The Thief of Baghdad

The Thief of Baghdad

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Dec 28, 2020
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Fiction
Historical
Monarchs are usually associated with luxurious lives of lavishness, pomp and ceremony. One immediately imagines immaculate gold halls and sophisticated thrones flanked to either side by attendants waving fans or otherwise arms outstretched with plates filled to the brim with grapes and venison. And I wouldn't blame you. Monarchs ought not be spiriting themselves away into the night clad all in black, hooded and clinging to the shadows as though common brigands. This is the misconception an old greybeard is seeking to clear to his bewildered grandchildren, reminiscing his past as a cupbearer to the noble Harun in this shortstory inspired by the time of the Abbasids.
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I woke up in the morning and felt the pain in a place I've never hurt before. I took a peek at my own body, and my mind went blank. My eyes found a man who was lying beside me, sleeping, and my mind brought me back to me all the crazy things that happened last night. My 2 years boyfriend dumped me, I was drunk and went to my hotel room alone. Someone climbed on me. To say that he was handsome is an understatement. If an angel could marry a devil, then I'm sure he was their son. But that was not the point! He came to me and kissed me. One thing led to another.. God! This guy took my virginity. And that was not the worst. Guess what! He was my new boss. I was his new executive assistant. To top it, my ex boyfriend accused my boss that he raped me. What should I do? Trust my ex boyfriend who just dumped me? Or.. trust my new boss who was sexy as hell (that's not the point, by the way) and the one who took my virginity? Words {[150.000-200.000]} First Chapter published on July 4th , 2020.

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