Demoiselles of Numidia by Mohamed Leftah

Author:Mohamed Leftah [Leftah, Mohamed]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Other Press
Published: 2023-06-06T00:00:00+00:00

White an orgy was held under Spartacus’s supervision, in honor of Rose and a prince who owned sloughis, hunting falcons, and coral islands, another pimp, Zapata, was helping to weave a spider’s web, in Heaven’s Gate, from silver threads that were delicate and indeterminate, though they would become as solid and resistant as the wires of a gears system, once they finally intertwined, interwoven in a shape whose outlines remain, for now, hazy and ever-moving. Like a chess player, Zapata was considering all the conceivable combinations. He sensed that the enemy, the threat, was this young customs agent who had abruptly emerged between him and Ingvar, and who was currently sipping her Karlsberg. “My head needs to be as clear as that blond beer’s,” he thought, “as cold as a diplomat’s.” What needed to be done was to curtail from the start even the possibility of a friendship between the customs agent and the “baroness.” Zapata, whose perspective as a pimp shaped his understanding of the world, gauged the customs officer’s sexual identity, imagining her naked, willing, and surrendering at the moment of great tumult. (“The Day of Great Tumult” is the expression used in Muslim eschatology for the day of the resurrection.) What must Nadia’s face look like at the moment of orgasm? Zapata had always waged his battles on sexual terrain, at first to survive (starting out, he let himself be picked up by the old queers who haunt the public gardens at dusk, get screwed in the nearest thicket, and agree to pay a modest sum, hand trembling, only when threatened), and later to taste the undreamt-of delicacies of luxury, power, and domination. Starting with Night Jasmine, a demoiselle of Numidia, and now this queer from a cold land who, if he wasn’t a compulsive liar, was promising him nothing less than a Nordic lordship. If Nadia cared about the baroness, she needed to pay the price, because it was Zapata who held the power in the marriage.

“Do you like my friend the baron?” he decided to ask Nadia, who still appeared to be ignoring his presence.

Nadia deigned to look at Zapata. Though less experienced than the captain, from the first and only glance she gave him, upon entering the Cupola, she had known in which category to place this “pretty boy” with his Roman nose, blue eyes, and flawless copas cut. His gaze, though it contained glints of emerald, was undeniably the black stare of the predator eagle, and it wasn’t hard to guess who was the prey.

Rose could never have imagined that, in attacking Sophia so meanly, she had unknowingly inserted a thread into the web being woven at Heaven’s Gate—more precisely, inside the Cupola, of whose miraculous emergence she was unaware—and that she was sending Zapata, her pimp’s peer and rival, a decisive ally in the person of the girl she had compared to a female dog.

Sophia, kicked out of the celebration, swore to herself that she would bring Rose down. Although she had

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