Having sex with Jafar, Suzuki discovered, was very much like fighting with him.
He knew exactly what it was he wanted to achieve, and did not care what he did to achieve it. Twice Suzuki had to rake her nails down his skinny face to prevent him twisting her thigh out of her hip socket, and throughout he kept one hand twisted in her hair, half scalping her in the process.
When he had achieved his goal, he lay on top of her for a while, gasping for air. Suzuki thought longingly of the piles of absorbent rice-paper on the top of the cupboard, but for such a stick figure of a man Jafar was surprisingly heavy. She resigned herself to the unpleasant necessity of sleeping in the damp patch.
Eventually the Grand Vizier slipped nimbly off her and began dress, with more deftness than his undressing. There was a strange calmness about him that silenced Suzuki, a kind of clinical exactness that took the horror out of the previous quarter of an hour. He did not look at her once, but turned on his heel and left the room for his own, before Iago got in.
She was still stunned at the strange night, but didn't let this prevent her from unlocking a teachest and taking from it a packet of leaves and making herself a cup of horrible herb tea. It would prevent any unfortunate mini Jafars happening to her.