Excerpt:

Daisy fingered the spine of a sex book on the shelf. With a glance over her shoulder, she tugged the book from its tight nesting spot and thumbed through the glossy pages. Soft-core stuff, she thought. You couldn’t even see the dude’s wang. Although, the chick in the chapter on masturbation had nice tits. Daisy glanced down at her small chest and wrestled with the kernel of a thought. Yes, she would ask Ahmed how he felt about her body when he showed up.

She shoved the book, entitled “The Art of Love Making” back onto the shelf and wandered down the aisle. Had she failed to remember what time they were supposed to meet? Hadn’t he told her that 12:15 was the earliest he could get away? Surely she heard him say the library on the corner of 4th and Wesson was were they could meet.

And then suddenly, there he was at the front door. He stepped inside and tugged one corner of his mouth up into a slight smile. Large dark sunglasses eclipsed his eyes. Daisy liked the new earth brown leather jacket and the way his cowboy boots clicked against the hardwood floor. He looked Daisy’s way and then approached a tall, blond, chalky-skinned security guard named standing near the periodicals. Ahmed made a few vague signs with his hands, as if asking for directions and then walked away, back toward the door and left with a nod. Daisy counted to 25 and then followed.

Ahmed sat waiting around the corner, his car on and idling at the curb. He was listening to an Egyptian singer when Daisy bounced into her seat. She pulled on her seat belt and watched Ahmed’s large fingers twist the volume knob on his stereo.

“Sorry I’m late.” He muttered, smacking hungrily at the wad of green gum in his mouth. The car reeked of the minty freshness.

“Whatever. You’re never here when you’re supposed to be. I was in there waiting for 30 minutes.” Daisy’s arms were tight, clenched across her small chest as she sat staring out at the moving world.

“Like I can help it!”

“Don’t. Please.” She snapped.