Ben Barka Lane. Mahmoud Saeed

woman in her fifties. She welcomed us and led the way across a small hallway. Behind her we entered a room empty of everything but an old round table and low chairs; the wretched look of the room and its simple, faded atmosphere suggested secret agreements and sexual arousal. The room was rocked by popular songs from a well known shaikhas. Si l-Miludi nodded his head to the tunes, welcoming us along with the aged woman, and we anticipated surprises.

      It wasn’t long before a girl in her twenties appeared, carrying glasses and several bottles of red wine. She arranged them on the table, and she and the older woman brought up the chairs. Young women’s voices rang out and we moved aside; two other girls of about the same age sat down among us at random. They began to drink with us, their eagerness mixed with desire. As the game began to take shape, I found myself— as had happened that afternoon—comparing the three girls with the relative of al-Jaza’iri who had so fascinated me: while each of the girls had a specific trait of beauty, that most fascinating one combined traits equal to those of innumerable girls. I liked one of these girls. She was very dark and plump, with thick, coarse hair and a penetrating perfume, but I didn’t find enough inducements to carry me, in spite of myself, to the top of the waves as had happened in the past. An important part of my feelings was back in my room, far away from the body sitting with Si Sabir and al-Miludi.

      “Drink up, Si l-Sharqi. You’re not yourself today—drink.”

      After the first glass the conversation took of, and I became accustomed to the atmosphere. Even the unpleasant sallow light now seemed natural. The laughter of the professional girls and their professional, exciting touches began to scatter bright colors wrapped in clear hints. But in spite of everything I remained so detached that my dark companion began to think her efforts were in vain. She whispered to me that she was ready to satisfy all my whims, especially since the two I was with were older than I was. At that their two girls got up, one after the other, and went to neighboring rooms, and my friends followed them.

      When they returned, their girls were glowing. All my friends’ urging made the girls look at me doubtfully, so at last I got up too, troubled, and went to the room from which they had come. The atmosphere was heavy from their sweat and with their smell, almost a shadow presence in the room, which ate into my soul for a few brief moments and turned me into a wild animal like them, seeking satisfaction.