She wishes her grandmother had not been so protective, and that she understood better what passes between a man and woman. As it is, she simply enjoys the feelings and wonders if they are what lightning is made of, for everything comes back to the weather. Tears like rain. Smiles like the sun. Hair as dry as sand and fear like the dark ocean.

All those kisses. There must have been a thousand. They engulfed me like some kind of all consuming dream where I became very alive and very relaxed at the same time.

Kissing her is like drinking salted water, he thinks. His thirst only increases.

His heart is pounding and when he kisses her it is as if the whole of Riyadh disappears – the wide sky, the hard surface of the roof, the date palms and the water wells.

He tasted of whisky and his skin was rough where he hadn’t shaved, but Mirabelle kissed him back.

We had laid down the law : no chocolate, no sex.

Such a night cannot be shaken from a woman’s memory. Such a night changes your life forever.

It occurred to me that as a man I could do anything, everything I wanted.

What was it that marked me as a woman and was I prepared to let it go?