A Date With Tamar Ch 3

I kissed Tamar goodbye and told her that we would meet again. The tears flowed in Tamar's eyes as she said that she was not as hopeful. Tamar couldn't promise me anything. I gave her my telephone number in Canada but she said that she couldn't afford to make any overseas calls and I must never call her family. She cried as she left me at the luggage security giving me a long, passionate and deep kiss before leaving for the bus stop. Tamar's face was lined with tears and worry. I sensed that this would be the last time I would see her. Frankly, I was kind of weepy myself. Who would ever recognize us as the happy, carefree couple we had been the last three days?

The security staff at check-in was not impressed with me. I was male, single and in a rush to catch my flight. The agent looked like my grandmother except older and more suspicious. She opened up my passport to see if the photo matched me. Not too likely, as I had shaved the beard and moustache I had in university. Granny looked me in the eye:

"Canadian, I see." I could see what was going through her mind. Every Israeli knew that Canadian passports were traded like baseball cards in the shouks. "Why did you come to Israel?"

"I'm a journalist. If you look a few pages down, I have the proper visa and work permit." I could see from her face that she thought all foreign newspapers printed a steady diet of anti-Israeli propaganda.

"I see. Did you pack your luggage yourself or did someone else do it for you?"

"Someone else packed my luggage. My girlfriend."

"I see. Where is your girlfriend? Is she travelling with you?"

"No, she's Israeli. She can't come to Canada with me just yet."

"I see. And how long have you and your girlfriend been acquainted?"

"A little bit over two weeks. I hope you aren't suspicious of Tamar. Tamar and I are in love."

"I see. You fell in love after knowing this Tamar after two weeks. Where did you visit in Israel and was this Tamar with you?"

Like an idiot, I mentioned that I had been north near the Lebanese border but I couldn't remember the name of the town. That did it. Granny started probing my luggage but came up with only my dirty underwear. Then Granny took my typewriter over to a bomb expert while another security guard started to take apart my single lens reflex camera.

I still had half a hope that I could make my flight when I heard a woman scream and a man shouting in Hebrew. I turned to see what was the problem and Tamar was screaming at me: "Chris! Be careful. Mossi has a knife!" That was redundant information because I could clearly see a young Israeli man running across the airport departure hall towards me with a knife in his hand. I must have been tired because I didn't run from my Israeli rival. All I could think of was how that long hunting knife reflected the lights from the ceiling. Fortunately, two Israeli bystanders tackled what I assumed was Tamar's resentful boyfriend. The knife skidded harmlessly across the terrazzo floor of the departure hall.

The security guards who arrested Mossi took their orders from a woman in her late 30's. She didn't have a uniform like the guards, just typical street clothes like any other Israeli woman. She asked Tamar a few questions and another security guard took her away, although they didn't put her in an armlock. The leader came over to Granny and talked in Hebrew to the security guards fondling my underwear. She shook her head incredulously and turned to me:

"Are you the one called Chris? I don't know what to make of all this. The guards think you want to hijack the airplane. On the other hand, this young man obviously wants to kill you so your plot must be very complex. I'll have to detain you while I sort this out. Give me your passport and ticket please. I can't allow you on an El Al flight while you're under suspicion. Livshitz! Take this so-called tourist and search him!"

I hadn't noticed that a burly soldier had quietly walked up behind me and trained his Uzi at parts of me that I preferred he wouldn't shoot at. Without words, he motioned to a small room. I didn't hesitate one second. Once the door was shut, Livshitz said: "Take off clothes." Livshitz' conversation didn't improve much as he went through my pockets and looked over my notebook. He left me standing in the cold draft of an air conditioner as he left with the contents of my pockets and returned with a pair of latex gloves.

"Bend over. Spread"

Impressed that Livshitz could put three words together, I did as he asked. At that point, I don't know if I was displaying nervousness or the aftereffects of too much falafel washed down with Nesher beer. All I know was that, when I bent over, I cut a fart that turned the small room into a miniature version of the men's bathroom at the Tel Aviv Bus station. Livshitz staggered back but then started poking angrily around my rectum for whatever it was he was looking for. The pain was excruciating but I couldn't give him any pleasure by acknowledging it. Finally, Livshitz stopped poking, threw the gloves in a wastebasket and said: "Put on clothes."

When I was fully dressed, Livshitz led me down to another room and sat me down on my sore ass at a table. Livshitz sat down, cradling his Uzi in his lap, on the opposite side of the table at the end. The woman who had told him to search me entered the room along with a uniformed policeman and another man dressed in a white shirt and black slacks. The woman sat down and deliberately arranged my passport, ticket, a pad of paper and two pens in front of her. I had seen this act before on television and it didn't intimidate me. All I could think of was my sore ass and my missed flight. In addition, I was concerned about what had happened to Tamar. If Mossi couldn't kill me, would he kill Tamar? Finally, the woman spoke in a soft Hebrew-accented voice:

"I am Daniellah Argov of El Al security. I don't like this kind of incident happening when I'm on duty. It frightens our passengers and it doesn't look good for El Al. I intend to find out what happened and why this happened. I believe you have already met Sgt. Dov Livshitz of Zahal. Also assisting me in my investigation is Lieutenant Ze'ev Kinnor of the Lod Police Detachment and Agent Shlomo Galil of Shin Bet. If we determine that you're a criminal or a security risk, one of these two gentlemen will assume responsibility. Now, you will tell me everything. What are you doing in Israel, who is that woman, why does that man want to kill you? I must advise you that they are being interrogated elsewhere. If we find that they have a different story, you're in deep trouble."

Kinnor and Galil just sat in silence and scowled at me. Livshitz kept fondling his Uzi. Obviously Daniellah wanted to sing the part of the good cop in this quartet. It wasn't a difficult part for her to play because she was definitely the best looking of my four interrogators. Daniellah had a bit of mileage on her but she wasn't middle aged yet. I put her in her mid-30's. Like most Israeli women, she had dark, shoulder-length hair and brown eyes. A business-like suit hid Daniellah's tits from my inquiring eyes but I assumed they were big, if Tamar was a typical example of an Israeli woman. Her fine Semitic features were marred by a stern expression, which I assumed was intended to increase her intimidation factor.

I began my story by telling them how I was a travel writer doing a travel story about Israel. Tamar Ya'akov was an off-duty soldier I met at my hotel in Tel Aviv. (Chapter 1) I said that I thought that the man with the knife was her boyfriend whom I only knew as "Mossi." Tamar had been stood up by Mossi on the Friday evening I landed in Israel. She decided that I would be her friend that night and she took me to a club.

Daniellah interrupted. "Exactly how friendly were you two"

"Tamar stayed with me that night and we made love. Actually, Tamar was fantastic in bed. I want to take her to Canada with me and marry me."

Livshitz stood up and pointed his Uzi at me. "OK, Dani, I've heard enough. This man violated a female Israeli soldier his first day in the country and now he wants her to desert from the Army. Just let me take him outside and execute him for inciting treason."

So Livshitz could put more than three words together. Daniellah snapped at him: "Sit down Livshitz. You're just insulted because he farted in your face. I told you that would happen if you insisted on rectal examinations of every suspect. Now, this is my investigation and we'll do it my way." Daniellah turned to me: "So you became lovers. Please tell me about your night of love."

I told them everything about my first night with Tamar. Daniellah pursued the minutest detail, how long was our foreplay, who was on top and if Tamar had reached orgasm. Finally, Daniellah asked: "Was that the only time you made love?"

I was afraid that Daniellah would ask me about other women I might have fucked and I would have to tell about the zonah I met near the bus station. Not knowing the status of prostitution in Israel, I was relieved not to have to tell that story. I related the story of how I spent the next week travelling around Israel in search of Tamar among the young soldiers by the road side but finally met her again in the Army Censor's office. (Chapter 2) Daniellah interrupted:

"I can check out your movements from your hotel receipts. Tell me about the next time you had sex with Tamar."

I told about how Tamar had rewritten my story I submitted for approval. She arrived in uniform at my hotel but had quickly shed her uniform and was in my bed begging for foreign zain. Strangely enough, I was starting to feel good about telling these four about Tamar's and my sexual exploits. I plunged into the details of where my hands went, where and what Tamar's hands explored and where my zain plunged and explored. Daniellah started to give me a different kind of good feeling. She got a dreamy expression on her face and I felt her foot nudge mine. When I got to the part about going down on Tamar, Lieutenant Kinnor jumped up:

"I've had enough of this. This man's a sick pervert. A real man doesn't kiss a woman down there. Let me take him to the Lod jail where he can rot with the finest flashers and pedophiles in all Israel."

"Sit down Kinnor. This is still my investigation as long as it concerns an incident in my airport. Continue, please, and remember to count the orgasms for me."

I continued to the end, adding an extra orgasm for Tamar. Well, it was only a slight exaggeration and Daniellah was obviously interested how I was on top this time. By now, she had taken off her shoe and I could feel her bare foot caressing my leg above my socks. Non-religious Israeli women never wore nylons, I assumed, because of the heat. I suppose that it also allowed the Israeli male quicker access inside their women's pants without fighting an extra layer of panty hose

"Is that all? Was that the last time you made love? I still don't understand why Pvt. Ya'akov is not in uniform tonight. I want all the truth. Tell me what else happened. Kinnor, get some Tempo or Kinley for our suspect to drink. He must be getting thirsty from all his talking."

When Lieutenant Kinnor came back, I took a few sips of orange Kinley. Then I shifted my weight to find the best way to sit on my aching ass. I resumed my story and Daniellah's foot resumed exploring my leg hairs.

"Tamar arrived the next day and announced that she had a week's leave from the Censor's office. That's why she was out of uniform. Tamar said that Col. Krotchnik was so happy the next day after her leathery tryst with Percival Purves that she would have granted Tamar a month's pass if she had asked. Col. Krotchnik thought it was a great idea to help out the foreign press. After all, hadn't she just been helpful to a British tabloid?"

Daniellah interrupted: "Galil, can you check out tomorrow whether this man Purves is MI-5. A journalist is a great cover for a spy, don't you think? Oh sorry, you're a journalist. Please continue."

"I rented a car from the hotel and put my luggage and Tamar's knapsack in the trunk. Tamar was out of uniform, dressed like one of the hundreds of Israeli teenagers I had seen on the street. She had sandals and a gold ankle chain that seemed to be de rigueur for young Israeli women. Her tight halter-top showed off her big tits to great effect. The low-cut jeans revealed an absence of handles on her hips. When Tamar walked, she flaunted a perfectly round navel on a flat stomach. Tamar's jeans were so tight that the crotch outlined a nice mound between her legs. I couldn't wait until I could get my dick poking around in there again."

Daniellah interrupted me. "I saw how your Tamar was dressed. Can you get on with the story and whether you had further sexual contact with this woman."

"On the road to Tel Aviv, Tamar kept staring straight ahead at the road. I think she didn't believe that I could cope with Israeli drivers. I kept assuring her that I had survived a car trip to Quebec so I knew how to handle bad driving. I was just as happy that Tamar was frozen in her seat as I could take quick glances at that beautiful body outlined in profile against the passing scenery."

"In Tel Aviv, we did a few interviews in Dizengoff Square. The problem with that was Israeli shoppers really are no brighter than the mall rats you find in Canada. So, I said:"

"'Tamar, these people are useless to me. They don't seem to know anything about national finances and even less about their personal finances. Where can I find Israelis who do some real work.'"

"'If you want real workers, Chris, we have to go to Haifa. Let's get back to the car.'"

"So off we went north to Haifa. Tamar said that the best way to interview working people in Haifa would be to talk to them as they cruised the Hadar in the evening. Tamar found a small inexpensive restaurant that she said would be filled with workers later. Since we hadn't had lunch, Tamar said that we should eat and she knew just what I would like. She called it 'white steak' and it came in a pita just like falafel. I had a bite and my jaw dropped on the table:"

"'Tamar! This is a pork chop. This isn't 'white steak'. I thought that everything in Israel was kosher.'"

"'Don't you like it? Of course it's chazir but no Israeli would ever say that word. 'White steak' is an Israeli euphemism for pork. Don't you like it? We're told that all goyim love 'white steak.' Don't you like what I chose for you?'"

"'It's great, Tamar. Probably the best barbecued pork I've ever had. It's just not something that I expected from what I've read about Israel.'"

"'Chris, Israel is one of the most complicated places in the world. You can't learn about it after just a week here.'"

At that point Galil interrupted. "This foreigner obviously doesn't know that Yishai Ya'akov is prominent in the National Religious Party. Can't you imagine the scandal if the newspapers find out his daughter ate trefe food with a goy. Let me ensure that he never talks about this again."

That was the first time I had heard that Tamar was politically connected. I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me. On the airplane to Israel, an Israeli had assured me that the Knesset had more political parties than the whole population of Israel. No wonder Tamar kept saying that her situation was complicated. Daniellah sang her good cop song again.

"Let the man finish the story and then we can determine if he's a threat to your precious politicians. So far, all I make out of his ramblings is that he's remarkably naive. Please continue."

"Tamar was right about meeting a lot of working types around the restaurant. I got great interviews, especially with Tamar translating. She could frame a question better than I could and she was more of a people person. I would have been jealous of her talents if I didn't love her so much. In Haifa, everyone was well informed about politics and had great answers. Do you need to know who we talked to in Haifa so you know I'm not a spy?'"

Daniellah replied: "We will find out ourselves. Right now, Shin Bet is checking your interview notes. Please proceed directly to your lovemaking."

"After we finished our interviews, we went to our hotel. It was also in the Hadar area. Tamar whispered in my ear on the way back that she couldn't wait for my 'big, circumcised zain,'" as I quoted her. Daniellah had to ask:

"How big is your zain, may I ask, and why is it circumcised if you claim that you aren't Jewish?"

I held my hands out, demonstrating a modest length in case I provoked penis envy amongst the men in the room who could put me in jail, torture me or have me executed. I was about to explain the relationship of circumcision to penile sanitation in Canada when Daniellah interrupted: "My first question was, 'what happened the next time you made love?'"

"OK, Tamar undid my belt and fly as soon as the room door was shut. She pulled down my pants and shorts without much ceremony. I watched as Tamar looked at my zain longingly as if she wanted to prolong the moment." I wasn't exactly sure if the foursome were well acquainted with English slang like "dick," "pecker," "prick," etc. Anyway, after two weeks in Israel, and a week of screwing Tamar, I was speaking Hebrish, even when describing sex.

"Finally, Tamar took my zain in her soft hands and brought it to her lips. Tamar's uncertainty about what to do made me realize that this was a first for her. I was about to get Tamar's first blowjob. Tamar's uncertainty seemed to melt as her estrogen and her instincts took over. Tamar first started to kiss the tip of my zain and moved along the shaft with her luscious lips. Her tongue then darted out hesitantly at first then more enthusiastically as she became accustomed to the taste."

Daniellah's foot went a little higher up my leg as she interrupted again: "So, what did Pvt. Ya'akov tell you your zain tasted like?"

"Actually, Tamar wasn't in a talking mood. She put my zain in my mouth and started sucking on it like she was a child with a lollipop. I thought I had died and gone to heaven so I wasn't in a mood for questions either. Tamar's mouth was heavenly on my zain. Slowly she took more and more of my zain into my mouth until she had it all except for about four centimeters.

"Tamar started to bob her head back and forth very quickly, grabbing my hips and pushing my zain in and out of her mouth. Tamar's black hair was bouncing all over the place like she was Zubin Mehta conducting the Israeli Philharmonic. Well, no zain can last long treated like that and I came in liters as the tip of my zain was hitting the back of Tamar's throat. Tamar suddenly coughed as her gag reflex took over. She coughed a mess right into my shorts that were hanging around my ankles."

"I held Tamar while she was coughing, not an easy job when your ankles are floating in a sticky mess. Finally, when Tamar had recovered, we cleaned up her face and the mess. Tamar sat on the side of the bed and I sat down beside her. Tamar's face was still red from her coughing, so I held her hand for a few minutes while she recovered."

"'Charah! That's awful, Chris. Your liquid tastes awful. How do the zonot ever manage to do that every day?'"

"'Well, Tamar, one difference is that a zonah will usually blow a man while he's wearing some rubber. I guess the taste of latex is better than the taste of a man's juices. I suppose you don't want to ever do that again, do you?'"

"'I didn't say that! Chris, you don't understand women very well, do you? A woman will endure the unpleasantness of childbirth to have the joy of motherhood. A woman can put up with dirty diapers so her child can grow up. I'll put up with that awful taste just to get your beautiful zain in my mouth again. I think that men must be childish if they think a little unpleasantness can keep a woman from a great pleasure. I love you and I love every pleasure your zain gives me.'"