Love's Slave (manxman)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

(Darian Alvarez, my idea of what Kamal would look like.)

*PLEASE READ- I wanted to take this time at the beginning of this story to say a few things. This story covers a very sensitive subject matter that is taboo to the Arabic culture in which it refers and the Islamic religion. This book is not intended to offend anyone of that culture or religion. It is a work of fiction and through research I know the teachings of the Quran's teachings are about love and peace. I repeat this is a work of FICTION. I am sorry and if you are offended by the content if this story, please do not read it. I mean no disrespect to anyone. Thank you, xoxo Dianna**

Kamal...

I saw nothing but blue sky and fluffy white clouds as I stared out the window of my father's private jet. Cheerful rays of sunlight shone from behind the puffed peaks of the clouds and the serene picture didn't match my disgruntled mood at all. I hated my life so much right now. I was almost desperate enough to reach for the lever of the emergency exit and throw myself out of the plane from whatever height it is that the pilot has achieved.

I was being ferried home to perform a task that I felt was much better suited for either of my brothers. Farooq, the perfect first born son and crowned prince of the family, or Hamid, the second born son, and my father's second in command of the El-Sayed empire. But no, this responsibility has fallen on my shoulders, the third born son, who has absolutely nothing better to do but jettisoned around the world on the family's millions, and since both of my older brothers were otherwise occupied with our family's vast business holdings under my family's holdings both in America and Saudi Arabia. I was presenting myself like the obedient boy I was raised to be, please note the sarcasm here.

It was my parents wish that I was the one to come home and handle grandfather's estate upon his untimely demise. I found it ironic that I was the one decreed to see to his affairs after his heart attack that caused his passing. The old bastard had never liked me or approved of my lifestyle as an out and proud gay man. I was disgrace in his eyes as a man and a man of proud Arabic descent at that.

My siblings and I were allowed the unique opportunity to choose whether we embraced the Muslim way of life or practice the Christian faith of our paternal grandmother's upbringing. Needless to say I chose the less restrictive teachings of God versus the sauntch rituals and unforgiving laws of Allah. Being gay and having a religion is a very personal choice, according to both, I am damned, an abomination that is unnatural and my soul should burn in Hell for all eternity. It's wonder I'm not am atheist. I was fully accepted for who I am even with Christianity on my paternal side, but the patriarch of my mother's side of family was firmly entrenched the old world Islamic faith and beliefs. So I was an outcast to them despite the rest of my teibes acceptance me and my sexual preference.

My brothers and my father didn't care who I loved, as long as I wasn't making myself into a whore or making a spectacle of myself by flaunting dozens of lovers all over the place. My mother, God bless her, just wanted me to find a nice young man to settle down with and for me to be happy in a committed relationship.

But let's face it, as a 25 year old man, I still had some time to sow my wild oats so to speak, and I was happier than hell doing just that in New York City. I was quite fine dating and fucking my through the bountiful selection of beautiful boys that city that never sleeps had to offer.

Now and for the foreseeable future until my grandfather's affairs are sorted out, the very way of life as I know it is over. I am going back to the sweltering desert region and the ultra conservative environment steeped in rigid beliefs that shunned who I am as person. I sighed yet again and stared listlessly through the little portal window as I was being taken to a place I wouldn't willingly go back to if it were my choice.

I managed to politely smile at the hostess as she all but tripped over herself in serving my afternoon repast. I dismissed her after she arranged the tray for me with one last longing look before she disappeared back to the part of the plane where she came from. Sorry honey, as cute as you are there is nothing in this world that would entice me to take a dip in your waters. Give me a tight firm ass anyday and I am a happy boy. I looked at the tray that was placed in front of me and trust my mother to make sure that I would have foods from our culture instead of my, Americanized diet, as she called it reintroduced to me.

She was welcoming me home with the aromatic fragrance of Al-Qahwa. The rich scent of the roasted beans paired with cloves and cinnamon stirred my appetite all the same and I was careful as I picked up the piping hot fenjan with both hands and inhaled the scent of the strong brew deep into my lungs before tilting the cup and draining the beverage in one sip, the typical sparse serving just coating the bottom of the cup. I had to admit that my mouth watered for the bowl of candied fruits sitting next to the dallah that held even more of the rich beverage. Usually, I would have let the hostess continue to serve me but I didn't want to put up with her starry eyed gaze so I served myself another serving of my coffee as I popped the fruit into my mouth. God I missed this, but I will never admit it out loud to my mother.

After my third serving of coffee and finishing off almost half the bowl of fruit, I called the hostess to remove the tray and pulled out my Macbook and powered it up. I went through the documents my father and my grandfather's attorney's sent me giving me power of attorney to see to the honored Naji Shariff's estate and business interests.

I read the reports from grandfather's private doctors documenting the events of the massive cardiac infarct that claimed his life. It was witness my one of the servants that had been serving him breakfast. She had immediately called for medical assistance and called for his valet who performed CPR on the man but to no avail. He was pronounced dead right there on his dining room floor. My parents were in Paris at the time and they immediately returned to Riyadh, our families home city in Saudi Arabia when they were notified.

My brothers are supposed to arrive to the city tomorrow and various other members of the family and several business associates by the next day. Grandfather's Janazah or funeral will be held the following day. All the rituals will be strictly adhered to as per the old man's wishes, and out of respect I will refrain from giving my opinion on those rituals because according to them, my mother and sisters, the old man only daughter and granddaughter's I might add are strongly discouraged from attending the al-Dafin, or burial.

I always have and I will always continue to steer clear on the topic of religion when I am directly involved in family gatherings. My siblings and I were raised as Christians with healthy respect for other faiths, were we taught both the Christian way and the Islamic way as per our culture and the only thing I had against the Islamic faith is the belief that because I love another man, that I am a gay man, then I am committing a crime that is punishable by severe beatings and even death, judged by man well as Allah.

Thank God for my immediate families acceptance of not only myself but all of my siblings. Our parents are open minded enough to let us all be who we want or need to be, but they have never neglected to raise us properly in both faiths. My grandfather on the other hand believed that I blighted Allah, and broke the law when I went to the Western school and let the Devils lead me astray. He had cursed me and told me he no longer acknowledges me as a blood relation to him. So I don't know why in the Hell my parents chose me of all of their offspring to be the one to see to affairs. I am sure the old bastard was flipping like a fish in the mosque where his body is being prepared.

The overhead intercom dinged and the pilot's voice filtered through and he gave his in flight update. I looked out the window as his words registered only to see that night has fallen. I checked the time on my computer and it was 9:30 p.m. (EST) so it is 4:30 a.m. (GST+3) in Riyadh. I still had four and half hours left before the jet lands at King Khalid International Airport. A car will be waiting for me to take me to my families home to be smothered to death by my mother and my sisters. "Yay, happy times." I thought as I shut down my laptop and put it away.

I got up and stretched the kinks out of my long limbs before making my way to the back of the plane. I might as well catch a nap as I am ferried through the time zones. I can only hope and pray I won't suffer from jet lag by the time I make it to the Kingdom of my childhood.