Excerpt: Whereabouts Unknown

Daisy fingered the spine of a flashy sex book on the shelf. With a glance over her shoulder, she tugged it from its tight nesting spot and thumbed through the thick pages. Soft-core stuff, she thought. You couldn’t even see the dude’s wang. Although, the chick in the chapter on masturbation had nice tits. Daisy glanced down at her small chest and wrestled with the kernel of a thought. Yes, she would ask Ahmed how he felt about her body when he showed up.

She shoved the book, entitled “The Art of Love Making” back onto the shelf and wandered down the aisle. Had she failed to remember what time they were supposed to meet? Hadn’t he told her that 12:15 was the earliest he could get away? Surely she heard him say the library on the corner of 4th and Wesson was where they would meet.

And then suddenly, there he was at the front door. He stepped inside and tugged one corner of his mouth up into a slight smile. Large dark sunglasses eclipsed his eyes. Daisy liked the new earth brown leather jacket and the way his matching cowboy boots clicked against the hardwood floor. He looked in Daisy’s direction and then approached a tall, blond, chalky-skinned security guard standing near the periodicals. Ahmed made a few vague gestures with his hands, as if asking for directions and then left. Daisy counted to 25 and then followed.

Ahmed sat waiting around the corner, his car idling at the curb. He was listening to an Egyptian singer namd Rhina, when Daisy bounced into her seat. She pulled on her seat belt and watched Ahmed’s large fingers twist the volume knob on his stereo.

“Sorry I’m late,” he muttered, smacking hungrily on the wad of green gum in his mouth. The car reeked of minty freshness.

“You’re never here when you’re supposed to be. I was in there waiting for like half an hour!” Daisy clenched her arms across her small chest and sat staring out at the moving world.

“Like I can help it!”

“Don’t. Please.” She snapped.

Why their meetings always began this way, she never knew. Ahmed could never let a moment pass between them without masticating her ego and reminding her that she was, and would always be, number 20 on his 20-item list of priorities.

“What?” he demanded, “I run a business, I have a two-year-old daughter and, in case you’ve forgotten, a wife. This little thing between us is fun but it’s nothing serious. So, calm down.”

“Stop throwing your marriage in my face. Your wife has nothing to do with me.”

“Jealous? Is that it?”

“Where are we going anyway? And what the fuck is this?” Daisy peered down into the mouth of the brown paper sack at her foot.

“See for yourself,” he smiled, glancing at her chest from behind his sunglasses.

Daisy reached in, the belt pressing hard against her abdomen, and withdrew a plastic bear filled with honey, a bottle of wine, baby oil and a tube of lubricant. They had talked about it, discussed this thing at length. But they had never agreed on the best time to try it. Glancing at Ahmed’s wide smile, she knew that he had made the decision for them.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” she put everything back and folded the top of the bag, hastily.

“If we do it up the ass, you’re still a virgin, baby.”

Daisy grimaced. She reached into her hip pocket and pulled out a tube of lip-gloss.

“Don’t go putting that shit on,” Ahmed shook his long finger at her, “And getting it on me. I’ve got to go back in a couple hours.”

The rest of the ride to Riverside Motel was silent. Daisy tuned out the soft Egyptian music and wondered what would happen if she wrestled open the passenger door and leapt blindly from the moving car. Would she get up and limp away unharmed, like in the action films? Or would she die instantly? She concentrated hard, daydreamed about this daring escape from Ahmed’s silver Camary. Death, she reasoned, would be pretty freakin sweet. Ahmed would be sorry; he’d regret treating her like a crap whenever he wanted to. And her spirit would return to Earth, just to hear him explain away a 16-year-old girl’s presence in his car in the first place. Suddenly, they had arrived.

“Wait here,” he slipped off his shades and threw them into the backseat.

Moments later they were in a cold and dim motel room. The violent green floral wallpaper and placid moss colored drapes made Daisy wrinkle her nose. An abandoned carton of half-eaten lomein sat open atop the television set. She could smell the revolting stench of ancient mop water and stale urine emanating from somewhere in the suite.

“What is this place?” She moaned, standing near the bed and craning her neck to see inside of the bathroom.

“The cheapest motel in town. Also, the only one that I’ve seen, that offers hourly rates anymore,” He unloaded the brown paper bag onto a rickety night table and pinched open the top button of his shirt, “You ask too many questions for a lover with limited time.”

“It smells in here, you know. You’d think they never heard of housekeeping or something.”

“Fuck,” Ahmed growled, “What the hell do you want? The Hilton? We’re not moving in here. We’re just here for two hours. Can’t you shut up, take off your pants and enjoy yourself for two hours?”

He grabbed a fist full of hair and cursed in Arabic. Daisy gingerly approached the bed, biting hard on her bottom lip and blinking rapidly to keep the tears from coming.

“You treat me like shit!” she cried, tossing herself recklessly onto the bed.

“Listen. I’m undressing. And when I’m completely naked, you better be too. We’re wasting time here.”

Two hours later, she was pulling on her jeans and cringing internally. They hadn’t had anal sex. She just couldn’t allow him to enter her. The 3 glasses of red wine, the cheesy 80s porn on the cable box, the rough massage with baby oil and half the tube of cherry-scented lubricant did nothing to ease her nerves. She did get past her self-consciousness long enough to let him eat honey off a few of her erogenous zones. And in the throes of intoxication and passion, she managed to suck him to a convulsing and bitter-tasting climax. It was her first sexual experience with him. And instead of feeling a connection with him, she found that she only felt ashamed.

He didn’t touch her, didn’t even look at her after he ejaculated. He hadn’t called her habibi again, or stroked between her shoulder blades with his fingertips. This was new territory. Before, they drove to the park under cover of darkness and the dinner hour and held hands in the front seat. Innocently, they stared out at the glittering stars over the water and kissed passionately. She let him slide his warm, slender fingers up her shirt and tease her nipples until she bucked desperately in her seat. She brought him to climax with stiff, random strokes on his clammy, circumcised penis. This was all she knew. Ahmed seemed cool with that. With not going all the way.

But now she sensed acute dissatisfaction. Ahmed had expected anal sex, and he hadn’t gotten it. Daisy folded her fingers and waited patiently in the front seat of his silver Camary as he returned the room key to the desk clerk.

“Are you mad?” she asked, as soon as he was settled into his seat, shoving his sunglasses back on.

“Why should I be? You aren’t ready. Nothing I can do about that.”

“It’s my fault, I know.”

“Yeah,” he sighed.