Sleeping with the Sultan. Alexandra Sellers
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And not the stone-cold-sober Sheikh Ashraf. They stood up and sat down as instructed, and put their hands on their heads or their bums, and paraded around. But she noticed that when he turned out to be one of the group of men instructed to drop their trousers to their ankles and shuffle up onto the dance floor, he did not comply, and no one at the table even thought of challenging him on his dereliction.
But everybody else was having a marvellous time with all the nonsense, and the money was rolling in.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, a little earlier in the evening, you were all handed out cards asking how much you would donate to Bagestan Drought Relief for the fun of a kiss. Yes? You were given the names of our six magic couples tonight—the men who bid for an evening with our lovely actress volunteers—and you voted for the couple you would most like to see kiss.”
Dana felt a prickling of her skin, like a warning of doom. She flicked a glance at Sheikh Durran, and saw his mouth tighten. He knew, too. And was looking forward to it as much as she was.
“Now, while we’ve all been having such a fabulous good time, volunteers have been adding up all the votes and tallying them.”
She had agreed to it—of course they wouldn’t pull a thing like this without getting all the actresses’ permission first. But she had agreed with a shrug, thinking it would be just one more thing. A one-in-six chance of having to kiss some smitten stranger in public—how bad could it be? No worse than the auction itself.
But it was going to be a whole lot worse.
“And ladies and gentlemen, at the risk of shattering some delicate egos, I can tell you, it was no contest. The pair you most want to see giving each other a kiss, ladies and gentlemen, is Dana Morningstar and Sheikh Ashraf Durran!”
The bright light of the follow spot fell on them. Sheikh Ashraf was sitting like a statue. Dana realized suddenly that he of course had not been consulted. For the sheikh this was coming totally out of left field.
And he liked it even less than she did. She knew that by his face. Sheikh Ashraf Durran looked like nothing so much as the masks of Hawk her Ojibwa grandfather carved.
But this was a pressure even the coldly disapproving sheikh would not be able to resist.
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