The Babes of Beirut

Cautiously, she opens the door to the backyard. She flicks off the light. After her pupils adjust, she scans the dark yard. Somewhere in the shrill sounds of the crickets' chirp is a distant noise, a strange noise. It sounds like scampering. Scarlet is strangely silent. Rikki's lips tighten. Some watchdog she is. What's that? Thumping? Footsteps? She squints into the blackness. Through the dark tree trunks, a tiny light comes on. A door slams -- a car's door. An engine starts and she hears it pull away.

"Find anybody?" Tahina asks as Rikki appears through the bedroom door.

"Not a soul. Thought I heard footsteps and a car driving away. Shouldn't we call the police?"

Tahina shakes her head adamantly. "No police."

"Of course," Rikki says. "How silly of me."

"If he comes back, I'll just let Scarlet loose. She'd love to turn the yard into her private cemetery."

Rikki doesn't have an answer for that.

"Anal orgasm is always special, isn't it?"

"With the right lover, yes."

"My turn?" she says, shyly lowering her eyes.

"Absolutely. Get out of your panties."

"Or you'll cut them off," she says glancing at the knife.

Rikki laughs. "Now that's kinky." She lays the knife on the dresser and slips the bathrobe off.

"Where's the other tattoo?" Tahina asks, quickly slipping the frilly garment down her legs exposing a brown divot of hair between her legs.

"I'll show you."

In a playfully move, Rikki lies on the bed, rolls on her back and raises her legs to her shoulders. The lustful display attracts Tahina's attention like a laser-guided missile.

"Gosh, a little bee right next to it."

"Does it disgust you?"

"No, I adore it. It's so like, totally outrageous."

Using her toes, Tahina flings the panties across the room. Suddenly, it's as if she's grown an extra set of limbs. She's all over Rikki. Her legs flex as she brushes her pussy-mound over Rikki's legs and thighs. She obliges, countering each movement with one of her own, using her toes, fingers, breasts and lips. Legs and arms entwined, as both carouse in the soft fire of warm nakedness, discovering the coals that are burning in their most secret, intimate places.

Wrapped in a bodily knot, Rikki's mouth finds her breast.

"Owwww, mmmmm, oh-oh-oh," are her pleasure-moans.

Tahina spreads her legs wide. In the soft light, her love canal gleams with dripping juices. Like a snake, Rikki slithers down her stomach. She freezes. Ignore it? No, there's no turning back now. Forcing herself, she lowers her head, suddenly indifferent to the pubic hair and the strong odor of strawberry scented douche that's invading her nose.

Suddenly an image of a duckbilled platypus with big boobs flashes. Dammit, if she squirts on my tongue, I'll quit no matter what the career consequences.

Abu Bukhari's rock star face pops back into Rikki's brain. A powerful shake to her head sends the image into oblivion. Rikki leans down. The circle of gentle kisses sends shivers across Tahina's skin. In a moment, Tahina covers Rikki like a soft blanket, kissing and licking the wetness from between Rikki's legs. The time feels right. Tahina rolls over on her tummy and raises her cute rump. Her tight little walnut pulses. She's -- ready.

"Oh hurry Rikki. You're making me so hot. I can't stand it. Oh, tongue-me. I need it so badly."

Rikki spreads Tahina's ass-cheeks with both hands. She gulps, closes her eyes and extends her tongue. The flesh is soft and warm. Unexpectedly, there is no disgusting taste. Starting at the bottom of her pussy, Rikki lays a long lick, all the way up to the top of her crevasse, and then kisses both butt-mounds.

Tahina moans and trembles.

Rikki does it again, pausing to wiggle and tease her brownish hole with her tongue-tip.

Tahina whimpers like a little puppy.

Just below, Tahina's slit is slippery, wide open and cherry-red with arousal. With a few edge licks, her clit rises from its hood. Against Rikki's licking tongue, the tiny nub feels inflated and pebble-hard. The taste of her juices is palatable, yet nauseating. At the first probing lick, Tahina groans in pleasure. Rikki's second tongue-stroke is more urgent.

Tahina snaps rigid from head to toe. "Yessss -- yesssss," she squeaks.

Goaded by an unconscionable force, Rikki licks, kisses, slurps and nuzzles, pulling her head back and forth, up and down.

Tahina writhes at the roughness of Rikki's center tongue. Each lingering stroke, each probe is building her twisting, passion-filled soul toward the tingling explosion she craves so desperately. In this state, Tahina is like a helpless twisting snake. With each guttural squeal, she squirms on the burgundy sheets, her hands kneading any inch of Rikki's flesh they can reach.

Five blocks away, the weasel's bony form emerges from a filling station's toilet. His face is contented, no longer strained. Taking his cell phone, he dials.

"Mas'a AlKair, Bukhari. Unh Mohammed. Kaifa Halok?" he says into the phone.

Tahina's pussy ripples. Rikki keeps her tongue constantly moving. It's impossible for her to ignore her velvety interior clamping on her tongue in cadence with Tahina's hoarse, soft, throaty pleasure groans. With each lick, she grows breathless. Shrill squeaks spew forth then deepen, signaling an impending orgasm that will be explosive and bone-deep. Tahina's hips rise, pushing her pussy divot against Rikki's licking, probing tongue. She twists, lifts, and pulls, following the writhing rhythm her body demands and her brain covets.

There's a slurp as Rikki extracts her tongue out to swallow. Suddenly Tahina rolls over. Her legs rise. Soft thighs clamp around Rikki's neck. Strong leg muscles bind Rikki's head to her, demanding the pleasure she so wantonly craves. Rikki extend her tongue full-length and wiggles it into her. Tahina gasps deeply, lifting her lower body up and down. Buried deep in the flesh surrounding her cheeks, Rikki senses that Tahina's crescendo is about to detonate.

With her jaw stretched to the max, Rikki licks faster. Her overtaxed tongue and jaw ache. Wiry hair tickles at her nose. Tahina bucks at the next two clit-licks. Rikki pulls out to rest a moment. Good-god, she thinks silently. This is like giving mouth-mouth to a crankshaft in a steam engine.

In two tries, Rikki snares Tahina's clit and sucks softly on the shaking stem. Vaginal lubricant floods onto Rikki's tongue. She swallows it down in one gulp. For fuck's sake you little bitch, Rikki growls silently. Shift out of low gear and boil over.

Suddenly, Tahina freezes in mid-arc. The tension is so intense, so irrepressible that there's no longer any way to prolong it. She screams. Wiggle-lick-wiggle-lick. Tahina's entire body snaps tight.

"Yes, yes-oh-yes," Tahina groans as if passion is flaming in her every vein. Her whole body shudders. Flowing through Tahina's skin and into her own, Rikki can feel orgasm rake her -- starting in her rippling pussy and overtaking Tahina from scalp to toes. She explodes with one vibrating, bucking convulsion after another. Even in the hushed, jerking solitude of Tahina's quivering thigh flesh, Tahina's screams and groans seem louder than Lizzie Borden's mother did during those famous forty whacks.

As the moments drift away, Tahina's orgasmic voice becomes languid with thick, heaving, heavy breaths of receding pleasure. Rikki's neck muscles cave in. Her head drops on the sheets with a soft thump. Sticky pussy juice coats her whole mouth and dribbles down her chin.

Tahina falls limp. Five silent gasping minutes tick away. Rikki sits up. Pulling several tissues from a box of Kleenex, she wipes Tahina's juices from her face. Lying in a sea of silk pillows and burgundy-toned sheets, Tahina resembles a quivering pile of jelly.

Tahina watches through smoky, lustful eyes as Rikki slides off the bed and digs out a pack of Marlboros from her bag. The lighter's flame flickers on Tahina's face, turning her skin orange-yellow. Lying down next to her, Rikki inhales deeply and rubs her leg up and down Tahina's thigh.

"I didn't know you smoked."

Rikki smiles. "Usually I just mooch."

"I have opium."

"No thanks. How'd I do?"

"You've got some kind 'a tongue Rikki."

"That's what my editor says when we argue."

"Rikki, I think I've found my own personal gold at the end of wonderful rainbow." She strokes the bottom curves of Rikki's breasts and sings softly, "To Allah I thank for the kiss, these cheeks and peaks, these lovely hips and luscious lips, to make glamorous, so amorous -- love. It is from heaven that you are blessed -- with breasts upon your chest . . ."

"Nice song. Do you have an ashtray?"

"I'll get one."

Sliding out of bed, Tahina's nakedness disappears through the arched doorway. Rikki taps the cigarette's ash into her palm, gritting away the short burning pain. A moment later, Tahina returns carrying a round tray. On it is a crystal ashtray, twin brandy snifters and a pear-shaped liquor bottle.

"Cognac?"

"Love some."

The brown liquid gurgles as it flows into the crystal glasses. Rikki's thoughts are silent. Given my druthers, I'd prefer a mega-dose of Listerine, rather than French brandy.

Tahina looks at her with a loving smile. "Rikki, you're just so amazing. Gosh, no one has ever, done it to me like that before. Is there something wrong?"

"No. Got a toothpick? I think I got some of your hair stuck in my teeth."

She giggles. "Sorry."

"Never mind. Got it." Rikki takes the glass from her outstretched hand.

"What should we drink to?" Tahina asks.

"How about fucking?"

Tahina coughs into her hand to hide her laugh. "You're so bad."

"I tried the good-girl thing once. It sucked."

The Cognac washes her taste from Rikki's palate. Tahina giggles as she sits on the bed and folds her legs under herself. "Gosh, I never dreamed it could be so, well uninhibited. No one's ever given me a deeper satisfaction. You left me dazed."

"I'm glad."

"Would you like something to eat? I'll warm up some Indian curry and I've got the sweetest grapefruit."

"No thanks." Rikki winks at her. "I've already eaten."

"I'll make a fire then. We could listen to music and cuddle. I've got all the latest records from the States."

Rikki pulls out her notepad and recorder from her purse. "We've got work to do first."

Tahina frowns. "Oh that."

"I understand Tahina, that you're very good with locks."

"I never came across one that could defeat me yet. I learned from my husband. Dilshad EsSahab was a locksmith, you know. But that was before -- he -- was killed."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

For an instant, her eyes blaze defiantly and soften just as quickly. "Don't be."

"Mind telling me how he died?"

"He set off a roadside-bomb in Baghdad. Americans shot him dead."

Rikki gasps. "My god."

A flash of anger crosses Tahina's demure features. "I'm glad that bastard Dilshad EsSahab is dead. Every night I bless the American hand which struck him down!"

Rikki looks into Tahina's angry eyes. Dilshad EsSahab, whom ever he was, had to have built a terrible household to bring on a reaction such as that.

Rikki learns a lot about Tahina EsSahab. She only works twelve days a year. For eleven days, she plans. Then she pulls the job on the twelfth. Her thievery is limited to expensive firs, diamond jewelry and other smiles of good fortune.

"I always work alone," she says, tracing the outline of Rikki's lower lip with her fingernail.

"Why?"

"Simple. That way no one can implicate me and I don't have to split the take."

"Aren't you worried about being caught? The punishment for thievery is pretty stiff."

She giggles. "The Beirut police have trouble finding their own zippers in the toilet. I have contacts all over Europe. They can fence anything, completely undetected. After a heist, the merchandise moves by courier truck to a distributor in Czechoslovakia. He breaks it down and sells it to buyers in Brussels and Budapest. The neat thing is nobody knows who else is involved."

Tahina's vast knowledge of the intricacies of un-tumbling safe tumblers and unbolting dead bolts is impressive. Besides basic breaking and entering, she professes great knowledge on how to bypass complex electronic burglar-alarm systems, defeat sophisticated motion sensors and closed circuit television security systems. For a burglar, those traits are more valuable than a Saudi oil field pumping at full tilt. An hour later, she's sound asleep.

A long hot shower and a gargle with Scope send the smell of Tahina's pussy juices into the Beirut sewer. Rikki glances at her naked form in the full-length mirror. The image is just as perfect as when she walked in. The only damage is a small black and blue welt on the bottom of her left boob. She puts her finger to her neck. Then there is this necklace. Swipe it? What can she do? Call the cops? Five-hundred grand would be a tidy grubstake on some lost Caribbean Island.

Rikki dresses quietly. Kneeling next to her, she touches her finger to her lips, and then places the kiss on hers. "Tahina EsSahab," Rikki whispers very softly, "you may be Beirut's best burglar, but when it comes to sexual manipulation, you've got the IQ of a grape."

Getting to her feet, Rikki unhooks the necklace and puts it on the bed. Picking up her boots, she tiptoes to the front door.

Outside, the street is peaceful. The Beirut night is clear. As she walks toward the BMW, she catches a glimpse of a strange-looking weasel-like man sitting in a battered beige Toyota.

I've seen that bird somewhere before, she thinks to herself. Her eyes brighten as the car seat accepts her weight. That's Stephen King's ax murder from the Kremlin Club. He's got to be one of Bukhari's henchmen. Good bet he's the peeper too. She shifts in the seat as that mysterious tingle haunts her butt-crack. She closes the BMW's door. "Okay Abu Bukhari," she whispers softly. "You lust for my asshole? Well, c'mon, I'll give it to you. But it'll be on my terms, not yours."

The BMW's engine cranks then starts. As she pulls away from the curb, her busy mind is already plotting and planning. It'll be a very interesting challenge to deal with a lust-filled Arab overwhelmed by jealous fury.

That aside, tomorrow's interviewee is Miss Angiea Nizza Himuz. She lives deep in the war-torn Muslim sector.

Miss Himuz is also known as -- THE BUTCHER.