Prayer-Cushions of the Flesh by Magnus Irvin Robert Irwin Page B

you dare stop me?’
    ‘If my mistress pleases … ’
    ‘Well as it happens, I prefer to urinate in private and I am not accustomed to pee over men. Orkhan, my business with you is all but finished. I will kiss you once more, but that will only be when you are dead. Now pick up my clothes and deliver them to one of the slaves outside, so that they can be taken off to the laundry. Then it is time for you to be washed, perfumed and massaged.’
    Orkhan did as he was told. Then she took him by the hand and led him through a series of small cells, flagged and furnished in marble. The wet floors were treacherous underfoot. They passed through a slightly larger room, a tepidarium, where a couple of women lay on stone slabs sweating into their towels and from there they passed into the calidarium.
    By now Orkhan was beyond surprise. The calidarium was vast and sulphorous and shafts of sunlight from the leaded widows in the roof streamed down between the clouds of steam and incense which rose from the water. Orkhan had never seen so much water before. The place was full of naked women who appeared and disappeared in those clouds. A few of the women splashed about in the water or sported round the central fountain which was fashioned in the form of a trio of entwined serpents. Another gang of women were running a race around the pool’s edge, their breasts flapping wildly as they ran. Others at the far end of the calidarium were dancing and singing as they danced. These women paid no attention to Orkhan and Anadil, but others seated and sprawled around the edge of the calidarium turned to look at them as they entered. Some hunched over the incense braziers, drinking wine or braiding each other’s hair. Bowls of cucumbers and hard-boiled eggs had been placed here and there throughout the hammam and some women picnicked on these. A couple of elderly concubines smoked long chibouk pipes. One was at work with a depilatory brush. So many naked bodies, running, sitting, lying, fondling, squatting, standing, bending, caressing, writhing, imploring – it ought to have been Paradise, yet to Orkhan, who longed to escape from it, it was more like a vision of the Last Judgement.
    Then in between the surges of the women’s singing, Orkhan heard a man’s voice,
    ‘I would not say that my wife is ugly but … ’
    It was the Vizier. Like everyone else he was naked. He stood near the edge of the pool, surrounded by a group of young concubines and he was juggling eggs and cucumbers as he continued to describe his wife.
    ‘… but she is an acceptable substitute for masturbation, if I concentrate and use my imagination.’
    ‘What is the Vizier doing here?’
    ‘Oh Orkhan, don’t be such a bore. Surely you must have guessed by now? He’s not the real Vizier. The real Vizier would never be allowed to set foot in the Harem. That little man is just one of the Harem’s buffoons. We appointed him to play the Vizier. He is, like most of what you have encountered, just part of our charade.’
    Anadil summoned over a dark-skinned young woman.
    ‘This is Afsana. She invents the stories for us to play out. She gives us our roles and makes sure we know our lines.’
    Afsana looked modestly down.
    Anadil continued,
    ‘It would be so boring otherwise, just sitting around in the Harem, waiting for a man to appear. We all take turns at playing the different parts. Otherwise, even the masquerade would get dull. But now the time for games is almost over,’ concluded Anadil regretfully.
    ‘So the Prayer-Cushion cult is all just a game you have invented to while away your captivity?’
    Anadil looked shocked,
    ‘Holy Mother, no! No, the way of the Prayer-Cushion is sacred truth. All our masques and games are part of our service as Prayer-Cushions – part of our the quest for the Holy Rapture and an expression of our desire to serve you.’
    Anadil might have said more, but at that moment, three young concubines, who had been running round the edge of