It’s so exciting and sensual. I can hardly watch what she’s doing. She is making suggestive remarks, smiling provocatively and talking about the cube. Is there an Arab who could think of anything other than a hard f**k?
She mixes it up and puts it in my hand. I take it and wait for her to say something but she only raises her brows. I ask her eventually, “Now what?”
“I told you. Restore it to its original condition.”
She is serious now and my stomach tightens. Her eyes show pain, but I’m still struggling against her closeness. I glance at the cube and start twisting it. I keep trying for a few long minutes but I don’t manage to solve it. She doesn’t laugh—just watches me earnestly.
“I can’t.”
I’m ashamed of my clumsiness, but when I want to hand it back to her, she talks kindly. “This
