The Forgotten Tale Of Larsa Read Online Free PDF Page B

yelled.
    The sound of wind instruments and heavy drums beating had made it difficult for King Nelaaz of Aram to hear his guests speak, although he cared little once the half-naked belly dancers entered the grand hall. Their exposed flesh made him drool with thick saliva: an uncontrollable reaction to their shapely figures. They shook their bodies, encircling the assembled guests.
    ‘No need to thank me; my women are your women, so long as we do not share them at night!’ he laughed. The King of Aram had handpicked each belly dancer himself; it was one of his favourite pastimes, along with eating and drinking.
    The dancers twisted and turned like cobras, dancing to the tune played on wooden whistles and drums, and in their hands they held large swords which they then placed on their heads, balancing them as they danced. The combination of naked flesh and the risk of death was an enticing combination for any man: some were so excited by the sight that they gnawed at their lips, biting them in excitement. In a circular movement the belly dancers shook their hips and swirled their toned muscles in and out; some shook their breasts as they seduced and infuriated their audience.
    ‘There are three things I love deeply in this world. Can any of you guess what they are?’ King Nelaaz yelled. He wiped his ginger beard with his sleeve; it was soaked in wine and frothing saliva.
    ‘I can’t think what they might be,’ replied Fallus, chewing a grape with little finesse. In fact, he could not be bothered to think at all at that moment; all his attention was focused on the large thighs of the women who gyrated before him.
    ‘I love my wealth, my palaces, but above all, I love my women!’
    King Nelaaz suddenly grabbed the closest dancing girl his chubby little hands could reach, forcing her to sit on his sweaty lap as he began to fondle her, showing no restraint at all. With his thin lips, hidden beneath his ginger beard, he smothered her neck, moistening it with kisses. It looked as if the belly dancer was actually enjoying his slimy touch – succumbing, perhaps, to the lure of wealth over intelligence.
    ‘To all the gods! And their women – may they forever delight us with the pleasures of their lips, and the sweetness of their hips!’
    ‘To the gods and their women!’ cried the guests. They all raised their chalices and gulped down the wine like uncivilised animals, the sweet intoxicant quenching their thirst, making them roar happily at anything.
    ‘Your Majesty …’
    A servant rushed in, trying his best to dodge the dancing women and the lethal swords which moved with them.
    ‘What do you want? Go away.’
    ‘A messenger has arrived from the Garden of the Gods, Your Majesty.’
    ‘Let him call upon me tomorrow. I’m busy.’ King Nelaaz chuckled as he squeezed the girl in his lap, pressing her bosom close to his chest, while she twirled his ginger beard in her fingers.
    ‘Your Majesty, he says it is a matter of urgency, one which cannot be delayed.’
    ‘There’s nothing more urgent than satisfying a king’s desire, is there? Now go away. Tell him to report back to me tomorrow, or perhaps the day after that – if I’m lucky.’ He winked at the dancing girl, his gaze every bit as perverted as his touch.
    Realising the situation, the servant whispered into the king’s ear. Few words passed his lips, but they were enough to alarm the king, as he shot out of his seat. The dancing girl fell off his lap; shamelessly, she crawled onto another man’s lap, and his eyes were quick to enjoy her curvaceous body, his hands to grab her tight.
    Dabbing the beads of sweat from his forehead, King Nelaaz rushed out of the chamber as quickly as his short legs would carry him. Why must the gods always curse me when I am in the company of a beautiful woman?
    ***
    ‘Well, bring him in! Hurry up, boy, be quick!’ King Nelaaz demanded as he sat down, his fat bulging from either side, spoiling the elegance of his throne and