THE ROSE OF THE DESERT 

by Johanna

Book I: The story of Johanna of Bavaria

Chapter One

I am called The Rose of the Desert by many, but my Christian name is Johanna. I was born in Bavaria, 35 years ago. Long ago, so long I can scarcely recall it clearly, I was a young girl, climbing the mountain roads to follow my father in his work as a merchant. My mother had died when I was very young, and there was no one else to care for me, so I began to accompany my father on all his travels. I loved it. The colors and sights and sounds, all of it was fascinating to me. But things began to change, as I grew older and blossomed. Papa began to dress me as a boy, insisting that I bind my breasts and wear a cap to contain my long, blonde hair. I hated this, and I often argued with him about it. I did not understand why he was so afraid. I did not fully understand the ugliness of the world, or it's vices. But I would soon learn this for myself…and learn that one's life can change in the twinkling of an eye.

One night, as we camped in a secluded area near the sea during one of our travels to France, Papa moved to put out the fire, to hide our presence from anyone who may be passing by. I was so cold that night, I begged him to allow the fire to remain. "We are safe, Papa," I can recall telling him, and his eyes filled with love for me as I wrapped myself tighter in the threadbare blanket. "All right, Anna," he said, using his pet name for me. "Just this one night, we will sit beside the fire, and sleep warmly." He sat down next to me, the weariness of the world seeming to be upon his shoulders. He looked at me and smiled. "You are so like her, so like my Eva," he said, his brown eyes warming at the thought of my mother. "She was as lovely as you are…her fair hair shining in the sun, her blue eyes like violets on the hillside…she was perfection, and I loved her so…" Papa looked away and wiped a tear from his eye. I leaned forward to hug him, and we sat there contentedly together, watching the flames. It was the last time I ever saw my father. I am grateful to our Lord that it was a pleasant moment. For as suddenly as a spring storm, a gang of bandits fell upon our camp, drawn by the light of the fire. Papa moved to grab his sword to defend me, but the men laughed and pushed him, for he was old and frail now, the hardness of our life having taken it's toll. The leader of the group, I spit to say his name now, Renauld, hauled me up by my hair from under our wagon, where Papa had instructed me to hide. I can still hear Papa's screams as the man dragged me into the firelight to get a better look at me.

"Oh ho, look what we have here…a little lamb, dressed in wolf's clothing," the man said, laughing as he pulled at the rough woolen men's shirt that I wore. "Leave her be! Leave her be, or I will kill every last one of you!" Papa cried, struggling with the two men who held him. Renauld turned and looked at Papa with cold, dead eyes. "I grow tired of you, old man," he said quietly. At that moment, one of Renauld's men drew his dagger and drove it into Papa's chest. I screamed, and tried to pull away from Renauld. He held me fast by my hair, as I watched Papa slump in the arms of the men. I turned and clawed the face of the man holding me, not caring now if I died in the same way as Papa. I drew blood as my fingernails raked across his cheek, and I fought like a woman possessed by the devil. He roared as the blood trickled down his face, and the last thing I remember was the force of his fist as it slammed into my jaw, knocking me unconscious.

When I awoke, it was daylight. I thought I was dizzy, as I felt movement beneath my body. I sat up, and opened my eyes. I was in a dingy little room, with a small round window above me. I stood up and pulled over a chair to look out of this window. What I saw made me gasp aloud. The sea…nothing but the endless sea, and no land in sight. I realized that I had been captured and taken aboard a ship, and that Papa was dead. I was alone, and there would be no one to rescue me. I fell to my knees and cried, desolation sweeping over me. A cold fear that I had never known before curled in my belly. I cried a long time, until there were no more tears left. After a while, I gradually felt my fear recede, and in it's place, a firm determination to survive rose within me. I had no idea what was going to happen in the days ahead…but regardless the cost, I vowed I would survive, and not only survive, but do it with honor and courage, as Papa had always taught me. I was the daughter of Athanasius von Goethe…and I would uphold our family's name.

My resolve was tested almost immediately. At that moment, the wooden door of the room opened, and Renauld entered, looking down at me on the floor. I was afraid of him, but I would not bow my head or lower my eyes. I looked at him defiantly, with contempt. He seemed to find this amusing.

"So you are awake, little lamb," he said, walking around me like a merchant would as he examined silks on a table. He grabbed my hair and pulled me to my feet, and then to my horror ripped the rough woolen shirt from my body, leaving only the woolen hose and binding cloths around my breasts. He laughed when he saw the binding. "This is how your poor papa hid you, hmm? He did a poor job of it. He should have cut this hair from your head."Renauld ran his hands into my hair, this time not roughly, but gently, as if feeling its weight and texture. I felt like a slave, then suddenly realized that perhaps that was going to be my fate. I pulled back and asked in what I hoped was a brave voice, "What are you going to do with me?" Renauld smiled a smile I will never forget, such evil in it that it still brings a chill to me to recall it. He pulled me against his body and said, "I know what I would like to do with you, little lamb…but I cannot. You are destined for a purpose, and for that purpose, I must leave you a virgin…you are a virgin, are you not?" I stopped for a moment, weighing my answer. If I said I was, what would my destiny be? If I said I was not, would it be worse? I did not know what to say. Renauld pulled me roughly into his arms and said, "You will not tell me? I will find out for myself, then." He laughed gleefully as he reached down and grabbed the waist of my woolen hose, dragging them down as his hand moved inside to touch me where no one else ever had, his fingers dipping inside me. I screamed in panic and pushed and clawed, and he laughed, bringing me down onto the dirty bed behind me, pushing himself between my thighs as I fought even harder.

"I can see you are a virgin, little lamb," he said, grasping my hands and holding them above my head as he looked down at me. "How I wish you were not, so that I could keep you for myself. But you are destined to make amends for me, with Ahmad Ibn Fadlan, and I must deliver you to him untouched."

I rolled away the moment Renauld rose from the bed, coming to crouch on the floor like an animal ready to attack. He merely smiled, amused with me. "You will make a fine gift…Ahmad detests women too readily willing." He roared with laughter and left, locking the door behind him. I threw myself onto the door and banged my fists on it, but all I could hear was the fading laughter of the man as he went up on deck.

Chapter Two

After what seemed like an eternity at sea, we arrived at our destination…the sheikdom of Ahmad Ibn Fadlan. It was entirely different from anything I had ever seen in my young life. I was amazed and dazzled by the people, the food, the animals, and the language…for some reason it all seemed wonderful to me. Even the camels were fascinating. Renauld said it was my youth that made this most unlikely journey to seem like an adventure. Perhaps he was right. I had made up my mind that whatever happened, I would meet it with spirit. Renauld never touched me again after that day in my cabin, and over the months, he even seemed to come to like me. But I hated him…he had ordered my father's death and taken me captive. These things I would never forgive. He seemed sorry that I hated him so, but I was beyond caring. We joined with a traveling group of Bedouins, who were journeying to the sheik's palace. I knew that the last part of my journey was about to end. That last night in the desert, I sat with Renauld. None of the men in the camp had attempted to touch me, once Renauld told them whom I was destined for. I did not understand the power of this sheik, but I knew it must be great, to cause such respect in men such as these. Renauld brought me by the fire at his tent to speak to me. As much as I detested him, I had become used to him, and I felt with revulsion a certain sorrow that he would no longer be with me. I did not understand my emotions…perhaps they were fueled by a desire to hold onto something familiar, even something as repulsive to me as Renauld. He poked at the fire with a stick, then crossed his arms on his knees and regarded me solemnly over the flames.

"You will no longer be Johanna of Bavaria after tomorrow, little lamb. You will become the possession of Ahmad Ibn Fadlan, and you will become what he says, when he says. You will take the name he gives you, and answer to him by it. You will do as he says when he says, and how he says. This is the way of this world you find yourself in …and you must be prepared for it." He looked sad, as if he knew he was resigning me to a fate he himself would not choose. "I…have come to care for you, Johanna…I know that thought makes you ill, as it would me, if I were in your place. If I could release you, I would. But your delivery to Ahmad will help save me from death, and I must do this. I want you to understand this. I owe him a great debt, and you will be part of what repays him."

I nodded gravely, and looked at Renauld. I saw his desperation, and knew that my course was set. I sighed, and then straightened my back and sat up tall. "Tell me when we will arrive at his palace," I said, my voice calm and firm. Renauld looked up and said, "In the morning…the Bedouin women will come at dawn to prepare you."

"Prepare me? What do you mean?" I said, leaning forward. Renauld smiled. "They will come and bathe you, perfume you, and dress you as befits a gift for Ahmad. You will be wonderful to behold, I daresay." He looked down at his hands, and rubbed them together to warm them. "I will miss you…more than you can know, I will miss you." I sat quietly and said nothing. My future lay ahead, and apparently nothing would change it now.

The next morning, everything progressed just as Renauld had said. The chattering Bedouin women arrived, bearing a tub of water, fragrant soaps and oils, and a light blue bolt of silk. Despite my protests, they bathed and perfumed my skin and even my hair. When they were done, they wrapped my body in the blue silk, somehow making clothing out of it, which I thought was quite beautiful. I had never worn such fine things, and despite my fear, I was pleased. They covered my hair in a veil of blue cloth so sheer, I could see through it. Then without further word, they took me outside and I was placed upon a white Arabian stallion. I felt like a ware on display, and for a moment, my anger rose. Renauld seemed to sense this, and turned his horse towards me.

"Do not fight or defy him, Johanna. He will not be as kind as I was to you," Renauld said, his black brows drawn together. I thought back on the invasion of my body that first day, and wondered what Renauld thought was kindness. I nodded, and we began the last part of our journey to the palace.

I saw it first, as it seemed to rise from the shimmering sand, like a jewel...the palace of Ahmad. It was pristine white, and more beautiful than anything I had ever seen in Europe. The men in our party seemed to draw fresh energy when they saw the palace, and we picked up our pace until we arrived at the gates. Two men stood guard there, with curved swords drawn. I saw archers upon the wall tops, and I knew this was a heavily fortified palace. I also knew with a sinking heart that it would be extremely difficult to escape from. I had toyed with various fantasies of escape, ever since learning of my fate as the gift to a sheik, but now these came crashing down as I was faced with the reality of the place. It was immense. I felt fear reappear in my belly, and I cursed my own weakness…but it remained, nonetheless.

The rest of that day remains a whirlwind in my mind…the leave-taking of Renauld, the partial cancellation of his debt, which gave him great joy after his meeting with Ahmad, and my installation as a prisoner. I had not yet seen the sheik. I was left in a courtyard, dotted with gurgling fountains, and locked in. It was at least a pleasant prison…but still a prison. I sat next to the main fountain, and waited for what would happen next.

Unknown to me at the time, Ahmad stood above me, looking down from his rooms in the upper floor of the palace. He told me later that he enjoyed this, being able to see me without my knowledge…in that way, he could read my true nature, he said. He has often told me how his eyes feasted on my golden hair, visible beneath the sheer blue of the veil. He felt his ardor rise as he watched me walk from fountain to fountain, dipping my fingers into the cool waters that flowed from them. At last, he was satisfied he had read my nature, and was pleased. He instructed Hassan, his man, to bring me to him.

Hassan came and unlocked the door to the courtyard, and motioned to me to follow him. I followed, afraid of Hassan and his dark, scowling appearance, but even more afraid of meeting the sheik. What would he want? Would he do what Renauld had done to me? Would he do more? I had seen some of the physical dealings between men and women in the taverns, which Papa had always tried to shield me from. But I had no real idea about what went on, beyond what I had seen. My hands shook as I followed Hassan through the endless corridors of the palace. Despite all my bravado, I now felt exactly like what I truly was…a very frightened 17year-old girl, lost, alone, and without hope of rescue. I prayed to the Blessed Virgin to save me, help me, and come to my aid. She would do so…but not as I expected.

Chapter Three

Hassan opened the door to the sheik's private area of the palace, and ushered me in. I was taken aback by the luxury of the place, and the heavy masculinity that permeated it. It was like a representation of the sheik, as if it held his essence, his aura. The warm colors, the rich textures, the scent of a spicy aroma I had never known before…I felt it close in around me and touch me intimately, and it frightened me far more than anything else I had endured in the months since my capture. Hassan sharply motioned for me to enter into the sheik's quarters, and with a nod, I lifted the hanging curtains and walked in.

I saw him there, for the first time, seated cross-legged on a low couch, his arms outstretched on his knees in a casual way. He did not seem frightening, he seemed…in control. Yes, that was the sense I received…here was a man who was used to having everything in his life under his control. I supposed that also included his women. I wondered how many women he had, and for how long, and what would become of me. I felt a fresh rush of fear as his amber eyes regarded me for what seemed like endless minutes. Finally he spoke.

"Turn around slowly," he instructed, making a circling motion with his hand. It was at the sound of his voice that my courage returned. His voice was deep, soft, and surprisingly, in German. I was surprised to hear my own language come from his lips, and he smiled in amusement. "I have traveled all over the world, woman. I know many things. Including your language, but I expect you to teach me more. Turn now, let me look at you."

I turned slowly, not sure why I was obeying this man without protest. When I faced him again, he had a broad smile on his face, and I was struck by the fact that he was truly a beautiful man, more beautiful than any man I had ever seen. He seemed to find me pleasing enough, and instructed me to come and sit by him.

He passed me a bowl of dates, saying, "Eat, and I will tell you what will happen tomorrow." I nodded, and took one of the dates and bit into it…it was delicious, and I was so hungry. He nodded at my pleasure, and said, "You will have to eat more. You are beautiful, but much too skinny. I like women who are more rounded than you are right now. However…" His eyes raked over me, and I felt naked to his gaze. "You please me now, just as you are." I sat and looked at him, the sudden burst of heat I felt rush through me unfamiliar and frightening. He seemed to sense it, and smiled slightly, looking at me under his brows in a way that I could not ignore. I kept chewing the date, and swallowed hard. He laughed lightly, and then began his instructions to me.

"Tomorrow at sunrise, you and I will be married. It is time that I marry, and I have decided that you will do well as my wife. You will not be the only wife I will ever have, for it is the way of our men to have many wives. I have never found any woman in the sheikdom that I wish to marry. But I wish to marry you. You will be given your own set of quarters, as all of my wives will have, for themselves and for their children. You will have the honor of being my first wife…in this culture, Johanna, that is a high position. I know you are grateful for this." He lay back on the cushions behind him, seemingly pleased that all of this was going so well. I was not pleased, however…his arrogant manner had finally pushed me over the edge.

"NO! No, I won't marry you!" I cried, tossing the bowl of dates at him. He caught the bowl and stared at me as if I had grown two heads, shocked to have anyone dare naysay him in any way. He suddenly seemed very young to me, which he was…he was 20 to my 17, and for all his earthly power, he was still a young man, full of bravado and confidence but lacking in the wisdom that comes with age. He sat up with the dates spilling out onto his lap, his fury white-hot.

"Yes, you will marry me…because I command it!" He roared, and then threw the earthen bowl across the room, where it hit the wall with a loud smash. Hassan instantly burst into the room, his sword drawn to protect the sheik. "GET OUT!" Ahmad bellowed, and Hassan almost instantly disappeared out the door again. Ahmad turned to me and stood up, his black robes swirling about him as he stood over me. "Hear me now, woman," he said, looking for all intentions like a dark angel from hell as he shook his hand at me, making his point. "You will obey me, and you will do as I say, or you will pay the price! There WILL be a wedding, and it WILL be tomorrow."I stood up, shaking from exhaustion, fear and anger, allowing it to make me rash and bold, and said, "I will obey you, my lord sheik, but only because I must!I will never do so willingly! You will own my body, but never own me, myself! That I will hold to myself, and no one, not even you, will ever touch it!" He smiled then, in a way that at the time I did not understand, and he said, "We will see, Johanna, who will be able to own you. I will not have to try. You will give yourself to me, and I will be happy to receive you. You are mine…and soon you will be mine in every way.""NEVER!" I cried. He laughed, pushing me down onto the cushions and passing me a fresh bowl of dates. "Eat, woman. You will need your strength for tomorrow…and for what will follow."

I took the bowl of dates and began to eat again, but I told him, between bites, "I only eat because I CHOOSE TO…know that, Ahmad!" He smiled that smile again and said, "I know that, Johanna…just as I know that you will choose to give me your body, your mind, and your heart, of your own free will." I frowned and turned from him, and he laughed again, and sat down on the cushions, looking at me with an expression that at the time I did not recognize. Oh, I know this look now…if I had known it then, I would have been less surprised by all the events that would follow.

The wedding was an amazing affair that I did not understand, in a language that at the time I did not know a word of. I responded as I was told to do, and before I knew it, I was the wife of Ahmad Ibn Fadlan. The wedding party lasted far into the night, with much revelry and joyous laughter. I could not resist enjoying myself…the people seemed to accept me as one of them, and the women happily accepted me into their circles, teaching me new words in their language, which was now also mine, I realized. As the evening wound down, the women suddenly pulled me from my seat and took me into the palace, all chattering excitedly, and took me to the sheik's quarters. They performed the same rituals as the Bedouin women had done, and I assumed it would end the same. But this time they only tied a sheer white cloth across one of my shoulders, and placed me in the bed of the sheik. I was horrified, the cloth hid nothing of my body from view, and I called them back, but they just giggled and left me. In a moment I heard the door of the quarters close and lock, and then I saw Ahmad enter into the room, lifting the curtains and letting them fall behind him.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at me. My natural modesty made me cross my arms over my breasts, but he said softly, "No…do not cover yourself, Johanna. You are as beautiful as Allah has made any woman on earth. Please…let me see you. I ask you, I do not demand." The change in his demeanor surprised me, and the gentle look in his eyes relieved my fears. Slowly, I lowered my arms, and placed them at my sides. He walked to the edge of the bed, and stood there, gauging my reaction. I looked up at him, struck again by his beauty. He removed his white headscarf, and I was surprised to see his head full of black, glossy curls. He looked young and virile, and he smiled as he raised his hands to remove his outer robes. I watched, mesmerized by his slow, easy movements, and I realized he was moving slowly so as to not to frighten me, as one would approach a skittish animal. I supposed that was exactly what I was. Inexplicably, I felt my heart open to him, just an inch. He sat down beside me on the bed and I felt the fear return. But he did not attack me, or demand anything of me… he only reached out, and with one finger, traced the edges of my face. His careful gentleness was what I needed, and I felt my last reluctance towards him fade away. He lifted my chin to receive his kiss, and I responded, opening beneath his lips like a flower. He smiled, and said to me in a whisper, "From now on, you will be called like the beautiful flowers I saw in Europe…the rose, I think it is called. Your name will be the Rose of the Desert. Do you like this name, my rose?" I whispered, "Yes."

I knew I was saying yes to much more. He was right. I would willingly give myself, in body, mind, and heart, to him. He was now my husband, and I would happily bear him many children, work at his side, and support him in whatever he wished. I knew that my prayers had been answered…not as I had expected them to be…but as they were meant to be.

Chapter Four

That was many years ago, and not once in all these years have I regretted anything I have done since. I have borne Ahmad many children, to my joy…seven boys, including the next sheik, my eldest son, Ahmed. Ahmed spends his days dogging the footsteps of dear old Hassan, learning all there is to know about the sheikdom. He badgers the poor old man with questions until I know he wants to escape, and yet, Hassan loves the boy, who is so soon to be a man, with the same loyalty he gives his father. My husband, true to his word, and true to his passionate nature, has many wives…four other women other than myself, all of them captured and brought here in some form or fashion, just as I was, 18 years ago. I have helped all of them to come to see this place as their home, to see that this is not a fate worse than death, but truly a blessing in many ways, even though none of us would have chosen this life for ourselves. God has a way of making all things turn out right. Ahmad allows me to worship God in my own manner. He never demanded I become Muslim…he even built me a chapel within my quarters, and has brought a priest to come to live within the palace for me. Ahmad is not like other men of his culture, and yet, sometimes, he can be its epitome. Each of us wives has a day with Ahmad, where we have his undivided and sole attention. My day is Sunday. Today is Sunday.

It was early in the morning, and I was just returning from the Mass offered by Father Schiller, when I heard a burst of laughter from the main women's solarium. I smiled and headed up the steps to the solarium, to find as usual, my best friends in the world, my husband's other wives, already arisen and happily laughing. I walked into the room and took in the scene.There was Susanna, my husband's dark haired, dark eyed wife from Spain, who was cooking something wonderful on the open flame stove that Ahmad had created and built for her. Next to her was fiery red-haired, blue-eyed Christine, my husband's Scottish wife, weaving another one of her beautiful creations. Christine had such a gift with horses that it led my husband to boldly allow her the traditional man's job of caring for them. As I said, my husband is not like other men. In the corner of the room, my husband's wife from Palestine, Deena, played another of her beautiful songs that she had written, as she sang sweetly. The wild one, as we liked to call her, Keliana, my husband's gypsy wife, sat laughing and regaling the women with another of her wonderful stories that she wrote on parchment to keep for all of us, and to amuse Ahmad. I loved the women as my own, and I smiled broadly as I regarded each of them.

"Johanna" Deena cried, seeing me in the doorway. At her words, the other women looked up, and as usual, we all began speaking at once. Ahmad found the racket we made to be beyond bearing, so he built us this special general quarters just for us, so we could be together and raise our children in a common area together. It was totally unlike how other sheiks led their families, but for us, it worked wonderfully.

Keliana smiled and nudged me. "You will not be here long, I daresay…today is Sunday, and soon he will call for you." I smiled, and nodded. We all insisted on calling each other by our birth names…it angered Ahmad when he heard of this, but he relented when we explained that this was our way of holding on to who each of us truly were, and did he not like us as we truly were? He had to admit he did. And so, we continued the practice.

"Yes, the children have been with their father already all morning," I said, thinking that I hoped the boys would not tire him out before the afternoon. I blushed at the thought, and Christine laughed, saying, "Ah, she is thinking of the afternoon already, and it is barely day!" The other women laughed, but then Deena said, "And do we all not do the same on our own days?" At this, all of us laughed and we dove into gossiping and laughing, until Hassan appeared at our doorway. The man always appeared to be afraid to enter, as it something evil might befall him if he crossed the threshold. I smiled at his discomfort, and said, "Yes, Hassan?"

"Lord Ahmad has need of you, Lady Rose," he said. I got up from my cushion, smiling at the knowing looks of the other ladies. We all so enjoyed the way Hasssan called us, it had so many connotations that he apparently seemed unaware of. "I bid you good day, until the morning, my sisters," I said, and all of us embraced each other as I left to go to Ahmad's quarters.

Once there, I found Ahmad as I did so often, looking out of the huge window from his bedroom that faced the vast desert. He loved to stand there and look out at the world beyond the palace. I knew this mood would mean he would leave us again, and travel to some far corner of the world. But he always returned, and that was what I held onto with all my strength. I walked up behind him and drew my hands up his back, the familiarity of 18 years making me bold and at ease with him. Yet the desire between us seemed always new, and I felt a rush of power as I felt the muscles in his strong back respond to my touch.

"Ah, my rose of the desert," he said, putting his hands on mine as I encircled his waist from behind. The love and desire I had for him pooled in my belly, arousing me and bringing me to lay my cheek upon his back, rubbing against him like a cat. "I have missed you these many days," I said softly, and he chuckled to himself, which I could feel through the folds of his robe. I knew he would be naked beneath his robes, just as I was…it was a habit that we had formed many years ago, and found quite pleasurable. He turned around, drawing me into his arms, as he bent and kissed me with a passion that had never died despite our many years together. We were 38 and 35 now, but in moments like this, our youth always returned to us. Ahmad hungrily kissed his way down my throat as his hands untied the ties of my robes. He pushed them off my shoulders gently, and let them fall to the floor at my feet. He stood up to allow me to do the same to him, and in moments, we stood before the window, bathed in sunlight, our naked bodies glistening with the fine coat of sweat already covering us in our arousal. Ahmad lifted me in his arms as he carried me to his bed, and lowered me down onto the soft cushions. He stood up, allowing me to drink in the sight of him, as he knew I loved to do. His body was still beautiful, firm, and strong, the fine hairs of his chest narrowing down to a line that led to his manhood, now fully erect and begging for my touch. I leaned forward and took it gently in my hand, as he moaned slightly and let his head fall back. I leaned forward and encircled the tip of it with my tongue, and I felt triumph when his body jerked in response. His hands dove into the thickness of my hair as he pulled me closer, in order to urge me take him in deeper, all of him, and he groaned my name as I did so. After a few moments more of delicious teasing, he suddenly let go of my head and pulled me up, crushing my lips to his as he pushed me backwards onto the bed with his body.

"Enough, my rose…enough," he said, putting his weight on me as I moaned at the pleasure of the feel of him. He began to kiss my temple, then eased his lips along the curve of my neck, then further down my body, inch by inch. I writhed beneath him, so heavily aroused I could not stay still. He chuckled, used to my ways after all these years, and still enamored of them. He kissed and licked slowly down to my breasts, where he stopped to suck hungrily on each hard, pink nipple, bringing my breasts together with his hands so he could move from one to the other and back again. I moaned and clutched at his back, but he just smiled and continued his trek down my body. He dropped small kisses into my belly button, and laughed as I giggled at the sensation, then he moved lower, and lower…the laughter died in my throat as his lips reached the apex of my thighs. He paused there a moment, and then with sudden sweetness, dipped his tongue into my most secret place, gently lapping and sucking as he moved. My hips came off the bed as I cried out, but he held me firm with his strong hands and would not allow me to move. His insistent tongue continued to lick and lap and suck, and I felt myself spiraling higher and higher, until I hovered right at the moment of completion. He seemed to sense this, and swiftly moved over me, plunging himself into me with a force that never failed to send me bursting over the abyss and into heaven. I cried out as I came, and felt myself soar again as he thrust into me again and again, his face contorted with the sweet pleasure of it all. He groaned loudly as his own release neared, and I wrapped my legs around him to let him thrust deeper. He cried out as he came, and did not stop thrusting until every moment, every drop, had passed in his completion. I wrapped my arms around him when he let his body relax onto mine, as he kissed the sensitive spot behind my ear, panting and trying to catch his breath. He was magnificent. I loved him with all my heart. I knew that there was no place on earth that I had ever been meant to be but here, in this bed, with Ahmad, forever.

Later, we lay in the bed like two spoons, fitted together perfectly as we looked out of the window and onto the endless desert. The sun was setting, and soon our children would be here, to spend the evening with us in dinner and play. "We must arise and dress, my lord," I said, caressing the arm that he had thrown over my waist, teasing the little hairs there with my delicate touch. I could hear him growl behind me, and his hand came up to tease the small, pink nipple of my breast back into hardness again. I sighed contentedly as I reached behind me and stroked the dark curls of his hair, only just now beginning to show his first grays. I had several, but he did not seem to mind them. He said I had earned them all of these years, and I knew he was right. But I had enjoyed every moment of those years. I had no sorrows, only joys.

"Ahmad," I said, turning over in the bed and looking at him intently. "In all of these years, we have said many things to each other. And yet, I do not think either of us have ever said I love you...not the actual words."

He smiled and stroked my hair, saying, "The words are not necessary…the proof of them is in our lives together." I smiled in return, but stilled his hand, taking it in mine."But I will say it, Ahmad. I love you. I suppose I have loved you since the moment you threw the bowl of dates and commanded I obey you. Ah, you were the ultimate male, in all your glory, and even though I have never obeyed you as you had hoped…" I paused for a moment as Ahmad chuckled, obviously agreeing with that statement. I stroked his cheek with my palm and continued. "I love you, my husband. I will love you forever."

Ahmad looked at me with a serious expression I had not seen in many years. He seemed to be sorting through his emotions, and I wondered suddenly if I had intruded on something I should not. He cradled my face with his hand, and said simply, "I, too, love you, my rose. Since the moment I read your soul and saw it's depth, from the window of my room, as you walked in the courtyard. I love you."

My eyes filled with tears as I leaned down and kissed him. I realized true happiness does not always lie in having your own way. If I had been able to choose, I would not be where I am right now. No, true happiness does not always lie in choices…but in what we do with the path that life takes us. This was my path. And I have found true happiness. So ends the story of my life thus far, my dearest. I mog di narrisch gern, Ahmad. Which means, I love you, Ahmad, in my native Bavarian. I pray you have enjoyed reading this gift as much as I have enjoyed writing it…and living it, by your side.

Your Rose of the Desert, Johanna