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Over the past few years, I’d seen her on the beach, around town, having dinner. I never talked to her; never looked twice at her, but I knew who she was. I noticed her because she wasn’t dressed like anyone else; she stood out. I mean, she wasn’t undressed like everyone else.

She was Princess Rania bint Burhani, one of the wives of a Sheik of a small oil rich Middle Eastern country. Claudia St. Germain showed her my home when the Princess bought her own place less than a mile from mine. She was always covered, wearing a head scarf and a long skirt, even on the beach where almost every woman was topless and some completely naked.

One evening as I was having dinner in the beautiful Classic Hotel’s dining room, my waiter came over to me, “Monsieur Tremont, the lady at the table by the window wonders if you might join her.”

“Certainly.” I’d just taken my first sip of champagne.

“Madame, how thoughtful of you,” I said as I reached her table. “Or is it, Princess?”

“No, please call me Rania. I am no longer a Princess. Just Rania.” There were tears in her eyes.

“Is there something wrong, madame?”

“Rania. I just received word that my husband has divorced me. It is easy for a man to do in my country. It is even easier if he is the Sheik.” Those tears rolled down her cheek now.

I handed her my napkin. Through those tears, she muttered, “I don’t even remember your name, but I’ve seen you in here before; always alone. And of course, I’ve been in your beautiful home. Tonight, I wondered if you are as lonely as me.”

“Marty, Marty Tremont.” I wondered if I understood her or if my interpretation was wrong. I decided to move slowly.

When the waiter came back, we ordered. I offered Rania some champagne. “No thank you. I may no longer be a princess, but I am still a Muslim, but I do not mind; enjoy your champagne.”

Throughout dinner, Rania told me her story.

My parents arranged for me to marry the Sheik when I was five years old. It’s not what you think. He had to wait until I was eighteen to you know.”

I nodded and breathed a sigh of relief.

“That of course was the first time for me, and the last.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m embarrassed to tell you, but I must tell someone. Monsieur Tremont, from the day after my wedding, I was trained to please His Highness. I was trained to kneel in front of him, thank him for this great honor, and then please him with my mouth. I am so embarrassed to share this.”

“it’s okay, Rania. I understand.”

She continued. “I was his fifth wife. That was the duty of a fifth wife. He would call on me once or twice a week. That is until he tired of me and exiled me here. I understand he now has four more wives who are apparently younger and prettier. I am almost forty and I guess he considers me useless.”

“I think you have a long and exciting life to live.” I was thinking of Mrs. Wilton who was over sixty when she first seduced me. I was thinking of Claudia St. Germain, also close to sixty, and who couldn’t get enough of my cock and tongue.

“Oh, don’t be silly. Since I’ve been here, not one man has looked at me twice.”

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