AND THE NIGHT IS GONE

by Sergio Palumbo (Edited by Michele Dutcher)
 
 

Following the great aerial battle that had been fiercely fought in 1893, over the increasingly prized shores of Africa—valued for their potential for colonization—the French aerostat-cannoniers had easily defeated the less modern and badly managed Spanish airships sent from airbases in Spain. These airbases were positioned at the far end of the Mediterranean Sea and finally settled the new dispute over the hold of the northernmost coastal areas of Morocco. After the end of that bloody confrontation, that had occurred two years earlier, the political situation of the whole area was immediately affected. Beyond that, there was a lot of troop movement and some ongoing deployments of military units on the ground to secure the area and protect the economic and trade interests of France in the new territory, of course.

Soon after those events, the French army took the favourable opportunity of the moment and tried to finally remove the Ango-Saxon presence in nearby Egypt. Actually, since the completion of the famous Suez Canal that had been built in 1869 in partnership with the British Empire, its construction had led to enormous debt in that country to European banks and had also caused popular discontent. In 1875 Egypt's share in the canal had been forcibly sold to the British Government and within three years the imposition of British and French controllers who sat in the Egyptian cabinet had turned those men into the real power in the area. Local dissatisfaction with European interference also caused the formation of the first nationalist groupings in 1879, so the United Kingdom and France intervened militarily, bombarding Alexandria and destroying the Egyptian army. Soon thereafter, a de facto British protectorate was created. Now, the French thought it was their turn to overpower the area once and for all, so another great aerial battle was fiercely fought. France managed to defeat the British airships that were stationed in the area, thanks to its more powerful and faster aerostat-cannoniers that its engineers had started building and improving long before the beginning of Steam Age in England and in other parts of the world. In the end, the French troops completely ruled also over this country, full of all its mysteries and ancient palaces of a time gone by.
 


It was night in the streets of Cairo—the capital of Egypt. The city looked like a complicated maze with all the narrow and confusing alleys that stretched out, intertwining here and there. Most of the houses were painted white, or yellow, or a light-blue colour and were bathed in light reflected off the river from the morning until late evening. When sunset fell, the buildings stood like flat dark cubes. There were only small oil lamps splashing light onto the outside of front porches, in order to help employees finish their jobs and allow them to move about safely, until the right moment came when they could finally get some sleep.

It was exactly at that hour that young men like officer Stephane Breffort walked the streets, hurrying to their destinations. He was part of a group made up of only five individuals: himself; his one-year-younger sibling, Deniel Breffort; and his friends Paul Huon, Benoit, and Aghlabi, a local man who was their guide through that part of the city. He was very knowledgeable about that urban area and had promised the four that he would help them reach a wonderful new venue where they could spend their night. This was the first time in days when they had free time, after many days of hard duty at their military headquarters. Without the guide’s help, none of them would have ever dared to enter such zone, which was usually crowded with many Egyptian or Moroccan men dressed in their long, loose, hooded garments hued in several soft colours with full sleeves and ornate patterns. The local women could be seen wearing the heavier mlahfa, which covered the entire body except for the face and hands—unless they were in full daylight and with an armed team of trusted riflemen.

Wrapped-up in his long azure uniform—the usual tenue de service with elaborate gold lines on his cap and six rows of lace which crossed the chest looking just like some ‘fashion accessories’ with a sort of cavalry flavour—the French military officer was tall and slender, though a few inches shorter than his brother Deniel. Their battle-ready bodies were a direct result of countless hours of training sessions and workouts at the on-base gym. They had been ordered to train that hard by their superior officer, who wanted them all to stay in a good shape although their job at present—which was making certain the battle stations of the Artillerie of the airship they were aboard were functioning properly—usually did not require them to move too much or to run around. The colouring of the collar with braided cords, the same as the traditional reddish trousers, identified which army he was from. Stephane was very proud of his rank, certainly, considering that the field service uniform he wore made him look more handsome and polished than ever, along with his long dark whiskers.

Similar to Breffort, his chestnut-haired friend named Paul wore the same elaborate uniform as his and Deniel’s, complete with a wide mantle that was light blue in colour. The fourth man was young Sous-Officier Benoit, who had short blonde curls, and had joined their regiment only one year ago; he came from a rich family. But even in that short time, they had become close friends, indeed. The fact that Benoit usually paid for drinks and dinner at taverns thanks to his seemingly unending resources, that were sent to him from home, made his company that much more appreciated.

What had forced them to finally accept an invitation from Aghlabi, to see for themselves a new pleasure house, was the fact that he had told the three they wouldn’t find any better venue within the city boundaries—and no truer experience, for sure. The officers had already tried such houses before, since the aerostat-cannoniere all of them were stationed aboard had reached Cairo. Their airship had been docked at the fluvial port with orders to secure the area and hold control of the many suspicious activities that were going on down there. The Moroccan man who was around thirty years old—but not even he himself really knew how old he was, as he had been raised as an orphan—was an individual who had worked for their headquarters before and had long serviced the French troops in Northern Africa before the start of the rule of France in this region. A man of good company, capable of making the others laugh, he was well-experienced about all the local traditions, rites and dangers, and he could speak four languages other than his own. He was always ready to have a drink with them or spend the evening in some spot or another, as it was his duty to help the French soldiers get accustomed to the place and feel at ease during their long stay.

Aghlabi never tired of saying that he was personally at the command of their Capitaine de la Flotte Aérienne (Air Fleet Captain), seemed to have a deep appreciation for alcohol, and in this way, he didn’t resemble the other locals who usually abstained from beer and wines due to their religious beliefs. If it hadn’t been for his typical Moroccan features and his overall dark complexion—and if you relied only on the traditional light yellow desert outfit he wore—nobody would never have imagined that he really wasn’t a European who had chosen to live in this part of the sunbathed African territory.

The many Dar, which was the name given to the most common types of domestic structures in Egypt or in Morocco, unceasingly followed one after the other, being unending portions of the same neighbourhood that stretched sideways. The exteriors of those homes were typically without ornamentation, only having occasional small openings such as stairways and doors for service areas. Such parts of the buildings provided light and ventilation for most of the day. Composed of thick, high walls that protected inhabitants from being robbed, from wild animals or other such problems, they were also used to minimize the heat. However, they had a much more symbolic value from a local perspective: in this country, the same as in many near locations in North Africa, the exteriors represented a place of work, while the inside was a space devoted to calm and rest which was commonly graced with rich decorations and crafts.

After a few more steps, past a rounded corner where a tall worn-out wall stood, seemingly to separate a higher part of the street they were walking from the lower trail they were entering now, the pleasure house they were searching for suddenly appeared. Its name was, once correctly translated into their own language, ‘The Garden of Night Dreams’ and given their interested and joyful expressions, each of the military men hoped it would really prove to be as promising as it looked from the outside.

‘We have arrived,’ Aghlabi stated with a wide grin. ‘Now you’ll see for yourselves, certainly.’

‘Don’t disappoint us, my friend. Stephane is very eager,’ Deniel added in a smile of interest, looking at his older brother who didn’t reply at the time.
 


What immediately came to their minds as the five men were welcomed inside was that the two-storey house combined history with enchantment and luxury, reflecting a Moroccan style perfectly mixed with old pieces. Many in-room amenities were in the style of the art of the colonialism from the end of the 1800s, when French businessmen had established a system of values and cultural nuances built upon European models to support their programs. Having entered only a few houses of the inhabitants in the city, the officer thought this venue looked very different from the usual dars that were endowed with long and narrow rooms. Those houses created vertical spaces, because the regional resources and construction technology typically only allowed for joists that were usually less than thirteen feet.

On the contrary here, in this house, a sort of opulence of times long past blended seamlessly with the comfort and style of modern furnishings in the entrance and in front of the stairs. It embodied the splendours of a refined though exotic venue and appeared to have been built to hold a special spot in the hearts of all who had visited it and enjoyed many wonderful times here, young and old alike. Also, inside those premises the space was meant for the good of both the mind and the body. From the sweet music carefully selected for the entrance that several musicians played, to the languid sounds of the bar, the tunes set the tone of the various locales for the pleasure of its residents.

Much more than simply a green-space amidst the bustling market city, the tiny park that stretched past the pillars, next to the main room, looked like a legendary garden. Home to a few fruit trees with hundreds of flowers perfuming the air in the shade of wide branches, the abundance of leaves grew together naturally in subtle disarray. Periwinkles and Barbary figs intertwined with local plants so these magical areas were constantly changing and evolving with the seasons. After some substantial refreshments and a few sweets—like the flour-based tasty halwa which were very popular throughout Cairo—the five were led to the main wide room on the ground floor where they were kindly asked to have a seat and wait for a few moments.

While evaluating the handmade four-seat sofas and the wooden furnishings that were all around, what immediately caught the attention of the young officer was a very tall lamp. It looked like one of those huge wedding Moroccan blue centrepiece candle lanterns. Egyptians, too, were supposed to spend time on rooftop terraces outfitted for lounging and eating under such showy lanterns, but this was bigger and even more imposing. Being at least seven feet tall, the colourful azure hues of that exotic metal immediately brought to mind images of magical and unknown Morocco! Suitable for use as a common lamp, it lay positioned on the wide table in the middle of the room they were now. But it was presently switched off and Stephane was very eager to see it in operation.

Their wait proved to be short, and a tall, though bulky man in a reddish luxury outfit—who they were told was the proprietor of the house—appeared in the room, welcoming them all again and thankfully winking at Aghlabi who sat next to Paul. It was obvious the proprietor had immediately recognized him. ‘Now our show is ready to begin, sirs,’ the man said in a cheerful tone, while taking the lead on the issue. He then happily smiled and promised, ‘You’ll not be disappointed, my dear customers.’

All of a sudden, the luminosity coming out of the large lamp on the table reached the reddish and white pillows on the sofas, the many traditional rugs and the walls all around, wrapping everything in a new shade of pleasing comfort. The lamp seemed to cast a completely new light on the whole room. At that point, a sort of haze, more a humid mist than anything else, started spreading throughout the room, as if coming out of the pond that was in the park outside.

It gave the men a sense of comfort after the warm, dusty climate of the last sunny day, and the overall effect that resulted was a cooling mist, or so the French officer thought. Then, the slender figure of a woman dressed in a vintage, sensuous Moroccan costume that left most of her pale body exposed, made her appearance and she began dancing, slowly approaching Stephane and the other three military men. He had never seen such an exotic, unusual show, and his mind was immediately attracted to that woman—her delicate features seeming to have a strong grip on his interest and his senses, undoubtedly.

The beautiful woman wore very luxurious clothing made up only of a short whitish garment with wide loose short sleeves, decorated with flashy ornaments and securely fastened in the front on her wondrous and notable bosom, with a row of tiny buttons made of gold, or at least so it seemed. Her long, dark hair reached her naked shoulders, and her pretty face was wrapped in a sort of hand-wrought head ornament adjusted to fit with both the top chain and side chain that made her traits even more sensual and extraordinary.

The purpose of that sweet, subtle, and attractive dance was undoubtedly to attract the attention of the male customers, and Stephane considered that it was probably rarely practiced and performed before the eyes of the locals. All of the woman’s dance-movements, as well as the appearance of the dancer herself, were daintily meant and conceived to make one quickly become lost in that joyful, fast display of abilities, seductive gestures and loveliness. Adorned with that colourful dress and ornaments, for the glorification of her pretty figure and the delight of the eyes and heart of all the viewers—which was the true aim of it all—her outer appearance was designed in such a way that everyone got the impression that it wasn’t an ordinary human being who was presently dancing, but a truly vibrant, beautiful divinity.

The lovely movements and delicate hand-gestures that continuously followed each other were soft, very stylized and pleasant to see, being used to suggest thousands of meanings. The movements helped to keep the spectators focused on deep concentration, and they were exquisitely counterbalanced by powerful footwork, which gave a lively feeling to the overall dance-performance. Each successive action of the dancer was a surprise to the eye and everyone who sat in the room was in constant astonishment.

It looked like a new language to learn, a technical system to memorize; bodily mastery was significant as it all proved to be mainly a matter of controlling motion. Moving a pale arm forward or raising a nude leg to the breast showed you how clever, experienced and wondrous she could appear at will. With the final merging of the self into the music that continuously spread, the scene inspired its immense appeal all around. The soul of the dance seemed to be lying in the hands of heavens and had a power so great that Stephane knew he had never seen anything like it in the highly decorated ballrooms or notable shows that took place back in his homeland’s capital, Paris. This was true of even the famous female performers who worked there, whose renown was already internationally set.

After the end of the incredible dance, the French officer noticed the appearance of the proprietor of the house out of the corner of his eye, and soon other beautiful young local or European women in the same short attire were allowed in. There were four of them and they started moving around, smiling and eyeing the customers who were seated inside the room, waiting to be spoken to by the men who sat sideways, or wanting to be called over to start talking or have drinks in their good company. But the wondrous dancer that had brought such an unbelievable delight for them didn’t leave the room, unlike the way a leading lady usually did. She immediately forgot about Deniel and Paul and headed for where Stephane still sat.

An exciting smell immediately filled all the man’s senses. As soon as the incredibly beautiful woman reached the row of luxury sofas where the officier was and sat next to him, she remained silent and started smiling and playing with her wondrous long hair. Then the dancer moved her hands up from her breasts and onto her forehead, drawing her fingers along her face until they rested on her neck, just beneath her delicate ears. She stared at him intently, enjoying the sensual images that she was creating.

‘You really danced very well, my dear!’ Stephane started saying without losing the chance of the moment, watching her spectacular dark eyes and the slender features that shone even more because of the ornament she wore on her head of hair.

‘I’m so glad you liked it, sweetheart,’ the woman replied in a low, sultry voice, that was enough to make a man quiver. ‘A dancer may be outwardly beautiful and technically perfect, but if she does not come across as a real person during the show, one might compare her movements to a tasteless soup without salt or a beautiful flower without colour.’

‘What you say is true. Well said, certainly…’

‘Your accent, it’s French, isn’t it?’ she pointed out, interested.

‘Yes, my dear. My friends and I—my brother Deniel included—are French Officers of the Flotte Aérienne de la France, as you can see from my uniform. My name is Stephane, and I’m very pleased to meet you.’

‘Je m'appelle Ghaniyah,’ the fair creature said in return.

‘Do you speak French well?’

‘Only a little,’ the other told him. ‘I’ve always wondered about what your home country is really like, with all those huge modern towns and their streets full of people dressed in the latest fashions, wearing expensive jewellery.’

‘You’ve never been there?’ Stephane asked her.

‘No, not yet.’

‘Well, I can assure you, my darling, that your present clothing has nothing to fear in comparison with the costliest dresses of the richest and most beautiful French women back in Paris, certainly.’ the man added. ‘You have better style than any of them and you are also more beautiful than the most famous and aristocratic girls living there, indeed!’

From that moment on their exchanges of words became effortless, clearly, their talks were freer and soon also more dissolute, certainly. After asking Ghaniyah about the strange lamp that had been switched on right before the start of her dance, the French officer was told that it was an entirely new design, using a steam engine to fuel the lamp itself. The mist was due to the necessary fittings to get the energy required directly from the hot-water heating that was installed downstairs, just under that floor... at least according to what the proprietor had told her long ago. That same power source also provided the heat for the water pools inside the building, making those so pleasing and wondrous, anyway.

So, the lamp was not only positioned as a tabletop accessory, but it was also always connected to that piece of the furnishings, because of its link to the same plumbing, and it couldn’t be removed. This was a great example of a perfect use of the new steam technology the Westerners had brought here that was put on show to impress the wealthy customers of the place, certainly.

As he asked for more information about the technician who had built all that, the woman replied that she had heard it was an Englishman who had come here to live many years ago and had left shortly thereafter. The woman then quickly changed the subject and asked the officer if he would come and watch her dance again. Stephane eagerly replied that he wouldn’t even think of missing such a thing, of course, but it depended upon his duties back at military headquarters. Perhaps, another time, he could watch her dance again—when he had more free time, of course.

‘So, you enjoyed how I danced tonight?’ the woman asked in a sensual tone.

‘More than that, you can say I loved your dance, my darling!’

‘And there are also more sensual ways I can dance, just for a few special friends of mine, you know…’ Ghaniyah whispered into his ears.

A look of embarrassment filled the officer’s eyes, along with a clear joy that immediately started spreading throughout his body and that he almost couldn’t keep hidden. That was going to be a night to remember, for sure, he told himself. He was a lucky man, indeed, as that wonderful dancer had chosen him instead of his friends who were there, and in doing so she had made him one of the happiest Frenchmen who had ever visited that town, undoubtedly.

 

‘Leave the uniform, right now all I want is you!’ Ghaniyah told the man as soon as they were in the room assigned to them upstairs. Their lips immediately met, and a long passionate kiss followed. Then the two tipped their heads as they became more and more involved with each other.

As their tongues investigated the deep, distant corners of each other's mouths, they both became increasingly immersed in more and more kisses. The dancer’s soft and very capable hands expertly unbuttoned the officer's coat and shirt, then she reached round and unclasped his trousers. In return, Stephane started undressing the beautiful slender woman and got quickly beatific as he saw that her nipples had rapidly become erect and were easy targets for his warm exploring hands. With one last long kissing motion the French officer slowly pulled his lips away and she took her partner backwards to the bed. The man couldn't help but squeeze her hard nipples as the woman continued to excite him with her continuous sexual movements.

The dancer whispered and pulled her traditional skirt up still further, revealing the rest of her nude body, between her wondrous long, pale legs. Stephane paused just for a second to admire her womanliness, that was ready for him before he moved herself onto the bed. All the time their own state of pleasure seemed to be rising and rising, the officer continuously exploring the luxurious shape of her body while the dark pupils of the dancer were clearly displaying that she liked the way he touched her skin. Then the man got up from between her knees and slowly backed away from her, not letting his eyes leave the legs he had been touching for the last twenty minutes.

Finally, Stephane lowered himself until her breast was pressing into his chest and started doing his best, without saving his energy, more and more times. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for an orgasm which struck just within a matter of seconds, anyway. Then a few moments of rest followed, in silence.
 


The two were lying together on a wide sofa in the room that looked more like a bed than a real couch, and the room was silent under the first light of the morning. It seemed that just a few moments ago the place had been resounding with the moans of pleasure from the man, more so than from the woman, even though the French officer didn’t mind very much. What really mattered was that he was there, next to that beloved dancer and ready to show her how capable and passionate he could be as soon as his strength was finally back, although last night had truly exhausted him. This was probably due to the fact that he had simply tried his best to bring them both happiness, more so than ever before. But he also imagined that there was something else, as he presently felt stunned, weak and very fatigued; possibly the thought of that relationship, that deepening love, was so overwhelming that it completely held the stage and put all his other worries out of his mind.

While his eyes were looking around the room and his mind was in a pleasant state, the sensual woman kept playing with the golden braids and the lace of her lover’s uniform. Ghaniyah then touched his hat and finally sneered, looking at his chest and making a funny face. She pulled a few strands of her long hair from behind her shoulders and wrapped them around the arms of the man, making his arousal level slowly rise. She knew how to be exciting, certainly, and in a way you could say she was an experienced, unfaltering mistress at that.

By staring at her black pupils, as deep and obscure as the darkest night fallen on a lost alley in the city, Stephane considered her features, one more time, and thought he had never felt so attracted to someone else before. The pale dancer could whisper soft words to him, stroking his short hair in a sweet way and, probably, she would also be manipulating him as a perfect slave, if only he would let her do that. But it wasn’t her dainty gestures, her wondrous body next to his or the way she behaved that made the man consider her to be one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen—of course there was much more than that.

‘I must go back to my airship,’ the Frenchman said unwillingly.

‘Will you come back again, my dear?’

‘Of course, my darling, of course!’ he replied immediately. ‘But it will take some time, as I’m not sure when I’ll be given another three-day pass, or even granted leave time.’

‘Your duties are the most important thing, I know…’ the woman added.

‘We’re soldiers…’ Stephane stated, as if he wanted to justify himself or make clear the fact that he would soon be taking leave of her and that great house.

‘Well then, go. I’ll be here waiting for you, my dear, of course.’ Ghaniyah nodded, stroking his hair again and kissing him softly. ‘And next time I’ll dance for you as you have never seen before.’
 


Over the course of the next few days, time went by very slowly and the young French military officer thought again many times of that wonderful woman and her irresistibly seductive body, while he was on duty aboard the aerostat-cannoniere, where he was stationed. The attractive face of the dancer also appeared to him in his dreams.

Most of the time, things seemed to have lost any meaning, even though it was very difficult not to be attracted by the incredible landscape that stretched below their military airship, regardless of the arid climate. People living in Europe nowadays probably had only a faint image of that exotic land. Early travel literature had played a historical and key role in spreading information about faraway cultures, but certainly, before the age of aviation, knowledge and news about foreign countries like this one relied almost exclusively on a few written accounts of adventurous travellers, traders, and explorers who happened to come to this area. Visits by merchants to Egypt dated back to the oldest times but voyages by European sea vessels were first recorded in the 13th and 14th centuries and their accounts had impressed the inhabitants of the northern regions mainly by tales about the exotic dress and the horsemanship the locals seemed to possess.

Cairo was at the place where Europe met Africa: the point where the Atlantic washed into the Mediterranean and where an intersection of two different regions came together. That fluvial port had once been run by pirates who used the urban area as a base for launching attacks on shipping. For those centuries, pirates did not have to contend with any strong central authorities, but their hold over the troublesome place finally collapsed in 1818. Even after that, pirates continued to use the river, which finally led to the shelling of the city by Austria in 1829, after an Austrian ship was lost to a pirate attack.

Their daily duties as French officers passed like one endless day, while nothing seemed to really happen aboard the aerostat-cannoniere. Only troopers stationed on the ground had occasional skirmishes during their patrols, along with a few riflemen who had to be called upon to intervene quickly in order to settle some dispute, be it among peasants, traders or common citizens. But those dusty streets below looked so far away now, and all three of the officers who well knew each other continuously looked forward to the moment when they would finally be allowed to disembark again and have some free time in the city—which happened only rarely, given their strict regulations. Certainly, the French Headquarters had to be afraid of the possibility that some rebellious citizens would make the city an unstable place, and that was why their military airship was here. It was in Cairo, in conjunction with a small armoured warship from the Marine Nationale named Courbet, that was presently in a very secure position at the fluvial port, its thin upperworks and bulging flanks allowing aiming of military turrets that made a fierce display in the whole azure river.

The copper-yellow coloured aerostat-cannoniere they were at the service of, named Dévastation, looked more petrifying than any military watercraft of the period, given the fact that it could quickly reach almost any place on Earth and its firepower was frightening, certainly. While several of its sister civilian airships were constructed to transport up to seventy wealthy passengers in comfort, the Dévastation was one the airships of the Flotte Aérienne that commanded respect because of their ten heavy guns which could easily destroy a wide part of the city below, if ordered to do so by the high-ranking officers aboard. Featuring a number of design advancements that enhanced its stability and hull integrity—along with extra fuel storage, reinforced engine struts and auxiliary control mechanisms—it was designed to have a military crew of sixty and some thirty tons of cargo. It boasted a range of more than 8,000 miles overall, which made possible many difficult and demanding tasks that would have been unthinkable in the recent past. Such aerostat-cannonieres were said to be weak if fired upon because of the gases they had inside their hull, which was the main reason why they had to fire first. However, their airship had many capable and attentive gunners and officers like them who were always on duty at their battle stations to guard the city in case of some attacks—not that anyone had been so stupid as to attack the ship so far. The firepower they had was enough to make every opponent think twice before trying anything.

Given the lost look Stephane displayed at times, and the obvious way his brother Deniel and his friends held his depression against him, no one believed that wondrous dancer had only mildly impressed him. It was apparent that he had been pierced through his heart by only having a little time with her in that pleasure house, spending one night together and nothing more. He had to go back to that place, the young man knew it very well, and it had to be soon, as soon as possible.

After you’ve tasted a juicy fruit you never saw nor swallowed before, there is no reason to forget it or leave it behind you, especially if the new exotic fruit is still at your disposal and there’s no need to stay away from it. And he did return there, just eight nights later, when the time finally came to go down to the surface again.
 


Over the course of the next visits during those long, warm spring months, Stephane considered how strange he felt when he was away from that house. In a way, the woman’s face seemed to never really leave him, she always seemed to reside in the man’s mind to guarantee his total openness. The French officer had also participated with her in passionate rites—involving wild music—that had taken place in the main room inside that house. And he had loved all that. In fact, if it had been left up to him, the man would never have gone back to headquarters again, certainly. Actually, it had been his younger brother, Deniel, and the few men he was with that had managed to finally take him back, even though they, too, were drunk and not eager to leave when the time came to return to their lodgings the next morning.

But every single time Stephane had to take leave of the dancer, all the moments he had to spend away from that pleasure house, a piece of himself seemed to be left behind, the same as a big portion of his heart. The man whispered soft words to woman, blew kisses to her, but it didn’t seem to be enough to calm him down nor to appease his senses anyway.

‘I’m here, and I’ll be waiting for you until the next time, my love…’ were the sweet, pleasing words that fell from her lips, and at that moment he simply was tempted to let all the rest go to pot and forget about all his military duties. But he was always able, in the end, to restrain himself, even though with much difficulty.

Again, it was one of his other friends, Paul, who helped him to walk away and go back to their headquarters at the fluvial port. His brother Deniel said ironically that it wasn’t just the terrible climate of the place that weakened a stranger or got him down, but the beautiful local women who got the best of his mind and his will, after all. Maybe Deniel was right, or maybe it was just that his love affair was so deep, so beguiling that it didn’t leave space for anything else in his thoughts. How would he be able to wait another eight days before coming back to her? Really, the French officer didn’t know yet.
 


It was one morning, very early, that the Moroccan proprietor of the pleasure house came to the main room where the foreign guests were usually welcomed early at night before the dance show began. He bustled about the very tall lamp that was in the middle of that space: the servants had already tidied the luxury handmade four-seat sofas and the furnishings, as they usually did daily, so the man didn’t pay attention to the cleanliness of the place and focused on his present duties.

Admiring its overall structure and the colourful azure hues of that exotic metal, the proprietor checked the hidden mechanism that activated it and, after being sure that everything was alright, he switched it on.

Once more, as usual, the luminescence coming out of the large lamp on the table reached the lovely, oversized pillows, that were on the handmade four-seat sofas with huge back cushions. It wrapped everything in a new shade of soft comfort, casting a completely new light on the walls themselves. Then the well-known haze started spreading throughout the entire room, as if coming out of the near pond that was in the park outside.

It didn’t take long before the wondrous female dancer appeared before his eyes, already dressed in the wonderful costume she wore during her night shows. Actually, those clothes weren’t merely what she commonly wore, but happened to be a part of her true being.

It had been merely by chance that they had discovered such a thing. The day when the British scientist had come to see the Moroccan proprietor in order to show the new machinery that he had conceived, he had ended up being completely unimpressed, at first. This object seemed to be a common Moroccan lamp, simply taller and bigger than the others. The project the man of science showed him—so he could connect it with the plumbing in the building and set the necessary fittings to fuel the lamp itself, and pump water from the stream—didn’t attract his interest very much. But as soon as he saw the lamp at work, with all the consequences of its incredible functioning, the man immediately changed his mind. And afterwards many other things changed too; it all deeply changed.

By looking at the wondrous, delicate features of the beautiful face of the female dancer, along with her almost perfect body, her long pale legs and her overall composure, nobody would ever suppose that they were standing before a real Qandisha. She was the most feared shape-shifting demon, or evil goddess, coming from the old myths of Morocco and was known to commonly appear in the form of an attractive woman, although she was said to change her appearance at will. By attracting young, inexperienced men into the springs and rivers that she inhabited, she always did what was on her gruesome mind and those men were never seen again. During the summer in some lost areas of Morocco, sacrifices and offerings were also frequently made to her to keep the creature herself at bay, but they didn’t always work.

Local children were also supposed to be frightened in her presence, and people knew that such beings frequented some rare places associated with water to create mischief in human affairs. It had been a wonderful opportunity for him to be able to find a way to summon such an imposing creature, thanks to the device of that British man, who had incredibly conceived it and then sold it to him, just by chance. By using that steam-powered machinery, some common men had finally and incredibly proved capable of turning energies lying in another world and bringing those into our realm, along with such a being!

It had also proven to be a great show when the Moroccan man himself had positioned that new lamp in his pleasure house, in order to activate it when necessary and evoke her at his disposal. The pond that he had built nearby, next to the room, was a way to please her, as the man knew of her interest in water, certainly. It was a small favour to that old powerful demon, even if that pond had cost a lot—and required large amounts of expensive liquid to be replaced day by day—but what better way to satisfy the legendary creature, anyway? That was the first suggestion that had come to his mind, and the Moroccan businessman had made the perfect decision, certainly.

Of course, the young French officer who had recently fallen in love with her couldn’t know that the woman he liked so much, and that seemed to easily possess all his soul, was a Qandisha. Nor what their real purpose was, and how to put her power and unearthly abilities to good use, of course!

‘My lovely Ghaniyah,’ the proprietor told her in a respectful tone. ‘I’m deeply pleased to see you again in my meagre pleasure house.’

She came forwards accordingly, looking like a very attractive young lady. At times, her eyes appeared to be enticing black pupils full of love, desire or something else she hardly kept hidden inside her gracious being. ‘So what now? Why do you call for me before it’s nightfall?’

‘Our trustworthy friend, Aghlabi, will come after dinner today and he will bring our usual French guests here.’

‘I know it, my dear,’ the woman-like creature replied.

‘Well, how is your job coming along? Have you already extracted information from the mind of the officer named Stephane, perhaps all the details our men will need? Won’t you, please, tell us about the weak points and the defects of the French aerostat-cannoniere so that we can act as soon as possible?’

‘Yes, it’s almost done, my dear human,’ she added, in a low tone.

‘Perfect, perfect! So, we will finally be able to set our bombs and the airship named Dévastation will crash to the ground. Their guns will not be aiming at our homes anymore, and this will send a clear message to the French army! Soon our people will rise up and oppose the colonialists everywhere, here in Egypt and also in Morocco!’

‘All in due time, human,’ she said, staring at him with two unnatural eyes that looked like some deep, cold ponds now.

‘Sure thing, sure thing, my Qandisha,’ the man respectfully bowed. Just before standing up again and moving backwards, the proprietor dared to ask the wondrous evil goddess something more. ‘Another question, if possible, lovely Ghaniyah…’

‘Ask me, my dear.’

‘Did you have any problems at getting the info we needed from that man? Did he ever show any resistance?’

The woman-like creature sneered and simply stated, ‘His young mind is just like putty in my experienced hands, you know.’

‘When you are done with that officer, if he survives, will he remember anything about it at all?’

‘Just what I want him to remember, and that will be very little. After I have extracted all the life energy out of that young human, feeding enough on him and his desires, there will be very few thoughts left in his poor mind anyway.’ These were the demon’s words the man got as a reply.

Satisfied by those terms, the Moroccan man bowed again, completely switched off the lamp and left the main room as the haze disappeared, along with the features of the powerful demon. Then he walked fast, and finally went to the barred window that stood on the ground floor, along the other side of the pleasure house. Thinking about the secrets that he would soon have in his hands, he sneered and turned to the sky. By looking at the huge shape of the French aerostat-cannoniere that ruled over the fluvial port, towering as a menacing presence, his mind was relieved that it was all going to be over soon, very soon. Then, they would claim their country back, all the combatants were ready!

And also the British Empire would be glad about all that, as its fondest wish would be for the French troops—with whom it was frequently at war in that terribly troubled period—to be forever sent away from that important area which was once its protectorate. What strange alliances you make at times to get your goals achieved…

The Moroccan considered it would be a sort of Happily-Ever-After ending for his local followers, but that probably wouldn’t be true for the crew and the soldiers aboard that French airship, certainly.