Sûrah XCV
THE FIG
"Surely We created man of the best stature..."

95
THE FIG LEAF

placed, she shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. Clothes—both his and hers—dissolve, remove themselves, or so it seems, in lieu of either's overt effort, neither she nor Franchone conscious of divesting outer garb to bring their naked bodies back into confidential contact. Stiff, afraid, aware of membranes stretched by unseen sinew, Zahra dreads invasion, barely tolerates Franchone's fingers as they fondle, agitate, toy, incite responses problematical—hers half-heartedly acquiescent, torn by memories fierce and faithful, Ahmed's onslaught / Homa's poise, conspire to controvert her yin and to stave off Franchone's yang, in deference to...