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Salome Zankoul of Beirut

"Ma'am, in light of your past record as an armed militant in the conflict in Lebanon, I fear that Canada cannot accept you as a conventional refugee," said Judge Marshall Lemieux, speaking for the International Refugee Board of Citizenship & Immigration Canada. Salome Zankoul closed her eyes, hard. These dastardly, smug fools in robes have no idea what life is like outside this frozen wasteland, Salome thought angrily.

"Listen up, you got no idea what it was like in Beirut, with the Muslims turning against us, we Maronite Christians had to defend ourselves," Salome shouted, to the consternation of the others present in court. Besides her sat her attorney, Marcus Dixon, looking very handsome in a stylish dark gray suit under his dark courtly robes. Dixon's face remained quite somber, and almost expressionless.

"Ma'am, please remember that this is a court of law, and we in Canada tend to follow the rules of courtroom decorum," Judge Lemieux said, fixing his steely blue-eyed gaze on Salome, who looked right back at him. She simply refused to back down. Clearing his throat somewhat loudly, Dixon gently laid his hand on Salome's wrist, and the young Lebanese woman shot him a wuthering look.

"Your Honor, I apologize for my client, please understand that she's been through a lot, having lived the horrors of war, and her plight as a refugee, wandering through Lebanon and Syria and finally booking a flight to Canada from Greece, it's more horrendous than anything we can imagine, please consider these facts," Dixon said, rising for effect.

The Judge looked at Dixon, this tall, dark-skinned, handsome black man who was so passionately defending a young foreign woman. Salome looked at her attorney as well, evidently just as stunned by his words and impassioned plea as the Judge was. This man seems like he actually gives a damn about me, Salome thought, somewhat wistfully.

"Duly noted, counselor," Judge Lemieux said softly, and both lawyer and defendant exchanged a confused look. Salome exhaled sharply while Dixon began to steeple his fingers, something he often did when he was angry or disturbed. I wonder what this old man is thinking right this minute, Dixon thought sourly.

Dixon looked at Salome, flashing her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He couldn't even begin to fathom all the things that she'd been through. Dixon's early years in the City of Halifax, Nova Scotia, one of the most racist places in all of Canada, hadn't been easy. The province of Nova Scotia was considered the Mississippi of Canada, and with good reason.

Dixon's father Luther emigrated to the City of Halifax, Nova Scotia, in the summer 1969. While working construction there, Dixon met Gilda Buchanan, a lovely blonde-haired young white woman whom he found himself smitten with. Luther Dixon and Gilda Buchanan fell in love, and got married, over the vehement opposition of Gilda's parents. They bought a lovely townhouse in the town of Preston, Nova Scotia, and settled there.

Dixon remembered his parents telling him of the hateful words they heard from racist white men who saw them walking around Halifax together. Dixon and his older sister Leanne attended an almost all-black school in the environs of Preston, and with good reason. Interracial relationships are frowned upon in Nova Scotia, especially when involving a black man and a white woman. This was true in the late 1970s, and as far as Dixon was concerned, it still holds true today.

As prejudiced as a lot of folks in Nova Scotia could be, Dixon couldn't imagine having his neighbors turn against him over questions of religion, rather than race or skin color. When Salome told him of her Muslim neighbors, families whose sons and daughters were once her playmates, turn against her and her parents, Dixon was absolutely horrified. What kind of a maddened nation allows itself to be torn apart like this? Dixon wondered.

"In Lebanon, people put religion ahead of patriotism and national unity, the Lebanese Muslims sided with the Syrians and others against Lebanese Christians, and of course, my people and I had to defend ourselves," Salome said softly, tears brimming in her eyes. They'd been talking about the case and the situation in the Republic of Lebanon, a few days before the hearing, and out of the blue, Salome shared something deeply personal with Dixon.

"Salome, I can't imagine what you went through," Dixon said evenly, and Salome shrugged, shaking her head sadly. This suit-wearing lad knows nothing about life and probably not enough about the law, Salome thought bitterly. She did note, however, that Dixon appeared perplexed, so at the very least he was taking her case seriously.

Dixon was quite shaken by the things that Salome had endured during the Lebanese Civil War. The young attorney found himself at a loss of words after that revelation. Aside from a few incidents with some 'good ole-boy" types back in Halifax, Dixon led a fairly regular life. Ah, the boring life of a small-town brother in the Big City, Dixon thought, both wryly amused and annoyed.

Marcus Dixon attended Dalhousie University, graduating with a Bachelor's degree in Criminology in the Spring of 1986. In 1989, Dixon graduated from the prestigious McGill University Faculty of Law. He remained in the City of Montreal, Quebec, to practice law. One of his first cases was the defense of Salome Zankoul, a beautiful fiery former Lebanese Christian freedom fighter turned unconventional refugee...

"Mr. Dixon, I don't want your sympathy, I want you to defend my interests," Salome all but hissed at him, and Dixon fell silent. He looked at the beautiful, scarred young Arab Christian woman sitting next to him. There was a small scar on her left temple, and she'd told him about getting shot in the back, the shoulder and the left thigh during firefights in Beirut, Nabatieh and other parts of Lebanon.

As Christian clashed with Muslim during the Lebanese Civil War, men and women took up arms to defend their faith, their neighborhood, and their families. When Salome's father, Salomon Jacques Zankoul died, killed by a rocket fired by Muslim militants, the young woman joined her older brothers Lucien Zankoul, Nathaniel Zankoul and her paternal cousins Lucas, Benjamin and Marianne Zankoul in the fight to defend Lebanese Christendom. After the war, however, the Zankoul family found itself on the outs with both Christians and Muslims...

"My dear, defend your interests I shall," Dixon replied, and Salome held his gaze, then she actually smiled. Thus, on the morning of Friday, November 16, 1990, an unseasonably warm day in mid-Fall in downtown Montreal, attorney Dixon represented Salome Zankoul before presiding Judge Marshall Lemieux. Passionately, he argued about the fact that Salome and her people had a duty to defend themselves against those who persecuted them.

"Mr. Dixon, Canada as a nation welcomes a lot of refugees, but we at the immigration bureau hold the definite right to refuse men and women who've participated in armed conflicts, and possibly committed atrocities, your client Miss Salome definitely falls under that category," Judge Lemieux said. Dixon sighed deeply, and Salome, sitting next to him, seethed with rage. Before Dixon could stop her, Salome rose angrily...

"Listen, you arrogant little Frenchman, I know more about war and about life and death than you ever will, I watched my father die, killed by his own countrymen simply because he was a Maronite Christian, I had to fight and avenge him, and I'd do it again if I had to," Salome said vehemently. Dixon gently touched Salome's hand, and she batted it away...

"Miss Salome, silence," Judge Lemieux all but shouted, his ire rising. Salome glared defiantly at the Judge, defiant to the end. Dixon sighed once more, thankful that this was a closed-door hearing, with only the Judge, himself and Salome present. If this was a jury trial, they would have been hurled in a cage for being in contempt of court so damn fast they wouldn't have had time to blink. This is not good, Dixon thought sourly.

"Salome, please," Dixon said, and she turned, looking into his eyes. Salome nodded, and sat down. Judge Lemieux looked at Dixon and Salome as though they had two heads. When he ruled against Salome's claim, Dixon was not surprised, but Salome basically lost it. The two of them were escorted out of the courtroom by armed security. Salome was taken to a holding cell, awaiting deportation back to her native Lebanon.

"Marcus, if they sent me back to Beirut, both the Christians and the Muslims will try to kill me, they hate my family," Salome screamed as the security guards hauled her away. Dixon looked at her, and as they dragged her away, he reached for her hand. Their hands touched, for a fleeting moment, and then she was gone. Silently Dixon vowed to fight for her...

"Salome, I won't let them get you," Dixon said aloud, and thus, his life suddenly became much more complicated. An attorney who gets emotionally involved with his client does a disservice both to himself and the client in question. It's not like the movies where love conquers all. Attorneys who cross certain lines with clients commit serious breaches of legal ethics, to say the least...

With the government of Prime Minister Brian Mulroney running Canada, the nation was definitely not friendly towards immigrants. Scores of Haitians, Pakistanis, Chinese and Lebanese had been turned away at the U.S./Canadian borders. The Progressive Conservative Party was in power, and its view of 1990's Canada did not have room for so many non-whites, that's for damn sure. They didn't want Canada to lose its identity heading into the not so distant twenty first century...

Marcus Dixon, a McGill-educated attorney, is definitely a crafty fellow. To stop Salome's deportation back to Lebanon, he tried appeal after appeal. It wasn't easy. Judge Lemieux had friends in all the major courts, and those friends were more than happy to block Dixon at every turn. At last, the young attorney began to despair, until he found hope in a most unlikely place...

"Marcus, you're an amazing human being, I wish my father and my brothers could have met you, you'd have liked them, alas, they're all dead, killed by militants, and I feel I shall join them soon, but I am thankful for your efforts," Salome said to Marcus. The two of them sat inside the meeting room of the holding area manned by the dregs of the Canadian Border Services Authority. For the moment, they had some privacy...

"Salome, I refuse to give up, you've become very dear to me," Marcus said softly, and he took Salome's hand and brought it to his lips. The two of them exchanged a sad little smile. Although they came from different worlds, Marcus Dixon and Salome Zankoul had grown close over the past few months. Salome had grown to respect and deeply appreciate her attorney, even though he was a couple of years younger than her. The man knew his stuff, and he wasn't bad-looking either...

"You're dear to me too, Marcus," Salome said, and then she grabbed his face, and kissed him. It's often said that the first kiss, in any relationship is the most meaningful one. Marcus Dixon, who graduated top three percent of his class at the prestigious McGill University Faculty of Law, definitely crossed some lines with his client Salome, but he hadn't kissed her yet...until now.

"Mademoiselle, your lips are sweet," Marcus said to Salome when they came up for air, and she grinned and kissed him some more. He kissed her back, and then they hooked up, right there in the meeting room inside the Canadian Border Services Authority holding area. A less romantic setting couldn't be found anywhere, but Salome and Marcus didn't care...

"Marcus, make love to me like you mean it, I might never know a man's touch again," Salome said haltingly, and Marcus looked into her eyes and nodded. Gently he kissed her, then his eager hands explored the wondrous, curvy body hidden under the plain jumpsuit that the Canadian Border Service people made the detainees wear. Salome smiled coyly as Marcus marveled at her body. Don't just gawk, handsome, touch me and feel me, Salome thought.

"You're marvelous," Marcus said, as he caressed Salome's breasts, and she lay there, on the plain steel table, heedless of the cold. She looked up at Marcus, who gazed at her adoringly. Salome grinned as he began to work on her, fastening those full lips to her breasts while his hand slid between her thick thighs. If someone told me a year ago I'd be making love with such a man, Salome thought, marveling at what was happening.

In the year since Salome came to Canada by way of Greece, her life had been a rollercoaster. The Canadian people, seen worldwide as friendly and tolerant, hadn't been as welcoming as she'd hoped. As the last living member of the Zankoul clan, hunted down by both Lebanese Christians and Lebanese Muslims, Salome was desperate to avoid getting sent back to Beirut. The only person standing in the way of that grisly fate was Marcus Dixon, biracial attorney-at-law...

Salome Zankoul had grown fond of Marcus Dixon, but had yet to test those waters, like the saying went. Growing up in Beirut, Lebanon, Salome always saw herself spending the rest of her life with a handsome, educated and successful Lebanese Christian gentleman. Fate had other plans, apparently. Here Salome was, in Canada, in a holding cell, feeling sexually attracted to Marcus Dixon, her handsome and smart but naïve attorney...

"Take me," Salome demanded, and Marcus locked eyes with her, with her nipple still in his lip, and nodded. She felt his fingers thrust into her wet pussy, teasing her clitoris, which he rubbed between his thumb and index finger. Salome licked her lips, sighing happily as Marcus stopped sucking on her tits, and put his lips to better use. When Salome felt Marcus tongue slide into her pussy, she positively purred with happiness. Now we're cooking, Salome thought slickly.

Marcus lathered Salome's pussy with his tongue, loving the way she smelled and tasted. Salome moaned softly, loving what he was doing to her. He jammed two fingers into her pussy and teased her clitoris with his tongue, driving Salome absolutely nuts. The curvy, bronze-skinned, raven-haired beauty squealed in delight as her lover worked her over, stimulating her sweet spot until she was like putty in his hands.

"Put me inside of you," Marcus whispered into Salome's ear, after she finished recovering from the tongue-lashing he'd given her pussy. Salome grinned, sighing happily. She felt giddy all over. Reaching for Marcus manhood, she stroked his long, hard dick. Spreading her thighs invitingly, she guided him into her, and with a swift thrust, Marcus entered Salome.

"Harder, habibi," Salome demanded, and Marcus nodded, raising her thick sexy legs in the air. He thrust into her, and felt her hot, practically pulsating pussy grip his dick. Salome stuck her tongue out at him, and Marcus began drilling his dick into her snatch with deep, powerful strokes. He'd been wanting to take her just like this for months, and at last, they were one. They fucked and sucked like there was no tomorrow. In fact, they were so into each other that they didn't notice the Canadian Border Services Authority agents until they were upon them...

"Oh fuck," Marcus said, as the guards surrounded him, and he was still knee-deep inside Salome, whose wonderful pussy gripped his dick like a vise. The guards, three men and one woman, had their weapons drawn. Salome, amazingly, still wondrously filled by Marcus dick, looked up at the armed guardsmen and the sole guardswoman, and burst out laughing. Salome can laugh with a dick in her pussy and guns pointed at her, I love this woman, Marcus remembered thinking at the time.

The Canadian Border Services Authority and the Canadian Bar Association levied charges against Marcus Dixon, attorney-at-law, for unethical conduct. In a joint statement, the ruling bodies of both legal entities agreed to set aside all charges if Mr. Dixon dropped Salome Zankoul as his client, and agreed to having his legal licence suspended for a year. Under the advice of counsel, Marcus Dixon and Salome Zankoul agreed to those terms.

"We made it," Salome Zankoul-Dixon said to her new husband, Marcus Dixon, as they walked out of Montreal City Hall on the morning of Monday, November 18, 1991. They'd just gotten married before a Justice of the Peace, the honorable Marcel Pagnol. Husband and wife had gotten married in a small, simple ceremony, attended by a few of Marcus law school friends and family members.

"Amen to that, beloved," Marcus said, and thus, he and Salome shared their first kiss as husband and wife. Thus, a most unlikely couple got together, and most importantly, stayed together. Marcus Dixon never returned to practicing law, though he kept his legal licence up to date. Salome had gotten permanent resident status after marrying him, sure, but Marcus knew better than to trust the xenophobic conservative government. They might come after his wife again...or himself.

Marcus Dixon and Salome Zankoul-Dixon moved to a lovely, four-bedroom townhouse on the edge of Montreal-Nord, in a neighborhood peopled predominantly by Haitians, whom Marcus had grown fond of during his time in Quebec. He took a teaching position in the Criminology department at McGill University, while Salome took up Nursing at the University of Montreal, having learned much about tending wounds on the battlefields of Lebanon, ages ago.

On November 4, 1993, Marcus Dixon and Salome Zankoul-Dixon were doubly thrilled when Liberal Party leader Jean Chretien became the new Prime Minister of Canada. At last, the anti-immigrant regime of the Mulroney-led Conservatives ( which continued under Prime Minister Kim Campbell ) came to a crashing end as Canada swung firmly to the left. On that day, at the Lakeshore General Hospital, they became the parents of triplets. For this most unique couple, all is well that ends well, although, to be fair, the realms of marriage and parenthood are filled with formidable adventures in and of themselves...

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