The Females of Wadi Ya Noh.

In my extreme agitation, I asked her, "But ... what was all that other stuff? About punishment, chastisement. Repentance at their hands ... and humility at their feet?"

"Well, David ..." pondered Miss Withenshaw, "... perhaps I should leave you to discover that, for yourself. And, after all, you will soon be finding out, won't you?

"You are in Claudia's hands, now. And you will be under her complete control, for 'A Thousand Suns', as it were ... There is one thing, though, that I think I can predict with full confidence: After you have spent the next two years and nine months, David, at the tender mercies of Claudia and her village sisters, you will never have the disrespect; the insolence, to pinch another woman's bottom ever again!"

As the British Consulate official's chilling words sunk in, I suddenly became overwhelmed by an appalling sense of panic. Consumed, by fear-fuelled notions of what might lie ahead. The fear of the unknown. The fear of my sentence: 'A Thousand Suns'. A sentence, of 2 years and 9 months!

A fleeting succession of harrowing thoughts hurtled across my tormented, panic-stricken mind scape ... What about my fiancee, my darling Sandra? What about our upcoming marriage, next week, just in time for Christmas? What would Sandra say, when Miss Susan Smith returned home in three days' time, and gleefully relayed to her the shocking, appalling news of my incredible predicament? The ("salient") details, of my 'A Thousand Suns' sentence. Served in a tiny village in the middle of the Arabian desert. Being 'chastised'; by my 'victim', and by her village sisters. Learning repentance, at their hands, and humility, at their feet.

What a disaster! I couldn't let this happen. I just couldn't ... I had to 'come clean'. I was desperate. It was the only way.

This whole thing had gone too far. Far too far! In desperation, I frantically tried to reverse my disastrous decision. My disastrous decision to take the rap; to carry the can for the saucy misdeed of my boss, Miss Susan Smith. I had made a terrible error of judgement - I saw that now.

I parted company with my dignity - after all, it was the least of my concerns, at the moment.

"Miss Withenshaw ... I've gotten myself into the most awful muddle, here. There has been a terrible miscarriage of justice. You see, I've made a big mistake ... I didn't do it! And that's the truth! Please, Miss Withenshaw! I am innocent, I tell you! You must believe me!"

"You made your 'big mistake', David, when you committed your act of Indecent Behaviour upon this young lady," she replied coldly, indicating Claudia.

"But, Miss Withenshaw, it wasn't me! It was my boss, Miss Susan Smith! She did it! I saw her! I swear!"

The British Consulate representative looked at me, in deepest disdain. "Oh! That's it! I have heard it all, now ..." she replied contemptuously. "If you can't do the time - don't do the crime! Why can't you take your punishment like a man, David?" asked Miss Withenshaw disgustedly.

In tears now, at the awful realisation that this horrible, heinous nightmare was actually becoming an unavoidable reality, I pleaded; poured out my heart, to the cynical British Consulate representative.

"Because I am innocent! Because I took the blame for my boss ... because I had to - to keep my job!

"Because I thought that I would only have to pay a fine ... I mean, I know it was wrong, but, but ... it was just a bottom-pinch, for heaven's sake! How was I to know, that there would be such a song-and-dance over such a little thing as that?

"But, most of all, because of my fiancee ... my Sandra. We are supposed to be getting married, next week! Just in time for Christmas. Oh, hell! God knows what she is going to make of all this!" I blurted, in acute distress.

At hearing my heartfelt, emotional outpourings, Miss Withenshaw remained unconvinced, unmoved - implacable. Indicating Claudia, she replied stonily, "Well, David, even if I believed a single word of what you say - which I don't - perhaps you should have thought of all that, before you indecently assaulted this young lady, shouldn't you?"

My God! There was just no getting through to the woman. What she had just said didn't make any sense. But I had quite lost the heart to argue with her anymore. I knew it was futile. I was just banging my head against the proverbial brick wall. No wonder, that I was starting to get such a rotten headache!

I was distraught. And, my abject despair did not improve any, either, as I listened to Miss Withenshaw embark upon a censorious verbal spree. A holier-than-thou, righteous tirade of moral lecturing.

"Do you know, David, men like you make me sick. But, you are not in England now ... you are in Arabia. Where such acts of social nonacceptance are taken rather more seriously than they are back home ... and so you are certain to suffer the punishment that you so richly deserve," admonished Miss Withenshaw severely.

"All I can do for you now, David, is to officially notify your fianceé of your current situation. I shall write to her, informing her as to the nature of your crime. And, I shall advise her of all of the details, as pertain to the attendant sentence that has been duly imposed upon you by the Arabian Court."

My God! So Sandra was actually going to receive an official letter from the British Consulate, in Wadi Ya Wan.

In addition, then, to Miss Susan Smith's sketchy report - the "salient details" - Sandra was going to get the full, unabridged version, straight from the ... horse's mouth. Sandra would be receiving a full, detailed account of my humiliating predicament - chapter and verse! Straight from Miss Withenshaw's official pen. My God!

"It is men like you, David, who make me ashamed to be British ..." oh, she was really on a roll now; really getting into her righteous stride, "... you so carelessly commit your misdemeanours while abroad, in the smug belief that you won't get into any trouble. That there will be no irksome, tiresome come-back; no inconvenient consequences, as a result of your crass, anti-social behaviour," ranted Miss Withenshaw.

"You think that your immature, asinine pranks will not backfire on you. Don't you? You complacently think, don't you, that if you do carelessly break the laws of a foreign country: well, no worries ... the Consulate will come and pick up the pieces; the likes of me, will come to your rescue. You think the likes of me, will come hurrying along on my white charger, and whisk you away from trouble," accused the sorely aggrieved Miss Withenshaw, scornfully.

"Well, David ... you know differently now, don't you?" said Miss Withenshaw. And, I had heard a distinct note of satisfaction in her voice. Satisfaction, that I was about to get everything I deserved - and then some!

"Also, David ... if you are innocent, as you now so suddenly claim, you have just admitted; to me, and in front of many other witnesses, that you have actually committed perjury in an Arabian Court - a far more serious crime, and with far more serious consequences, than the one you have just been convicted of.

"If you want my advice: you will keep quiet about that. Very quiet. You have already made your bed, David. And now, you will have to lie in it - for the next two years and nine months," said Miss Withenshaw, with obvious relish. Mercilessly piling on the misery, in believing me to be not only guilty as charged, but - and, far worse, in her book - totally remorseless, too.

The terrible injustice of Miss Withenshaw's harsh, pitiless words - her damning indictment - slammed cruelly home, totally crushing me. She was right, though: it could have been worse. Much worse. I had, as she had pointed out, committed perjury by taking the blame for something that I hadn't actually done.

All that I could do now, I realised despondently, was to try to somehow reconcile myself, to the awful reality of the situation that I now so incredibly found myself in. I knew it would be pointless to argue further; to make any more pleas. I would just be wasting my breath. Just as Miss Withenshaw had told me: I had made my bed, and so now I must lie in it - for 'A Thousand Suns'!

As I was being frog-marched out of the Court by 2 policemen, I shouted back; urgently, frantically: "Miss Withenshaw! Miss Withenshaw!! Please ... tell Sandra I love her!"

Outside, I was quite taken aback by the sudden, scorching heat that immediately assailed me. Newly arrived from a very chilly, frost-bound England, I was stunned by the ferocious, bludgeoning power of the Arabian sun - even in December - as it beat down pitilessly out of a cloudless blue sky.

Then, it was Claudia who was standing in front of me. Standing 3 or 4 inches taller, on her lilac-coloured mules, than my 5 feet 7 inches, Claudia looked down at me - and down on me. Claudia said nothing: just stared down into my fretful eyes, for long, contemplative moments.

Claudia's eyes were shining; a shine that came from within. Shining, with unfathomable, frightful thoughts. Glittering, with a gleeful, vengeful triumph.

Aboard the Arabian Airways aircraft, I had felt Claudia's highly aggressive, openly hostile demeanour towards me, to be very intimidating. But, now that Claudia was actually on her 'home turf' ... she was terrifying. Menacing. I sensed threat, emanating from her, in almost palpable waves.

Without warning, Claudia raised her right hand and delivered a sharp, stinging slap to my left cheek and, while I was still registering the sudden, unexpected pain and shock of her powerful, anger-fuelled blow, she followed it up with another resounding slap, to my right cheek. "Aaahhh!!" I exclaimed, in pained surprise, in the aftermath of seeing Claudia's right hand so suddenly and swiftly lash out, immediately followed by her left hand, as quick and as unavoidable as cobra strikes.

Apparently gratified, by my reaction, Claudia stood back from me. There was such a look of gleeful, exultant satisfaction in her dark, almond-shaped eyes, as she saw my bottom lip quivering. Uncontrollably trembling, in shock, in pain - in humiliation.

I knew, that these were the barely contained, vengeful slaps that Claudia had so longed to inflict upon me aboard the Arabian Airways flight, but had been obliged to resist that very powerful impulse in the greater interests of keeping her job.

But now, Claudia had been given - to all intents and purposes - free reign. Carte blanche: the Court's blessing, to punish me with impunity. To 'chastise' me.

And, it seemed to me, that the very fact that Claudia had had to wait so long, for this moment, only served to heighten her pleasure; only served to make the moment all the sweeter, to her. To make it all the more satisfying. To make all of her sweet, sweet anticipation ... well worth the wait.

My cheeks were scorching hot. From Claudia's stinging slaps, yes: but more - far more - from my burning humiliation.

I had just stood there! Just stood there, and let Claudia slap my face - twice! Well ... not 'let' her, exactly - but that's not the point! I had done nothing about it! Nothing!! I hadn't protested. I hadn't complained. I hadn't even said as much as a single, solitary word against her, in response ... Because I was thoroughly cowed, by Claudia. That was the awful, shaming truth of it.

I could only cringe, before Claudia; the very essence of pathetic helplessness. I could only fall apart, and crumble, before her. Her eyes; dismantling me, demolishing me, reducing me to nothing more than a long pile of human rubble. The sheer power of Claudia's personality - her presence - the gaze of her dominating, smouldering, seemingly all-knowing eyes, effectively emasculating me.

I silently stared into Claudia's dark, almond-shaped eyes. Eyes, that sparkled maliciously; glittered malevolently. Eyes, that brooked no challenge. And eyes, that spoke of dark, dark promises. Promises, of dreadful revenge. Promises, of the untold cruelties that awaited me at her wrathful hands. As Claudia stared right back at me - seemingly reading every turbulent, terrified thought in my head - I was starting to feel really scared. Claudia's powerful personality; her unnerving presence - her aura - thoroughly intimidated me.

After all: not only did Claudia now hold the upper hand - she held all the cards. I'd heard of the decks being stacked - but this was ridiculous. Claudia held all of the aces; all of the trumps ... And now, she was playing her hand.

Claudia's eyes, her voice, her superior demeanour - her very presence - held me in thrall as she spoke to me at length ... she wasn't the sort of person you could easily ignore. And, Claudia's command of English, I now found out, was confident and assured: Not limited, to such basic vocabulary; commonly used phrases, as would serve merely to help her get by at work - but quite proficient.

"David. For ‘A Thousand Suns', you will be in my power. You will be at my mercy. You will be at my feet. And, every day, I will make you pay. Oh, yes! You will pay ..." exulted Claudia.

"In my home village of Wadi Ya Noh, David, you will have many female teachers ... my village sisters. Teachers, who will each derive great pleasure and satisfaction, from teaching you - an Englishman - your daily lessons of respect and humility. And I promise you: you will learn them well!" predicted Claudia, on rising notes.

Claudia was getting steadily worked up; her voice rising. And I listened to her with ever increasing trepidation. I knew I was in trouble here. Big trouble.

"There are many women of Wadi Ya Noh, to whom promises of marriage have been made. Made - by English oil workers! Yes, promises, David! Promises!!" Claudia almost shouted.

"Promises," Claudia continued feelingly, "that were treacherously broken! Promises, of a better life - in England. As lawfully wedded wives. Living, as equals!" Claudia yelled in my face, almost hysterical now, in at last finding a suitable outlet for her uncontainable outrage.

"Promises," Claudia went on hotly, "that were cruelly and callously reneged upon. Broken promises! Lies! False words, out of lying, deceiving English mouths!" shouted Claudia, pointing an accusatory finger at me. "Promises, David," Claudia asserted angrily, "that your accursed countrymen never intended to keep!"

Now, at coming to the 'meat' of her speech, I heard a distinct hitch, in Claudia's voice. For such was the strength, of her torrential outpouring of raw emotion. Claudia was, I realised, 'letting it all out'.

"All of these women, were left with child. With no husband; no father, for their child, they were treated like lepers. Worse, than lepers! Despised, shunned, ostracised from the caring, loving bosom of their society - exiled, to Wadi Ya Noh!

"Condemned, to a lifetime of scratching, scraping poverty. Condemned, to an existence of mind-numbing, soul-destroying monotony; of endless, mindless drudgery. Condemned, to endure the blazing, unrelenting sun of that God-forsaken wasteland!" Claudia complained bitterly.

Claudia's voice then dropped to almost a whisper. As if conspiratorial; as if, for my ears only ... "I, Claudia, am the child - the tainted fruit - of such a woman."

Again, Claudia pointed her finger at me. "But now, David ... in my home village of Wadi Ya Noh - for ‘A Thousand Suns', you, yourself, will pay for the vile sins committed against the females of Wadi Ya Noh.

"It is most unfortunate for you, David, that you are an Englishman. But your misfortune is our delight.

"As an Englishman, it is right and fitting, that you will now serve as the focal point of our long-awaited retribution. The focal point, upon which to finally satiate our ... feelings. The focal point, upon whom to vent our wrath. Our long-simmering, pent-up rage and resentment. Yes, it will now be for you, David, to pay the price. To pay: for all of the wicked misdeeds of your own, accursed countrymen!" proclaimed Claudia vengefully.

By now, I was perspiring freely. Sweat was literally dripping off me - not all of it, because of the blazing Arabian sun, either.

I saw a new, taunting smile touch Claudia's dark, almond-shaped eyes as she went on, vindictively - nastily. "Also, David ... it will be of the sweetest piquancy, to the cruelly spurned and abandoned females of Wadi Ya Noh, to know that you will now miss your own, forthcoming marriage ... how ironic, David.

"And, it will gladden our hearts; fill our hearts with joy, to know that you will be thinking about - pining for - your own stranded bride ... while we administer your chastisement.

"We have a saying in Arabia, David: ‘Revenge is a dish, that is best served cold'. Well ... the females of Wadi Ya Noh have been sharpening their appetites, for long, miserable years - some of them, for much longer than I. They have waited a long time - too long - for their cold dish of revenge. But now ... you are here, David. And ..." proclaimed Claudia rapturously, "... their time has come!

"The cruelly spurned, treacherously abandoned females of Wadi Ya Noh, shall savour the ambrosial taste of your righteous come-uppance! Their appetites are whetted. They are hungry for revenge. They shall taste, at last, their sweet reward. For now, David, I am going to serve you up to them. You - an Englishman; the finest, of all delicacies! And ... they shall feast! As shall I!

"Now, come! We waste valuable time, here!" commanded Claudia, impatient to be making tracks, now that she had concluded her emotionally delivered speech; had got it off her chest.

Aghast - panic-stricken - I began, "I'm really very sorry, about ... what happened to your mother, and to the other ladies, Claudia. Really, I am ... But---" I got no further. I was again stunned to silence - nearly knocked off my feet, this time - by another stinging, even more vicious, power-packed double-slap to my face from Claudia's blurring brown hands. Right across my mouth. "Aaahhh!!" I exclaimed in shock and pain as, once again, I found myself reeling from Claudia's punishing slaps.

Already, I could feel my bottom lip beginning to swell. Claudia had given me a fat lip! I could feel it trembling, too, betraying my ever increasing fear of her. "You will be silent, mangy cur!" yelled Claudia right in my face, her dark eyes blazing angrily, venomously.

(I would learn later, that it was through the various contacts of her powerful and influential local Tribal Lord, that enabled Claudia to earn her meagre living. It was through him, that she had secured her part-time job as an air hostess with Arabian Airways.

Though, 'part-time' is laying it on rather thick, since Claudia only did one return flight per week: Every Sunday, Claudia operated on the Arabian Airways early-morning flight: the Wadi Ya Meen to Manchester flight - which she boarded when it stopped off en route, at Wadi Ya Wan. Claudia then stayed overnight at an airport hotel, along with the rest of the aircrew. The crew then returned the next day: on the Monday, early-morning Manchester to Wadi Ya Meen flight - from which Claudia disembarked at Wadi Ya Wan.

As I understood it, Claudia was routinely transported to and from Wadi Ya Wan airport by the local police, who were in the pay of the local Tribal Lord. As payment for arranging and facilitating both: Claudia's part-time job, and her ... airport transfers, by police vehicle, Claudia was obliged to give her local Tribal Lord half of her income. This sum of money, was half of what she earned from working her return flight to Manchester: Flight Pay, and Overnight Allowance payment.

It was all thanks to Claudia's income - meagre, as it was, that the females of Wadi Ya Noh could afford to buy their simple, every-day necessities. The food, and other basic goods, that they purchased from the traders who arrived in their village by camel, every Tuesday afternoon.)