I kept breathing in slowly, allowing my mind to forget about everything, except the counting of each breath. As I inhaled, I counted the number one to myself; then, as I exhaled, I counted two. I continued this up to the count of ten and then started over again. This was basic Zen meditation. It was the simplest of all forms of meditation; yet, the hardest to maintain for any length of time without losing count or focus. This was how all beginners in a Zen monastery learned to meditate. I breathed and counted and patiently waited for my wife to come and begin the ritual of dominance and submission. Danielle continued to sit on her throne for several more minutes, lighting a second cigarette and probably watching me with amused interest. She had an avid sense of humor about life and allowed few things to worry her. I could smell the smoke from the cigarette as it gradually drifted down to where I was silently waiting. She understood the need I had for a hard caning every month or so;. "It did not take much, either. It only took looking into your eyes and my defenses began to fall apart. It only took you, Khalid. Just you." She mused sadly.One day after dismissing her guide, Helen set off to explore the city of Tehran. The woman donned robes similar to those of the native women, but instead of covering her face with a veil, she shielded her face from view within the folds of a deep hood attached to the shapeless gown. From her previous forays into the city, she knew of the city's three different sectors and decided to avoid the governing sector. An unescorted woman walking down the street would attract unwanted attention and Helen wished to avoid any unnecessary confrontations with the Shah's representatives. She spent the morning wandering through the residential quarter and marveling at the dwellings there. The gold domed roofs, lush gardens and tempting fountains amazed Helen with their beauty. Continuing to walk along the same narrow, crooked street Helen found.
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