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The ambassador had warned me about that before I left the embassy.The food and dishes were on a beautifully embroidered cloth on the floor, but there were no utensils. Everything was finger food. My mother would die if she saw me at the dinner, eating with my fingers. She’d had a difficult time when I was little convincing me to use utensils when eating. I always considered fingers to be the ultimate utensils.The talking that had continued during the afternoon all but ceased once the eating began. I ate slowly, not sure how long dinner would take, and not wanting to overeat. Only when several other men finished and left did I indicate that I was finished by saying “Alhamdulillah” (Thanks be to God) and washing my hands and face.I struggled through the next sentence, but got my meaning across when I said, “An’am Allah alaikum kather Allah kherkum,” which translates roughly as indicating that I had enjoyed the meal, and asked Allah to be generous to my host. The ambassador told me. "As soon as she was out of sight he looked in her handbag, he was pleased to see no syringe. He took her phone out and kicked it under a chair, closing her handbag he took it out to the car. He was returning inside when she met him at the door."Have you seen my handbag?" she asked."Yes, I just put it in the car, come here, we might as well start as we mean to continue." He grabbed her and pulled her close, he kissed her passionately, running his hands over her body, or as far as he was concerned, her pockets, he was still checking for a syringe.Martin loved to drive, he is one of those people that holds an atlas in his head, perhaps it was the numbers, he held them in his head too. As he picked his way north and west until he connected with the A1 at Retford. From there they headed north for another couple of hours, before finding a hotel for the night. Conversation had been sparse, both of them thinking about their own situation. Angie could think of nothing other than ways of.
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