Free Equal of the Sun by Anita Amirrezvani

tasted the first bite. I devoured the whole bowl, my tongue burning with gratitude.
    Both Khadijeh and her brother, Mohsen, had fared very well. Sultanam had taken notice of Khadijeh’s cooking and had welcomed her into her service, and Mohsen had become one of the royal groomsmen.
    I covered her hands with mine and told her what I had seen, sparing her the worst details.
    “Why did Pari take such a big risk? If Haydar had won the day, she and her uncle would no longer draw breath.”
    I felt a surge of pride. “She was very brave.”
    “Remember, you could have been killed, too.” Her eyes looked moist in the moonlight.
    “It was a gamble,” I admitted, “but Pari has changed the course of history. There will be no Haydar Shah.”
    She snorted. “Pari is like a wild horse. You had better make sure she doesn’t buck you off into the jaws of a lion.”
    I laughed off her comment, roared like a lion, and pulled her closer. She shushed me but failed to repress a giggle. No one paid much attention to how the ladies amused themselves in the harem, since no one except the shah could take a woman’s virginity or impregnate her. But Khadijeh and I were safe only as long as our alliance remained secret.
    “What is going to happen now?”
    “Isma‘il will be summoned and crowned.”
    “How soon will he arrive?”
    “No one knows.”
    She sighed. “All the sweet certainty we once had has vanished.”
    “Has it?” I teased. I tugged gently at the corner of her mouth with my teeth, feeling her lips bloom, soften, and part to allow my tongue in. My skin stirred as if all my pores were on alert, and I shrugged off my robe, then hers.
    Let it never be said that eunuchs have no feelings of desire! Because I had been cut late, I retained more feelings for women than eunuchs who had lost their parts as children. To be sure, it is not the same as when I was uncut, because it is not dictated by the mercurial rise and fall of an unpredictable instrument. Instead it is a feeling of exquisite attentiveness unclouded by personal urgency. I search for Khadijeh’s most sensitive parts, putting angles and corners to use that no man would think of employing, from elbows to toes. I squeeze my nose into dark, steamy places where she would never have expected such a visit. I nibble and slurp and suck. If a part of Khadijeh is in need of touch—the skin over her collarbones, or the bottoms of her feet—I find it, the way a master caresses the sensitive strings of a tar to engender the sweetest sounds. The one part I do not touch is Khadijeh’s virginity, but there is no need for a man of skill to do that.
    That night, I played Khadijeh with all the fingers of my hands. Holding her from behind, I roamed all over her body with my lips and breath, from sunny desert to wet oasis. I watched her cheeks bloom and heard her breaths come faster and faster until she could not control herself. For my labors, I was rewarded with small animal grunts, high-pitched groans, and then finally, wild, uncontrollable cries as her limbs stiffened and jerked in all five directions.
    After she had rested, she lifted her body on top of mine, and I felt her delicate ribs against my chest. Her skin glowed dark and rich, like tamarind in the moonlight. The earthy scent at her breasts was of ambergris, making me feel as inflamed as a tomcat stalking its mate. I put my hands at her waist, traveling to the parts that flared into globes, both high above and down below. She toyed with my lips, the gateway to paradise. Her tongue traveled down my neck and stopped where she pleased, flicking lightly, teasingly. Putting my hand to the back of her head, I bid her drink more fully, but she pinned my wrist to the floor: She would proceed at her own pace.Her tongue entered my ear, left its moistness, continued its journey. She traveled down to the flat place between my legs with her tongue and delicately teased the exposed edges of my tube. By God above! No uncut man can