“Are they always like that? They finish each other’s sentences. They’re like two people joined in cognitive thought.” She smiled and nodded. I...asked, “Are they … I mean, are they a couple?”She laughed. “If you were to ask them, they would roll their eyes and laugh at the suggestion. The truth is, they’re the only ones who don’t know it.”Inside the elevator, I turned to her, “Where are we going now?”“My quarters.” Nothing more than that. I figured she had something more to talk about before we. Violently she fought the building feeling of lust and submission which was making her stay there, and her blood ran cold as she felt what was happening to her, what they were doing to her, what she was allowing to be done! It was insane! Douglas is making love to me with his fingers while he's fucking that black woman up the ass! And all three of us are on the same bed! Oh, God, how can I ever face myself again after all this! How can an Ambassador's wife be such a cheap whore?Muddled and. I made a spur of the moment decision. Standing up from the table, I called out to the couple, in my clumsy French, Madame, Monsieur - I am leaving, please take my table. All three now turned in my direction as I picked up my bill and reached for my wallet. Politenesses were exchanged as a waiter stepped forward, took my bill and the twenty euro note and started to fuss over his new clients who were thanking me as they walked past to the table. If anyone had cared to look, there was a now. Being a Muslim,Achref drank no alcohol, and accompanied his food with a coke. I,instead, as a "man" would drink beer. That night, however, such amasculine drink felt very unladylike, so I preferred to open a bottle ofred wine. As we were eating, he asked me about the ceremony with Dorian.I knew the two had spoken about it. Although Achref had refused to takepart in it, he respected my wish to be sissified, and appreciated thefact that I had asked an Arab brother instead of a black man..