Ketaba’s flat was situated in a very plush block in the Honey district, adorned by spacious balconies, views across a large park and a concierge sitting in a cabin by the entrance who called Ketaba on the internal phone when Ana arrived. She waited in the foyer, her arms folded, awed by the magnificence of the marble walls and the beauty of the little fountain splashing at the foot of the marble steps.

“You can go up,” the concierge advised her. “It’s the third floor. On the right as you leave the lift.”

Ana trotted up the steps and into the wide-open lift door, which closed as she entered. She adjusted her hair in the reflection of the lift’s mirrors. She felt slightly nervous visiting Ketaba at her own home. The only other home she’d ever visited in Blad was Binta’s in the Brothel which was now as much home to her as her own flat. The Honey district impressed her. The avenues were wide and lined with palm trees and conifers. The houses were quite simply magnificent: larger than any she’d ever seen before, but protected by high walls, barbed wire and broken glass. She was dressed casually - a light floral dress and sandals - and felt poorly dressed in comparison to the ostentation of the women she passed.

Ketaba was waiting for her in the corridor when Ana stepped out of the lift. She was totally naked as always, but still oblivious to any incongruity between her appearance and her environment. She grinned broadly. “I’m so glad you could come! I’ve been preparing a vegetarian meal for us! Come in! Come in!”

Ana was slightly overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of Ketaba’s welcome, but she smiled and followed Ketaba into her flat. It was much larger than Ana’s. Indeed it was larger than most houses. The several rooms were spacious and had more than a touch of expense lavished on them. Varnished floorboards were covered by densely woven and intricately patterned carpets. The furniture was plush and inviting, interspersed by expensive electronic equipment. Original paintings framed those stretches of wall not devoted to bookshelves which heaved under the weight of Ketaba’s considerable library.

Ketaba’s interests were evident everywhere. In one room there was exercise equipment to keep her figure trim and muscular. Ana gingerly felt the weight of some bell-bars left on the floor and found them rather too heavy to lift. The paintings concentrated on spiritual or sensual matters. The books were on subjects like Astrology, Self-Awareness and Physical Exercise, although Ana was interested to see that Ketaba’s taste encompassed such unlikely subjects as Quantum Physics, Political Philosophy and Abstract Expressionism. The compact discs displayed covers of peculiarly photographed outdoor scenes suggestive of spiritual enlightenment and discovery.

“You don’t have to keep your clothes on, Ana,” Ketaba said soothingly, pinching the strap on Ana’s shoulder. “Most people take them off when they’re at home with me.”

“I’m sorry?” wondered Ana, slightly bemused. She became belatedly aware that Ketaba was asking her to undress. She had got so used to seeing Ketaba and Binta, she had actually forgotten that they were habitually naked. This didn’t oblige her to do the same thing. “Er ... I’d rather not!”

“Suit yourself!” Ketaba replied, clearly disconcerted by Ana’s rebuff.

“It’s just I’m not a naturist. Whatever Binta is, it doesn’t mean that I’m the same.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Ketaba agreed, smiling again. “Well, let’s sit down, clothes or no clothes, and wait for dinner to be ready.”

Ana sat on a large luxurious armchair, while Ketaba hovered around her audio system. “What would you like to hear?” She asked. “Classical? Jazz? Ambient?”

“I don’t mind. Something relaxing I suppose.”

Ketaba knelt on the floor and sorted through her compact discs. She selected some haunting atmospheric piano music accompanied by orchestra.

“Does this meet with your approval?”

“It sounds very nice.”

Ketaba sheepishly rushed off into the kitchen without a word. After a moment, she returned with a bottle of clear liquid. There was a curious golden wrapping around the top and a crest on a label written in a foreign language.

“Do you know what this is, Ana?”

Ana shook her head, although she had a very good suspicion.

“It’s a bottle of wine from Agdal. I didn’t buy it in Agdal, of course. It would’ve been found at customs and I’d be in prison now. I bought it from a friend of Ferhana’s. Normally, of course, I disapprove of alcohol. Making it illegal is one of President Marmeluke’s better policies. Frequent use is undoubtedly very harmful, and I’d be the last to recommend anything bad for the body or soul. But there can’t be any harm in sampling it occasionally. What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never come across alcohol before. Doesn’t it make you hallucinate and become violent?”

“I’m sure it does if you drink enough of it. You see plenty of evidence in Agdal of the dangers of over-indulgence. But I’ve been tempted to drink the odd glass when I’ve been on holiday there and although it does have quite a strange effect it has never made me hallucinate. And in Alif, it’s so very expensive on the black market that it wouldn’t be possible for someone to ‘get drunk’, as they call it, unless they were much richer than me. I won’t even tell you how much this cost me! But wine goes down very well with a meal. Are you tempted to try?”

Ana was definitely tempted. Having broken one law in Alif, she could really see no reason why she couldn’t break others. It wasn’t just the illegality of alcohol that troubled her. “Won’t it make me ill? I don’t want to be poisoned.”

“A little alcohol won’t do that. Do you want to taste it and see what you think?”

“Why not!” smiled Ana mischievously. Perhaps she’d get to like it. Ketaba produced a very curious contraption that looked like a screw supported by a metal frame, which she inserted into the bottle’s top after tearing off the thin gold metal covering. She screwed it in and pulled out a length of spongy wood. She then poured the contents into some straight glasses that were sitting on the dining table. She handed one to Ana who took a tentative sip.

“It’s very cold. And it tastes very peculiar, a bit like fruit juice,” Ana commented. She relished the cool sharpness in her mouth, wondering when she would experience its effects. The room hadn’t started spinning yet and there were no hallucinations. Perhaps alcohol wasn’t so bad after all.

“It’s Chardonnay, I think it’s called. Wines have all got strange names. Like Champagne , Beaujolais , Rosé. Experts in wine are called connoisseurs. But I’m no expert. In Alif, if you want to buy alcohol you just have to make do with whatever happens to be available. And I wouldn’t want to buy whisky, gin or rum. Drinks like that are much stronger.”

“Does alcohol vary in strength then?”

“And in taste as well,” Ketaba agreed. “In countries where alcohol is legal there is an extraordinary variety available. Do you like it?”

“I’m not sure,” admitted Ana who nonetheless dutifully sipped her glass. Ketaba picked up her glass and took a long swig from it, before disappearing again into the kitchen. She was away quite a few minutes, while Ana contemplated the wine. It made her feel very daring. Were there many more laws in Alif left to break, she wondered. She began to notice a strange effect but wasn’t sure whether she should attribute it to alcohol or just a general giddiness due to the excitement of travelling to Honey. She idly studied the books on Ketaba’s bookshelf, occasionally taking small cautious sips from her glass.

“Here we are!” announced Ketaba, carrying a tray with two plates and several side-dishes. “Dinner is served!”

Ana replaced the book on mountain-climbing and took her seat at the dinner table. Ketaba placed the food down and busied herself in organising the atmosphere. She turned off all the lights except for two table-lamps and lit the tall candles on the table. She slightly lowered the volume of the audio system and lit a few joss-sticks. The two women tucked into the meal, which Ana found surprisingly tasty. She’d forgotten that the food was vegetarian and it was only later that she’d reflected that there hadn’t been any meat involved in the preparation. The salad was particularly pleasant: so much crisper and tastier than the soggy affairs she’d eaten in the Brothel canteen. Ketaba was also right about the wine. The food tasted better for it, and the wine seemed somehow more appropriate with food.

“You seem to get on very well with Binta,” Ketaba remarked chewing on a celery stalk.

Ana wasn’t sure how to react to that remark. “What do you mean?” She blurted out. Was she being condemned for her love?

“I’m sorry, Ana. I don’t mean to upset you. I was just saying that you and Binta are getting on very well. I know she’s a lesbian, and I suppose it’s inevitable that she would try to lead you into her bad ways. I’ve met several lesbians in Agdal, and although I still think it’s a rather perverse activity, I have to admit that as people lesbians aren’t necessarily any worse than anyone else. What do you think?”

“They’re just ordinary people, I’m sure.”

“And you don’t mind Binta being a dyke at all?”

Ana shook her head vehemently.

“I probably sound very naïve but is it true what I thought when I saw you in bed with Binta the other day? You know that she and you are ... you know ... not just friends?”

“You could say that!” said Ana with a smile despite herself. She took a longer drink of wine. Somehow she seemed to need its extra fortification. She was sure now that the slight detachment from her environment and the light-headedness she was feeling was associated with the drug. It also made her less worried about whatever Ketaba might think about her relationship with Binta. “We’re in love. It’s very beautiful.”

Ketaba visibly blushed, and required more alcohol which she poured from the bottle into both her and Ana’s nearly empty glasses. “Love truly moves in mysterious ways. I still can’t see how it can be possible to be in love with someone of the same sex as yourself. It’s the most obvious perversion. Sex wasn’t designed for that. If it were, nobody would ever have children.”

“It’s not that Binta’s a woman that I love her...”

“Are you saying you’d love her if she were a man?” Ketaba wondered thoughtfully.

Ana considered that view. She viewed Binta in her mind’s eye. The beautiful smooth skin. The roundness of her feminine contours. The beauty of her face. She tried substituting an image of a man for that of Binta, but somehow this didn’t compensate at all. There was something specific about Binta as a woman as well as her being so beautiful in so many other ways that had attracted Ana to her in the first place. Ana hadn’t really thought about this too much before, but perhaps not only was she involved in a lesbian relationship she was actually a lesbian herself.

“I don’t think Binta’s gender’s got anything to do with it,” Ana lied.

“You’re just too easily led, Ana dear!” smiled Ketaba indulgently, holding her glass in front of her face and looking through it at her companion. “Binta is obviously congenitally unbalanced. Perhaps she inherited her homosexuality. Perhaps she had some unfortunate experiences when she was a child. I suppose we ought to be sympathetic to her plight, and hope that there may be some way in which she can be cured. What do you think?”

“There’s nothing wrong with Binta at all! I don’t think there’s anything wrong with homosexuality! I don’t see why people can’t be in love with whoever they like without being told they shouldn’t. I think love is an important and special thing. It should be treasured and valued, not condemned. The one who is wrong is the government who makes it illegal. It’s not fair on people like Binta. It’s not fair on me!”

Ketaba saw that the turn of conversation had become a little heated. She put her arm across the table and patted Ana on the back of her hand.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I can see you’re very much in love. Even if it is to a dyke like Binta!”

After the meal was finished, Ketaba cleared away the dishes and was very insistent that Ana shouldn’t even contemplate washing them.

“They can wait till tomorrow,” she smiled. “Anyway, guests don’t do the washing up!”

Ana and Ketaba returned to the sofas with the half full bottle of wine placed on the coffee table and a change of music. Ana was still not sure whether she liked the taste of wine, but she didn’t object when Ketaba carefully refilled their glasses.

“Shall we see your photographs of Agdal?” she asked.

“Photographs? Agdal?” wondered Ketaba, who had clearly forgotten the ostensible purpose of Ana’s visit. “Oh yes! My holiday snaps!”

She took a long sip and wandered over to an antique beech valise. She opened a drawer and pulled out a handful of ornate photograph albums. She carried them over to the coffee table and plonked them down. She sat on the sofa next to Ana, her naked skin brushing against Ana’s bare arms. Ana felt too lazy to move very much out of the way. Ketaba selected an album and opened it.

The photographs mostly featured Ketaba, taken by acquaintances she had made in Agdal. Generally, she was as naked as she was habitually at the Brothel and manifestly in her own home: though in some photographs she wore a tee-shirt or bikini. Ana was surprised her how very ordinary clothes made Ketaba look. Many other people were also naked, but even among her acquaintances they were not in the majority. There were photographs of Ketaba preparing to go on a hike wearing only heavy walking boots, a bright blue rucksack and a cloth hat to shade her eyes from the bright sun.

The landscape behind Ketaba and her friends was undeniably beautiful. Long stretches of white sand, blue sky and the odd coconut palm tree. Hills and even craggy mountains stretching above and beyond, again framed by a deep blue sky. There were pictures of Agdal’s shops, historical buildings, ancient ruins, great temples and large market squares. Ana’s heart leapt as she looked at the pictures. She so wanted to be there! It was such a beautiful country. And one so enlightened! It was the perfect holiday destination. She so envied Ketaba for having been there.

Ketaba provided a commentary as Ana regarded the pictures, touched by the intensity with which Ana scrutinised each picture, lingering over some for several minutes. She gave accounts of the exercises she’d done in the gymnasia she photographed, the swims she’d taken in the blue expanse of sea (Ana had never seen a real sea herself) and the exact number of kilometres she and her friends had walked over the hills and the altitude to which they’d attained. “So high!” gasped Ana. There were no hills of any great height in Rif . Most of it was flat open farmland interspersed with the odd copse and lake.

She was also fascinated by Ketaba’s account of Agdal nightlife. Ana hadn’t really participated in any in Blad: Binta was scarcely in a position that she could accompany Ana to a night club or a restaurant, but even from her position of relative ignorance she knew that it offered none of the scope and variety of Agdal. Some, like the sex clubs and the casinos, she found sordid and unattractive, but the sheer range and liveliness of the night clubs and ‘bars’, as Ketaba called them, was attractive. Perhaps, she thought, relishing the strange taste of wine in her mouth, the availability of alcohol had something to do with it.

Ana didn’t really enjoy Ketaba’s tendency to identify and describe the companions she had photographed almost entirely in terms of their sexual activity. “Those two were sleeping together one night, but on another night she was with this chap here and he was with this girl,” she might say pointing at a group of smiling people with rucksacks underneath a sign celebrating some great historical battle. “Those two men seemed all right at first, but I was absolutely disgusted when I saw them kissing each other. It was just like men and women - tongues and everything - but two men! Can you imagine?”

The thought disgusted Ana as well, but it also gave her a frisson to recognise that homosexuality wasn’t just a term to describe women who made love with other women. She was beginning to comprehend the capacity of love to embrace so many different preferences. However, her disgust was actually felt greater when Ketaba described in what she thought was rather too much detail which boys had made love to her and exactly what this had entailed. She pointed at them, indicating their genitals or other features (her lovers were all naturists like herself), and described what they had done together, where they had done it, how long it had lasted and how she rated the performance. “He was really not very good at all!” she said about one man with quite long hair and a slightly caved in stomach. “Looking at his penis, you’d think he’d be a real joy. It’s nearly twice average size. But could he keep it going for more than three minutes? I found myself thinking about dinner rather than sex.”

Ketaba leaned over to the bottle and poured the last few drops into her glass. She swallowed it with a bold gesture and smiled rather foolishly. Ana was belatedly aware that although she had drunk perhaps nearly two full glasses of wine over the evening so far, Ketaba had consumed all the rest of it. Perhaps she was ‘drunk’, although Ana’s own senses were a little too befuddled to make an objective evaluation. She also noticed belatedly that her naked friend was now talking rather sadly about what she perceived as the failure of her love life.

“Making love to men is easy, but loving them isn’t! It never seems to work out right for me, however hard I try. My lovers can’t complain about the quality of my lovemaking. Perhaps it’s because I’m a prostitute. Perhaps they can’t understand my interests. I just don’t know what it is! What do you think, Ana?” She looked directly into Ana’s eyes steadying herself with a hand on Ana’s hand. “What do you think?”

“I just don’t know,” Ana replied. “I’m not a man. I can’t say what it is that makes a man love a woman.”

“But you know what it is that makes a woman love a woman. You love Binta. You seem to love her in a way that nobody’s ever loved me! Really loved me, I mean. Real, genuine, unconditional love! Have you really got no idea why I’m such a ... such a failure?”

Ana blushed. She really hadn’t expected to serve the rôle of confessor for Ketaba. “I’ve got no idea at all!”

“Well, do you think I’m attractive? Physically attractive that is?”

“Yes, of course!” Ana answered automatically. What a question to ask? Ketaba had an Alpha rating. What more objective rating for beauty could there be?

“So do you ... well ... do you fancy me?”

Ana opened her eyes wide, and snapped her hand out of Ketaba’s.

“What are you asking?” she asked abruptly.

Ketaba looked clearly upset. She ran her fingers through her long tresses of hair and tangled one around and around her hand. She pointed at a naked young woman in one photograph sitting on a beach towel next to Ketaba with an expanse of sand and blue sea stretching out behind them. Both of them were wearing sunglasses and grinning at the camera. The woman was slim and short with black hair tied up in a tight bun by a large white bow. Like Ketaba she had no evidence of ever covering enough skin for any portion to become any paler than any other part of her.

“That’s Rhumana. She fancied me! Or that’s what she said. We were friends throughout the holiday. We met on the first day and I found that wherever I went she was the best company to be with. She was such good fun. She made me laugh, and she laughed at the things I said. Not like Binta. Or Zabba. She didn’t make fun of me. She was always very sympathetic. She was from Agdal herself, and was on holiday in her own country. I so enjoyed her company. More than the boys I slept with: who were so boring when we weren’t making love together. And some of them were pretty boring then as well! When you’re not being paid to be understanding in your lovemaking, you tend to be more impatient you know! I didn’t know she was homosexual. It never really crossed my mind. But then near the end of the holiday she told me she fancied me.”

Ketaba’s hand wandered over to hold Ana’s again, and Ana let her do so respecting her friend’s expression of distress. Ketaba’s eyes were luminescent with tears that threatened to overspill her lower lids.

“We’d drunk some wine. She was much better at drinking than me. She’d much more experience coming from a country where it’s legal. We were laughing and chatting, and then I felt her holding me close and then she squeezed me against her. I didn’t think much of it. In group sessions, we often hug each other and get close to each other. Then she kissed me on the face and told me she fancied me. She told me that she wanted to go to bed with me. She told me she wanted to sleep with me and make love to me....”

“And did you?”

Ketaba shook her head sadly. “No, I didn’t! I was horrified. I told her I didn’t ever want to see her again! I told her that I hated dykes and I thought they were thoroughly perverted and disgusting. I told her that in Alif homosexuality was illegal, and if there was one difference between Alif and Agdal where Alif had the moral upper ground it was regarding Alif’s laws on homosexuality. And then I left her. And I never saw her again. And now ... and now ... I feel so bad!”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know! I did like Rhumana so much. We got on so very well. I did enjoy her company so much. I don’t know if I’ve ever enjoyed anyone’s company as much as hers. And now I’ll never see her again. And sometimes I think ... you know ... sometimes, I think ...”

“What do you think?”

“I ... er ... I think ... Goodness! Is that the time?” Ketaba looked at her clock which indicated it was after half past twelve in the morning. “Time has passed! I suppose that means the last bus has left for your place?”

“Yes, it has,” admitted Ana who had been so disorientated by the wine, she’d simply not noticed the hours pass by. “I’ll have to catch a taxi.”

“They’re very expensive at this time of night. Stay in the guest room. I’ll show you where it is.”

Ketaba led Ana to one of the rooms which was twice the size of the bedroom in her own flat containing a firm mattress on an enormous double bed.

“What do you think?”

“It’s very nice,” agreed Ana. She didn’t go to bed immediately. She and Ketaba continued to look at photographs for an hour or more longer with a few glasses of mineral water and some carob coated sweets. Ketaba made more references to Rhumana, but she did not elaborate, and restrained herself from touching Ana’s hand for which she was grateful. Ana got more tired and had to announce that it was really time to go to bed.

“Of course, Ana,” said Ketaba standing on her feet and wobbling uncertainly. Ana stood up as well and felt slightly giddy too, but she attributed it to sitting down for so long. She felt a rush to her head and felt the room stir. She pressed a hand against her forehead in the hope it would somehow contain her inappropriate sensation of vertigo. She felt Ketaba’s hands around her shoulders to steady her.

“Thank you,” she said in gratitude opening her eyes and staring directly into Ketaba’s slightly foolish smile face, a tress of long hair falling loosely down over her nose and mouth. Ketaba held onto Ana and shook back her hair.

“Oh Ana!” she said in a strangely weak and slightly strangled voice. Suddenly Ketaba’s lips were pressed against her own and Ketaba’s muscular and wine-tasting mouth was inside hers. Ana was at first rather startled, and reciprocated automatically as she would if Binta were to kiss her, but just before her tongue wandered beyond Ketaba’s teeth, she pushed herself off. Ketaba wasn’t Binta! What would Binta think? What was Ketaba thinking of! Didn’t she despise lesbianism?

“Don’t!” Ana told Ketaba.

Ketaba let go of Ana’s shoulders. “I thought ...”

“Just because Binta and I are in love doesn’t mean ...”

“I don’t know what came over me!” Ketaba said in humbled tones. “I’m really sorry! I’m really sorry! It must be the alcohol. That must be what it is! I’m just not used to it. I knew it was bad for you. I should have heeded my own advice. Never again! I’ll never touch it ever again! I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have. Ever!”