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Olive Trade: The Arab Sheikh

Gavin Rockhard

Copyright 2018

All characters depicted in sexual situations in this publication are eighteen years of age or older.

These stories are about fictional consenting adults engaging in taboo and controversial sexual acts. Nobody involved in the creation of this ebook, including authors, editors and models, support immoral or illegal acts in real life. Cover models are not intended to illustrate specific people and the content does not refer to models' actual acts, identity, history, beliefs or behavior. No characters depicted in this ebook are intended to represent real people.

Dino looked up as a man in a thawb walked in to his office, flanked by a beautiful woman in an excessively skimpy dress. Judging by her trashy look, she was a prostitute, in stark contrast to the Arab man with a finely trimmed beard and a thick mane of black hair concealed by the tailored thawb. They both looked bored, but her look seemed authentic, and his was forced.

Dino raised his eyebrows. "Hello."

"Howdy, sir," said the Arab man in a thick accent. He cleared his throat.

"Oh you must be Sheikh Al-Musammin?" Dino said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to give the impression you needed to come in here. I know that was a long trip-"

"Yes. Yes, uh... Yes. Yes, that is me. Sheikh Al-Musammin," he said. "I am pleased to meet you." Dino bowed to him, and he received it awkwardly.

"Well, I got the olives and tried them already. They were delicious," Dino said. He gestured to the empty sample-pack of olives from the Al-Musammin's family olive plantation in Yemen. They were excellent eating-olives, oily and pungent but with a tender sweetness that made them eminently craveable.

"Yes, well, I am certain we can do business." He gestured to the beautiful woman, who smiled like she had been waiting for that cue. She arched her back to show off her tits, and the Arab man looked at her nearly-bare breasts as though he had never seen any before. "Do you like her?"

"She seems nice..." Dino said. It occurred to him only then that his young man -- who was perhaps twenty -- could not be Sheikh Al-Musammin. His website described him as a grandfather, and there had been a picture, right? Dino couldn't recall it, but he would have remembered this handsome young man with muscles and creamy olive skin. From what he knew of Arab workers, they were not likely to respect such a young man. Could he really be the Sheikh?

"She is a prostitute. You do not like her?"

"Oh she's marvelous, sweetie! It's not that..."

"He's gay." The prostitute said flatly.

Dino shrugged. "I was going to say that in a sillier way, but yeah."

The young man shifted his weight back and forth. He looked down at his feet. Was that a blush on his cheeks and a quiver in his lips? Dino wondered if he had ever met any openly gay people. Dino smiled at him, but the young man just winced and looked away. "Be gone then, woman. You are not needed here."

"You still have to pay me. And twenty more bucks for a ride home if you're not gonna take me," she said. She stood and waited with her hands on her hips.

The young man in the thawb scowled. He handed over the cash. She counted it and walked out. Dino wondered if he was in danger, since it was obvious this young man was not comfortable with gays. It was hard to feel like this was a risk because the young Arab man was so handsome. He had a strict, stern face, but a sexy one that made Dino want to shower him in kisses.

"Let me be honest, because I am told Americans value that very highly. I was also told that you expect prostitutes at business functions-"

"You have been misled," Dino said.

"I can't go home without a deal for my father. I think I-" He paused. "I mean, for my family-"

"You're not Sheikh Al-Musammin. You're his son."

He flared his nostrils. "Fine. Yes. I am not Sheikh Al-Musammin, I am his son. I am Mohammed Ahmed ibn Abdullah Al-Musammin."

"Okay, Ahmed? Can I call you Ahmed?"

"Commoners may not call me Ahmed."

"In America, no one is a commoner. So I'll call you Ahmed," Dino said, grinning at Ahmed's harsh scowl. "First of all, you're never going to make a million dollar deal with a hundred dollar hooker. Second of all, I already closed the deal with your father over the phone. Third of all, I never said your family needed to send someone."

Ahmed sighed. "My father wants me to do business, he wants me to travel. He says I lift weights all day and listen to too much rap. He knows nothing of being a man in the modern age," he said. "I will go."

"Wait..." Dino said. "You listen to hip hop? Beyoncé?"

Ahmed's eyes lit up. "Yes, Beyoncé!" For the first time since Dino had seen his face, Ahmed smiled just a tiny bit. He came closer to Dino's desk.

"Do you want two tickets to a Beyoncé show tonight? I'll give them to you, if you let me do something to you," Dino said.

"Yes! Yes, I will do it!" Ahmed frowned. "I am not allowed to go to Western concerts, and my father does not approve of Beyoncé because of her revealing clothing. He believes she is a prostitute."

"Hmm, well, I'll keep it a secret, no problem," Dino said. "And I'll even tell your father you convinced me to increase my first order of olives because of your salesmanship. I-"

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