That evening, long after Jean-Baptiste left, I lay on my bed, thinking about him. The brother is good-looking, smart and successful. He’s learning a...out Islam. Still, he’s bisexual. Could he love a woman like me? I called my friend Fatima and asked her for advice. I omitted the part about Jean-Baptiste’s bisexuality, since I know she’s a gossip maven. Honey you need to convert that man and give him some pussy, Fatima said, with her usual matter-of-fact seriousness. You’re shameless, I laughed.. Karl had been a moment of delicious madness and in her mind, she gradually she pushed him into a small corner where he could remain, out of reach and safe. She would think of Karl as she sucked Oskar and revel in the knowledge that Oskar was hers despite her wanton thoughts. Many days passed this way, and with each passing day, Karl became a cherished symbol of her hidden power. His name was Paul. He was fifty two years old, owned his own business, and he was going to the city to finalise a. More

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