‘Oh, right then,’ said Omar, disappointed. Normally when Sharif went out like this, he had wild tales of sexual prowess to report, everything from blow jobs in club toilets to knee-tremblers in back alleyways, always clan-destine, and always outside. Omar felt that listening to the stories, participating vicariously, somehow took the edge off his own virginity.

‘She had a fantastic arse, though …’ continued Sharif wistfully. ‘Even you’d have got the horn for her, man. She had a butt like a ten-year-old boy.’

‘What’s that meant to mean?’ asked Omar, sitting up, offended.

‘It’s an American expression,’ Sharif explained patiently. ‘It just means she had a great, tight, little butt. I heard it once in an Arnie movie, a real classic one.’ Omar sat back down again. A classic Arnie movie was a virile enough reference for him not to take further offence. Sharif continued dreamily, ‘You know, man, when you’ve got a girl like that bending over in front of you, you feel like a bloody king. I felt like shouting “I’m King of the World.”’

‘You watch too many movies, man,’ Omar said critically. ‘No wonder you plough all your exams. Besides, I thought you just took her home.’

’I did,’ said Sharif smugly. ‘I took her back to her front door, halfway up a block of flats. And I knew she was well up for it because when we were making out, she rubbed herself against me, and didn’t say a word when I got hold of her butt under her skirt …’

‘You didn’t do it outside her front door!’ said Omar, gasping at the audacity. Her parents could have come outside at any moment.

‘Don’t be daft. She told me we could get up to the roof of the building on the fire exit. She’s a bit more experienced and sophisticated than the girls from around here; she wanted me to do her from behind while she held on to the railing, which I thought might be weird ‘coz I couldn’t see her face. But I had a great view of her tight little ass, and the rooftops across Tooting, and she was bloody loving it. I’m telling you, man, when I was coming I felt like a king.’ Sharif was silent, in reverence at the act, at the memory, already anticipating the next time.

’Are you going to see her again?’ asked Omar quietly.

‘Yeah, I think so, if she calls me I’ll see her. I might even call her myself. For a good-looking girl she was really dirty. She was a bit too keen, though - afterwards, she kept asking me if I liked her. She kept saying, “You like me, don’t you?” and kept kissing me needily when I didn’t answer.’

’Why didn’t you answer?’ asked Omar.