Dahran

This is the twenty second and last chapter ex twenty two of a novel about slavery and gay sex.

Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, re-training, submission, gay, sex

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The Special Memories by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 22 -- The Gatherings

I remember December of my third year in Dahra as being the month of the gatherings -- two in London and one in Dahra itself. The first meeting in London was our regular Bank one at Deckams, on the third Monday of the month, just a week before Christmas.

I knew something was up, as Charlie Deckam, our beloved, polite and shrewd chairman had phoned me not once, but twice in the previous month -- something quite unheard of. The chairman does not interfere in the branches and short of earthquake, or other natural disasters, does not ring the branches -- well, not quite, but near enough.

His first call was to congratulate me and the staff on now having three quarters of a trillion euro, either on deposit or under management at the branch Bank. Well, in a way, that is a genuine reason enough, only New York and London have more. The second call was to see that I was coming to the meeting of the Board on the 17th. But even, if I had not been planning to go as I was, I would have been video-linked in at the Board-table. I could not quite place my finger on the particular pulse that was beating.

The Board meeting was a full one. Not a single partner was missing -- we still retain the old title for directors of the Bank. It was only when I had sat down, Colin Bowman of Rio in his adulation having sat down beside me, I saw the agenda on the blotting paper table-pad before had one item not on the one sent to me in Dahra.

Re-structuring' had been inserted before Any other business'.

I picked up the Agenda and looked up at Charlie Deckham who caught my eye and smiled with that childishly mischievous face he makes when he has something up his sleeve.

I was third to speak and did so in less than two minutes. We sped through the meeting until `Re-structuring'.

`Ladies and gentlemen of the Board, the expansion of our work as bankers has needed over the centuries various changes. One such change I am now proposing we introduce, in the creation under myself as Chairman and our Deputy Chairman, of three Senior Partners, namely those present partners who run our branches in London, New York and Dahra,' and he named the three partners including myself.

There was a general thumping of the table to indicate acceptance. The New York lady partner looked at me. She had known nothing of it, but the London partner clearly had.

`The second proposal is that each Senior Partner should have two junior partners assisting him or her.'

This again was resoundingly approved and I heard our Madrid and Buenos Aires partners being moved to London and his own son and heir Georgie Deckam, in audits, being moved to New York. I also caught the flash of a half glance from Charlie Deckham in John Tunnor's direction -- our partner in charge of personnel. Charlie had obviously caught wind of something between the two -- not that much missed his acute awareness of all matters happening around him.

I was quite surprised, pleasantly surprised in fact, on hearing of the choices of junior partner for Dahra -- Gustav Ahlson, my own general manager and Colin Bowman, our young partner in Rio.

There was quite a round of applause for some reason and I whispered to Colin beside me, `You knew of this?'

The Chairman told me yesterday' he whispered back, and swore me to secrecy in case you tried to scupper his idea. I had to come three times last night just to get to sleep, sir.'

In his tone, I heard a sir' with a small s' and not a capital one. I smiled back at his obvious pleasure.

Is everyone happy?' the chairman asked. Michael?' -- the new London Senior Partner nodded his agreement.

`Dorothy?' -- New York nodded her acquiescence to the Christmas surprise.

`Sir Jonathan?'

`Thank you, Mr. Chairman. I can think of no better partners in Dahra than Gustav Ahlson and Colin Bowman. I shall ring Gustav immediately.'

`That won't be necessary, Sir Jonathan, if you just swivel your chair.'

And then I saw why the applause had been so loud for Dahra. Gustav Ahlson had come in through the door behind me out of my line of vision. The thought struck me that this was the first time in twenty five years that he had been in London and only the fifth time in all out of Dahra in a quarter of century. I got up and embraced him. Any other business got lost in the congratulations being give and the Christmas goodwill.

Jack Tuttle, my nephew, had travelled this time with me to London on the New Concorde from Bahrain. He had said, he wanted to do some shopping. Vedel and Beno, his slaves, had acted, as if he were departing forever or for the moon and ended up sitting miserably on the steps of the veranda as we had left. Though they were not my slaves, I said to Dumi, my stables manager, `Get those two to work.'

He gave a big grin and said, `Master, I have an undug field just waiting for them.'

But Jack had indeed wanted to do shopping for the family and had also gone to Taspells for two gold necklaces for Vedel and Beno, who were over a year without theirs.

Why was I not surprised when I got a message at the Bank after the Board-meeting that my sister Elizabeth was down from Scotland for the weekend and her Christmas shopping and was staying over for some days and would I meet them for a quiet dinner.

I had not actually planned anything as it was and rang back. My brother-in-law, Jock, answered the phone. Elizabeth had gone out again for more shopping. He sounded almost relieved. I said to him to expect two, as I would have to accommodate a guest.

`No problem, Jonathan, bring him or her. I think there will be twenty or so sitting down to dinner.'

So much for Elizabeth's idea of a quiet dinner.

To give my sister her due, she does get her way and usually gets away with it. She always did with our parents and certainly with me and I know she did with Jock. She normally sailed along in straight lines doing what she wanted and reefs and shoals and rocks and sandbars were all expected to move aside for her straight-line navigation.

The Tuttles keep a small four-bedroom London townhouse. Because of its shape, Elizabeth had a long heated conservatory built to the rear which doubled as a dining room when numbers so required and this was the setting for her pre-Christmas `quiet' dinner.

Jack and I arrived on the dot of the hour indicated by Jock, his dad. Elizabeth herself answered the door and as I was standing in front of Jack, it was me whom she greeted first with her usual double kiss. Then seeing Jack standing there in his German overcoat, I had bought him what seems an age ago, with a suntan to shame any permanent holiday-maker, she could only embrace him, kissing his face, as if he were a prodigal son -- which, in a way, he was having been away for all of eighteen months in Dahra.

Jock gave me a bear hug and an even bigger one to Jack commenting on how he had grown and filled out.

For some reason, we were the second last to arrive. Jock's brothers, Jamie and Jack, after whom my nephew was named, were there with their families.

The dinner was half-service, half-sitting down, with family members moving round the conservatory for the first courses and engaging in the chat and Christmas banter.

Jock, having cut the turkey in advance, told everyone to come up to him at the head of the table and to also get a slice of ham. It meant that all were soon all finally seated around the table and I noticed that Jack was seated between one of Jamie's daughters and a girlfriend who was down with her in London. He seemed to be having a whale of a time.

When the meal ended, the women went upstairs to try on some clothes that they had brought and Jack and I found ourselves, with the three Tuttle brothers and one of Jack's children, David, a young man of twenty or so, who was studying engineering at St. Andrew's.

Jock opened a bottle of single Malt. Nothing else was being offered to Scottish men. Six tumblers were half filled. No water was offered -- nothing that might offend the distillation. During the pouring, there was no talk. It was a sacred ceremony.

When the last half tumbler had been handed round, Jock, as the head of the household, proposed a single toast, `The Tuttles'.

The room gave an echo to the five other, `The Tuttles', which sounded and each of the men present took a sip and no more, of the whisky; various touching their lips, as if a drop might have escaped to the air.

Well, Jack, what are you doing at the Bank now?' Jock asked. Banking must suit you well. You have grown and filled out.'

Jack was blushing.

`At the moment, I am working in dividends, Dad. I've done the mailing room, stationery and reception and I hope to get into deposits.'

His uncle Jamie said to me, `but Jonathan does that keep him busy?'

I could not help but smile while I replied, `Well, with the manager and another banking official, Jack has to mail out dividends each day all over the world...'

Jamie was going to say something else, but I pressed on, `.. keeping track of a hundred million euro being mailed out in dividends each day is more than enough to keep him busy. It's about thirty billion each year.'

David Tuttle coughed, as if the whisky had hit a wrong spot and he smiled in amusement at his uncle's gaffe. Jamie Tuttle just opened and closed his mouth, but opened it again to sip his malt.

You know, Jonathan,' Jack Tuttle Sr. said, that we raised some sixty five million in capital this year for the expansion we have been undertaking.'

`Yes, I heard. Well done. Very quickly raised, I seem to have heard as well.'

Jamie Tuttle had recovered his voice, `Jonathan, did you have anything to do with that investment?'

`Why do you ask?' I answered the question with another question.

It struck me as a bit odd, me being a crossword fanatic and all that, the investment vehicle out of the Grand Cayman Island was JT Investments, with a single investment of £45 million. You know, JT' are our initials and all of that. A bit curious. Well, did you?'

I decided that a little honesty would be the best policy.

I merely helped set up the company. JT are not just the initials of the three Tuttle brothers, you know,' and I half-turned to look at Jack, who had turned redder than red as everyone's eyes turned on their stalks to look at him, Mr. Dividends here now owns 20% of Tuttles, gentlemen. Did he not tell you that?'

David Tuttle, who surely must have had keen sense of the irony of the situation, burst out laughing.

`Good on you, cousin Jack, good on you!'

Jamie Tuttle merely murmured `Heaven knows what he will buy when he moves into deposits.'

`Dad, can we keep this between us? If Mum gets to know who is behind JT Investments it will be all over Scotland and beyond. You remember how she told all and sundry when I was just going to work in the Bank with Uncle Jonathan.'

`To the family, then,' Jock said and raised his glass again.

As if on cue, the women walked back in again as we were returning the toast `To the family' and joked about our drinking habits.

London was too cold for myself, even though by London standards it was not cold at all and I looked forward to returning to the heat of Dahra, which I did with Gustav the following day, Tuesday. Jack asked to stay on until the Friday and changed his flights, insisting on staying at the hotel for `ease of shopping'. After the family reunion, he seemed rather subdued. I asked him, if he was coming down with something and I said I looked forward to seeing him back on Friday and thought no more about it.

The only funny thing that happened on the way back was that at London-Heathrow, no sooner had we pulled up in the taxi at International Departures than two persons came up to Gustav and spoke to him in Swedish. We were ushered into a private section that I had never seen before and a very well laid out sitting room, where we were immediately offered a pre-flight drink and finger food. It was too early for the latter, but a glass of champagne went down well.

`Who were they, Gustav?'

`Embassy, they said.'

`How did they know you were taking this flight?

He looked toward the ceiling and held up his signet ring with its transponder, `that way I guess.'

`It's strange there have been no more Swedes at the auctions since young Thor,' I said.

`I think there has been some sort of agreement with the dealers in al-Mera and al-Qatim that they will no longer handle Swedes. I also think, it is a bad idea of whomever thought it up, as the Swedes will now go to the markets in other countries where I won't be able to help them. It certainly was not my idea.'

The second unusual thing that happened was as the New Concorde ascended into the stratosphere. The Captain announced that we were being escorted while in British airspace by four jets of the King's Own squadron, a mile off our port side flying in broken arrow formation.

I looked at Gustav who merely replied to my unspoken question, `I really must travel less.'

I slept most of the flight back to Bahrain like the inveterate traveller I am and I dreamt of the red and purple Dahran sunsets with their silver- and grey-layered clouds on the western horizon. It was a peaceful dream.

Christmas is not celebrated to any great degree in Dahra and I did not want it to evoke memories in those among the slaves who had formerly celebrated it with their families, so I waited until the last day of the year to hold the third gathering of overseers and slaves which we had held at Lime Palace. I thought of them more as parliaments being gatherings for speaking. Dahra was still quite warm and the temperature of the evenings really only start dropping after nine o'clock at night.

Jack had returned from London on the Friday and was out of sorts. I had asked him what the matter was and he said he would talk to me on Hogmany -- the last day of the year -- as he termed it in such Scottish fashion. However, even as we gathered for a special evening meal, he had mentioned nothing to me about his mood, though he appeared happier. The kitchens had been humming all day as a soup and a special ice-cream was being prepared for six hundred slaves, overseers and medical staff.

Even two simple foodstuffs like soup and ice-cream take their time to be served up to so many. The medical staff sat with Jack and me at the table of on the veranda and I had told Flavio just to have some cold meats for the meal, so that he could concentrate on the meal for the slaves. Flavio looked scandalised at the suggestion -- but cold meats we did have, served by Bob and Jerzy.

I saw that Marko had the two Americans, Scott Billins and Bryce Sands with him preparing what turned out to be his versions of chocolate chip cookie and vanilla fudge ice-creams -- the culinary coup of the evening by any yardstick.

It was near to half past seven, when all the food had been eaten and the bowls cleared away, with a tapping of spoons in approval.

When there was a silence of expectation, I stood up and said, Master Jack wanted to say something.

Jack came forward to the edge of the veranda steps and called out Vedel and Beno.

I was surprised at how good his Arabic was after just a year and a half and nodded over to Sunar Hussein, his teacher, who caught my eye and my smile of approval.

`Vedel Vesh is my slave and has served me well. I now give him his necklace of white gold. White gold being the symbol of my house.'

He held up the very beautiful necklace which shimmered in the evening sunlight and placed it over Vedel's neck. At that moment, Vedel looked, as if he could walk on water.

Similarly, Jack called out Beno Vesh and gave him his necklace. Beno was crying and simply embraced his cousin when he returned to his place. Both had received a warm round of applause.

I rose again to speak.

`To-night is the last night of one year and tomorrow a New Year begins. I want to say how happy I am with all the slaves in my Palaces, with the exception of the four slaves who will work my water wheels for the rest of the their lives. The happiness and love I have for each of you will be reflected in some things which will happen in the New Year.'

I called the American slave, Tommy Saunders, forward.

`I will be continuing a special programme, which I have been handling myself for the past two years, but now which will involve more and more of you. The person who will be in charge of this is Tommy Saunders, whom you know as the English teacher. He is now an overseer.'

Tommy was looking at me in wonder, but had the presence of mind to come forward and to kiss my feet.

I called Frank Kovacs, the original runaway slave, forward.

`A second new programme will be starting for all slaves and I say all slaves, in the Palaces on sexual techniques.'

There was a cheer and a slow handclap as some slaves punched others laughingly on the shoulders.

`This programme is because some of you are not good in bed with your buddies. The person in charge of this programme will be Frank Kovacs. I also want to find two assistants for him who are the skilled lovers in the Palaces. It will be for you to say who those slaves are. Do not suggest someone because he is your buddy. Suggest someone to Frank who is really good in bed at night. Frank Kovacs is now an overseer.'

There was quite a handclap for Frank, which surprised me, as he is such a quiet slave, who had endured so much hardship, even my own displeasure.

`Now as we have had in previous parliaments, are there things to be done or changed at the Palaces.'

I nodded to Ben Trant to take a note.

What surprised me were the three of the seven suggestions made that evening came from the former prisoner-slaves, who were now integrating very well into Palace life as slaves. I asked the overseers to have the suggestions put into place immediately and there was a cheer. They were small things to do and easily done for a couple of thousand euro.

The night had suddenly become dark. The sky had gone from purple to violet and was shooting up odd beams and rays of sunlight between the horizons far distant clouds.

We all rose and prepared to go in for the night to our separate quarters. I noticed that Nacho Cuesta waited until Jerzy, Marek's former buddy, had come back out of the kitchens, having put away the last of the table items with Dumi Bod and putting an arm around his waist walked, over to his quarter with the Polish slave. Now that was one for the books, as they say. Yves Fournier caught my eye and smiled.

I said to him, `Do you not even want a couple of warm bodies to keep your bones warm on a New Year's night?'

`I would never get to sleep with another in my bed.'

`Oh, yes, you would, Yves and if the two I have in mind don't let you sleep, just throw them out of the bed.'

`No, no, Jonathan.'

`Yes, yes, Yves, just for this night to keep you warm and if after tonight you don't want them further just throw them out.'

Turning to Bob, I said, `call Bryce and Scott.'

The two slaves who had been helping Marko make the ice-cream, came at a trot.

`Bryce, Scott. Keep Dr. Fournier warm tonight. Just warm. No sex -- unless he changes his mind. And if he kicks you out of his bed, stay out.'

They looked at me and then at Yves Fournier who was shaking his head and walking back to his quarters. The two American slaves followed dutifully. I don't know what happened that night, if anything at all, but the two Americans were never returned by Yves.

When I tried to mention it afterwards to Yves -- thinking that it would be pruriently wrong to ask the slaves themselves, Yves replied cryptically, `for the most part, they are good blankets, for the most part.'

And I never found out afterwards what happened in the `lesser part', when they were not being blankets, but that was matter for Yves' own privacy.

Komil had gone ahead of me up to my rooms with Ross, the London slave, for whom I had asked.

Jack was waiting for me at the door on his own, having dispatched Beno and Vedel.

`Happy Hogmany, Uncle Jonathan.'

`Many happy returns, Jack.'

I could see, he something to say and still did not know how to say it. I put my arm around his shoulder and we half-sat on the balustrade of the veranda.

`You said, you wanted to say something to me, Jack. Is it that bad?'

`Oh, no, Uncle Jonathan, not at all, quite the contrary. I have asked Fiona Campbell to marry me and she has accepted my proposal.'

Jack's words almost bowled me over the balustrade.

`Fiona? Who's Fiona Campbell?'

`You met her in London. I was sitting beside her at dinner.'

`Two weeks ago and you have asked her to marry you? Do you know her, Jack?'

Jack started to laugh at my question.

`Know her in one sense, no, Uncle Jonathan. She is a friend of my cousin. I never met her before in my life, but having met her, I knew that I knew her for centuries. You can guess why I wanted to stay until Friday in the hotel. So in another sense, a biblical sense, I know her now. We stayed in bed almost all day Wednesday and Thursday.'

`Jack, this is all very sudden.'

`I know, Uncle Jonathan, it is all very sudden and for me it is also in slow motion. Do not worry; I am not going to do anything stupid. I know that sounds wrong having said I have just made a proposal of marriage to a girl I just met a fortnight ago and me not yet twenty one years of age. But I have asked Fiona to marry me on the 1st of February.'

`The 1st of February. It's my twentieth first birthday and it's her twentieth birthday. We have the same birthday. I rang Mum and Dad from the Bank this afternoon just before I left and told them. Fiona has already told her parents as well, today.'

`Jack, if you are sure, I am the happiest uncle in the world tonight.'

`Uncle Jonathan, I love you so, so much. I can't say thank you for everything you have done for me, for trusting me to be here with you in Dahra, for allowing me to be my own man in owning Vedel and Beno, for the JT Investments thing. For everything, you are and always will be to me.'

`And what does Fiona do?'

`Oh, she's an interior designer. She's very bright. She got four Highers.'

`She's Scottish, then. I did not actually speak with her. You seemed to have her to yourself at that family dinner.'

`Yes, Uncle Jonathan, she's Scottish. You know that single Malt we took, that's her dad's firm. He's one of the last independent distilleries. Exports all over the place and all of that.'

I could not help but burst out laughing.

`What's so funny, Uncle Jonathan?'

`Just the thought that I am going to have a niece-in-law who is going to keep me in whisky!'

We both laughed at the ludicrous situation.

`And what happens about your life here at the Palace and your ownership of Vedel and Beno and such.'

`The one thing you and Dahra have taught me, Uncle Jonathan, is that my horizons are unlimited and I shall live one day at a time and solve each problem as it surfaces and not before. Now, I have two slaves to put to bed, uncle. Happy Hogmany' and my nephew kissed me on the cheek and went off to bed.

When I got upstairs, Ross was there at `display' as was Komil. I brought down their arms.

`Ross, Komil, let's just go to bed and if you want to rub my back, Ross, that is fine, but nothing else.'

And that was how I spent the last hours of my Hogmany of that year, with Ross, the former London call-guy, giving me one of his great backrubs and Komil, a giant former Uzbek mechanic, working his magic fingers on my legs, feet and toes.

One of the last things I remember of the old year was turning over, having both slaves lie up beside me their heads and upper chests held in my arms and I fell into the deepest of sleeps without a single frame of a dream.

Some noise woke me just before six in the morning according to the clock. Both slaves were fast asleep, each on their side facing away from me, where they had rolled off my arm and chest.

I slipped down the middle of the bed and standing naked at the window, the curtains moving in the cool early morning breeze, I saw the first sunrise of the New Year.

I must have been there all of half an hour admiring the pinks and yellows and blues of the morning sky, when Komil was beside me with a quilt and wrapping it around me from behind, he stood with his big arms enfolding me with the quilt and we watched the sun lift itself over the horizon. At some point, I found that my hands were in his and I lifted one of them to my lips and kissed it. He silently kissed my ear as only a lover can do and hugged me more closely. I looked over at Ross on the bed, out for the count and smiled up and over my shoulder at Komil's face.

The New Year had begun well. I could not believe so much had happened in a short two and a half years. And yet so much remained to be done.

End of Chapter 22.

The concluding chapter of this novel.

The next volume The Dahran Way will follow shortly.