcome your adventures together.”
Rohzin squeezes Arash’s hand.
Emir Khalaf ibn Ahmad addresses the wedding couple: “May the stars guide you on your journey together to find the Well of Abundance, and to find as much love as fits into your hearts. Because the Universe teaches us that when it is given, love grows on. Your marriage is blessed!”
Arash and Rohzin want to dance with each other all night, but Parviz requests a few dances with Rohzin, and so do other guests.
Arash dances with Cyrene, and with every woman hoping to be his next wife. Those dances are awkward, so Arash looks outside and glimpses a pair of eyes. They remind him of… Atossa! They’re gone now, so he can’t be sure.
Arash focuses on his guests making sure they are all happy. When he dances with Rohzin again, he catches Parviz looking glum. But only for a moment, because his brother immediately smiles and waves at him. Hmm?
Parviz raises his glass: “My brother despaired my mother to wonder if he would ever take a wife. Now, I realize he was waiting for Rohzin. I know that you two are meant for each other and I wish you a happy and fulfilling married life.” Arash hugs his brother and his mother.
Finally alone, Rohzin gently pushes Arash on the bed. Then she pulls down her dress over one shoulder, then the next. She smiles when she sees his pants tent up. The silk dress doesn’t need much encouragement to slide down. By swaying her breast and hips she speeds or slows it.
Her skin shines with golden sprinkles as Rohzin slowly crawls towards him. Arash just opens his pants, not wanting to waste time. Rohzin looks him in the eye, then at his erect cock. She traces her fingers along its length, almost touching it. Then caresses the down on his balls.
Arash has no patience left. He pulls Rohzin towards him and seats her onto his waiting dick. The tease is already wet. She smiles innocently. Their lovemaking is aglow with passion. It’s easy for Rohzin to put thoughts out of her mind about if she can even have children with him.
The married couple come out of their rooms in the afternoon. Cyrene smiles at them lovingly. She lifts her left eyebrow to Rohzin who blushes. They hug. Cyrene never expected this when she first sought Ruksana. Pained, she tells the lovebirds there is a next wedding to prepare.
These are the adventures of The Three Tiffanys. This season consists of ten threads of ten tweets, posted from October 2022 to June 2023. The story is set in the 1920s, when three Western women find their way into the harem and heart of the Sultan of Rakal Al Sulem.
These are the adventures of The Three Tiffanys. This season consists of ten threads of ten tweets, published from October 2022 to June 2023. The story is set in the 1920s, when three Western women find their way into the harem and heart of the Sultan of Rakal Al Sulem. The Three Tiffanys each have their own reasons to stay, but more importantly they all have reasons to work together for the betterment of the sultanate.
Farouz I rules the Sultanate of Rakal Al Sulem. He is a young, proud and shrewd sovereign. Behind his back, his elder advisors call him rash and loose with the traditions that his forefathers held in honor before him. The sultana-mother Zarina is widely seen as the cause.
Traditionally, the sultana runs the household and the harem. Zarina also founded a library, and advised the sultan on state matters. With the death of the late sultan, the advisors want to regain their influence in the court of their new young ruler and return to the days of old. Farouz is aware of the wishes of his advisors, and he cannot afford to ignore them. The love for his mother runs as deep as the Naribah Oasis that gave birth to his kingdom. Her advice and ideas are as fresh as its waters. The suggestions of his advisors are as crusty as they. But all this must wait. His heart is saddened by the death of one of his concubines. The chief eunuch’s reports that Ailyah drowned in one of the pools after drinking too much khmr, the fine Iranian wines he keeps for his Western guests. However, he knows she disliked them.
His advisors tell him to prepare the funeral. His mother suggests that The Three Tiffanys investigate the situation. Farouz smiles. This is the first time anyone calls his three new wives that – he prefers “his three Western treasures”. He claps his hands and summons them to him. The sultan’s heart trills when his three wives kneel before him. His gaze is warm as they jostle for the position in the middle. This time it is shy Tiffany Noore who wins. He doesn’t think this has happened before. Not only her green eyes made her stand out in the chorus line. He was even more amused when she introduced herself as J. Tiffany Noore and she wouldn’t say what the “J” stood for. But most of all, there was a sexy innocence about her, and a failing attempt to hide it.
Unsurprisingly, the blue eyes of the blonde Tiffany Walker looks up first.
“Love embraces me in your presence, my sultan. How may we help you?”
Farouz knows this American adventuress is usually much more direct. He is thankful for her efforts to behave in a manner that doesn’t irk his advisors. He will be happy to reward her into his bedchamber tonight.
“My chest swells at your devotion, my beautiful wives, but it is also hurts by the departure of my beloved Ailyah, may the heavens keep her spirit. I would ask of you to… set my mind at rest about how her demise came to pass. Will you help me with this?”
“We will, O Sultan.”
Farouz invites The Three Tiffanys to his bedchamber that evening. He is happy they would look into the death of his beloved concubine Ailyah. He is still intrigued why these three American women would choose to join his harem. That he is rich and powerful isn’t enough, he’s sure.
Tiffany Walker is the first American woman he ever met. He has also never heard the word “spunky” used instead of independent. It still applies to her today. And that is why he wonders why she married him? In the US, women have the right to vote, to work and to travel alone. In his sultanate, this is not the case. In the entire Arabian Peninsula, no one even considers these developments.
They met in the port of Ras Al Qummah. Before his bodyguards could prevent it, she approached him and offered him some pearls. He could tell they were good pearls.
Tiffany let him invite her to dinner. Her dress was a thing of beauty. She explained to him it was called a “flapper” dress. It was dark green with a dazzling array of sequins cascading down to a tiered fringe scalloped hemline, along with a feathered band and long green gloves. She stole his heart with her sparkling eyes and frank conversation. Tiffany Walker was a New York adventuress and knew what she wanted. Hoping to take advantage of the failing pearling industry. And she did. After dinner, he couldn’t believe she refused to go to bed with him.
Of course, it was his mother who first saw his infatuation. He was happy with her advice. He is always happy with her advice. With Tiffany Walker he knew it would be a complicated courting. And his mother helped him every step of the way. It took three months before they kissed.
His advisors disapproved. He should be expanding his harem with daughters of the wealthy and influential. They meant their daughters, of course. There was enough time for that. He courted Miss Tiffany Walker from New York like he never courted a woman before, loving every minute.
Six months after meeting her, they made love. Tiffany was experienced, knew what she wanted to receive and what she wanted to give. It was a big difference with his other wives. He learned more about a woman’s body in that night than in the years since his fifteenth birthday.
It took another six months before she accepted his marriage proposal; she rejected the first three. Somehow, he knew that she knew he would come back again. And, enchanted as he was, he did. For their wedding, she designed a dress combining his traditions with her modern tastes.
Now he started a campaign to father a child with her. His mother told him she isn’t ready for that yet. At 24, her spirit was too inquisitive and spunky. What surprised him most about Tiffany Walker was that she didn’t mind sharing him, but was jealous of the other two Tiffanys.
The Three Tiffanys in his bedchamber tonight, couldn’t be more different, Farouz thought. Each wore a sheer knee-length lace nightgown with trimmings, but in different colors: black for Tiffany Takei, pink for Tiffany Walker and white for J. Tiffany Noore (the J is still secret). Their faces, their heritage, their breasts, their hips were different. He marveled at the three American women who found their way into his heart.
The black accentuated Tiffany T’s oriental features. The American Japanese engineer’s daughter defied her parents by staying for him. Shy… No, demure. She could stop his breath by looking at him under her eyelashes. Her eyes shone when she laughed. And she had a cute way of holding her hand in front of her mouth when she did. Tiffany T explained to him that it was a Japanese gesture her mother taught her.
Tonight, she was the first to crawl towards him on the bed and the first to kiss him. Little pecks at first, moving on to hungry kisses. Farouz had not yet found the depth of her oasis. When the three were together like this, it was usually Tiffany Walker who took the initiative.
Tiffany T’s warm hand found his hardness. She caressed him through his sirwāl, exploring his modest length. Sometimes, she teased his testicles, sliding a finger under them. Farouz tasted her sweet lips and took in her lavender scent. He opened his eyes. Hers were open as well. Her gaze was naughty. Farouz felt her free his manhood. Without stopping kissing him, she sat on his lap, pressing his member down painfully. Tiffany T slid over him, sharing her wetness. Hearing that squishy sound, his heart skipped. She was moving a lot faster than he expected. Farouz felt T take hold of his cock. She rubbed it against her black strip then against her moist pussy lips. Her eyes closed as she did, accompanied by a high tone mmm. He could feel her little pushes as she slid down on him. A hmm of satisfaction followed from both of them.
After a row with her parents, she stormed into the desert. His men found her, dehydrated and sunburnt. His mother tended to her for two weeks. What she did then impressed everyone: she fixed the generator his chief engineer couldn’t. Tiffany Takei wanted to go to university. Her parents wanted her to go to Finishing school. When he offered to help, Tiffany T told him, she would never leave his side. So, here she was his full length in her. She rocked on his firmness. In unison, they said: “Rock around the cock.” Her eyes softened, his were loving.
Farouz took her virginity on their wedding night. She blurted that out. He had never seen someone of oriental descent blush that deep. He loved her determination to become an engineer, to please him as best she could, her intelligent eyes and soft lips. He gave his heart freely.
The Three Tiffanys enjoyed the sultan’s bedchamber, but being there together took some getting used to. At first, they just snuggled up to the sultan and took turns turning him on and turning on his pecker. Tiffany T was the first to kiss J. Tiffany. It was completely unexpected. They also discovered that another woman knows what your body needs, where it needs to be done, and how. Sometimes, they were so involved in each other that the sultan softly cleared his throat to remind them of his presence. J. Tiffany smiled at this memory. Tiffany W nudged her.
They were supposed to examine the scene of the crime of Ailyah’s murder. Neither of the women had any experience with murders or investigations. The sultan gave them this task because he didn’t trust anyone else to do it. So, Tiffany T divided the room into search quadrants. Like hunting dogs, T and W looked under the tables, cushions, pillows and behind curtains and drapes. J had already forgotten which quadrant was assigned to her, so, she just stumbled around. Looking up, she noticed a rope hanging from a lamp. It was short and coarse, and cheap. Nothing in the sultan’s palace was that cheap. A deeper marking on Ailyah’s throat made sense now, J realized. There was a knot in the middle of the rope. She wondered how she would react to the dead body. But it was so lifeless that it was just a thing now. A strangled thing.
“Not much of a clue,” W poopooed. T nudged her with her elbow. Eyes a bit wider, W continued with: “But nice catch, J.” Tiffany T rolled her eyes.
J Tiffany smiled. “I think two people could be involved: someone with access to the harem and someone who knows where to get rope.”
“That’s still a lot of suspects,” T sighed. “The person who got the rope may not even know what it was for.”
“Sure, but they may feel guilty about it,” Tiffany W concluded. “In any case, now two people have to stay quiet. If we find more clues, they just may turn on each other.”
The Three Tiffanys discussed their next step. Either there was one murderer who had access to supplies and the harem or there were two. They had no way of knowing.
“Let’s try to think of why someone wanted to kill Ailyah,” T suggested. “The motive may help us narrow it down.”
It could be jealousy. They had read enough novels to know about “crimes of passion”. They agreed on two possibilities: 1. one of the harem, 2. someone outside the harem. Or it could be about power; someone who wanted to send the sultan a message. Or, Ailyah had seen something.
Tiffany T wanted a methodical interrogation of everyone. J worried what it would do to their relations with the other women. Tiffany W agreed. They had to start with the servants.
“Let’s set up a desk, like a tribunal,” J Tiffany squinted, “and we leave the rope in plain sight.”
“I screwed up, Farouz.” Tiffany Noore crawled into her sultan’s shoulder, hiding her tears.
Farouz kissed the top of her head. “I’m sure you did what you could, my love.”
“No!” J. told him how she organized the tribunal, and how nothing worked and no one told them anything.
“The other Tiffanys hate me now… Tiffany T. walked away and W only huffed during the interviews. I botched the investigation, my sultan. I’m so sorry.” Farouz didn’t know how to deal with this lovely crying woman, so he just hugged her closer. How should the three proceed now?
In the dark, Farouz heard another woman tiptoe towards his bed. She hid her head into his other shoulder. “Oh, my sultan, I think we failed you in the investigation.” It was Tiffany Takei. “And I am angry with J. She chose a bad methodology for the interviews.”
“Did you discuss the method with her?”
“No.” Tiffany T didn’t want to cry. “I should have. Now she hates me.”
“No, I don’t, T!”
Tiffany T gasped. She should have checked if the sultan was alone.
“Neither do I,” a new voice said. Farouz saw Tiffany W’s silhouette in the door.
Her face lit up with the match she struck. She walked to the bed and lit the candles there. The first thing she noticed was her namesake’s red eyes. An uncomfortable silence lingered in the room.
“Maybe we should just have sex and make up?” Farouz suggested.
T pushed him away.”
“It’s not fair to Ailyah if we can’t solve her death,” J decided. “You don’t just walk into the sultan’s harem, and it’s not easy to strangle someone. You look them in the face and you need strong hands.”
“We need to start with the men and women with the biggest hands.” J was excited now. Since it was there, she took hold of Farouz’s cock. It didn’t need a lot of encouragement to stand up straight.
“You were right as always, o my sultan.” W kissed his tip with a hint of tongue.
J and T kissed his length as if they were kissing each other. Farouz let out a soft sigh at the six lips on him. W crawled onto his face and wiggles her hips.
The sultan inhaled the scent of W’s rose water. Then he tasted her saltiness. His tongue zeroed in on her hooded nub.
T slid onto Farouz’s cock. She got rid of her top, revealing her perky tits. J found one of her nipples and nibbled. When she was younger, she teeheed when she first heard about “nibbling nipples” alliterating. Now, she knew just what Tiffany T liked: just a bit of biting.
Tiffany W contorted to find J’s pussy with her tongue. Then she munched on her clit. Now that they had a new focus for the case they could celebrate. The night was filled with moans and sighs. It ended with a sultan favorite: shooting onto the faces of his three beautiful wives.
Tiffany Walker and Tiffany Takei wanted J. Tiffany Noore to try again. They encouraged her to come up with another plan, after screwing up their first attempt. “Everyone knows Farouz asked us to investigate Ailyah. We need an approach to find who did it without raising suspicion.”
Ailyah’s funeral was a somber affair. She was well-loved in the harem; at least by most. The Three Tiffanys hated the fact that her killer was probably here too. J asked one of the low-ranking concubines to take care of the ceremonial henna hand decorations. It took her two days.
The concubine was in awe of the Tiffanys. She had witnessed how they corrected the sultan without punishment. They stayed loyal. She had never seen anything like it. They weren’t the usual scheming women she encountered before. When J asked her to help, she jumped at the chance.
“Mirina had the marks on her hands, Miss J, just like you described.”
“Thank you, Lelah. I will tell the sultan of your loyal service.
Her heart pounding, Lelah floated out of the room.
The faces of The Three Tiffanys were serious. Mirina was one of Farouz’s more powerful wives.
J suddenly remembered one of the servants saying she cleaned up a water trail. She went back to her. The servant was confused by the question; they were just some drippings. They headed east. Tiffany T suggested that is where Mirina’s quarters were. They finally had a suspect!
What threw them off in the beginning is why Ailyah was both drowned and strangled. Surely one or the other was enough. There was a lot of anger there. And it suggested two killers. One of Mirina’s most faithful friends was the eunuch Saqal. With these suspects, they had a motive.
“Power is the only thing Mirina’s interested in,” Tiffany W knew. “Only the sultana-mother is stronger.”
T suggested Ailyah must have witnessed something. Something dangerous and secret enough for Mirina and Saqal to take matters into their own hands.
“They are lovers!” J says.
“Eunuchs can’t be lovers, J.”
“They are castrated, but still have tongues and fingers, don’t they?”
W conceded. “If they are lovers, they will both be sentenced to death if they are found out.”
T nods: “The question is how to prove it? They only way is to catch them in the act.”
Zarina, the sultana-mother was there when The Three Tiffanys explained their findings to Farouz. One of her main duties was managing the harem. And Mirina had been a thorn in her side from the start. Saqal’s betrayal was a bigger blow. She knew they were close, but not like this!
Now that Mirina was aware of the investigation, she would not be careless. Zarina even expected her to retaliate against The Three Tiffanys. Looking at them kneeled before her son, she was happy he could count on them. They all knew this will get ugly before it will get better.
Zarina, the sultana-mother warned The Three Tiffanys that their prime suspect, Mirina, would retaliate if she found out they were investigating her. Everyone knew they were looking into Ailyah’s death. The harem twitter would soon be rife with rumours about a possible suspect.
Saqal wiped his lips and smiled at Mirina’s delightful afterglow. He adored her and loved pleasuring her. He knew she was concerned about the investigation. The rope that strangled Ailyah had been found. However, it could not be connected to them, could it? They needed a plan.
“Thank you for your tender caresses, my beautiful Saqal,” Mirina sighed. Her praise meant everything to him. They hadn’t started as lovers. Saqal was used to pouty women in the harem, but not Mirina’s quick changing temper: rebuking, then apologizing. Dismissing, then praising.
Once he kissed her feet in reverence, everything changed. Against his expectation, she took him as her lover. She stirred feelings in him, he did not know were possible. He was forever hers. That Ailyah walked in on them was horrifying, and they had no choice but to silence her.
Mirina had comforted him, the way his mother used to. He knew that what they did was wrong, and he would gladly give his life for her. But the sultan would have Mirina punished as well, and Saqal would not allow that. He was sure they were forever bound together in their love.
Mirina kissed him on the lips. “My love, my heart is sad. The secret of our love is fragile. We have to make sure no one takes you away from me.”
Saqal agreed wholeheartedly. Those foreign Three Tiffanys changed everything in his harem. And Farouz didn’t respect their traditions.
It was necessary to return order to the harem, and Mirina was the only one who could do that.
“The Three Tiffanys are a bad influence on our Sultan. Only you and I see how dangerous they are, Saqal. Only the both of us are able to do something about it… and about those three.”
“You have a plan, my mistress, I can tell.”
Mirina explained that they had to lure the Three Tiffanys away. They had to make them follow carefully laid breadcrumbs.
“Outside the palace, terrible accidents can happen. Falling rocks when one travels through the gorge, for example.”
Mirina would miss Saqal if he were caught. She was certain he would not betray her, but to be sure, she would have him killed. With him, all evidence would disappear. She would be safe, and The Three Tiffanys would cease their investigation. Mirina already choose Saqal’s substitute.
The next few days, they carefully planted new clues leading to the gorge. Saqal’s hopes lifted when he saw The Three Tiffanys leave the palace. Mirina kisses and caressed him. She praised his devotion to the harem. She said there was no one she loved more. He followed them out.
Even the morning sun was bright. The Three Tiffanys were approaching the gorge. They had followed the trail to find Mirina. It was subtle, but it was there, and they had found it. It wouldn’t be long before they caught up with Ailyah’s murderers. Only two guards had joined them.
Saqal’s heart thumped in his breast. He would finally be rid of these three foreign wives who had befouled his beloved harem. Then his spirits took flight at the reward his lady Mirina would bestow upon him. Only a little closer. Kicking away one rock would bring them all down.
Tiffany Walker had said what they all thought: They were heading for a trap. It was an easy conclusion: with the three of them gone, the investigation would cease, and Ailyah’s death would go unpunished. Tiffany Takei wanted solid evidence. Their suspicions wouldn’t be enough.
Formally speaking, Farouz could do as he liked with his wives, and The Three Tiffanys knew this. However, Tiffany T was adamant. For Mirina’s death sentence, she wanted undeniable proof. The best would be to catch the lovers in the act, but they would be too careful for that now.
The sultana-mother had warned her son that Mirina would sacrifice her eunuch lover if it helped her escape the accusations. Mirina held enough sway in the harem and at court to dismiss any rumors about Saqal and her. A shaky trial and sentence would have a backlash, Zarina said.
The sun was in their eyes. The Three Tiffanys couldn’t scan the steep sides for signs of betrayal.
Saqal had chosen his position well. With his prey blinded, trapping them in the rockslide would be easy. His hand was wet with anticipatory perspiration. Just a little bit further.
J kept considering what would happen if they caught only Saqal? She didn’t think he would give up his lover. And even if he confessed, it would be his word against Mirina’s, and the harem lady would win. Saqal would be executed, and, with Ailyah’s killer found, she would go free.
Could there be a way to have the eunuch return to his mistress, and then catch them in the act? Or would Mirina make sure that didn’t happen? J hated that she had to think like a horrible and traitorous person. She didn’t want to be like that. But she realized it was necessary.
Tiffany Takei’s horse snorted. It was nervous about the steep sides of the gorge.
That was Saqal’s cue! He pushed the rock loose. At first it slid, then it rolled and bumped over the edge. It was followed by the sound of deep rumbling as its brothers and sisters precipitated after it.
Saqal’s eyes shone as the dust from the rockslide danced up from down below. The horse’s panicked neighing made him queasy. He hadn’t expected that. He tightened his jaw. The silence that followed was deafening. Saqal forced a victory smile. He needed to report to his mistress.
The dust settled. Tiffany Takei, Tiffany Walker and concubine Lelah removed the veils from their mouths and fanned away the last particles still dancing in the air. It had been close. Sultan Farouz’s scouts had earned their pay today by finding the narrow entrance to the cave.
Once they knew Mirina’s trail lead along the gorge, it was obvious: they would be ambushed there. Worse, once they neared it, Tiffany W could see the shape of Saqal’s head bobbing up and down from the ridge above. She looked at Tiffany T and Lelah. She nodded. They nodded back. They beelined to the tight fissure, the horses panicking when the first stones and rocks fell. It still pained Tiffany T. She liked Saqal. Not anymore obviously. What had driven him to this? Tiffany W peeked outside. Then she released the pigeon. It was time for their trap now.
“What if they are hurt and can’t send the message?” Farouz paced.
His mother felt her heart pounding. So much could go wrong with their plan. In all her years running the harem, the wives would resort to murder? Certainly, there had been phenomenal arguments and deep dislikes. But this? The sultana-mother was aware of Mirina’s power schemes, of course. But these events challenged her imagination. Maybe she should have done more to thwart Mirina’s ploys? No time for that now. Her handsome son needed her. As mother’s do, she held his hand and squeezed.
J. Tiffany was all set. She felt a pang of something, regret maybe, when she opened the case of her film camera. George Lasky had taken a risk in letting her film b-roll footage of locations for The Sheik, starring Rudolph Valentino. The director was impressed with her footage.
It was then that she fell in love with the sands of the Arabian Peninsula and decided to visit. She would document her travels on film. When she finally managed admittance to the sultan’s palace, she was sold. She held Farouz off when he courted her, of course. But not for long.
J silently turned her camera crank when Saqal came into Mirina’s room. A scribe recorded their conversation. With their passionate kiss, the two conspirators had already sealed their fate. Saqal reported the fate of the three foreign Tiffanys who had corrupted Farouz’s harem.
Despite her tears, J kept filming. Had her two namesakes made it to the cave in time?
Droplets of perspiration appeared on the usually cool-headed scribe’s brow as he took notes on Saqal’s devotion to Mirina: first as she sat on his face, next between her legs.
Mirina’s eyes alerted J. She screamed when she saw a man approach Saqal, dagger drawn. In the confusion that followed, Palace guards arrested the three suspects. J was relieved about the two Tiffanys’ message, and ran to the royal hall to embrace her husband. He held her tight.
The evidence was damning. Even Mirina’s staunchest allies conceded. Saqal, learning of his mistress’ betrayal, turned on her. It didn’t matter. Their fates were sealed. Tiffany Takei and J. Tiffany Noore wouldn’t attend the the execution because of the usual torture preceding it. They hid in each other’s arms hearing the murderers scream. Ashen-faced Tiffany Walker joined them afterwards. She never spoke of what she had seen, but it was clear she wished she hadn’t. They returned to the royal hall to be rewarded—everyone in awe of their accomplishment.
That night, Farouz started by kissing away Tiffany T’s tears. He held her as she shook in his arms.
“I must be merciless to my enemies, lest they see weakness,” he explained.”
“Yes, my Sultan.”
Farouz then kissed every inch of her back, her legs, her arms, her belly, her breasts. T’s body was tingling with expectation when Farouz finally nuzzled her bush. She shivered when his tongue found her slit. Cupping her dainty tits, she rolled her nipples through her fingers. His passion heated her body to boiling point. His two fingers, bubbled her over the edge.
Farouz kept kissing her clit, tugging it between his lips. He felt T’s hands on the back of his head, pulling him in. Her legs over his shoulders trembled. He counted three peaks before she lovingly pushed him away. T wriggled in the remainder of his pleasuring, feeling at peace.
J. Tiffany just wanted to feel Farouz inside her and his thrusts against her pelvis. She laid back and closed her eyes, holding her breasts from wobbling too much. His cock’s friction in her pussy was uncomfortable right now. She wasn’t wet enough yet. His loving grunts helped.
J’s head lolled as he banged into her.
“Cum over my tits, O My Powerful Sultan… My beautiful husband.”
His fervor awakened her own. She almost fainted when it overtook her; a fleeting memory of his seed squirting on her breasts. After, she relished his sweet kisses in her neck.
Farouz realized Tiffany Walker was only using his cock for her own desires. He didn’t mind one bit. W rode him like she’d never done before. He felt her squeeze it each time she squished down. He laid back and merely admired her beautiful boobs, her proud chin, her golden locks.
Her blue eyes pierced into his, her eyebrows shot up, then frowned when she felt her “Oh my stars!” meteorite through her body. She belly-danced on his cock to squeeze out every last sensual shiver and blinked in his loving gaze after she had succeeded. Their kiss was sloppy wet.
Zarina recognized The Three Tiffanys satisfied faces. She was proud of her son’s adoring gaze on them. They didn’t realize how much they had already changed the harem for the better. The sultana-mother was sure that more was to come. Farouz’s enemies had been silenced for now.
Can a young womanizing nobleman find the true Imperial heir, or will he be crushed by five powerful families? With the help of an Imperial librarian, he must outwit, out-class and out-seduce to survive. The thing is, the librarian hates everything he stands for. She believes in truth, dignity and love. They have until Valentine’s Day to work out their differences and report their findings.
Lieutenant junior grade James Bread is demoted after having an affair with and admiral’s wife. He is sent to North Pole to work for an international military police force called G.I.N.G.E.R.. There he finds new and sexy ways to redeem himself that may or may not involve Santa’s wife.
Caterer Paul Devlin is given a choice: collect seven souls or die. Succubus Tiffany Jones doesn’t even have to guess which he will choose, especially since it involves having sex with women. Little do they know that three coven witches are hunting the succubus and that an inquisitrix is zeroing in on the witches. Add a she-werewolf looking for a mate in the mix and you get a sexy Halloween party where no one is who they appear and the ending will surprise most.
These are the adventures of Merchant Arash Zayed. This episode consists of ten threads of ten tweets, published from October 2022 to February 2023. The story is set in the Persian world of the 1001 nights.
In praise to our Benevolent Ruler Emir Khalaf ibn Ahmad, we will recount the wondrous life of Arash Zayed, a merchant from Qazwin, his mother, his wives and his concubines. It was many moons that Respected Cyrene, mother to the merchant beseeched her son to find a wife. Many good daughters had she introduced, but none could charm his heart. Thus, she visited Ruksana, the witch who lived just outside town.
“O, my Lady of Wisdom. I come to you in my hour of need. Help me find a wife for my son.”
The blue-eyed witch looked upon Zayed’s mother on her knees before her. “Rise, Cyrene, mother of Arash the merchant.”
‘This is truly a powerful witch’, she thought, hearing her own name.
“Your son has passions deep, yes, “ Ruksana said, “but he is gripped by the demon Aesma: lust fills his loins, but rage pushes all away.”
Cyrene recoiled at the invocation of the ancient religions, but in her heart, she accepted the truth of the witch’s divinations.
Ruksana laid out her Falnama cards of oracles then purified herself in the smoke of perfumed and scented incense.
“I call on the Amesha Spentas, the first spirits of creation for devotion, righteousness, wholeness, desirable dominion, good purpose, holy spirit, and immortality.”
Five cards she opened: Jealousy, Greedy, Migration, the Wakwak Tree and Beast of the Earth.
Cyrene was enraptured by the beauty of the cards and her fear of their meaning.
Ruksana spoke: “The first two are past and present, the third what must happen, the last two, the future.”
“Arash has been angry, jealous and greedy of late,” his mother softly said, embarrassed by her judgement of her son.
The witch’s eyes narrowed: “He must travel to find Gaokerena, the life-giving haoma plant growing near the Tree of All Seeds in the center of the Vourukash Sea.”
“Mother, where have you been!” Arash thundered upon Cyrene’s return. “You have been away for three day! Do you know that the neighbors pity me because of you?! They already laugh at us because we have fewer servants than they. Where were you? Out gallivanting with some suitor?”
Cyrene’s cheeks burned from his cruel scolding. She also remembered what Ruksana had said about him; that he probably was in need of oral satisfaction. Only the witch said it differently. Cyrene gave Arash her rehearsed answer: “My son, the Emir is looking for a wondrous plant.”
“What plant?” the merchant’s asked with greedy eyes.
The story Ruksana told her to memorize was about one of the Emir’s children who had grown ill. He would reward any man who fetched the cure. Because Arash didn’t move in those circles, he couldn’t tell it was not true. Just as the witch predicted, he pounced on the opportunity to gain favor and riches from his ruler. The house of Zayed changed into a whirlwind of preparations for the voyage to the Vourukash Sea. His first task: find a ship in the port of Nowshahr. Arash tightened his jaw.
“There is a small island in the center of the Vourukash Sea,” Captain Nisbad said stroking his beard, “but no one goes there; just birds.”
Merchant Zayed nods. It’s the way that he does that alerts the captain. There is something there and it has to do with money. But what?
After Zayed retired for the night, the captain called in Nazneen. Her dark doe eyes, round hips and full breasts have uncovered many secrets for him. Men would sell their mothers for her. And tonight, Nisbad will know what that merchant is hiding from him. She never disappointed.
Arash Zayed was lying awake. Tomorrow he will sail into the good graces of the emir. He long dreamed about being a merchant for his ruler, advising him on trade, negotiating good prices and acquiring great wealth. Nothing would stop him. A knock on the door interrupts him.
Nazneen threw him a smoldering glance before quickly lowering her eyes. A glance is all she needed. Apologizing for the interruption, she placed a tray with wine and goblets on the dresser. She wriggled her body and felt his gaze burning on her. She bent over picking up a napkin.
Zayed hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in many moons. His manhood rose under the covers. He smiled at her blush. “May I know the name of the heavenly angel serving me my wine?”
“Nazneen, my lord,” she answered shyly. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes, my lovely.”
They exchanged the tenderest of kisses, like the wings of butterflies. She smelled of fresh cinnamon and roses. Fayed helped her hand find his stiffness. His own hand found the rim of her blouse and lifted it. He played her nipples like a setar and asked for her lips on his ney. His head was burning with promise when her tongue licked at it. Then she took him in her mouth, folding her lips around her teeth. Zayed lay back deep into the silk pillow. Then he followed the curve of he divine ass towards her slit. She was almost as wet as she had made him.
Only seeing her eyes (she hid her face behind her veil) Zayed felt her warm pussy grip his cock. Nazreen then moved her hips in circles, squeezing and lifting so now and then. She knew he wouldn’t last long. And he didn’t. She pinched her nipples feeling his juice spurt into her.
Arash woke up, Nazreen gently caressing his chest.
“Thank you, my lord,” her tone like honey, “for this wonderful night. I will pray for your safe return.”
She kissed him telling him she hoped his voyage wasn’t too dangerous.
“A plant?” Nisbad asked her later that morning.
“For the emir,” Nazreen answered. “It will make him rich.”
The winds were auspicious, so that the voyage to the small island in the center of the Vourukash Sea was uneventful. That is just how Merchant Zayed liked it. Refreshed by his night with Nazneen, Arash felt the prophet’s kiss on his adventure. Captain Nisbad smiled proudly.
“At dawn, you’ll be able to disembark,” the captain told Zayed, “best not risk it in the middle of the night, my friend.”
Anxious to find the plant, Arash grimaced.
The captain clapped him on the shoulder: “A few hours more won’t make a difference, Zayed.”
Nisbad was right.
Nisbad’s smile fell when the merchant left the galley. In a few hours, he would reach the shore and ride to the emir’s palace and collect the reward. A new ship, some fine clothes, a rich home was what he would buy. The women would follow. Merchant Zayed would be a watery memory.
The night was comfortably warm. Zayed smiled in his sleep, his thoughts with Nazneen. His manhood remembered her as well. He could almost feel her lips on him, her warmth, her touch. His eyelids butterflied open. He even thought he could make out her shape, her hand stroking him. The scent of the sea tickled his nose. His eyes focused. What he saw, made him gasp in wonder. A feminine form was touching him, licking him, nibbling him. Only her legs weren’t legs. A smooth form ended in a big fin. The mermaid looked up and smiled at him, her eyes luminescent. Her breasts were bare, pearl shape with little pink nipples. The mermaid took him in her mouth, making delightful suction sounds. All the while her eyes were looking into his. There was a hint of a smile in them, and a blissful promise. Arash couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. When her tongue started circling his tip, Zayed felt the fountain of his pleasure rising. The mermaid’s hand gently took hold of his balls and kneaded ever so featherlike. Arash was at a loss how to hold the flow of his eruption. And why should he? His cock started stuttering.
“Let me taste you,” the mermaid whispered. A first splash of his juice splattered her face. Her soft, pink lips closed around his cock again. She mmm-d softly as she swallowed his seed.
Zayed willed himself to keep his eyes open, enthralled by his shiny man-goo blotched on her. Catching his breath, Arash absorbed the wondrous creature at his bedside. Her face was round, her skin smooth. Her golden locks were wet and entangled, as if after a tryst. Her eyes were made of stars, twinkling and shining.
“Beautiful lady of the sea. Your beauty overwhelms me.”
The mermaid wiped her face with her tail. Arash had never seen anything as tantalizing as this.
“Thank you for breakfast, human,” she spoke haltingly, “and for not chasing me away. Because you have been so kind, I will warn about the captain on this vessel. Do not trust him.”
Arash Zayed didn’t know what to make of the mermaids warning about Captain Nisbad. Then, his suspicious mind wondered what he might have told the beautiful cabin girl Nazneen. He remembered telling her about the plant for the emir and the riches it would bring him. The memory of Nazneen, her scent of fresh cinnamon and roses, her hand on his stiffness, made his manhood twitch. But there was no time for this now. Zayed needed a plan on how to survive the trip. Most likely, after finding the plant, the captain would leave him behind or worse. He wished that instead of staring at her tail, Zayed could have asked the mermaid what she knew. Normally, he would offer some kind of bargain, but a seat at the emir’s table wasn’t something he could afford. And it was too late to suggest that the plant wasn’t for the emir. Or was it? Maybe he could tell Nisbad it was a lie? Or that Nazneen misunderstood? No. They would know he suspected them and decide to get rid of him anyway. They wanted the plant and there was nothing Arash could do about it. Even if he gave up the plant, his life was in danger.
Could he appeal to Nazneen? No. Arash already knew on which side she was on. Would she willingly participate in his death? It seemed unbelievable, but Zayed had met some terrifying women before. He couldn’t gamble on her sympathy for him. She wouldn’t help him if it meant riches.
Did he have time to seduce her? Would it work? Zayed was sure it wouldn’t. While his mother was always pushing him to get married, Arash knew better. Women could not be trusted, they would always choose for themselves, just like Nazneen, and Captain Nisbad.
‘Think Zayed, think!’
Even if he managed to escape, they would simply get the plant and take it to the emir. How would he escape anyway? He couldn’t swim back to port. No, he was cornered. And the worse thing was that he did it himself. He had to boast about his future fortune to Nazneen. What future?
A knock on the door and Captain Nisbad entered. Only now did Zayed see the short sword on his belt. The merchant in Zayed couldn’t help evaluate it: silver hilt and decorated silver scabbard. This was more than just a seaman’s weapon. Arash felt some consolation in its quality.
“Time to find your plant, Zayed,” Nisbad grinned.
“Plant? What plant?” Arash answered.
“Don’t play me for a fool. You’re looking for a plant for the emir.”
“There must be some mistake. I told Nazneen that I’m looking for a specific shell, captain.”
“What shell?” Nisbad squinted.
“It’s a rare cerith in the shape of a horn shell. It can be ground to a dust and mixed with herbs. It is then cooked into a medicinal tea said to increase a man’s desire and stamina,” Zayed lectured. “Everyone knows the emir isn’t performing his marital duties in his harem.”
Captain Nisbad was sure that Merchant Zayed was up to something. Probably trying to confuse him, or worse, trying to drive a wedge between Nazreen and him. That wouldn’t work. He trusted Nazreen with his life.
“Plant or shell,” he asked her.
“He said plant.” Her tone was decided.
Zayed lifted his hands in front of him. “Look, I’m sorry for the confusion. I may have said plant… I’m sorry. We can look for a special plant and a special shell. If they are rare, you’ll recognize them immediately.”
Arash was careful not to clench his jaw. His gambit didn’t work.
Nazreen suggested they collect all the shells and plants that looked different. The emir would know which one he needed. She believed Zayed. He had no reason to try to cheat them; he had nothing to gain by it. On the contrary, he would invite certain death. Nisbad nodded to her.
It took the crew a few hours to scour the island and collect shells and plants. A lot more than Nisbad had hoped. They laid them all down on the deck of the ship. Nazreen and he looked at all of them and threw the most common ones overboard. He wanted no more than ten of each. Nazreen also observed Zayed for a reaction while Nisbad and she selected the shells and plants. She only noticed him looking at the one shell.
“I think that’s the one,” the merchant said.
They kept five shells.
Looking over the plants, three stood out. It should be one of them. It took Zayed a superhuman effort not to look at the plants, just the shells on the deck. He already knew which plant it was. The Tree of all Seed wasn’t very imposing, neither was the hamoa plant growing near it. The crew almost overlooked them both. It was still on the ship. It was impossible to pick it up without noticing. The only way he could still get his hands on it, was if they threw it overboard. He could come back for it later… if he survived the trip back. Arash liked to think of himself as a shrewd businessman. His life depended on it. In his mind, Zayed picked the most noticeable plant and gave it a quick peek. As he hoped, Nazreen caught him. Even better, she told Captain Nisbad to keep it and four others and threw the haoma plant overboard.
The captain turned to him now. “And what should we do with you?”
“I don’t understand? You have what you want. Just take me back.”
“You could alert the guards,” Nisbad sneered.
“And tell them what? Pirates robbed me of a special shell for the emir?”
The captain thought that sounded weak as well. But he didn’t want to take Zayed back with him. In the end, Nisbad left Zayed behind on the island – alive.
“It could have been worse,” the merchant consoled himself. He even retrieved the haoma plant. Swimming, he would never make it to shore in any direction.
“Do you need some company?” the mermaid asked, her tits swaying.
Arash Zayed couldn’t help peeking down at the mermaid’s nipples. The silver-green scales of her tail faded as it went higher up her body. There were some visible on her sides and just a hint on her breasts. The silvery nubs were eye-catching to him. He heard her soft chuckle.
“It’s alright,” she said, “I haven’t seen many humans from up close either.” Her eyes shown with mirth.
Arash realized he didn’t know her name. He asked.
“Magali,” the mermaid smiled.
She smiled in the sweetest way when he placed his hand on his heart and gave a respectful nod.
“Would you like to taste them,” Magali teased, shaking her breasts.
“Very much!” He realized he would never get an offer like this again. However, he decided to kiss her first. That surprised the mermaid as well.
“You are a kind and generous human,” she said through her lips.
Just like her lips, the mermaid’s nipples tasted salty. Zayed flicked his tongue over the left one. Magali held her breath. He held her right breast in his hand and carefully squeezed that nipple as well. Then he nibbled a bit.
Magali felt an energy pulse shoot down to her hips.
‘Could this be him?’ Magali wondered. The fate of all mermaids is to have a human mate once in their lives. This was their way. This was how they continued their line. She pressed him against her bosom. He was doing wonderful things down there.
‘Yes,’ she decided, ‘this was him.’
Magali pulled Arash into the water. He gasped. Further and further down they went. Zayed struggled to go back up for air, and still she dove deeper. Just when he was sure this was the end for him, the mermaid kissed him. Bubbles tickled into his mouth and refreshed his lungs.
Her lips on his, Magali danced the ritual that had been passed down thousands of years. Her tail transformed into two, her pussy appeared in between.
Arash gave in to the mermaid’s twists and turns. He felt his cock enter a cool tight opening. When it squeezed him, he was lost.
Zayed fondled her breasts, his tongue finding hers. Soft feathers floated in his head, like snow in a mountain blizzard. He held onto her ass cheeks next and thrust into her again and again.
Her eyes looked into his with tenderness, their ballet centered around cock and pussy.
With a last groan, Arash pushed into the mermaid, releasing his jizz. His seed filled her, spurt after spurt.
Both the merchant and the mermaid knew they had sparked new life in her. A blue-pink light flashed before his eyes. And he was certain she saw it as well.
Only when he took a breath of outside air, did Arash remember the tightness on his chest when the mermaid pulled him down. Now, however, a comfortable warmth spread inside him. The ritual done, her tail was whole again. She kissed him goodbye.
Zayed looked at the familiar shore.
“Mother, I have the plant for the emir!” Arash Zayed crowed, entering his home.
Cyrene let go of the breath she had been holding since her son left in search of the magical plant. Unbeknownst to him, the plant was not meant for the emir, but for the seeress Ruksana. She had promised her to use it to find the perfect first wife for Merchant Zayed. It wasn’t that there weren’t enough interested families. Arash simply had no interest in marriage. Gaokerena, the life-giving haoma plant growing near the Tree of All Seeds would change that.
Cyrene could tell her son was too awake and alive to fall asleep soon. He talked of the riches his connection with the emir would bring. ‘He is truly a merchant at heart,’ she concluded. ‘My duty as his mother is to have it open for a woman as well.’ She poured him heavy wine.
Finally, Arash was asleep, breathing heavily. His drunken stupor gave her the opportunity she needed to take the plant.
With Ruksana, she had rehearsed what to tell her son when he woke: “The emir’s men came to collect it. An invitation for Merchant Zayed would follow soon.”
Her son roared when he discovered the plant missing. He opened every bag and every drawer, emptying the contents on the bed and floor. Arash’s cheeks were still rosy from his drink. He calmed when his mother told him what happened. It was the end of the midday, after all. Merchant Zayed wanted to go to the market and boast about his find. Cyrene wasn’t surprised. She was prepared for this. The seeress had foretold it. This was the crucial moment:
“Arash, go see Ruksana,” she suggested softly, “to help you prepare for the meeting.”
Her son nodded.
Zayed almost sneezed at the heavy scent of perfumed incense. A candle stood in each corner of the table. Ruksana’s face shone in their light. Four candles on the back of her chair, cast her shadow in the room. The merchant’s eyes only now noticed the fullness of her breasts.
He held his breath as Ruksana laid out her Falnama cards of oracles.
“I call on the Amesha Spentas, the first spirits of creation for devotion, righteousness, wholeness, desirable dominion, good purpose, holy spirit, and immortality,” the seeress chanted.
His heartbeat quickened.
Her purple eyes captured him. “Only after you have found heart, will you be true to your emir.” Arash had to come closer to hear her, his eyes dipping into her bosom. Orange blossom perfume wafted from her to him.
“I have heart,” he tried to protest.”
“Not a woman’s heart…”
His ride back home was cloudy. No, not outside, the weather was beautiful. Storm, wind, rain swirled through his mind. Arash Zayed knew it could be very easy to find a wife, but not a woman he loved and who loved him for who he was instead of for what he did. Ruksana would help.
Ruksana cooked the Gaokerena, the live-giving plant. It smelled of wet palm leaves. The plant became pasty with the heat. On her table, next to the cauldron, stood a thin figurine of a woman. It could have been a young boy as well, if it weren’t for the small, protruding breasts. Cyrene watched in awe.
“We will bring this figurine to life,” the seeress told her. “It will be his future wife. But you will have to give it your son’s lust.”
Zayed’s mother frowned. What did she know about his interest in women? What if she got it wrong and their plan failed?
Ruksana splatted the pasty plant on the figurine. Her eyes were alight because of the wet sounds it made. A blush appeared on her cheek when the seeress formed big breasts and a round ass. It resembled an ancient fertility statuette. Cyrene felt the heat crawl between her legs. She blushed when Ruksana gazed into her eyes. “Yes, think of lust, think of stiffness of your nipples, think of the wetness of your lips… those lips!”
Cyrene’s cheeks were on fire. The seeress looked straight at her lap.
“You smell good, O mother of Arash Zayed, like fruit.”
Cyrene hid behind her hands. What was this woman saying to her? It was true that one of her friends told her to eat limes, lemons and oranges to smell ‘sweet for your man’. She had kept that diet even though there was no one in her life anymore.
“What about the young gardener?”
Oh gods, the seeress knew!
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe,” Ruksana’s smile was comforting. “Now you have to tell me what woman Arash lusts for. Does he like the swift and dainty deer? The sleek cat? The strong bear? The haughty falcon? Does he want to hunt or be hunted?”
Cyrene listed the women she introduced to her son. They had different figures, but he seemed to like those with broader shoulders with matching breasts and waists. He preferred almond eyes to round or squinting. He smiled at wild, mid-long curls instead of smooth, straight locks. His woman would look like a combination of the carpet merchant’s wife, the garrison commander’s daughter and the gardener’s sister.
The seeress smiled when Cyrene looked up, her eyes shining with hope.
“Make her,” Ruksana whispered, placing the mother’s hands on the wet figurine.
Together they shaped Merchant Zayed’s lust. It was exactly as Cyrene saw her.
“Now you have to tell me about her soul,” Ruksana encouraged. “Does she know her own mind, or must she be directed. Does she play or pray? Does she want him to teach her about her body, or will she?”
It was easier now: the potter’s shrewd wife, the constable’s spirited daughter and the independent apothecary. Arash wants an equal, not a servant. He wants to be challenged, not pampered. And he wants to trade and not command.
And then, Ruksana blew life into the new zambānūg.
Merchant Zayed sat on the veranda overlooking the village of Qazvin. Behind the village Arash saw the Arlburz mountain range with its snow-caped peaks—so massive, that it could be seen from Tehran. The words of Seeress Ruksana weighed heavily upon him: “Not the heart of a woman.”
His mother Cyrene was nervous and sad. The seeress said it was imperative that Arash meet with their zambānūg within five days, otherwise their creation would turn back to dust. It was up to Cyrene to arrange the meeting. Ruksana could not see if he would be convinced to do so.
Cyrene’s sadness stemmed from her deceit to her son. She had prayed for a wife, because he would have none. In an act of desperation, they had built one for him: a zambānūg they called Rohzin. If not the deception, there was a murder. Rohzin’s destruction would break her heart.
“What did the seeress foretell you, Arash?” She asked her son, already knowing the answer.
“I think Ruksana and you are working together, mother…”
Cyrene’s heart froze.
“You both want me to have a wife,” he said with a wry smile.
“The seeress is wise, Arash. heed her words.”
“You introduced me to every woman you could think of, from far and wide. I want none of them. How will I be able to present myself to the emir now?” Cyrene thought she had taught her son too well. Other men would marry for wealth’s sake. Arash wanted to truly love his first wife.
“What else did the seeress say?”
“Nothing more.” Arash looked at the mountain range, his thoughts traveling the distance. Cyrene wanted to tell him about Rohzin, but instinctively decided not to. She was angry with herself for playing with his emotions. She hoped it would work.
“You always liked the carpet merchant’s wife.”
“Yes. But I’m not going to kill her husband, if that’s what you’re suggesting?”
Cyrene was hurt that he could even think that.
He gave her a pained look. “My apologies, Mother. I spoke in desperation.”
She nodded. He’s almost there.
“And the apothecary…”
“Everyone knows she will never marry. Her love is for other women. She doesn’t even hide it.”
“So, if I find a woman like those two, you might finally meet your destiny.”
Arash wanted to laugh at how his mother said ‘destiny’ in capital letters. He didn’t. But it was. It was part of his destiny now. His riches depended on finding a fitting wife. The practical thing to do was to marry one of the good women in Qazvin. His friends told him that if he didn’t like his first wife, he could always marry another. Arash couldn’t do it.
Cyrene looked at how her son worked his way through his thoughts. In the meantime, she conceived a simple plan for an encounter between Arash and Rohzin. She hastened back to Ruksana to put it in motion. Listing what she needed, the most difficult would be to secretly buy a cart.
Descending, Arash tied his caftan. His servant told him a visitor was asking for his help. When he came outside, he saw a wonderful woman’s bottom. She was bending over the wheel of her cart. Her pants were yellow, her robe was orange—just like his!—and her cotton belt was white.
When she heard him arrive, she turned to him. Curly brown hair, happy amber eyes, and a wide mouth with pink lips and rosy cheeks. Her body was plump and strong: the combination of the carpet merchant’s wife and the apothecary.
“Forgive me for appearing unannounced, Master,” the woman said. Her voice was soft and decided. She was used to being listened to. “My cart is rattling in a dangerous way, and I respectfully request your assistance in mending it.”
Arash’s eyes looked up from her deep neckline. She blushed a bit and closed her robe.
“Mistress, please come out of the sun. I’ll send a servant to fetch the cart maker.”
“Thank you. I will pay for the repairs myself, of course.”
Arash clapped his hands, ordered a jug of Sekanjabin syrup and invited his visitor to sit down.
Time flew during their conversation. Merchant Zayed had never met a woman like Rohzin before. She was also a merchant. He wasn’t surprised—and very happy—that she wasn’t married. His heart swelled when she accepted his invitation to stay the night. The repairs weren’t done yet.
After dinner, she took his hand. In her rooms, she kissed him. Her lips pressed hard against his. Then they slipped open and the tip of her tongue slid into his mouth. She undressed him, and then Rohzin kneeled in front of his cock. It needed little coaxing to stand up for her.
Her hand fondled his balls. Arash held her shoulders and closed his eyes. He looked down into her eyes, pushing away thoughts of Nazreen or Magali. He wanted a perfect image of Rohzin’s face, her bosom, her full figure—everything that made her the woman who captured his heart.
Arash pushed her down on the bed. He kissed his way along her generous thighs to her curly bush. Her pink blossom flower peeked through it. Rohzin had delicately sucked his cock. He would devour her pussy, then stop, then lick some more until she begged for her release. She did. He kissed her ample breasts. Then, he pushed his stiffness into her. Rohzin gasped. She grabbed his ass and pulled him as far as he could go. Her cheeks grew redder and redder as he pumped into her with vigor. Her nipples stiffened, her pussy churned. His jizz geysered into her.
Arash helped Rohzin up onto her cart and held onto to her hand a bit longer. She smiled.
“Is there something you wish to ask me, Merchant Zayed?”
His cheeks warm, he smiled back.
“When will I see you again, Merchant Rohzin?”
Through her window, Cyrene looked at the happy couple.