Young's Blog, page 41
October 4, 2014
The Playboy Club
18 - Someday We'll Be Together
(click on the audio title 18-Someday We'll Be Together above for music/song accompaniment).
* Models are 18 years and above.
Bernard Foong (a.k.a. Young) is ranked amazon.com International Best Selling Author.
A Harem Boy's Saga - Book I I - Unbridled;
A memoir by Young
An Excerpt:
"Playboy was a wonderful experience a nd a great opportunity for me."
Rita Mero
1967
Playboy Club Los Angeles
The moment we stepped out of our limousines into the entrance of the first four floors of a ten-story building at number 8560 Sunset Boulevard; there was a long queue of dressy revelers waiting to get into the famous Playboy Club. Since our entourage was accompanied by a renowned movie director, Roman Polanski, we brushed through the crowd without harassment. The 'Door Bunny' made sure our host, a silver key holder, gained entry with their invited guests.
Entering the club with several celebrities had its perks. We got to sit at the best tables, and we were served by several impeccably groomed and hospitable bunnies. The Bunny Mother made sure that our visit was flawless. She had allocated these top-notch waitresses to attend to our tables. Gabrielli and Mario, especially the socialite Count, were up and about socializing with this movie star and that celebrity the moment they spotted them. 
Aziz and Tahu (Bahir wasn't invited, since he was hired help) went gaga over the leggy, corseted bunnies. They were every male’s (and I'm sure some females’) sexual fantasies come to reality. For the sexually repressed Tahu on his first time out of the Middle East, he was completely aghast gawking at these scantily-clad females. He must have thought he had died and gone to Allah's paradise to be served by an abundance of ‘Houris’ (Allah’s paradise playmates). Although Aziz was a sophisticated world traveler, he too behaved as if he had just been let out of confinement and was craving an evening of libidinous sex. Both our Arab companions devoured the bunnies with their ruttish eyes and mouths watering in lascivious appetite, causing unnecessary modesty whenever the bunnies did their rounds at our tables.
While waiting for dinner, I turned to my gorgeous-looking Valet and my incredibly debonair BB, saying, "I'm amazed to be inside a Playboy Club. I had seen copies of Playboy magazine when I was eight, and here I am looking at the 'real' bunnies!" I exclaimed with ebullience. 
Oscar, astounded by my remark, questioned, "How did you get hold of playboy magazines at eight years old?"
"I found them under my Brother James' bed. When he returned from London on his summer breaks, he would hide the magazines from my parents."
"How did you discover these girlie publications? Did he show them to you?" Andy enquired.
"I used to sneak into my brother's room when he was out and rummage through his things. I was curious to know what he brought home during his holidays to Kuala Lumpur.
"One day, when I was in his room, he snuck a girl into the house when Mother was out playing mahjong. Hearing their footsteps coming upstairs, I hid under his bed. That's where I discovered the magazines.”
“Did they know you were under the bed?” Oscar inquired.
"While they were making out on the bed, I was busy browsing at pictures of naked bunnies. The photographs didn't do anything for me sexually. I was more interested in imitating their sexy poses in their next-to-nothing lingerie." I explained. 
Both my lovers laughed at my confession. Suddenly, we heard a shriek from the bunny who was clearing the ashtrays next to Tahu and Aziz. Standing upright, she said sternly, "Sirs, it is our club's policy that you can look but you can't touch. Please refrain from pinching my buttocks or touching me inappropriately. Otherwise, I’ll have to ask Bunny Mother to remove your presence from this establishment."
Bunnies were trained to treat this kind of crude behavior with style and panache, and soon our Arab friends were 'eating out of their palms' like obedient dogs trained to sit or move at the commands of their masters (or in this case, their mistresses). It was an amusing scenario to behold, since both men held dominant male positions in the Middle East – at the Playboy Club they were behaving quite the opposite. 
The Fight
Who should descend the stairs while we were having dinner but our friends Nirob and Kismat. He had obviously made haste to pursue Anya, who was seated next to her ‘big sister’ Dominique. Andy spotted the Nubian and waved for them to join us. After a round of 'kissy face' greetings, the couple joined us at the Playmate Bar for after-dinner drinks while Motown hits that were performed by none other than the Supremes themselves. I, for one, was completely enthralled watching my idol, Diana Ross perform live in this exclusive venue. Never in my young life did I imagine witnessing a live performance by the group; I had habituated one of their songs for my 'Slipping and Sliding' dance performance at the Methodist Boy's School variety show. It was a gay boy's dream come true to witness Ms. Ross singing “Someday We’ll Be Together” for the first time, before this song official became a number-one hit in the Supremes’ 'Cream of the Crop' album in 1969.
Needless to say, I took to the crowded dance floor, grooving to the rhythm of this fabulous song. I couldn't care less whom I was dancing with, since our entourage went onto the floor together to have a fun time. I was flapping and twirling under my own hypnotic spell, creating a descant in my dream world for this melodic tune. Unfortunately, this hypnotic experience did not last long. I was irrationally propelled back to the present by a vicious catfight playing out on the floor. Anya and Kismat were tearing away at each other's hair like a couple of wild cats in a heated fight. They were rolling around biting, scratching, and pulling at each other. 
The Bunny Stuffings
While the two belligerents were tearing at one another, Kismat accidentally threw a flying kick at a bunny carrying a tray of alcoholic beverages, sending the corseted 'rabbit' flying across the room. In the swirling process, she knocked into another bunny with a tray full of cigarettes around her neck, sending beverages and cigarettes spilling onto the stage.
That wasn't the only mishap that flew across the room; Kleenex tissues, absorbent cotton, cut-up Bunny tails, foam rubber, lamb’s wool, gym socks and an entire host of other inflated objects stuffed into the bunnies 34D and 36D bra cups came tumbling out of their respective bosoms. Their corseted tops flapped downwards, revealing the two bunnies’ deflated bosoms. They did their best to cover themselves with their hands while doing their best to pick themselves up from this embarrassing situation.
The crowd was stupefied by such a display of impropriety, but was at once amused by this hilarious accident. I, for one, burst into laughter at such an unbecoming sight, and so did the others who witnessed that evening’s drama at the Los Angeles Playboy Club. 
The Fight Has To Stop
Stunned by such a display of vulgarity, the Bunny Mother, Nirob, Gabrielli, and Mario intervened, doing their best to separate the two opposing entities. Finally, Bunny Mother and Gabrielli managed to pull Anya away from an angry Kismat. She was screaming obscenities at the teenager on top of her lungs, even though she was held tightly by both Nirob and the Count. The girls were soon led away in opposite directions before the music began again as if nothing unusual had happened.
Gabrielli, Dominique, and Anya left the club posthaste. Mother Bunny was talking to Nirob in a secluded corner while the Nubian did his best to bring equanimity back to Kismat's quivering body. Before long, they too left the club, leaving the Count, our two Arab companions, and us Bahriji boys dazzled; wondering what in the world had happened a few moments ago.
I couldn't help probing my lovers, "What happened to Kismat and Anya? How did they end up fighting?" 
Andy shook his head before replying, "Obviously, Kismat found out that Nirob was having an affair with our Bahriji girl. She got jealous when she saw her boyfriend dancing intimately with Anya and attacked her on the spot."
"It's best not to mess with lady-boys; they can be extremely malicious when crossed." Oscar voiced.
"What's going to happen between Anya and Nirob, now that Kismat knows about their illicit affair?" I asked with great curiosity.
"In my opinion, it's likely that our black friend will terminate his relationship with the lady-boy and go with Anya." Oscar theorized.
Andy, being the gentleman, soon put a stop to our speculations. Since we have to start our photographic work early at MGM studio the following morning, we bid our celebrity movie director, actress, and hairdresser farewell and called this eventful evening a night. 
A Harem Boy's Saga - II - Unbridled; a memoir by Young is available at:
E-book is available at:
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00N2FRQMA
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon DE: http://www.amazon.de/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon FR: http://www.amazon.fr/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon JP: http://www.amazon.co.jp/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon IN: http://www.amazon.in/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon ES: http://www.amazon.es/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B00N2FRQMA
Amazon CA: http://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon MX: https://www.amazon.com.mx/dp/B00N2FRQMA
Amazon IT: http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon BR: https://www.amazon.com.br/dp/B00N2FRQMA
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/debauchery-young/1120205330?ean=2940150367692&itm=1&usri=2940150367692
Print books (the series) are available at:
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Debauchery-Hare...
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Debauchery-Ha...
September 25, 2014
Interview with a guest author, Nathaniel Danes
An Interview with author Nathaniel Danes
Young: Welcome to my weekly blog post. I'm delighted to have Nathaniel Danes join me on my blog post today.
According to Mr. Danes' wife, he is a self-diagnosed sci-fi junkie and has an over active imagination.
N.D.: I'm nearly blind. I write to create universes where there are no limitations. I live with my wife and daughter in the Washington, DC area.
Young: You have a new book coming out soon. Tell us about your new book.
N.D.: The book is titled The Last Hero. This is the first of a trilogy.
Young: Can you give us a synopsis?
N.D.: Of course;
Contact with a race of pacifists convinces mankind to lay down its weapons and keep the peace. The last Medal of Honor recipient, Trent Maxwell, trades glory for the comforts of a family after the U.S. Army disbands. All that ends when an alien menace attacks the New Earth colony, which forces a crash mobilization. Trent finds himself reactivated and traveling through space to distant worlds, in order to stop this new enemy. During the century long journey of death, love, and loss, he also deals with the law of relativity that wreaks havoc with his daughter.
Young: Would you like to read us an excerpt from your book?
N.D.: Sure;
Trent knelt down where Anna could throw her arms around his neck. She pulled against him tight and started crying again. Tears rolled down his face as he whispered, “I love you more than you can understand. I’m sorry.”
Her cries downed out his soft words.
After a minute, Trent summoned all of his strength to break free of her hold. Standing, he shared a look with Madison. She wrapped him in a loving, warm hug.
This time she did the whispering, “Remember what I told you. Make them pay.”
He pulled away, nodding as he placed his hand on Anna’s sobbing head. “I’ll see you both again someday. I promise.” The words bound him to a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.
Young: When is the release date of The Last Hero?
N.D.: The book is schedule for release on Oct. 14 2014.
Young: Nathaniel, thank you for dropping by for a chat. I wish you the very best on The Last Hero.
Folks, below are the links where you'll be able to find out more about Nathaniel Danes books.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Nathaniel-Danes/1528587637363979
Twitter: https://twitter.com/nathanieldanes
Blog: http://nathanieldanes.blogspot.com/
Website: www.nathanieldanes.com
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/nathanieldanes
Book Links:
Amazon (Pre-Order): http://bookgoodies.com/a/B00NI5UGPI
September 14, 2014
Life's An Experience
(click on the audio title 03-Rainy Days And Mondays above for music/song accompaniment).
* Models are 18 years and above.
Bernard Foong (a.k.a. Young) is ranked amazon.com International Best Selling Author.
A Harem Boy's Saga - Book I I - Unbridled;
A memoir by Young
An Excerpt:
"To a great experience o ne thing is essential; a n experiencing nature."
Walter Bagehot
1967
Los Angeles
The SAQR landed smoothly at LAX shortly after takeoff from Las Vegas. The first thing I saw was the ‘Theme’ Building, announcing to arrivers that the 'jet-age' had arrived in the City of Angels. It reminded our entourage that we were embarking into a futuristic world of 2001 Space Odyssey, a film released by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios. Our entourage was heading to the same studio after depositing our luggage with the 'Beefeater' costumed concierge at the one year old Century Plaza Hotel. Our Cadillacs sped us towards Culver City.
Our set designers, the two Italians, our Arab companions, and the four Bahriji boys (me included) arrived at the main entrance of MGM. After showing their respective identities to the entrance security guards, our set designer guides drove into the expansive studio lots where the final touches of a duplicate version of Saint Peter's Basilica loomed impressively ahead of us. Needless to say, I was awed by the authenticity of the exterior facade until, at closer inspection, I noticed the backside of the building was propped up by unpainted pipes and wooden scaffoldings. This was a section of the set for Sacred Sex In Sacred Places. 
As we walked to another part of the studio lot, partitioned, soundproof warehouse-like buildings housed the interior of various sections of the fabricated Vatican that our photographers had the designers recreate from photographs. I had never seen such a huge film studio at age 14 and was spellbound by its vastness. The magnitude of the studios, the number of backstage workers trooping around on various duties, the actors, actresses and extras mingling around waiting to be called to action by their respective directors all fascinated me. Last but not least the busy costumers, make-up artists, stylist, set and prop hands making last-minute adjustments sent my young mind spinning with excitement. It was a fantasy world I wanted to be a part of, especially in the wardrobe department. This experience was the first of many that left a memorable mark in my life. Besides my love for fashion, I also wanted to be a costume designer.
While the two Italians and our Arab companions were busy checking the sets and talking with set builders, Andy, Oscar, Devaj and I walked to the adjacent studio to see the motion picture that was being filmed. A hairdresser was giving the final touches to an actress’ hair. Oscar exclaimed suddenly, "Its Mia Farrow!" We turned in the direction he was indicating. "Let's go over and introduce ourselves; I want her autograph." 
Before any one of us could reply, my lover had whipped out a pen and paper walking towards his idol. Ms. Farrow was busy chatting with the hairdresser, who looked familiar. I could not recall where I had seen his face. The three of us trotted behind Devaj's enthusiastic Valet.
"Ms. Farrow, I'm so delighted to have this opportunity to meet you. I'm an admirer of yours and loved your performance in Peyton Place." He extended his hand to shake Ms. Farrow's.
The actress, taken aback by Oscar's forwardness, was left speechless for several seconds. She stopped her conversation with the hairdresser, turned to my BB and said, "Uh, hello! Have we met before?"
"I follow Peyton Place on television and admired your acting greatly. You play the role of Allison Mackenzie to perfection," my lover replied.
Flattered by Oscar's compliments, the actress responded, "Thank you! I'm glad to meet you. What's your name, young man?"
"I'm Oscar and these are my friends.” He turned to introduce us. 
Just then I noticed Mario, Gabrielli, and our Arab companions walking towards us. My polite BB introduced each of them to Ms. Farrow. As soon as Mario's turn arrived, the photographer bent to kiss the lady's hand. I could tell she was flustered by such a gentlemanly gesture. She said smilingly, "I'm happy to be acquainted with all you gentlemen. If you'll excuse me, I'll have to be ready before my role call."
Mario, taking the opportunity, exclaimed, "Hi, Vidal, I didn't know you were in Hollywood doing Ms. Farrow's hair?"
Putting his arm around Vidal Sassoon’s shoulders, he embraced the hairdresser like an old friend he hadn't seen for ages. Before Mr. Sassoon could respond, Mario greeted the coiffeur with a big hug and spoke, "Meet the world renowned Vidal Sassoon." 
We extended our hands to shake the stylist. Surprised by the news, I couldn't contain my fervor, I exclaimed, "You are Vidal Sassoon! The man who styled Mary Quant's hair to a Bob!" Astonished by my sudden burst of jubilation, he was caught off guard before regaining his posture. He answered, "Well, eh yes. I’m Mary's London hairdresser."
I continued, "I love the Bob! I had my hair bobbed before I entered Daltonbury Hall. The school had me cut it to a short crop. I felt so fashionable when I had the Bob." I stressed the word fas-hion-able.
Mario chimed, "What movie are you working on with Mia?" He asked as if he had known Ms. Farrow for a long time.
"We are working on Roman Polanski’s, 'Rosemary's Baby'."
"Is Roman here too? I must say hello! Where is he? We must get together, are you guys free this evening? Let's have a party!" The Italian voiced with conviction. 
Caught off guard, the hairstylist coquetted, "We are going to the Playboy Club. Roman is a key holder, so he invited Ms. Farrow and me to join him this evening. Would you like to join us at the Playboy Club?" Since he wasn't talking to anyone in particular, he motioned a flamboyant hand gesture, indicating to us that we were all invited. The stylist was put in an awkward situation by the Count, so he invited our entire entourage.
Mario, seizing the opportunity, agreed that all of us would love to join them. After we bid our farewells to Mr. Sassoon and Ms. Farrow, Andy enquired of Mario and Gabrielli, "Young and Devaj are underage. Are they allowed to enter the Playboy Club?"
Both Italians replied laughingly, “‘Ka-ching’ speaks louder than words. As long as you boys don't consume any alcoholic beverages, I’m sure Hefner wouldn't mind. After all, we’re there for dinner. Dress formal and leave the rest to us." 
A Harem Boy's Saga - II - Unbridled; a memoir by Young is available at:
E-book is available at:
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00N2FRQMA
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon DE: http://www.amazon.de/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon FR: http://www.amazon.fr/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon JP: http://www.amazon.co.jp/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon IN: http://www.amazon.in/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon ES: http://www.amazon.es/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B00N2FRQMA
Amazon CA: http://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon MX: https://www.amazon.com.mx/dp/B00N2FRQMA
Amazon IT: http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/B00N2FRQMA?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon BR: https://www.amazon.com.br/dp/B00N2FRQMA
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/debauchery-young/1120205330?ean=2940150367692&itm=1&usri=2940150367692
Print books (the series) are available at:
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Debauchery-Hare...
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Debauchery-Ha...
September 5, 2014
The Art of being a Flirtatious Seducer
01-05- The River (Instrumental)
(click on the audio title 01-05-The River above for music/song accompaniment).
* Models are 18 years and above.
Bernard Foong (a.k.a. Young) is ranked amazon.com International Best Selling Author.
A Harem Boy's Saga - Book I I I - Debauchery;
A memoir by Young
An Excerpt:
“The beauty of my unique education is that I was born,
bred and schooled in the art of being a flirtatious seducer
and an expedient tactician.”
Bernard Tristan Foong
1967
A Gift
I was more than surprised to find another gift waiting for me in my chambers, العجل الذهبي (The Golden Calf). Sitting neatly on the mantelpiece was a gold envelope. Enclosed was a check made out to me for two thousand dollars. The gold notecard read: “You are so beautiful. I want to see all of you. Meet me at the library tonight.” There was no signature on the card, and there was no hint as to who the sender was. I asked my Abd. He shrugged his shoulders, remained mute, and shook his head to inform me he had no idea how the envelope had gotten into my room.
I went looking for Andy, but he was nowhere to be found. As I rounded a corridor, I bumped into Monsieur Dubois.
He asked, “Why are you walking aimlessly down the hall?”
“I’m looking for Andy,” I answered.
“Can I assist you?” My teacher inquired. 
I decided to show him the mysterious note. He grinned amusingly before inviting me into his chamber. As soon as the door closed behind him, he jumped straight to the point. “It is not unusual for you to receive an unsigned invitation. The sender doesn’t want his identity revealed.”
“That is obvious, sir. But how am I to know who sent the note?”
Alain answered delectably, “That’s an easy question. All you have to do is turn up at the library at the appointed time. Whoever he or she is will be revealed.”
“What if I don’t care to have a liaison with this mysterious person? How do I excuse myself from the situation politely without offending him or her?” I queried in puzzlement. 
Dubois beamed cheekily, “Your accompanying Valet will make some gracious excuse for you if you are not interested in having a dalliance with your admirer. Andy is there to protect you, and he will know what to say. Don’t worry your pretty little head over such a trivial matter. My advice to you is to show up for the adventure.”
“But my suitor did not specify a time. When am I supposed to show myself? It’s all too baffling for me to understand,” I sighed.
My professor laughed and said, “Whoever he or she is is playing a cat-and-mouse game with you. This person is enticing you to play a coquettish game of libertine chess.” I uttered wittingly, “I guess this person must be Marquis Mathieu. He’s been flirting with me ever since we met.” 
Alain chimed, “My dear fella, don’t be so sure. You never know who’s lurking around the periphery and is interested in bedding you, my handsome one.” He added, “This evening the prince is having a formal function at one of his other palaces. The investors are invited to the reception, except for the other foreign students.” He paused before continuing, “Did Your Valet inform you that the two of you are invited because you are assisting in the project?”
Looking puzzled I asked, “If I’m going to attend this ceremonious soiree, I will not be able to go to this mysterious meeting. What am I to do, sir?”
My teacher replied composedly, “Let me have a word with your Valet. I’ll give him some advice so that the two of you do not jeopardize your standing in this household. Now, go and find your guardian; tell him to come to see me immediately.” On that note, he dispensed me to locate my guardian. 
Bewilderment
For the rest of the day, I was in a state of befuddlement. I was at once enticed, intrigued and aflame with anticipation of this flirtatious game of sybarite “chess.” I was fervent, because no one had secretly or openly played such a sexual cat-and-mouse game with me. I was beguiled by the possible outcomes to this upcoming tryst. My mind was set ablaze with all sorts of sexual innuendoes, and my fervent imagination had heightened me to shambolic sensual arousals; I could think of nothing else for the rest of that day.
“What’s the matter with me?” I castigated myself. I’ve not felt this way since my early encounters with my ‘big brother’ Nikee and with Andy during our playful courtships. I’d thought I had learned the tricks of subduing my passionate obsessions, yet here I was, heaving with infatuation, desiring to know what lay ahead. I was at a loss.
I found Andy half an hour later. He was busy reading an engineering magazine in the otherwise solitudinous library. But that day, there were workmen installing hidden cameras around this extensive room. I tip-toed over to startle my BB by wrapping both palms over his eyes. 
“What are you doing, you little devil?” Andy queried judiciously.
I answered, “Professor Dubois wants to see you immediately. He asked me to tell you to meet him in his suite as soon as I could find you.”
“Why does he want to see me?” Andy asked.
“You’ll find out when you talk to him.”
“Are you coming with me to see your teacher?” Andy asked.
“Sure,” I replied, and off we trooped to Monsieur’s Dubois boudoir. 
Discussion
My Valet was the first to speak after I opened the cheque and the card once again in Alain’s chamber. He asked the same question I had inquired of my teacher: “Young, do you have any idea whom this gift and card are from?"
“I don’t know. It’s a mystery to me,” I answered. “Maybe it’s from Abdallah or the Marquis. These are the only two I can think of.”
My professor declared before Andy had a chance to speak. “Abdallah and Mathieu are attending this evening’s formal event. I doubt it is either one of them.”
My lover asked, “Do you want to go to this secret meeting?”
His question caught me off guard. I stammered, “I’m curious to find out who this mystery person is. If it’s the Marquis, you’ve already promised to deliver me to his chamber at the stroke of twelve. Why, then, did he request to see me in the library? I don’t think it is him.” 
My guardian hypothesized, “This cat-and-mouse recreation is too ambiguous. I’m not one to humor these kinds of arduous diversions. Either you meet your summoner or return the cheque politely to whence it came.”
“But I have no idea who the cheque and the note are from; I don’t know to whom to return these items?"
“Besides, we have P’s decorous occasion to attend; we can’t decline this important invitation just to wait in the library,” I answered.
Dubois remarked, “Young, if you decide not to accept this gift and don’t know who to return it to, I suggest you hold onto the present for now and not meet your summoner this evening. Maybe this mysterious admirer will show him or herself at a later date.” 
“If I don’t show, wouldn’t I upset His Highness and the guest in question, since P specifically requested I entertain his guests?” I thought aloud.
My professor declared, “This is a valid concern. We must come up with a viable solution to this unexpected occurrence.”
Andy suddenly leaped out of his seat as if an electric bulb had gone off above his head. He announced, “I’ve a solution.” Before we knew what was happening, he was out of the suite, running to locate Alf and Gudrun. 
A Stately Function
That evening’s event was not without pomp and circumstance. This sententious affair was an unspoken informal introduction of Anastasie to P’s family members, several of whom did not take too kindly to His Highness, the third in line to the throne, or to his selection of an American woman to be his potential wife (no matter how connected or wealthy her family was). They wanted her to play no part in their traditional and conservative Islamic institutions.
Superficially, as guests of the kingdom, they welcomed her with a gracious sense of decorum, but when Anastasie’s back was turned, the guests who disapproved of the union whispered in their native tongue among themselves. 
This tenacious escapade was P’s way of defying his country’s conventional protocol and asserting his defiance against his otherwise traditionalist peers and relatives. He wanted to advance his country folk’s mentality to keep up with changes that were happening in the larger world. Unfortunately, old beliefs die hard. Not only did his rebellious duress bring on further disharmony between him and his family; it also backfired and caused an eventual distancing between P, his father and his brothers.
That evening, the cordiality I experienced within the palace walls made me realize that the rift between P and his father was similar to that between me and my dad. This age-old generational gap existed beyond international and cultural boundaries. That night, I felt happy that I was no longer operating within the confines of my father’s jurisdiction. I was a free man, and so was P when he finally relinquished his Bahraini princely ascendancy to come into his own in his adopted country, France.
I was glad when we finally returned to the Quwah. I had forgone my mysterious suitor’s summon and decided, as per my professor’s advice, to be patient, waiting to see what would happen a day or two later. 
The Clock Strikes Twelve
A boy tapped on the Marquis’ chamber door at precisely 12 midnight. His guardian, standing next to him, observed and waited with bated breath for an answer from the opposite side.
The door slid ajar, and a voice beckoned them to enter the darkened chambers. A single candle illuminated the adjoining room. No sound was heard except that of the boy’s thumping heartbeat, drumming audibly within the confines of his finely spun thobe. His Valet led him towards the authoritative voice. “Come here!”
Suddenly, darkness enveloped both chambers. The candle had been snuffed out. Unexpectedly, a hand grabbed the adolescent, pulling him into the adjoining room. He let out a whimpering sound from this abrupt incursion, as he was being pushed brusquely onto the king. The naked Marquis was atop the boy, while his guardian stood guard a few feet away. The Valet was ready to pounce if anything abhorrent was to happen to his charge. 
Mathieu lifted the boy’s hands above his head, pinning him onto the bed as he pried open his sensual lips to receive the man’s passionate kisses. The lad feigned a series of wiggling movements, attempting to get free from his intruder. The Frenchman tied his wrists to a post before ripping away his thobe to reveal his flawless skin. The boy’s hardness throbbed unflaggingly against his washboard stomach, stirring the man’s erection to bounce frantically against his analog’s excitement. Straddling the young man, they French kissed as their manhood oscillated in rhythmic synchronicity. The Marquis lifted himself to feed his bobbing length into the boy’s oral orifice. The bound youth thrashed rousingly to this stimulating onslaught. He swallowed the bubulousness in gulps of ecstasy.
Suddenly, a blindfold encased the aristocrat. Surprised by this unforseen invasion, the Marquis was at a loss, but the oral stimulation was too enticing for him to forgo. He continued feeding his captive while he desperately tried to writhe free from the bondage that had now rendered him sightless. His hands were forced and roped tightly behind his back by a pair of muscular arms he had not seen in the dark. This precipitous turn of events served only to heighten his sexual anticipation. His attempted struggles soon transformed to rapturous exultations. Instead of being the dominant partner in this game of lustful eroticism, he was at the mercy of his surpriser, who had lubricated him sufficiently for the lad to slide his engorgement into the man’s anal opening. The captive jounced jubilantly onto the hardness that encased him. He rode uncompromisingly onto the jabbing intrusion as if riding a wild stallion. 
The intruder had released the boy’s hands. He clutched his captive’s hips, impaling him onto the frantic assault of his impending release. Mathieu’s exhilarations leaked a succession of stickiness onto his impaler’s chest. The Valet scooped up the manliness before feeding his charge drips of gummy viscosity, to the lad’s prodigious delight, as he groaned lustily, burying his abundance into the taut confines of his rider.
The provocative stimulation shoved Mathieu over the edge; his liberation shot onto his impaler’s youthful face as they rode unyieldingly until his length receded from the man. The Marquis slumped onto the boy’s torso as he extricated himself from the aristocrat. The Frenchman flumped onto the bed, waiting to be extradited from his bonded imprisonment. That act of clemency did not arrive until the Marquis wrestled himself free some hours later. By then, Gudrun and Adolf had left the sadomasochistic chambers that had been intended to entice my sagacious Andy and me at the stroke of midnight. 
A Harem Boy's Saga - II - Unbridled; a memoir by Young is available at:
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August 31, 2014
In The Olive Garden
06 - Sixteen Going On Seventeen
(click on the audio title 06-Sixteen Going On Seventeen above for music/song accompaniment).
Bernard Foong (a.k.a. Young) is ranked amazon.com International Best Selling Author.
A Harem Boy's Saga - Book I I - Unbridled;
A memoir by Young
An Excerpt:
"Passion makes the old medicine new: passion lops of the bough of weariness. Passion is the elixir that renews: how can there be weariness when passion is present? Oh, don't sigh heavily from fatigue: seek passion, seek passion, and seek passion!"
Rumi
Oscar's Arrival
Oscar's arrival with Devaj to the Sekham wasn't without fanfare. That weekend was Jasim's 13th birthday celebration and the boy's father had organized a catered party for 150 guests at the Sekham. Thabit had invited relatives, friends, business acquaintances and elders from his religious institution to this special occasion.
This elaborate Islamic coming-of-age celebration was like a Jewish Bar Mitzvah. I was quite sure the young initiate would soon be forwarded to Oscar, Vaj, Dominique and Anya for male and female sex education or be directed to Andy and me for male-on-male tutelage, as Riqz had been at the Kosk. 
About Srihan
It was wonderful to see Oscar after a week's absence and we had news to catch up on. That afternoon after his arrival, Andy and I invited our lover and his new charge, Devaj for lunch at the Maktub. We were eager to find out what happened to Srihan and be acquainted with Vaj. During lunch, Andy said, "We are glad the both of you are here. We were beginning to wonder if you were going to appear.”
"You know I'll arrive come rain or snow. Or rather, come wind or sand in this instance," our lover laughed.
Eager to know what happened to Srihan I asked, "What happened to Srihan after we left? Pray tell."
"He went to therapy with Professor Linberg for several days. Apparently, being the only child in his family, his parents showered full attention on him and gave him everything he wanted. This excessive spoiling made him crave for more attention and when he was ignored; he turned resentful and spited whomever he thought had not given him sufficient affection. 
"After much probing, Dr. Linberg discovered his parents had sent him to an English boarding school because they could no longer control his catatonic behavior. They hoped Daltonbury's Big Brothers would guide their son back to 'normal' behavior."
Andy continued his enquires, "Didn’t the school know his problem before accepting him into E.R.O.S.?"
"Apparently not. The parents did not disclose the matter to the school. They were afraid that Daltonbury would refuse their son's application, so they kept it a secret." Oscar replied.
"Didn't his previous BB inform the school's authorities of the boy’s erratic behaviors?" My Valet asked curiously. 
"He didn't act up during observation because John (his BB) was giving him undivided attention, so he behaved excellently throughout the observation period. The authorities thought him a good E.R.O.S. candidate."
I added, "What's going to happen to Srihan now?"
"When I left the Bahriji with Devaj, he was on his way back to Daltonbury Hall. I guess he will be undergoing treatment at the ‘Rabbit Hole.’ I'm sure our headmaster will be talking with his parents regarding their son's behavior," Oscar explained.
"I hope he'll recover soon. I hate to see him go through life with this condition. He won't have any friends if he behaves in this weird manner." I said.
"Let's pray for his speedy recovery from this psychotic ailment. He is a nice person and I wish him well," my BB sighed. 
Devaj
Over dinner we got to know Devaj. He was a direct descendant from the last Maharajah of Jammu and Kashmir. His family fled to England, enrolled Devaj into Daltonbury Hall, and he was selected into E.R.O.S. without his parents’ knowledge. I nicknamed the boy Vaj. He was a pleasant soupçon of coquetry at 15. This was his 3rd household service and he was having a ball. Oscar had been assigned to him 3 days before flying to the Sekham. My BB was also interested to learn more about his new charge.
Andy was the first to enquire, "You seem like a ‘Fancy’ boy!" He was referring to the red flower Vaj had in his shirt pocket.
Vaj laughed and replied, "Nothing ‘Fancy’ about me, but I like to look spiffy. The flower in my pocket is my signature style."
"Well then what are your other signature styles?" continued my Valet.
"Just because I wear a flower in my pocket, don’t take me as gay. I prefer females," Vaj affirmed steadfastly. 
"With a rose sticking out of your pocket I'm sure you are NOT GAY. Oh! I'm sorry I misjudge your sexual preference," teased a smiling Andy, "You could have fooled me."
Before Vaj could reply, Oscar jokingly chimed in, "Yeah, yeah Devaj, we know you are as straight as an arrow. But arrows do fly opposite directions sometimes," he teased his charge.
Vaj defended himself humorously, "I assure you this arrow only flies in one direction."
"OK! We believe you, Vaj. Time will tell which direction you fly," I joined in the tease.
"Time will indeed tell. You wait and see," our friend replied with firm conviction.
"Indeed we will!" Andy chirped.
During our 3 months at the Sekham, time indeed told us which directions Vaj flew. And fly he did, in all directions. 
The Celebration
The birthday boy dressed in white descended the grand staircase with his proud father to the festive sounds of drums and gongs, followed by clapping friends and cheering relatives. The party had begun. The large dining table was laid with fabulous edible goodies, welcoming guests to dig in. Like most major Islamic celebrations, the presences of religious clerics were de-rigueur, especially in the initiation of a boy's coming-of-age, and Jasim was no exception to the rule. Unlike Riqz, who was circumcised at 13, Jasim had been through Khitan (Islamic circumcision) in his 7th month out of his mother's womb. This was a celebration to officially announce to the Islamic community that he was ripe for the picking. Jasim, the boy, was now Jasim, a man. 
A Secret Rendezvous
Besides Jasim's Muslim classmates, his sisters’ friends were also invited to partake in this joyous occasion. As the celebration progressed into the evening, I had to excuse myself from Andy to use a rest facility. As I tried finding a vacant washroom (which seemed to be constantly occupied), I decided to return to the Maktub to use our private toilet facility. While passing the gravel car park jammed full of sports cars, I noticed a couple of shadows flitting into an empty courtyard between the quiet guest chambers in the Maktub outbuilding. I followed.
In the cloud covered moonlight I trailed the mysterious shadows, which disappeared into an olive garden. Camouflaged behind an olive tree I spied on the couple. A man and a woman whispered softly in the darkness. I couldn’t make out who they were but when the crescent moon reappeared, Thabit's eldest daughter and a man whose back was turned my direction were in passionate embrace. Fascinated by this scenario, I watched unmoved, even though my bladder was dying for release. Before long her veiled head was bobbing back and forth in front of her lover’s crotch. I could no longer hold my urgency and urinated at my hiding place. 
If it was the sound of my urination that stirred the lovers to disentangle, I would never know. Before I could stuff my trickling penis back in my pants, the lovers were scampering in different directions. Under the silvery moon Sabiya ran, and so did my teacher. The sweet Arab girl of sixteen going on seventeen was caught tasting the forbidden fruit of a thirty-seven going on thirty-eight-year-old Italian man of distinction. Though shocked by what I had witnessed, I had no desire to jeopardize the passion between the lovers so I made up my mind to keep this a secret. I did not report to Andy or Oscar and certainly not to the Wazir of what transpired within the olive garden. 
A Harem Boy's Saga - II - Unbridled; a memoir by Young is available at:
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00L8F1RYO
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00L8F1RYO?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
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August 23, 2014
The Secret Hideaway
(click on the audio title 01-Prayer for music/song accompaniment).
Bernard Foong (a.k.a. Young) is ranked amazon.com International Best Selling Author.
A Harem Boy's Saga - Book I I - Unbridled;
A memoir by Young
An Excerpt:
"Muslims have a very bad attitude toward homosexuality: they are very tolerant."
Pim Fortuyn
1967
To Makkah
After travelling an hour on the SAQR, we arrived at the holy city of Mecca, the capital of Makkah Province, Saudi Arabia. Mecca was the birthplace of the prophet Muhammad; it was also the site of the revelation of the Quran. Our entourage consisted of Aziz, Tahu, Gabrielli, Sayid, Jasim, Jul, Isa (both were the boys' uncles), Oscar, Devaj, Andy and me. After checking into our 5-star hotel, Aziz and Gabrielli suggested we explore the city. We wouldn't be going to the Masjid al-Haram, which housed the Kaaba ("The Cube", "The Primordial House", "The Sacred/Forbidden House"), until the following morning.
Although non-Muslims are prohibited from entering Mecca, the holy city, Wazir Thabit had made special provisions with the Makkah authorities to allow the foreigners among us enter. If any pilgrim questioned our presence, we were to inform them that we were Muslim converts, there for Hajj.
Aziz joined us, mostly to secretly scout for suitable locations for Sacred Sex In Sacred Places. He had already done Hajj several times prior to this trip. Gabrielli, on the other hand, was there to make sure that his foreign students were well guarded, since the Wazir had instructed him to watch over our well-being throughout this experience. 
Education
As we toured the souks and marketplaces near the hotel, my teacher took the opportunity to explain Hajj to his students, including Sayid and Jasim.
"Do you boys understand the significance of this pilgrimage?" He asked as we gathered round him.
Tahu was the first to answer, "We are here to perform Hajj and to assume Ihram,” he said. Ihram, I later learned, is the sacred dress of Muslim pilgrims for pilgrimage or for other acts of worship, especially the daily worship. “We are not to have sexual relations with our wives, commit sins, or conduct unfair disputes because Allah is sure to know."
Before he could continue, Isa spoke, "Hajj is the perfection of one's faith. It combines both the physical and monetary aspects of worship in Islam; an example is the Salaat (prayer), which pilgrims offer in the Kaa'ba. Hajj also encourages the spending of material wealth for the sake of Allah, which is the chief characteristic of Zakaat (an annual tax on Muslims to aid the poor in the Muslim community). By spending our wealth, we cleanse our hearts from the greed of this world. Hajj also builds generosity and develops in us a willingness to sacrifice for Allah." 
"Very good explanation, Isa," my teacher congratulated him.
Before Gabrielli could utter a word, Jul explained, "When I set out for Hajj, I disassociate myself from my home and dear ones in favor of Allah. I suffer hardship and self-restraint, fast and perform Itikaaf,” he referred to a particularly commended pious practice — a period of retreat in a mosque for a certain number of days in accordance with the believer's own wish.
"I am also to forget my material comforts. I’m to avoid using scented oils and perfumes, wearing only my Ihram. I can't cut my hair and nails. I busy myself worshiping Allah and carrying out the rites of Hajj. In other words, I abandon all my worldly desires and submit to my Lord with Ikhlas (sincerity), Ittiba (obedience) and humility. I call out to Allah, ‘Here I am before You, My Lord; I'm a slave for you.’” As the man spoke these sentences, a sly sarcastic grin crept onto his face.
I was beginning to wonder whether he believed in those words. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. 
Tahu added, "You may or may not be aware that the physical demands of the various Hajj rites far surpass those of prayers and fasting, thus enhancing the patient pilgrim’s self-control, obedience and humility, which are required for his daily Eebadah (worship).
"Therefore Hajj develops a man's spiritual and moral goals, allowing a deeply spiritual transformation to take place within the individual and resulting in the reformation of his life according to Islamic ideals. There are certain pre-conditions before this act of pilgrimage becomes compulsory. I believe these are Islam, soundness of mind, puberty and capability.”
Directing his attention to the foreign students, Gabrielli advised, "Boys, you must understand that Hajj is not meant to be a hardship. It is an act of devotional worship Muslims perform, but only if it is feasible and affordable for them to make the journey." 
Andy asked, "What do you mean by feasibility for them to make the journey?"
"Feasibility includes having the physical health, financial well-being, and sufficient provision needed to undertake the Hajj. Hajj is not obligatory for one who does not possess adequate money to feed his children during his absence. If he has to borrow money, he stays at home until he is financially able. Muslims with physical disabilities are not obliged to make Hajj unless they can pay others to carry them.
"Hajj is also not obligatory even if the journey to Makkah exposes the Haji's (pilgrim's) life to risk. In addition, woman should have a Mahram (escort), since she is not allowed to travel alone without a Mahram. Therefore, a woman who cannot find a Mahram to accompany her is not obliged to make Hajj." Gabrielli explained. 
Sapiosexual
We had been wandering round the souq for an hour before we found an outdoor cafe to rest our feet. As we continued our chitter-chatter, Oscar burst forth with a comment. "Professor, I, for one, am a sapiosexual: I’m attracted to your incisive, insightful and irreverent mind. I'm completely mesmerized and aroused by your intelligent philosophical discussion of the Hajj. It’s an intellectual foreplay and I can't help but go ‘ouch’ to your witty sense of explanation."
Andy, quick to second Oscar's announcement, said amusingly, "I agree with Oscar wholeheartedly. I too, dear professor, am also a true sapiosexual!"
"What's a sapiosexual?" I interrupted.
My lovers and my professor laughed before Andy replied, "You, my darling, will soon be initiated to become a sapiosexual under the guidance of your excellent teacher and mentors."
Our Arab friends looked at us with blank stares. They, like me, had no idea what a sapiosexual was. 
To The Souk
Since the evening was young, Aziz, who had been to Makkah suggested, "Let's have some fun. I'm bored sitting at the cafe. I am going to treat you guys, especially my nephews, to a special place I know in this part of the world. Who wants to join me on this special excursion?"
Since we were all jibber-jabbering about nothing, we agreed to the photographer's secret outing. Aziz would not disclose its whereabouts. He wanted it to be a surprise and to astonish us.
We hopped into several taxis following Aziz's lead and arrived in an old section of town, some distance away from our hotel. Alighting at a night souq, we ventured into a labyrinth of stalls filled with hawkers, vendors and shops selling knickknacks and trinkets. I had no idea where we were heading. I was glad Andy, Oscar, and my teacher were next to me. If I had gotten separated in this busy souk, I would not have been able to find my way back to the hotel. Street vendors were shouting at the top of their lungs to attract buyers to their kiosks while shoppers were busy bargaining on their purchases, looking for excellent deals. 
The Secret Hideaway
Turning a corner behind a Persian-carpet vendor's stall, Aziz led us into a hidden passageway. I would not have known that such a secret alley existed if not for the photographer’s guidance. Down the long arched corridor we proceeded until we came to an obscure wooden entrance. The Arab knocked several times before a turbaned Bedouin came to answer the door. Opening it a crack, our host spoke Arabic to the guard before the man guided us into a dimly lit foyer.
It took me a few seconds to adjust to the light. To my surprise, I had stepped back in time, into a 19th-century Arabian decorated interior. On the ceiling hung an array of Persian lanterns that gave off soft, sensual glows of ruby reds, emerald greens, topaz yellows, turquoise blues, and tangerine oranges. Brocade cushions and ornately embroidered pillows lay scattered around the waiting room. 
The guard told us to wait while he hurried off to summon the proprietor. Before long, an elegantly dressed Arabian in traditional garb came to greet our entourage. Since we foreign students did not speak a word of Arabic, we relied on our Arab friends and Gabrielli to conduct the communications. After much cordiality and friendly greetings with the toothy, grinning salon keeper, we were ushered to a quiet back room with a floor-to-ceiling double sided mirror one side of the wall. Next to the comfortable floor cushions and pillows were hookah pipes, at the ready to entertain the customers while they waited for the “line-up” to assemble in the adjoining chamber.
Since the foreign students knew nothing of what was to happen, we sat still as our Arab companions giggled grinning from ear to ear. My curiosity got the better of me and I asked my professor, "What kind of a place is this? Where are we?"
Gabrielli shushed me to be quiet and gave me a wicked wink. He said nothing. By now, I was too inquisitive to be quiet. I turned to my Valet and BB and asked, "What are we waiting for? What's going to happen?"
Both my lovers shook their heads, indicating that they did not know what was happening. Since we had no clue, the only choice was to wait for all to be revealed. 
A Harem Boy's Saga - II - Unbridled; a memoir by Young is available at:
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00L8F1RYO
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00L8F1RYO?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
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August 8, 2014
The Sekham Mansion
35 - The Last Emperor (Movie Main Theme)
(click on the audio title 35 - The Last Emperor for music/song accompaniment).
Bernard Foong (a.k.a. Young) is ranked amazon.com International Best Selling Author.
A Harem Boy's Saga - Book I I - Unbridled;
A memoir by Young
An Excerpt:
"Today a man discovered gold and fame, another flew the stormy seas; another set an unarmed world aflame, one found the germ of a disease. But what high fates my path attend for I-today-I found a friend."
Helen Barker Parker
In Court
Early next morning, our Abds prepared our baths and breakfast at the Maktub. As soon as we finished eating, a manservant led us to our appointed venue to meet Wazir Thabit. He was in the midst of a tennis game with his physical trainer and business partner, Gabrielli Marciano Castrogiovanni. I did not recognize the Wazir, who wore a polo shirt and shorts. At our previous meeting he was dressed in a traditional Arabian thobe and headdress. Gabrielli, a good looking athletic Italian, spoke perfect Arabic and English besides his mother tongue, Italian. Aziz was seated under a shady umbrella drinking Turkish coffee, observing the game while waiting for Andy and me to arrive. As soon as the match was over, the two men came over to join us. We stood up to greet them and they gave us friendly nose rubs (a traditional Arab greeting). The manservant in attendance brought our beverages before the Wazir spoke, "It is good to see the both of you. Did you guys have a nice vacation?" 
I replied politely, "Yes Sir, Andy and I had a marvelous holiday and I'm ready to commence Aziz’s photography project." I didn’t know if it was appropriate to mention the project's name, in case the brothers did not wish the Italian to know the nature of our collaboration.
"Very good; my personal assistant had done some research and when we return into the house I'll fill you in, after your morning's tutorial with your teacher, Gabrielli." Aziz answered.
I was surprised to learn that the Italian was my Sekham’s professor, so I kept quiet when Gabrielli spoke. "You didn't expect an Italian tutor, did you?" He continued, "I am Thabit's business partner and I’m also his children's foreign language tutor. The Wazir had apportioned me to meliorate foreign students who are assigned to the Sekham. I'm so happy to meet you." 
Thabit added, "This man is an excellent educator; he is very knowledgeable in international affairs and an honorary graduate from Cambridge University in international finance. I managed to convince him to be my business and financial consultant. Young, you’re in good hands."
"We'll start daily tutorials from 9 am to 1 pm, except Holy Fridays. The remainder of the afternoons you are free to pursue your personal interest and projects. I believe Aziz will be keeping you busy with "Sacred Sex In Sacred Places?" My tutor commented.
The weather was getting hot, so we proceeded inside the main house. 
Preparations
We assembled in a large living room in the main mansion and waited for our host and his partner to shower before our introduction to the Household members. I could hear dissonant noises and a cacophony of the Arabic language in an adjoining room while Aziz filled us in on the latest development regarding his photography project.
The Arab was the first to begin, "My assistant, Tahu, had made some contacts with a few props construction companies in America. Two of them are interested in working on the ‘Sacred Sex In Sacred Places’ construction project. We are waiting for their bids to arrive. A company is based in Los Angeles and the other in Las Vegas."
Andy inquired, "Once the company is selected, do we travel to America to meet with the construction team or will they come to see us here?" 
"Once we finalized the confirmation, we’ll decide on the next move. With Thabit and Gabrielli's involvement, it’s likely that the Italian will be our representative and spokes-person for the project. Young can continue his private tutorials while we are circumnavigating the globe," Aziz announced.
"Who will be teaching Thabit’s children when the professor is away?" I enquired
The Arab, smilingly, said, "Don't worry about my nephews and nieces; they attend regular Islamic schools besides their foreign language lessons and tutorials with Gabrielli. The Sekham's governor will hire a temporary teacher to substitute him when he is unavailable." 
The Sekham Household
As soon as the Wazir and his partner entered the living room, the Sekham Household procession began. Much like the march of the Siamese children from The King & I; the youngest boy, Jasim, aged 12, accompanied by his nanny, conjugated into the room followed by Mais, Thabit’s 13 year old sister. Behind Mais was Naira, similar in age to her half-sister. Then came the Wazir's oldest son, Sayid, aged 15 and finally the last of Thabit’s children, Sabiya aged 16. Marching behind the kids were the Wazir’s wives, Zeba and Ula. I guessed the women’s ages to be between 29 and 33 years at most. Although they didn't wear burkas, they wore hijabs and kabayas that were considered modern for Middle Eastern women in 1967.
The household agglomeration of eight males and fourteen females filed into the living room and I could not recall most of their names. I had no problem remembering the names of Thabit’s relations, as they were in daily classes with me; their mothers accompanied them regularly.
When the entire Sekham household members had assembled in the room, the patriarch formally introduced Andy and me. If Oscar had been available, he too would have been introduced with his new charge. Unfortunately, Srihan never made it to the Sekham. A week later, Oscar arrived at the Sekham with an Indian boy by the name of Devaj whom I nicknamed Vaj. We became friends.
Thabit informed his household that Andy and I were foreign students on a mission, learning Arabian culture and the traditions of their country. We would also be assisting Aziz with his project since we were interested in photography; he omitted the nature of our assignment. They queried no further when the meeting adjourned. 
The Tour
Since photography by us, foreign students, was not permitted at the Household, I can only provide examples that illustrate similarities to the Sekham’s interior and exterior. For security reasons, unauthorized photography of the property would be confiscated by the Wazir, unless his permission was granted to the photographer.
After our Household introduction, Gabrielli offered to show us the property before I commenced my private tutorial with him. The Sekham covered many acres, and we took our time to cover the grounds. As per Islamic tradition the women's quarters were off limits to male visitors. My tutor led us through the main building, the children's quarters, several guest suites and the recreational facilities. He explained, "When I arrived at the Sekham, I couldn't find my way around the property. There are many chambers and I wasn't sure which were forbidden or allowed entry. It took me a week to become acquainted with the various chambers."
Andy asked, "How long have you been stationed here?"
"Close to three years. I met the Wazir when we were at a business conference in Geneva. I was a speaker at the event. Thabit was looking for a business and financial consultant to replace Makmud, his previous assistant, a remarkably intelligent man, who now works for The Prince." 
My Valet continued, "How did you end up being a teacher? Isn’t looking after the Wazir's businesses and investments a full-time position?"
"If I organize my daily schedules with precision, I can always find time for other pursuits. A passion of mine is education of the young. Besides dispensing my experiences to them, I also learn valuable lessons from my students.” My professor answered.
I asked, "Is your family staying on the property?” I automatically assumed that my tutor was married.
"I'm not married; that's why I can travel and follow my destiny without emotional commitments. I go whenever and wherever I’m required."
I was curious about him. I asked, "Don't you get lonely if you don't have a companion or a family?" 
Gabrielli replied smilingly, "There are plenty of vibrant people to keep me occupied in this household, and there is never a dull moment in this premise. You’ll soon discover that for yourselves. Besides, I enjoy spending time with the Wazir and we work and play well together."
As we continued the tour, I noticed several occupied guest suites, which Gabrielli suggested we not visit. Housed on the roof of the main building there was an Olympic-size pool and a well-equipped work-out facility located by the water's edge. Besides my regular studies, the Italian was also my physical trainer, coaching me and his other students three to four times per week.
Three large comfortable day beds surrounded the rooftop swimming pool deck. These were used mainly for the Wazir’s business soirées and private functions, which there were many. I like Gabrielli Marciano Castrogiovanni. He was a funny, educated and an intelligent man. I knew I would learn much from the Italian and my wisdom expanded greatly under his tutelage. Andy also liked Signor Castrogiovanni like I did. 
A Harem Boy's Saga - I - Initiation; a memoir by Young is available at:
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00L8F1RYO
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00L8F1RYO?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
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Amazon JP: http://www.amazon.co.jp/gp/product/B00L8F1RYO?*Version*=1&*entries*=0
Amazon BR: https://www.amazon.com.br/dp/B00L8F1RYO
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Amazon MX: https://www.amazon.com.mx/dp/B00L8F1RYO
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B00L8F1RYO
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/451244
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/unbridled-young/1119857648?ean=2940149752607&itm=1&usri=2940149752607
August 6, 2014
Guest Blogger: Summer Solstice Publishing and Elle Marlow
Elle, darling, talk to us. Tell us what your secret is, or give our readers a hint into how you manage to do so well.
Summer Solstice: Your Amazon bio is beautifully simple, yet it also speaks to the reader as your best friend. Tell us how you came up with the formula for this.
Elle: My answer may not make some people happy, but if I am going to be perfectly honest as so that I can somehow help another author, that’s what I’m going to do, come what may.
I believe my bio was inspired by the way that Sarah Palin also speaks and writes. It doesn’t matter if you agree with her politically, most will admit she has a way of coming across as a friendly neighbor.
Most of us, when we sit around the kitchen table discussing matters at hand, do not use flowery descriptions or big words when speaking with family. So I made an effort to be sure that I could come across as real as possible while getting the information across. I am not high paying author, I am a housewife in Arizona with a family, pets, and lucky enough to be married to a great man. I have all I need and feel blessed. I want the readers to know me, to know my books.
Will you find typo’s and grammar mistakes. Yep. Will you also get a great story? I hope so.
Hmmm? I’m going to have to rethink how I write my bio. It’s definitely a way to bring the author closer to their reader.
Summer Solstice: Next, You’ve had a lot of success with your books during July. A lot of people are aching to know how you did that. You’ve indicated you use specific categories, but is there anything else special you did? Blog? Website? Did a happy dance in the middle of the street?
Elle: My first love in romance writing is Native Romance. I wrote One Hundred Horses and published that book in January. It went straight to the top. For a variety of reasons; first, I believe the cover caught the eye. I made sure the blurb and the first chapter was as filled with action and drama from the get go. Think of it as an audition. You have a reader’s attention for maybe two or three minutes. Do you really want to fill that once chance with back story or do you want to grab them by the shirt and get in their face and yell; “Pay Attention!” LOL
I try and write all my books where immediately the reader is put straight into the action. I think the formula works. And One Hundred Horses, The Shaman’s Song and Josey’s Mountain all sort of advertised for each other by the way that Amazon has designed their website and search authors works etc.
Cover, blurb, and first chapter have to rock, and action. Exactly what all authors should do.
Summer Solstice: You must have a devoted fan base. Can you tell everyone how you developed that?
Elle: I don’t think I can as of yet, honestly claim that. I’m new. I’ve only been published since January. I think I am being discovered and I hope that a fan base is growing. That would be amazing. However, I do not think it’s in place yet. However, I am grateful and I try to make sure the reader knows my gratitude. With so many areas of entertainment out to grab a dollar, it is truly an honor that someone spent their hard earned money on one of my stories. They had many choices. Make sure as a writer, you know how much their trust in your work means to you.
What a great idea. We need to be as loyal to our fans as they are to us.
Summer Solstice: Elle, we know you have a promotion coming up soon, after you sell just a few more copies of Josey’s Mountain. Can you tell us about that please?
Elle: Yep, a FB event is being planned. I cordially invite all of Solstice authors to take part, hold their own give a ways within this event. It isn’t so much, “Hey let’s celebrate Josey’s success,” as much as let’s just celebrate our field.
I have teamed up with Midnight Gypsy to make a Josey’s Fragrance as part of the event. I can’t wait to give these out.
I’m still waiting on the supply, so I don’t have dates yet.
So, devoted readers, if you’re looking for more about Elle and her books, pay attention to Facebook. That event promises to be one that you’ll love. Elle, it was fabulous having you here.
Here are the places where you can find out more about Elle:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/elle.marlow.5
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ElleMarlowWrite
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Elle-Marlow/e/B00IDC61A0
Blog: http://ellemarlow.blogspot.com/
Goodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7790712.Elle_Marlow
