Sammie B had been delighted at the invitation. She'd never even been in the Embassy before, let alone invited to dinner there!
But her new boyfriend got regular invitations (something to do with his job - she hadn’t been listening terribly carefully), and
tonight, she had been taken along with him.
She'd been feeling fabulously important in her new (and very expensive) evening gown and delicate high heels. She'd dimly
recognised a few of the other guests, including a small, white haired gentleman in a silk suit - maybe she'd seen him in the newspaper?
As the delicious dinner progressed (and Sammie enjoyed more and more of the excellent quality wine), the conversation became more risque. A lady opposite her was recounting the story of a recently shamed diplomat who'd been discovered having an affair with the king's (very married)
bodyguard. The bodyguard in question was well known for his indiscretions, and many of the people round the table expressed sympathy with the
poor diplomat, who'd lost her job when the bodyguard had kept his...
Sammie's words were slurring slightly, but she'd been following the story avidly. 'Disgusting!' she agreed. 'Who does he think he is, some sort of weird Sultan with a harem of sluts? How very outdated!'
There was a sudden, very chilly pause. And in the silence, Sammie remembered why she recognised the small white-haired man. Oh God, he
WAS a Sultan! And he did have a harem! And wasn't he allowed to do whatever he wanted within this province?
Sammie soon found herself back at the harem, locked into a metal punishment-yoke, and left to sober up. And somehow, she got the feeling that her new boyfriend was too embarrassed to even try to plead for leniency, whatever she was sentenced to in the morning....
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