Last updated on 2023-03-07 at 19:54 pm - Estimated reading time 00:55:14
We were there naked, already drenched in sweat, gazing disinterestedly at the stone mosaics that lined the walls of the small, overheated room in which we had settled. I’ve always loved lounging in the Hammam, the Turkish baths, very early in the morning when there are still few bathers.
This day should have been a typical day, although we were only six or eight to get ready to take a hot bath. A young woman’s strange behavior attracted my attention, probably because she was also a statuesque beautiful woman. Away at the back of the room, she seemed to be attentive to the service of another woman barely older than herself. Then, despite knowing she was being watched out of the corner of her eye, she did not shy away from her pleasure of being on display like this.
So, while this attractive girl was still busy soaping her eldest carefully, almost all the eyes of this assembly seemed to have irresistibly focused on her muscular shape, probably more out of envy than embarrassment.
Intrigued, a young woman who seemed to be of North African descent tried for a moment to speak to her in Arabic, but understanding that she did not interpret her words, she waited patiently until she had finished her task before resuming in French.
“My pleasure is that of my mistress,” she said then, looking at the blonde’s lower back. “That’s what this tattoo reads, right?”
More surprised than embarrassed, the young woman agreed with a quick nod while nervously bustling about undoing her hair, which she kept in strict braids as if this hairstyle had the sole purpose of highlighting the curious golden necklace which she should have already taken off.
“Do you think that it is possible to access pleasure when it is voluntarily that you have given up your freedom?” she answered calmly while showing her the strange lock she couldn’t open on the back of her neck.
“But then, this tattoo…, so you are her slave!” She let go finally, as troubled by this admission.
Disturbed for a moment with a sudden feeling of suffocation when I walked through the Arabic arched doorway of the hot room within the Hammam, I nevertheless remained attentive to this conversation which I had overheard a few moments earlier while we were showering and which seemed to want to come alive again.
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