He blows a kiss into the phone, and I wave goodbye as the call ends. My father’s calming presence and proud smile is enough to put my mind at ease.
I’m in Egypt. Egypt.
I spent the rest of the evening doing some shopping in the mall in Giza before heading to dinner. I found the most gorgeous midnight blue chenille mini dress. It accentuated every curve of my plus-size body. Even the most self-conscious person would feel amazing in this dress. The golden beads of my hair chain perfectly accented in my straightened hair that lay against the middle of my back. As I walked into 9 Pyramids Lounge, I was met with the most amazing aromatic mixture of saffron, wine and frankincense. The muggy air from this afternoon has been replaced with a slight cool breeze, which frankly my thighs welcomed through my dress. I caught eyes with a man waiting with a group of men. They all seemed professional. Literary almost. This tall and thick man was gorgeous. His dark, full eyelashes shrouded over his mahogany brown eyes. His square jaw was perfectly accented with a five o’clock shadow with patches of salt and pepper hair. His charcoal gray suit pants and lilac colored shirt brought was perfection against his cinnamon brown skin. His eyes look me up and down, drinking me in with his eyes.
Fuck me. Holy shit. Those eyes are dark.
He excuses himself from his group of companions, shaking their hands as they exit the restaurant. His teeth catch his bottom lip as he walks over to me. He walked with conviction. He extends his hand to me to greet, which I take quickly. His forearm flexes as his shirt sleeve rides up ever so slightly.
“Hello, Ali Salah,” he says by way of introduction.
His voice was dripped with seductiveness. His slight British accent noted with an Egyptian mix.
And it was fucking hot.
“Amelia,” I replied softly.
His eyebrow raises as he gazes at me with curious eyes. I look down at my feet as a slight nervousness overtakes me for a moment. His presence commanded such authority that I have not yet run into before.
“You are American,” he says.
“I was born in New York, but I was raised in Florida.”
“Ah, I have been to New York, but yet to make it anywhere else.”
A soft smile graced his lips as he placed his hands inside his suit pants. I’m surprised he can fit his hands in there. He has left nothing for me to imagine what his body looks like under those clothes.
“You are from London?” I ask.
“Born and raised in London. I am a professor of archaeology at the University of London.”
Professor of archaeology?!
“University of London’s history program is top tier,” I say, excitement hard to contain in the octave of my voice.
“You are a history major?” Ali asks.
“I was. That’s why I am here. Graduation trip around the world from my grandmother per se.”
“That is wonderful.”
A waiter walks past him quickly, but Ali stops him with a grab of the forearm.
“Two glasses of 2005 Gianaclis “Omar el Khayam” Cabernet Sauvignon, please.”
The waiter nodded and stalked off away from us. His eyes turned his mesmerizing gaze back to me. His voice was huskily authoritative. My mind went blank. My legs went numb.
Closet dom. I just know it.
“I hope that was okay for me to order for you?”
“Absolutely. I was in London a few weeks ago, and it was absolutely lovely,” I say.
“I love London, but it is nice to get away and get back in the field,” he replies.
“You are here on a dig?” I ask.
Reign it in, crazy bitch.
“A scarab beetle amulet found bearing the seal Amenhotep III. We are excavating what we can before the surrounding area collapses,” Ali tells me.
The waiter comes back with two full glasses of wine and hands them to Ali gently. His fingers graze against my skin, setting it on fire as he hands me my wine glass. I take a sip of the intoxicating deep red wine. I moan as the wine slides down my throat easily. It’s palette, something like I have never tasted before.
“I am glad you like it.”
“It’s amazing.”
He swirls the red liquid in his wine glass and takes a sophisticated sniff. Before taking a sip, he looks up through a raised eyebrow. His pointed gaze never leaving mine while he takes a quick sip of wine from the glass near his mouth.
“I hope this isn’t too forward, but I am about to have dinner. I would love for you to join me,” he says.
“I would love that,” I say, slowly nodding an agreeing smile.
He holds out his forearm to me and I take it gratefully with my empty hand. He escorts me towards the back of the restaurant towards the outside seating. We sit down on a pillow seating arrangement closest to the pyramids. Truly an amazing ambience. We sat for almost an hour talking of the pyramids and the tombs. There is an underlying sexual tension that hasn’t quite peaked but is bubbling below the surface. Yet, he still gives no clues as to what he’s thinking.
Am I seriously entertaining this? Another stamp on the penis passport after you just fucked Finn up and down the Irish borders ten ways to Sunday.
A server places down two plates of our dinner on the low table in front of us. I readjust my dress and reposition. The food on my plate smelled amazing and spoke to my hungry stomach. He suggested Kushari for dinner, which was a mixture of lentils, rice, pasta, beans, and tomatoes. Its red, orange, and yellow appearance made it appetizing beyond my belief in its presentation.
“I got my doctorate in archaeology,” he says, continuing our conversation from before dinner was placed down.
“I want to get my PHD in anthropology and become a museum curator. My mother was a museum curator in New York where my parents lived, before I was born,” I say, a sad smile gracing my lips.
“Keep it in the family, of course. How long are you here?”
“Just tonight,” I say.
“Why Giza?” He asks curiously.
“I wanted to be Evie as a child,” I say softly.
“Everyone wanted to be Evie. I wanted to be Evie,” he says with a chuckle at the admission.
“Now I know why you wanted to become an archaeologist,” I say.
A soft giggle escapes my lips after taking a bite of the kushari. I place a napkin against my lips to cover my laugh in a motion of respect.
“Now you know,” Ali jeers.