Jiya stood up and turned around inspecting the work that she had just done. She was an artist, an sculpture critiquing her own work. Was the thickness...uniform? Was the texture perfect? Was the color of her shit good enough for such an art work? Could she have rotated her ass a little faster while the shit fell on Mansi to do a better shape? Could she have kept the logs inside her for a longer duration? She was making mental notes of all these finer things. She took a finger in her mouth,. "Come with me," he said, standing up and striding off down the corridor to the front of the Golden Palace, not even allowing time for her to don an abaya.Standing at the door waiting when they reached it was the inevitable Rolls-Royce with Maktum in the driving seat. The Emir held the door for her to get in and then followed her. Her Marine bodyguard, taken by surprise at the move, was left standing on the side of the road looking very worried as the Rolls drove away and was out of sight before. More

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