The cotton of his white shirt is sheer against his damp chest. “You will experience it all.”Īhmet yearns to touch her, to taste her. Eyes smoldering, she saunters toward him. “Spend the evening with me, and you will know what the best feels like,” she says. She puckers her plump lips, her youthful charm arousing him. They say no harlot in Constantinople compares to you when it comes to pleasuring a man.” Smoke wafting from his lips, Ahmet takes a final puff and drops the hose before twirling his imperial mustache. “I have heard tales of your sensual prowess. Before she can say a word, he holds up a finger to stop her. “Do you know why I summoned you?” he asks in a commanding tone. It had been a long time since he had seen such a fine woman. The rosy scent of the attar she wears blends with the smoke, further intoxicating his senses. His thoughts run wild and he grabs the hookah again, pulling the mouthpiece to his lips.
Her beauty is captivating, a balm on his battle-hardened soul.Īhmet holds out his right hand, and she plants a gentle kiss on it. The temptress flashes a sultry smile at Ahmet. A thin but elaborate chain adorns her neck. Teardrop earrings dangle from her lobes, gold glinting against her skin. An ornate silver hairpin sparkles in her long, raven hair, straining at the bun it holds together. Her hazel eyes, highlighted with dark sormeh, are enticing.
#POCKET WATCH TATTOO SKIN#
The flickering candles give her olive skin a soft satin glow. She removes her veil and drops it onto the carpet bag swaying from her right arm. He heads down to open the door before leading her back to his bedroom. Even though her face is covered in a veil, she catches Ahmet’s fancy. Dressed in a maroon abaya, she looks beautifully mysterious. His lips twist into a smile as he gazes down from the balcony to find a young woman standing in front of his house. Three loud knocks interrupt Ahmet’s thoughts. Original illustration exclusive to the Armenian Weekly by artist Masha Keryan
It was unfair of the newly-elected ‘progressive’ leader, Mustafa Kemal, to abolish the Caliphate and shift the capital to Ankara. Ahmet drifts off in thought, recalling the golden days of the Empire so many battles, so many triumphs - a legacy spanning 600 glorious years - all reduced to dust after the war. So many changes had occurred in his beloved country since the previous year when he left the Ottoman gendarmerie and entered the spice trade. Gazing at the azure ribbon of the Marmara Sea, Ahmet lights his hookah and takes a puff, sighing. Beside the portrait, a blood-red Ottoman flag hangs proudly, the star and crescent shining. A framed painting of Sultan Abdul Hamid II and a gallantry medal engraved with the Ottoman insignia - remnants of an imperial past - hang opposite the majestic wooden bed. Lit candlesticks illuminate his bedroom’s green walls. “It is almost time for her to arrive,” he mutters. He pulls out his pocket watch and flips it open. His bedroom, situated on the topmost floor of his vacation home, offers the perfect, picturesque view of the beautiful city outside. Ahmet rises from his prayer rug and walks to his balcony. The call of the muezzin slowly fades into the evening breeze the minarets of the neighborhood exude a gentle calm. Constantinople, Republic of Turkey - 1924
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