It was well past sunset. Mercer was lying on his bed when he heard someone walking outside his window, which opened onto the monastery’s small cloister. It was too dark to see more than a shadowy form, so he threw on his pants and boots and slid from his room. The cloister’s entrance was off the refectory, and he was aware of the wooden floors creaking as he walked. He feared that he would wake the monks.
Selome stood at the center of the pillared cloister, her body barely illuminated by the moon and stars. She kept her eyes locked with his as he crossed to her slowly.
“I was hoping it would be you,” she whispered. “Despite his status as an acolyte, I’m afraid Tedla has taken a fancy to me.”
“I was hoping that it was you, too,” Mercer replied softly. “I want to say thanks. You were right. I’d never have made it to Ila Babu.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Much better, but I’m still as weak as a kitten.”
“How weak?” she asked with a huskiness that Mercer recognized immediately. She moved a few paces closer to him, the heat of her body soaking into his skin.
“As weak as a cat.” Mercer tried to keep the catch out of his voice. It had been a couple days since he’d seen her, and the sexual tension that they had sparked before their trip to the monastery returned with a fury.
Her arms went around his neck, one knee cocked forward so it slid between his legs. “How weak?”
“How about a tired lion?”
“Better,” she smiled. “We’ll be leaving the monastery tomorrow, and Tedla is going to be with us every step of the way. Once we contact the government, it’ll be a long time before we’ll have a moment to ourselves. I’m sorry, but if we are going to make love, it has to be tonight. Now.”
“Pretty forward of you.”
She placed a slim finger to his lips. “No jokes.”
“Selome, I—” His next words were cut off by her hungry kiss. She pressed herself to him, fitting almost perfectly, knees matching knees, hips to hips, chest to chest. He felt her breasts swell and harden against his naked chest, more and more heat pouring against him the longer they kissed.
“I was going to say,” Mercer muttered, “I think it would be a good idea if we found a more private place. This is a church, after all.”
That dam he’d felt cracking when Selome told him about her involvement with Shin Bet gave way completely. For the first time in months, since the split with Aggie, Mercer gave himself over to another human completely. It was liberating and frightening at the same time, but also very right.
He returned to his room for a shirt and his bedding, and they walked down the narrow path hacked into the cliff. With the moon reflecting off the sandy plain, they could clearly see the cave no more than a quarter mile south. Both were surprised at its proximity to the monastery. Mercer lit a candle and spread the sheets and blankets on the cavern floor. She motioned for him to stretch out and watch as she undressed.
He expected a hint of self-consciousness from Selome, but there was none. She pulled her shirt over her head in one fluid motion, her high breasts bouncing as they came free. Her nipples looked painfully erect, and his body reacted. Her pants fell around her ankles with just the tiniest bit of urging. She kicked out of them and hooked her thumbs in the waist band of her panties. With deliberate slowness, she slid them down her thighs, bending deeply until they lay at her feet in a rippled puddle of silk.
She stood proudly, a dusky Venus, her body taut and perfect, her skin so flawless and waxy smooth in the candlelight that she looked like marble. Mercer couldn’t help but stare at the shallow cleft that rose from the juncture of her thighs, her body’s most secret place veiled by only a thin down. His heart pounded and his breath matched the shallow heaving of Selome’s chest. Her arousal perfumed the air.
Mercer began shedding his clothes, but Selome dropped to her knees next to him, brushed away his hands, and began working at the buttons and zippers, her fingers stroking each newly exposed section of his body until he was nude and she held him firmly in her palm. She squeezed him every so slightly, and his hips bucked involuntarily. It was only then that she kissed his mouth again.
“You are so beautiful,” Mercer said, and Selome smiled.
“So are you.”
She would not let him do any of the work that first time, not even sheath himself with one of the condoms Mercer’s doctor made him stash in his wallet. For Mercer, it felt incredibly decadent not to have to worry about his partner’s pleasure, for her expression told him that her arousal came solely from his enjoyment. For the ten minutes they were joined, they freed each other from the world as Selome rocked her body on his, drawing him in deeper and deeper. Mercer’s climax left him dizzy and gasping. Then, in a feat he hadn’t been capable of since college, they made love again almost immediately. Mercer had only seconds to put on another condom before Selome drew him on top of her. Her orgasmic screams echoed far outside their intimate cave.
They were so lost in their lovemaking, neither heard the convoy of trucks approaching from the east. Half an hour after the vehicles passed, they were packing up the bedding and adjusting their clothes for the walk back to the monastery when distant machine-gun fire shattered the night. The crashing explosion of sound stripped away the euphoria they had just built and brought them back to the ugliness of reality.
Tel Aviv, Israel
Danny Silver was twenty-three years old, an American by birth who had moved to the Jewish state with his parents when he was sixteen. He liked Israel well enough so long as he stayed in the country’s largest city. A few years ago, he’d tried kibbutz life for a summer and found the back-to-nature, communal living to be a bore. He liked the action of Tel Aviv with its late-night discos and cosmopolitan aura. Besides, being a bartender at one of the big hotels on the beach ensured he could get laid almost any night he wanted. American girls on break from college or spending time in Israel to discover their “Jewishness” were invariably fascinated by his stories, especially the ones he made up about his compulsory tour in the army.
But it was a Tuesday night, not yet eight, and the cocktail lounge was slow. His only customers were a group of Israeli businessmen in one corner and two old women from a New Jersey tour group near the bar’s entrance. Danny busied himself behind the long bar, polishing glasses that were already spotless and wiping down bottles that didn’t need to be cleaned. Sara, the waitress, stood casually at her station, one eye on her customers and the other on a college textbook. Danny really didn’t like her. She did nothing to hide her disdain for any Jew not born in Israel.
Screw her, he thought absently, unable to tear his eyes away from the perfect swell of her breasts under her white uniform blouse.
A crash from the lobby turned Danny away from Sara’s cleavage. An old guy had toppled a sign board in the lobby, sending it to the floor, but the fool didn’t stop to right it again. He charged into the bar like a Merkava battle tank, his hard eyes drilling through Danny to the display wall of liquor behind him.