Stories Of Lust and Longings.

Zayed watched as the stripper wound herself round the pole seductively but his mind was barely registering her. All he wanted to know was how he would get a bride in two weeks. Two. F*ck*ng. Week.

Allah, he thought he had more time than this, but his father had fallen sick and had been told to leave the throne for someone younger because of his health. Naturally, his son, Zayed had come to mind but Zayed was single to stupor and his cousin, Fazad, wasn't. Fazad's wedding was in two weeks and he would be eligible to take the throne unless Zayed could produce a wife before then.

So here he was. In the one place he could relax - Mystique, the exquisite men's club. All around him were men of different caliber, their eyes fixed on the seductress in front.

There was Antonio, the heir to the world's most deadly mafia organization, and Jackson, the son of the president of the United States of America. This was one of the very few places that could accommodate them both without war.

He tried to focus on the woman but still couldn't. He sighed and took a sip of the brandy beside him. May Allah help him or else he would lose his f*ck*ng mind.

****

“Hello, Prince,” came the voice as he headed towards his car.

He stopped and watched as the speaker came into view. It was the stripper on the pole.

She gave a wicked smile as she faced him.

“Why, you're absolutely more gorgeous than I thought.”

“What do you want?” he asked. He wasn't really in the mood for chit-chat.

“I'll ignore your harsh tone. I have a proposal for you,”

Intrigued, he paid full attention to her now. What could she possibly have to say to him?

“I heard you're in need of a bride.”

He kept quiet, compelling her to go on.

“Well, I would like to vie for the position, if it's still open.”

“And how would you know I'm in need of a bride?”

“Word gets around, Prince.”

Now, Zayed leaned against his car, legs crossed, hands folded. “What would happen to your life here? Or do you intend to carry out wifely duties with that of being a stripper?”

She flashed a smile, “Why, no. I intend to retire.”

He continued looking at her. If he agreed, it would be a marriage of convenience only.

“What do you expect to gain from this? And why retire now?” He asked.

She was one of the most popular in the club, way above the leagues of the other strippers, which was one of the reasons why she could approach him and talk freely to him. None of the others would have dared. She answered his questions.

“Well, I grow bored easily. I'm bored now. Time to start a new adventure.”

“And what would you like from the marriage?”

“Why, nothing, Prince.”

“It wouldn't suit you - the life that comes with being a wife, and you cannot tell me that you want nothing in return.”

Yes, she couldn't. She couldn't tell him that her deranged ex-husband was on her tail and she needed the protection of a powerful person.

Getting married again was not an alluring prospect for her but she had no other option and it was going to be marriage in name and name alone.

“I just want a comfortable, simple life after the one I've lived. Nothing more.”

“And if I find the love of my life somewhere along the line?” Zayed asked.

She shrugged. “Well, there's nothing against multiple wives in your culture, is there?”

“Culture or not, Miss Tania Sharapova, I intend to be a man with only one wife for the rest of my lives. No mistresses, no flings.”

“Well, ours will be marriage in name only, won't it?” She pushed on.

“I believe you heard me correctly, Miss Tania.”

She didn't even want to know how he figured out her real name. Around here, she went by the club allocated name. So how, and why, did he know who she was? Would marriage to him be a good idea? What if he was has deranged as her ex?

She refused to dwell on that.

“If the love of your life comes around, I'll leave the picture.” She fingered the locket around her neck.

“I swear on my dead mother's grave.”

He was silent. She watched him watch her. His eyes were a stunning unnatural combination of four different colors and she could barely stop herself from squirming as they studied her.

He pulled away from the car and handed her a card from his pocket. “Call me, Miss Sharapova.”

And with that, he got into his car and zoomed away.

“How long have we known each other?” Jasmine asked her friend.

Eyes on her, he answered. “Three years.”

“Let's sit,” She said.

He obliged and joined her on the stairs. He knew that whatever it was was heavy.

She turned to him with a bright smile, “If you were a sex worker, how much would you charge for a week?”

“An entire week?” Jasmine nodded. “Yes.”

This was one of the reasons she loved him. His ability to entertain her many out-of-the-world questions without deeming her crazy or shushing her.

Gabriel mulled over the question for a few minutes and replied. “About four hundred k.” J

Jasmine smiled the smile that always conjured a twinkle in her eye. “A bit much, isn't it?”

He shrugged easily, “I'll be worth it.”

And he would, she had to agree. It was evidenced by the number of women after him. He was not blowing his own horn. He was easy on the eyes too, with his fine dark skin and rightly muscled tall form, he wa