This will become an extended work, but I decided to post the first scene on its own.  It kind of works as a story by itself, and I'm hoping to entice readers to follow the rest of the story.  I know it's a lot of effort to read a long story online, so I am hoping this first page will capture the readers interest by making them ask questions that they want to know the answers to, so let me know if the piece accomplishes that.

Also, if you are interested and plan to read the rest, please tell me so that I will feel incouraged!       



I have already written the first large part of the story, and I will probably be adding one new chapter every few days,as I edit it.  But only if I get same feedback that tells me people are reading it.  So please post generously!




Abigail

Nights of Bukhara   (Intro)





            Lorelei looked straight ahead at the reflection gazing back at her.  Her make-up was expertly applied, her face a mask of frozen perfection.  Her eyebrows were carefully plucked into a graceful arch and filled in with a soft brown pencil.  Her lips were painted red and moist.  A stick of kohl was used to trace a thick black line around her eyes, giving her an exotic look.  That was important; men loved anything the saw as foreign or unfamiliar. It made her body unexplored territory to them.  Her rouge was magnificent, a dark red hollowed her cheekbones, while a lighter shade brought color to her face and made men wonder why her blood was pounding through her veins and causing her to flush.  A foundation made of myrrh and sandalwood smoothed her skin, it was applied all the way down to where the curve of her breast began to disappear beneath the blue top of her wrap. 

            The first time Lorelei applied her own make-up it had taken her over an hour to complete.  She was so careful not to make a single mistake.  If she had had to wash her face and start over again, it would have been wasteful, and the beauty treatments were far too costly not to take care with them.  If she had been too expensive too keep, she would have been demoted within the harem, or even thrown out onto the streets.  She could not have afforded a mistake like that.

            But that was years ago.  Lorelei had long since fought her way to the top with her sharp mind, silver tongue, and quite a bit of hard work.  She was so practiced now that she could paint her face perfectly within a few minutes.  Tonight was important.  It was, in a way the first true test of her cunning.  None of the young girls could be expected to bear this responsibility, and Matron Shiraz was far too old.  It was up to her. 

Lorelei stepped back from the mirror to adjust her wrap.  Her outfit was made from one solid piece of cloth, a deep ocean blue, and the fabric was as light as foam around her body.  It was wrapped around her hips twice, and then it came over her upper body to cover her breasts.  The cloth was swept over her right shoulder and hung loosely down her back.  Her back was mostly bare, as well as her belly.  Lorelei had been taught the arts of the belly dance, had been taught with a discipline that could equal military training.  As a result, her stomach was perfectly flat and rock hard.  The cloth billowed around her breasts and hips, avoiding the narrowness of her waist and accentuating her figure.  She examined her reflection critically.  It would do.

She stole silently from the building that had been her home since she was ten years old.  The sky was black as oil pitch that night, with no moon.  The only light was from the stars.  Lorelei’s breath turned to white smoke in front of her face.  It was the coldest night she had ever seen. 

The streets were completely empty that night, making Lorelei feel small and afraid, though she had learned long ago not to show such feelings.  The abandoned streets were an illusion; she knew she wouldn’t have to look long until she found them.  The soldiers that swarmed over the city of Bukhara. Sure enough, she rounded a corner and saw three men standing there.  One held a lamp suspended on the end of a pole to light the way, the other two each held a wickedly curved sword.  They looked up and saw her immediately; it was too late to turn back.  Even if they hadn’t spotted her, she knew she couldn’t turn away.  Her girls had gone too long without any income, without food.  Lorelei tilted her head so the light would catch her face.  She let the wrap slip a little further down her shoulder.  She knew her responsibility.