Shimmying Across Araby

Excerpt
My hip dipped low then made a well-rounded arc then back upwards as if aiming for my rib cage, my belly undulated. As the drums beat, both hands rose delicately upwards clasping above my head, my face moved right then left following my chin's lead. My belly rippled into powerful gyrations then quickly a powerful arc began deep in my thighs, spreading upward through the womb, past the ribcage, my head dipped back, then from the waist I threw my head toward the floor, making my long blonde hair fly toward the opposite wall, then downward, touching my toes.

I pulled myself erect as the last beat of the Arabic melody sounded in a whirring blast of cymbals.

Dizzy - I thought I saw something move in the apartment - impossible - I was alone.

"This's s'posed to be an empty apartment, ma'am," said a tall ruddy-skinned man with a cowboy hat perched on his head.

I backed up till my back was flat against the wall. How had he gotten in? No way - I left the door unlocked, even though a locked door wouldn't deter the Faoudi police.

"How did you get into this apartment?" He asked.

He was clearly American so he wasn't here to arrest me. "Well, as you can see it's absolutely not empty and you clearly have made a mistake since it's my apartment."

"With all due respect, ma'am." He dropped his well-worn duffle bag on the floor as he walked across my spotless red and blue tiled floor to the glass dining table. He laid his probably sweat-laden right down on the table that had been absolutely gleaming. He shouldn't just be laying his things on my furniture anyway. Besides, this place was all I had after everything that had happened.

Making sure I didn't give my back to him, I skipped over to the CD player and stopped it before it went to the next tune.

"This apartment is mine. Ma'am, I won't say anything to anybody at Atam about you squattin' in their real estate."

He gave Atam a few more syllables than it needed in his westerny twang.

"Sir, this is Chuck McCloud's apartment of Atam." That'll cool his jets, I thought.

He didn't even flinch. That had to be an act. He had to have heard of Chuck McCloud if he worked at Atam.

"And I have permission to be here while he's away." I placed my hands on my hips to give my statement some oomph, but was reminded I was wearing a glittery harem costume - the top nothing more than a sequined bra - I liked to dress up when I practiced my belly dancing routines.

The man's lips twisted slightly and he looked down at the floor. His pale eyelashes flickered uncomfortably as he ran his fingers through his reddish-blond hair. "I don't believe there is any Chuck McCloud workin' at Atam."

"He most certainly does. He's very high up in that company and if you've never heard of him, that means you know very little about Atam."

"I've been coming to this country for years and I don't ever remember hearing that fellow's name." He nodded his head rhythmically as if deep in thought. Probably trying to think up another lie.

"I really don't know how you got that key, but I'd suggest you give it to me and you can just go get a room in some, some." I wanted to say some fleabag hotel.

"I can see this conversation is going nowhere and I'm sure it's hard for somebody to just up 'n move themselves." He stopped and looked around the apartment.

He shouldn't be inspecting this place. He just needed to go. "I'm sure there are other places for you to stay." With those pointy-toed cowboy hat and those jeans, he looked like he could just get a bedroll and sleep on it out on the desert. Although he really did look quite a bit like Rowdy Yates on Rawhide.

"Ma'am I've been traveling a long way - all the way from Houston - I'll need peace and quiet here while I'm working so just tell me where you'd like to move and I'll have somebody come and move you."

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