For two nights I was plagued with nightmares, I still don't know whether I slept but the nightmares were real. Now it was dark, late Friday, I'd lost two whole days. Body and soul had fried in the sun.

Suddenly I had an overwhelming urge for sex.
I was outside the Hotel Sherazade, the loose reference to Shearer convinced me if I entered I would score.

In the excuse of a bar, three native girls where drinking mint tea and watching snow on TV. One of them was gorgeously slim, sported a western hair cut and ethnic makeover. I made a play and talked her into visiting my hotel room for a drink. A little alcohol in her pure Islamic blood would be a guaranteed leg opener.



It wasn't needed, she couldn't wait to touch my white skin and we fucked long in the day.


Saturday...