I exit ungainly, tottering on my spindle heels, pulling the rebellious hemline of my dress beneath my cunt. Stood, exposed by red traffic management a... this barren junction. She demands the dress. Sniffs its scent before discarding it on the passenger seat, leaving me naked, heeled and collared. Leaving me to walk home, one juice-slick thigh rubbing against the other with each step, cunt throbbing, arse wiggling, the soft purr of the motor behind my only company. I hope she was pleased with the. I sometimes feel like Colonel Sanders trying to sell his recipe for fried chicken.Our aim with this novel was not to make a huge splash in the literary marketplace as other Islamic-oriented novels have done. On the contrary, our aim is to publish this novel quietly, quickly, and cleanly, and hope that it doesn’t gain the same unbridled attention and enthusiasm as its predecessors.There is a good explanation for this approach. First, by publishing this work, I am putting my life in danger, and. More

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