Operation Snake

Chapter IV

I'd walked on in the cool of the night air and let Khaleen and her father go home first. Finally I slipped into the silent house and up to my room. The events I'd just witnessed would leave a marble statue disturbed, and I found myself tossing and turning in the stillness of the night. The fur blanket was warm and soft, too damned much like a woman. I was awake when I heard the faint sound of my door opening. I sat up, naked except for my shorts, and Wilhelmina was in my hand, ready to blast, my finger pressing tensely on the trigger. A soft, blue light came through the window as I waited, watching the door open further. Suddenly the figure appeared inside the room, a petite shape beneath a loose, voluminous silken robe.

"Nick, are you awake?" the small voice asked softly.

"Khaleen," I said. "What are you doing here?" She moved into the room, shutting the door behind her. She sat down at the edge of the wide bed and the soft moonlight through the window lighted the angles of her face. Her eyes were black, bottomless pits with pinpoints of brightness in each one.

"I have come to you, Nick," she said. "It is written that the girl shall give herself to whom she has chosen."

"Khaleen," I said, putting my hands on her small shoulders. "I thought you understood. I came to you so you would not need to give yourself to anyone."

"I understand," she said softly. "I know you did it for me."

"Then there is no need for you to be here," I said. "You needn't carry through with me."

"But it is also written that the girl becomes filled with desire for the man she has chosen," Khaleen answered. "And this, too, is true."

"This is so with you, Khaleen?" I frowned. She didn't answer. Instead, she bent low and with one, quick motion, the voluminous robe was cast aside and I saw a creature so perfectly formed, so delicately sensual, so jewel-like in every aspect as to be overwhelmingly exciting. She sat straight, her back curving in a beautiful arch, her breasts pointed upwards, full and rounded beneath her nipples and curving with perfect symmetry to tiny, thrusting peaks. Her fine-limbed legs were beautifully molded and her hips smoothly rounded. She moved closer on the fur blanket, putting her hands on my shoulders.

"It is so, Nick," she breathed, and I felt the small body quivering. She pushed me back onto the bed and began to cover my body with her lips, blowing soft, hot breaths on my skin, moving lightly down my chest, across my abdomen, down, down, down with a touch as delicate as a butterfly's wing. She was sending a frenzy of desire through me, and I felt my body answer. I rolled her back on the fur blanket and let my hands caress the two small, beautifully peaked mounds of her breasts. She moaned softly and her legs encircled my waist. I felt her arms tighten around me and suddenly all the soft delicacy had given way to a tremendous, driving hunger. Her delicate body masked a fantastic, wiry strength, a tensile power that was matched by her stamina. Only later that night, reflecting back, did I recall how she had moved through the treacherous and tortuous mountains with such ease.

"I am yours, Nick," she breathed. "I am yours." She moved out from under me, relaxing the tight grip of her legs, and turned her body to offer more of herself to my lips. Her own mouth was a feverish, hungry animal, thirsting for my touch. I found her beneath me, astride my hips, languishing across my face, all done in fluid motions of grace and ease. She could slide her body in and out and across with the effortless beauty of a snake, and her lips and tongue sang a ceaseless hymn to Priapus. I let my lips rest over the perfect tips of her breasts, and I felt them throb to the touch. Khaleen gently moved her chest, drawing and pulling her breasts against my lips. Then she pressed them down hard, so hard I was afraid I'd hurt her, and her arms were around my head, holding me tight. She pulled away with an abrupt suddenness and fell back, arching her body backwards on the bed, thrusting her hips upwards for me to take, and once more she was as she had been during the ritual, feverishly pulsating with desire. I came to her and she released her breath in a low moan. I moved slowly in rhythm with her body until, with her small, fine-boned legs pressed around my waist, she shuddered in the moment of moments, her arms spread-eagled on the bed, hands digging into the blanket. She stayed that way for a long moment, immersed in the pleasure-pain of her climax, unwilling to release even an infinitesimal moment of rapture. When, finally, her body went limp and she fell back upon the bed, she pulled my head down upon her breasts, holding me there almost as a mother holds a child.

Finally, I moved and she curled up in the crook of my arm, her lovely little breasts still provocatively pointed upwards. I gazed at her, a child-woman, a creature so like this land of hers, a paragon of contrasts. As she lay in my arms, arms that almost enveloped her entire little body, I thought of the line from the Hindu prayer — Om mani padme ftum — "O, the jewel in the lotus." It was truly descriptive for there was a jewel-like quality about her physical perfection. She lay quietly for a while and then began to stir Without opening her eyes, her hand roved down my body and her lips and flicking tongue moved across my chest once again. Eyes still closed, she stroked and pressed and caressed with the inflaming gentleness that was hers and hers alone. I moved beneath her touch and only when I reached down and pulled her head up to mine did she open her eyes.

"I am yours, Nick," she repeated, and once more began to show me how completely and wholly she meant those words. When finally she lay spent in my arms again, I fell asleep holding her. It was typical of her that at dawn she slipped away so silently that I was only dimly aware of her leaving. When I awoke, I was alone and the sun was bright and my body still thirsted for her. I stretched, swung out of bed and washed and shaved. I was still in my shorts when the door opened and Khaleen entered, a tray of tea and biscuits in her hand. Wearing a loose-fitting robe belted at the middle, she set the tray on the bed and poured the hot, strong tea. It was eye-opening and invigorating. She spoke but a few words but her eyes, deep and soft, said volumes. As I finished the tea she moved the tray from the bed, flipped off the robe and lay naked beside me.

"Suppose your father is looking for you," I said.

"Father knows I am here with you," she said casually. "Besides, he is spending most of the day at prayer and in preparing his pack for the night."

Despite the overwhelming loveliness of that sleek, tan, clean-limbed body stretched out before me, the upturned breasts so piquantly pointed, I found myself uneasy as I thought about what the night might bring.

"I don't like this whole bit," I said aloud, more to myself than to the girl. "I don't buy the yeti business, but I don't trust Ghotak not to pull off something."

"He can do nothing," she said. "We will walk with my father to the foot of the mountains. There, some Sherpas have been hired to stand guard and see that no one enters the pass to the mountains and no one leaves until tomorrow."

I knew that the only way into the mountains was through the narrow pass in the foothills. I grunted in agreement but I wasn't satisfied. Khaleen had come to rest against my body, her arms draped across my stomach. "I am yours, Nick," she murmured again and pressed herself closer. She lay beside me, letting my eyes drink in her perfect little form, and then she rose and slipped on the robe.

"Father will leave an hour before sundown," she said.

"I'll be ready," I answered. She left without a backward glance and I dressed and went out. The streets were busy with people, farmers with their products, street vendors, and holy men walking austerely alone. I sauntered down the street, the aimless casualness of my walk masking the far from casual objectives I had. The old patriarch had been convinced that Ghotak had trapped himself by his challenge. I wasn't so sure of that. I was seeing the thin smile on the monk's lips as Leeunghi accepted the challenge. The Sherpas were to prevent anyone from entering or leaving the pass after the old man went into the mountains, or at least to report on it. Yet Ghotak was a monk, a venerated person, and these were simple people. He could, I was certain, easily convince them to pass him through and say nothing about it. They would not be about to disobey the words of a Holy One. If that was his plan he'd find more than the old man in the mountains, I vowed grimly.