Mark Townsend - Slavetrader's captive

Soon her voluptuous young body was completely lost to Osman's sight as the many-colored bubbles began to lock together around her reclining figure, and Osman quietly let the peephole cover drop back into place. Very soon he could come back and watch her dry her body and get into bed, but first he had to make two phone calls – very important calls.

The motel night manager had called Madame Afet many times before. By now she had learned to trust his judgment. Never had he failed to deliver into her hands a girl lovely enough to bring a high price in her very specialized market. The men she supplied with nubile young women were always more than satisfied with the merchandise, even when they were extremely demanding in their tastes. Their insistence on American or English girls in their early twenties, with full but not overly mature figures, blonde hair, and blue eyes had always seemed much too narrow to Madame Afet. She didn't understand why some of the dark-haired, dark-eyed, voluptuously proportioned Turkish provincial girls wouldn't satisfy their requirements, but she had long since stopped trying to talk back to the money these men could afford to pay.

As usual, before going out to view the new prize Osman was offering her, she chose one of her most alluring clinging silk dresses. She knew that Osman was lecherous almost beyond belief, and she reasoned that she could always distract him if necessary by using her still well contoured body as a lure to his attention. Perhaps she was no longer fit to be a nightclub belly-dancer and stripper at the age of thirty-six, she thought as she looked at herself in the mirror before putting on the tight dress. But she was still considered quite a delicious feast of a woman by most men. And she had never hesitated to use her bodily charms to get anything she might want.

After she was dressed and perfumed to her satisfaction, she opened the wall safe of her modern apartment in the heart of Istanbul and pulled a stack of lira notes from the metal box inside. She counted out seventy-five hundred lira, a little over five hundred American dollars, and hesitated before replacing the lid over the rest of the money. Osman had seemed very definite on the phone in saying that this girl was something really special. That meant that he was going to up the price considerably if he could possibly get by with it. After a moment's thought, Madame Afet removed another three thousand in cash and placed it with the rest of the money in her purse. He wouldn't dare ask for any more than that, no matter what the girl looked like, she thought to herself. Then she locked the safe once more and covered it with the painting of a naked woman.

She had already sent for her usual driver and he was waiting in the car downstairs when she reached the exit from her building.

"Merhaba," she said in greeting as she slid into the back seat of the long black sedan. As they pulled away from the curb, she noticed with satisfaction that her driver had not forgotten to remove the inside door handles of the roomy back seat. Since that one girl a long time ago had managed to slip out the car door, even though she was half-conscious at the time, he had never neglected to take this precaution. That one had cost him a lot of money, and he wouldn't let it happen again.

She watched the pedestrian traffic of late evening Istanbul with relish as they worked their way toward the water. She was feeling warm and grateful to all the tourist agencies of the world that kept sending her supplies of beautiful young unattached women. She was relaxed and happy as she rode along, secure in the knowledge that she would never again have to be poor – at least not so long as there were young girls out in the world on their own, and lecherous men who were willing to pay to get their sweaty hands on foreign delicacies with fair skin and hair.

Unknown to Madame Afet, Osman had at times also dealt with another person in Istanbul, a man named Nisli Bey. Nisli was rich enough to be able to pay sometimes almost double the price Madame Afet could, provided the girl was his type. His taste seemed to go through phases, however, and Osman could never be sure he would want the offered victim. Nisli always broke in the young women himself before selling them to isolated mountain chieftains, and it was therefore his own taste that mattered, not the demands they might make.

This was the first time that Osman had called them both for the same girl, but he had two things in mind: First, he thought they might bargain with each other and give him a better price than he might otherwise get; and second, he wanted to be sure to get the delectable young blonde out of the motel before the morning help came on duty. He had had a couple of close calls before, trying to hide girls from view all day, and he knew he would be running a risk in failing to report her in the register this time. It might mean his job if it were found out, and he had too good a set-up where he was to want to lose it.

As the scheming night manager hung up the telephone after the second call, the one to Nisli Bey, he glanced at his watch and estimated that it would be at least two hours before either of the interested parties could arrive. He greedily licked his lips and walked hurriedly back toward the cabin where the American beauty should just about be finished with her bath. He hoped that she had also finished drinking the special potion he had given her – then he would be able to do what he wanted with her before Afet and Nisli showed up.

Once more lifting the cover from the peephole and looking into the room where Penny was in fact now finishing her bath, he leaned forward, his breath coming in short gasps as he saw her carefully toweling her naked body before the mirror. She rubbed the rough-textured material a last time over her burstingly full breasts and down along the insides of her shapely thighs, seeming to shiver slightly when the terry-cloth came into contact with the sensitive pink mouth of her pussy; then she hung the towel on the back of the door. She turned out the light in the bathroom and walked out of Osman's view into the other room. He could hear her digging in her suitcase for something, and then, before long, she crossed into his line of vision again.

Penny had put on a filmy nightgown that covered her firm luscious body only down to the tops of her full supple thighs. She was carrying the nearly empty glass Osman had prepared for her, and she turned it up in the air to drain the last bitter-sweet dregs into her mouth. Then she sat down on the bed and lay back, her feet facing directly at the peephole where the lustful voyeur was standing. The thin nylon gown snaked its way up over the white flat plane of her belly, exposing the soft blonde silkiness at the junction of her slightly spread legs. Seeing the tempting pink slit up between the sparse curls, he could hardly wait to part the velvety folds with his fingers when he would later sneak into her room.

Osman's bulging eyes followed the sinuous contours of her hips up over the rising and falling rib cage to the creamy white mounds of her breasts. They were set slightly close together and, through the thin covering of her nightgown, he could see the little buds of her taut pink nipples. Penny stretched languidly on the bed, revealing even more to his staring eyes the enticing treasure up between her long tapering legs. Then she rolled onto her stomach, her well-rounded buttocks clenching involuntarily as she stretched out one arm to turn off the light in the room. For a moment it was almost pitch black, and then Osman could see that she had opened the blinds to let in the moonlight. In the soft glow coming through the window he could see her once more roll over onto her back as she prepared her body for sleep. She had one leg stretched straight out, pointing at the foot of the bed, and the other was bent to the side and up, leaving the wide open "vee" up between her thighs fully exposed to his gaze. Then, finally, she seemed to fall asleep.