1001 Nights Continued - Epilogue

1001 Nights Continued - Epilogue    
      
     Later their son was five years old. They walked him on the Algiers levee on a beautiful spring day. Suddenly he got the urge to swim. He ran down the levee and treaded water across the river. Ahmed dove in the muddy water in hot pursuit of his son. Aisha did the breaststroke to save her boy. To their amazement, a paddle wheeler passed overhead with no apparent crew like the Flying Dutchman. Wonder upon wonders their son levitated onto the suspended boat and scampered into a room.    
     As his parents swam below life preservers were thrown down which they wore as invisible sailors hoisted them aboard. They followed their son’s path into the ghost ship. There was their son grown up into a young man. He was accompanied by a young woman whom he did the Charleston with on the ballroom floor. He said, “Mom and Dad join in the fun and cut a rug.”  
     Ahmed looked astonished like he had arrived at some strange NASA experiment in antigravity designed by a fan of the Philip José Farmer ‘Riverboat’ book. When they went to the sleeping quarters a bellhop said, “You won’t need those earth clothes here.”  
     Aisha asked, “What will we wear?”  
     The bellhop replied, “You will find much dispensable.”  
     Aisha asked, “What can we do without here?”  
     The bellhop said, “Once you are naked, touch yourself and you will get a surprise.”  
     “What do you guys have against clothes?”  
     “Garments have their place but not for making love.”  
     “Do we look in need of sex training?”  
     “Ma’am this bonds your souls for your next life. It is the superglue of future marriage.”  
     Aisha said, “So whoopie is nuptial airplane glue?”  
     The bellhop replied, “Just insurance, a dose of animal magnetism can’t hurt. The science of astral navigation hasn’t been perfected. You two aren’t averse to sharing a bed together? We could place you in separate rooms.”    
     Aisha said, “Heavens no! Please, don’t infer my curiosity as reluctance. This girl won’t turn down a roll in the hay with her man. Proceed.”  
     They lay together like newlyweds on their honeymoon. Aisha followed the bellhop’s advice and discovered her hymen intact. She said, “Ahmed, I am a virgin again.”  
     Ahmed replied, “Feel me. I am no longer circumcised.”  
     Aisha answered, “Well, christen me with that poker until my newfound virginity is no more.”  
     As she lifted her hips, inviting him to follow her into paradise she pulled her panties aside revealing her Goddess beauty in its entire splendor. Her body was so full and womanly and he ran his hands down her sides and to her hips. She gently kneaded his flesh, molding his luscious form with her hands like a potter molding clay. She felt like a sculptress, with him her masterwork. She pressed her hands into his body, imprinting him with her touch. Her moons were beautifully proportioned like the statue of Aphrodite radiating the divine sensuality of a celestial being.    
     Their bodies entwined slowly, languorously as he grew weak with longing for her.  His mouth found the tips of her peaks, trailing pleasure across the hardened rosebuds with his tongue.  
     Ahmed ran his hand along Aisha’s bare thigh, arcing up to her rounded hips. His hands curved around her hips and his fingers sunk into the firm flesh of her derriere, clasping her moons in his loving grasp.  
     Aisha’s desire swelled like a surging tide and she felt herself carried along by the current, her body on fire with Ahmed’s touch. His hand glided around her pelvis, finding that place of original magic where life originates. She answered his sensual massage, nurturing him with her caress. Ahmed entered the secret place within her, the source of her deepest pleasure.    
     Aisha’s hips rose up to meet his hand, undulating like gentle ocean waves lapping her shore.        
     Freedom rang from the liberty bell of her Mons to the declaration of independence in her moan. Her American dream was to hallucinate herself as lady liberty dressed as a harlot, wrapped in red, white, and blue lingerie. She was a statuesque siren waking into a red light fantasy able to perform a miracle on an impotent John. But she crowned his good with her womanhood as if Florida were raised to point north.    
     Then the concierge said, “You are now to disembark where you will adopt your new citizenship.” Then it became abundantly clear that the boat was a transfer ship for passengers on their commute to their next life.