Zainab Ali of Al Qahirah

The City of Ottawa, Ontario, had been Zainab Ali's residence for the past six months. She'd moved there from her hometown of Al Qahirah, Egypt, intent on obtaining a Master's degree in Technology Innovation Management at the University of Ottawa. She already had a bachelor's degree in Civil Engineering from the University of Melbourne, back in Australia. In today's competitive business and scientific worlds, this was simply not enough.

Zainab missed the City of Melbourne, Australia and found the Canadian Capital utterly boring. For four years Melbourne was her home, and she cherished the bon vivant attitude common among the Australians. Such an outlook on life was sorely lacking in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. The locals moved about like zombies, shuffling to and from government-related work in an endless repetition, and the atmosphere seemed supremely dull.

This has got to be the most boring Western city in the entire universe, Zainab thought, during her first days in Ottawa. Still, one does what one can where one happens to be, and Zainab was not about to let culture shock or mundanity get in the way of her ambitions. The young Egyptian Muslim woman was nothing if not adaptable. The classic overachiever, albeit one from the far side of the world, Zainab came to Canada to earn another degree, and perhaps stick around to build herself a career.

Earlier that day, Zainab had gone to the Mucho Burrito restaurant, and, at the encouragement of her new friend Darren Stanwood, she tried a beef burrito, with lots of beans. Fast forward a couple of hours later, and Zainab profoundly regretted that decision. Sweating profusely, she winced and tensed and then relief washed over in a profound way as the deed was finally about to be done.

"Dammit, I never should have had that burrito," Zainab Ali said to herself, as she sat on the porcelain bowl, waiting for nature to take its course. Everything in this new country in which she found herself was weird, from the foods to the outfits, and the weird way that men and women groped each other in public. Keep an open mind, you are a stranger in a strange land, Zainab thought.

"There's another one of those towel-headed bitches working at Sephora, if you can believe that," came a female voice, causing Zainab to pause. She remained seated on the porcelain bowl, listening intently, curious in spite of herself. A second female voice joined the first, echoing mocking laughter, before replying to the statement made by the first one.

"Now that Stephen Harper is gone, Trudeau is going to let more of them into our country just so he can get votes, they'll take over someday, and they don't care, the Liberals are such traitors," said the second gal, and upon hearing what she said, Zainab bristled. She wiped, flushed, and readjusted her clothes before exiting the stall. Upon emerging, she looked at the two loudmouths, a pair of White girls, one plump and blonde, the other red-headed and slender. They looked at Zainab as though she had two heads.

"You can keep this frozen wasteland you call a country, bitch, I don't want to am just passing through," Zainab retorted, and she washed her hands, and then exited the ladies room. Like a boss, as they say in the local lexicon. The five-foot-five, round-faced, pleasantly plump, thirty-something Hijabi walked out of the Rideau Shopping Center women's washroom with her head held high.

"Hello, habibiti, are you okay? You were gone a bit of a while," Stanwood asked, and Zainab paused, looking at the man standing before her. He stood just over six feet tall, dark-skinned, smooth-shaven and mighty fine. The brother looked ruggedly handsome in a Black leather vest over a sky-blue silk shirt, red tie and dark gray silk pants. Stanwood was twenty seven but looked much younger. He reminded Zainab of the artist Akon, only taller and more strongly built. A breath of fresh air, that one, Zainab thought with a smile.

"Oh, you know," Zainab replied, and she looked into Stanwood's chocolate eyes, and shrugged. She was about to say something else when the two girls from the washroom finally exited, and for a brief moment, Zainab's eyes met theirs. One of them looked away, and the other stared back haughtily before scoffing and walking away. Zainab smiled, and Stanwood noticed it. A bit perplexed, he stroked his goateed chin and looked at her thoughtfully.

"Zainab, you're always up to something, we should call you The Naughty Hijabi," Stanwood remarked, and Zainab rolled her eyes, then grabbed him by the arm and led him toward the escalator leading to the food court. At this hour, the Rideau Shopping Center food court was packed, and they had to wait a while before finding an actual table.

"My dear Stanwood, if you only knew," Zainab replied, as they finally found a spot. Stanwood, ever the gentleman, got in line at the Chinese restaurant, and asked her what she wanted. After the day she'd had, Zainab wasn't particular. Anything other than a burrito sounded okay to her. She informed Stanwood as much, and he nodded and went to take care of business.

A nice guy with a cute ass and he's single, Zainab thought, marveling at Stanwood as she discretely checked out his bum, which looked fabulous in his dress pants. A couple months ago, Stanwood came to her, distraught after he split from his girlfriend Valerie Dupre, a young French Canadian woman he'd been dating for a while. Zainab comforted her pal and fellow international student, and they'd been real tight ever since.

Zainab liked having Stanwood around, for he was friendly, charming and generous. Hailing from the City of Houston, Texas, he was a newcomer to Ottawa, and currently studying mechanical engineering at Carleton University. The handsome African American had become Zainab's closest friend and confidante, and she truly felt bad for what his ex-girlfriend Valerie had done to him.

"Here we go, madam," Stanwood chimed enthusiastically as he came back with two platters of Chinese food. Orange chicken, shrimp-fried rice and Pepsis plus egg rolls, Zainab's absolute favorites. She greeted Stanwood joyfully and pulled a chair for him. Stanwood rested the platters at the center of the table, and then looked at Zainab, a question on his face.

"Thank you so much, Stanwood," Zainab said happily, and she clapped for emphasis, causing him to blush. During last week's outing, she'd gotten him the Black leather vest which he was currently wearing, for it had been his birthday. That's what true friends did, they took care of each other no matter what.

"You're welcome, my dear," Stanwood replied, and Zainab looked at him, and saw that he was looking at something past her. Turning around, Zainab saw what caught Stanwood's attention, a rather thick derriere attached to a tall, dark-skinned Black woman with neatly braided hair. Zainab frowned, and then closed her eyes, hard. Stanwood simply cannot resist a big ass and he forgets all about me whenever one walks by, Zainab thought.

"Well, Stanwood, why don't you go holler at her?" Zainab asked, and she flashed her friend a smile a shark would recognize. Stanwood stopped looking at the gal with the prodigious derriere and smiled, then shrugged. For some reason, Zainab's heart winced at his nonchalant attitude. The same attitude shared by Zainab's former husband Sayed El-Zend back in Egypt.

"Oh come on, Zainab, that gal was cute, can't blame a brother for trying," Stanwood said as he took a sip of his Pepsi. Zainab watched him for a minute, and said nothing, then continued eating. Her thoughts drifted back to that fateful day in Cairo when Sayed beat her within an inch of her life when she confronted him about his affair with Asma, their Sudanese house servant. Battered but not broken, Zainab appeared before a judge, demanding a divorce from Sayed. It was granted. Thus she left Egypt, never to return.

"All the women in the world aren't enough for men with wandering eyes," Zainab said sourly, and she took a bite out of her egg roll. Stanwood looked at her, concern on his dark, handsome face. I shouldn't have said those things, you're not even mine, I had no right, Zainab thought, but the gauntlets were already thrown. What's a gal to do under those circumstances?

"Zainab, is there something you want to talk about?" Stanwood asked, and Zainab hastily shook her head, then changed the subject. She queried Stanwood about the protests going on at Carleton University, something about the school's board of directors being inflexible when it came to handing over the retirement funds of certain administrative staff. Stanwood looked at her, clearly unconvinced by her switching around, but he indulged her anyway.

"Hang in there, Stan, these protests can't last forever," Zainab said encouragingly, with remarkable false enthusiasm, and Stanwood nodded sagely. That was certain awkward, Zainab thought, and Stanwood finished his meal, while she did the same. A rather awkward silence reigned over the table, and what was unsaid hung over their heads like dark, heavy clouds in an otherwise clear sky. The two friends left the Rideau Shopping Center together, heading upstairs, where they went their separate ways. For now.

Until we meet again, Zainab thought as she boarded the 95 bus heading to Nepean from the Mackenzie King Bridge in downtown Ottawa. She watched Darren Stanwood until he became a tiny silhouette receding in the distance as her bus sped away from the downtown core. She kept thinking about her words and actions, shaking her head. Why did I act so jealous back there? Zainab wondered privately.

Zainab thought of her life and all the twists and turns it had taken lately. Fleeing Egypt and a bad relationship, she came to Ottawa. Originally, after completing her university degree in Australia, Zainab went home to her husband Sayed in Egypt, intent on starting a family. Sadly, it was not in the cards. During her absence, Sayed had grown bored, and he amused himself with Asma, their Sudanese servant.

"Zainab, you westernized whore, Sayed may be Black but she has been more of a wife to me than you," Sayed screamed at her while beating her within an inch of her life. Zainab was mortified, both physically and mentally, long after the divorce from Sayed was finalized and she'd left Egypt behind. Sayed I meant absolutely nothing to you, Zainab thought bitterly.

In the West, Zainab might be an accomplished academic at the height of her earning power, but in Egypt she would always be second best to any man, simply due to her gender. That's why she had to leave. In Zainab's life, the men who were close to her never treated her fairly. Her father Yasser Ali died when she was young, and her mother Noor subsequently remarried. For Zainab, this was the beginning of her nightmare. Her new stepfather Bashir Abbas was a brute, abusing both Noor and Zainab.

Come to think of it, the only man in Zainab's life who ever treated her with respect and affection was Darren Stanwood, the gentlemanly American from Houston, Texas. Zainab smiled faintly as she thought of all the places Stanwood had taken her. The brother loved going out, treating her to outings to movie theaters, restaurants, malls, and museums. If only Darren Stanwood were Arab and Muslim, Zainab silently lamented.

As the 95 bus reached Lincoln Field Station, a couple got on, and they immediately caught Zainab's attention. A tall young Arab man with tattoos and a ponytail walked in, holding hands with a curvy young Black woman. Upon seeing them, Zainab blinked, and her heart skipped a beat. Yet another Arab brother who cannot resist the African ladies, but heaven helps the Arab sister who so much as looks at a Black man, Zainab thought bitterly.

Impulsively, Zainab got off the bus, and then climbed the elevated crosswalk leading to the other side. She caught a 97 bus heading downtown, and then began her long trek back to the downtown core of Ottawa. Giggling, Zainab thought of that interracial couple on the bus, and then closed her eyes, replacing them with an image of her and Stanwood. Sighing happily, Zainab sat down in the middle seats, her favorite spot on any bus, and grabbed her cell phone.

"Zainab, are you alright?" Stanwood asked, as he recognized the voice on the other line. Zainab sounded frantic, and he was worried something might have happened to her. After that rather weird afternoon at the Rideau Shopping Center food court, he'd gone straight home to his apartment in the By Ward Market area. He was sitting on his couch, watching an episode of Black Lightning on The CW when Zainab called him.

"Everything is fine, Habibi, my eyes are open, for the first time in ages, can I come see you?" Zainab asked, something almost out of breath, and Stanwood, more than a bit concerned, hastily agreed. Long after he hung up, Stanwood sat on his couch, wondering about Zainab's weird behavior. When they first met, Stanwood found her cute, but knew that Arab women were off-limits to men like him.

First and foremost, Stanwood and Zainab were of different racial backgrounds. Even after witnessing the Obama Presidency, Stanwood knew that race mattered a great deal. In Canada, America, and apparently practically everywhere else, a person's skin color and background dictated many essential things about their lives. Zainab came from a different world, one which was about as different from Stanwood's world as could be.

Zainab Ali was an observant Muslim woman from Cairo, Egypt. Stanwood was Black, and he wasn't even a Muslim. That's why he didn't even pursue Zainab and settled for friendship instead. Asking someone like Zainab to be with him and buck against centuries of Arab tradition would be asking the impossible. Besides, he was pretty sure that her family would slaughter them both if they even tried to be together. Some things are just not meant to be, Stanwood thought dourly.

"Salaam, Zainab," Stanwood said as he opened the door and greeted his favorite short, curvy Egyptian Hijabi. Zainab stood there, a shy smile on her lovely face. Stanwood smiled at her, wondering what was going on in that brain of hers. Zainab looked up at Stanwood, who stood there, wearing neon-blue boxers and nothing else. What a man Zainab thought, admiring his well-built, naked upper body.

"Salaam, handsome," Zainab replied, and she licked her lips, even as her heart thundered in her chest. Impulsively she stood on her tippy toes, grabbed Stanwood by the collar of his shirt and yanked with all of her might. Stanwood bent a little, looking at her with alarm in his eyes. That's when Zainab did it, she took her courage into her hands...and planted a kiss on Stanwood's lips.

Darren Stanwood had dealt with a lot of unexpected situations in his lifetime. Still, he could hardly recall one quite like the one Zainab dragged him into. Zainab just grabbed him and kissed him, and if Stanwood had been electrocuted by lightning right then and there, he wouldn't have been more shocked. Since when do short, quiet, seemingly repressed and pious grab brothers and French-kiss them?

"Wow," Stanwood whispered, exhaling sharply, once he and Zainab came up for air. The Hijabi looked at him, smiling coyly. Their eyes met, and he saw something raw, and powerful in hers. Cultural differences be damned, Stanwood knew when a woman wants a man, she has ways of letting him know, and any guy worth his salt knows at least some of the signs. Pulling Zainab gently but firmly into his arms, he kissed her passionately.

"We should have done this a long time ago," Zainab said, as Stanwood drew her to his couch, and began caressing her curvy body. She ached with need for him, for she had wanted him for so long. She hadn't known a man's touch for so long, and the last time a man touched her, he was abusive, not loving or gentle. As Stanwood embraced her, Zainab found herself smiling at him, and let go of her inhibitions...

"Amen, sweetheart," Stanwood whispered, and he kissed Zainab's neck, and throat, and caressed her breasts. Zainab sighed happily as Stanwood's lips traced a path from her lips to her neck, and then fastened themselves to the areola of her left breast. A pleasant tingle arose within her, and Zainab smiled, loving what Stanwood was doing to her.

"I am yours," Zainab said, breathing heavily as Stanwood stroked her breast while licking it, and then he began moving his hand lower. She gasped as his hand slipped between her thick thighs, and he began fingering her pussy. Zainab looked at Stanwood's face, and saw a wildness in there which both shocked and aroused her. The primal man claims his woman at last, Zainab thought, pleased.

"Open yourself up to me, sweetie," Stanwood said, as he kissed a path from Zainab's breasts, to the space between her legs. Zainab heeded his words and opened herself up, and Stanwood grinned, then went to work on her. There are many ways to make love, but for every couple, there's nothing more unforgettable than their first time together.

"Yes, Habibi, lick my awrah," Zainab cried out, as Stanwood began eating her pussy. She writhed and moaned as Stanwood slid his tongue deep into her pussy, and began fingering her. Zainab hadn't felt passion like this in quite some time, and it drove her mad...in a good way. She closed her eyes as Stanwood did his thing, and knew she was like putty in his hands. Stanwood lathered Zainab's pussy with his tongue, and soon she squealed his name...

"I've got you," Stanwood said, holding Zainab gently but firmly as she thrashed about wildly, in the throes of an orgasm. The first one she'd had in ages. She opened her eyes and looked at her lover, amazed. Stanwood kissed Zainab again, and sat her down on his lap. Zainab looked into Stanwood's eyes, smiled confidently and kissed him. While Stanwood embraced her during their kiss, Zainab reached for his member, and began stroking him.

"Looks like I've got you, handsome," Zainab replied, and she slid her tongue down Stanwood's throat while stroking his manhood. Zainab straddled Stanwood and looked right at him, silently communicating her wishes. Stanwood gripped her firmly and bucked his hips, causing her to shift on his lap. Stanwood grinned as Zainab rubbed his member against her pussy, and nodded firmly.

"I've wanted you for so long," Stanwood whispered into Zainab's ear, and then thrust into her. She gasped as he entered her, his manhood filling her quite nicely. Parts of her which hadn't been touched, or caressed, were suddenly filled with him, and Zainab cried out, welcoming Stanwood inside of her. She rested her hands on his shoulders and rode him, loving the way his dick slammed into her, flooding her insides with sweet pain and exquisite pleasure.

"Hmm, I needed that, Stan, you don't know what it's been like, to feel unwanted and unloved," Zainab said, much later, after she and Stanwood took a few trips to nirvana, in the carnal sense. Who would have thought that the small Arab gal from Egypt had such raw, untamed passion within her? What a nice surprise, Stanwood thought with a smile.

After bending Zainab over, spanking her big bronze butt and ramming his dick into her like there was no tomorrow, Stanwood found himself sexually exhausted at last. Tenderly Stanwood wrapped his arms around her, and Zainab purred like a kitten. This wasn't just a casual sexual encounter for either of them. They'd definitely crossed a line, and things would change. No need to think about it right now, though. Why not simply enjoy the moment?

"Zainab, Habibiti, you can call me Darren, everyone else does, stop being so fucking normal," Stanwood said, laughing. Zainab looked at him and grinned. She stretched luxuriously after getting some truly freaky loving from that fine brother from Houston, Texas. Zainab was still sore from the pounding that Stanwood, ahem, Darren, just laid on her. Pleasurably sore, she might add. After ending the mother of all dry spells, Zainab wanted, no, needed more loving...