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name was. He was only interested in Lalla.
    â€œWhere are you from?”
    Lalla laughed. “Here.”
    â€œI mean, where were your parents from?”
    â€œMorocco. I’d really like a drink.”
    â€œSo would I,” Gaby said, without even looking at them.
    Lalla and Gaby ordered Cokes. Nedim stuck with gin and tonic. The DJ put on
Oye como va
. The version by Santana. Four minutes and sixteen seconds of happiness. None of the dancers there could let it pass.
    â€œShall we?”
    The only thing Nedim wanted to do was to feel Lalla’s body against his again. With his cock against her stomach. Drunk with the sweat pouring off them. He glanced at his watch. He still had a good three hours to go. He wondered if he could manage to get Lalla in a corner somewhere, for a quick fuck. A car would do fine, he thought. If they had a car. Gaby could wait here. He’d buy her a drink. Just time to . . .
    â€œWe’d rather go somewhere else,” Gaby said. “What do you think, Lalla?”
    Nedim cursed Gaby. Moving from here meant breaking the atmosphere. Breaking the physical contact he had established between his body and Lalla’s. He didn’t like this Gaby.
    â€œIs she your big sister?” he asked Lalla.
    â€œGaby?” She laughed. “Why, do we look alike?”
    â€œA little.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “A bit older, of course. The two of us could stay here. It’s good here, isn’t it?”
    â€œCome with us,” she replied, as if she hadn’t heard, sliding her hand down over Nedim’s buttocks. She winked. “How about it?” She stroked his buttocks.
    â€œIt’s just that . . .”
    â€œAre you in a hurry?”
    â€œNo. But I have my bag with me.”
    â€œAre you going away?”
    â€œI’m a sailor.”
    Nedim sensed Gaby’s eyes on him. He turned to her. Their eyes met. He didn’t like the way she was staring at him. As if she was sizing him up.
    â€œDrop it,” she said to Lalla. “If he doesn’t want to come.”
    â€œDo you have a boat to catch?” Lalla asked him.
    â€œNo. I . . .”
    He was really attracted to this girl. He wanted to fuck her, but it wasn’t only that. He was under her spell. As if bewitched. He couldn’t have said how she did it. Or, rather, he did know. Lalla had slid her hand down below his buttocks and was now moving it slowly up his right thigh. But there was something else.
    â€œI like you,” she said in a very low voice, and nibbled his ear.
    He couldn’t think anymore. All he knew was that he’d be crazy to let an opportunity like this pass. He’d never met a girl like her before. Even
his
Cuban girl in Panama, who’d been number one in his memories and fantasies, couldn’t hold a candle to her.
    â€œWhere is it you want to go?”
    â€œThe Habana,” Lalla replied. “Do you know it? Place de l’Opéra.”
    â€œI know the area. What kind of place is it?”
    â€œCuban. But more intimate than here.”
    Gaby slid down off her stool, and as she did so, her skirt rode up her thighs. Nedim couldn’t help looking. She was a beautiful woman. More than he’d thought at first. She had a riper, more voluptuous body than Lalla. “An Arab princess,” Nedim thought. She certainly looked like one.
    Lalla went off to the toilet. Nedim approached Gaby, cautiously. As if he was dealing with a wild cat. There was a curious smile at the corners of her mouth and her eyes shone with a strange light. She looked him up and down. For the first time he noticed the small scar under her left eye. From the corner of the eye to the middle of the cheek. Nedim assumed it was a knife wound, or maybe a razor wound. He’d have liked to ask her. Instead, what he said was, “Don’t talk much, do you, Gaby?”
    â€œLet’s put it this way. What men have to say