Ayaan and Joel in Montreal

Birds of a feather flock together, as they say. I respectfully disagree. Opposites attract, and it often works wonders. Please allow me to elaborate on that, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Joel Saint-Vincent, and I was born in the City of Montreal, Quebec, to a Haitian immigrant father and a French Canadian mother. My folks, Lucas Saint-Vincent and Marlene Tremblay split when I was in the tenth grade, and I guess you could say that I come from a broken home. I'd like to think that my difficult upbringing in Montreal's north side toughened me up and prepared me for what was to come.

At the age of twenty two, I'm a criminal justice student at Concordia University, and reside in Montreal-Nord, near Luke's Barbershop, which is run by my father and his old buddy Raphael Guillaume. They've known each other since they were young men on the island of Haiti. I'm real close to my Dad. You see, after the divorce, my mother moved in with her older brother, my uncle Jean, a racist white dude who never agreed with my parents interracial marriage and was glad of their split.

Face it, white guys hate seeing black men with white women and as the result of such a union, I was a constant reminder of my Uncle Jean's complete and utter failure to prevent his sister Marlene, my mother, from crossing the racial line. The first time we met, the older white dude looked at me, a mixed-race youth, the way one looks at excrement. My very existence seemed to offend him. Uncle Jean was a real douche bag who treated me like dirt until I left home during the senior year of high school. I haven't been back since. As far as I'm concerned, my mother's side of the family can go to hell.

At Concordia University, I began building a new life for myself. While attending my new school, I met a lot of people from all over the place. One of them was Ayaan Jawari, a lovely young woman from Somalia. Born in the City of Mogadishu, Somalia, and raised in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, Ayaan Jawari came to Concordia University to study business administration. The sight of this tall, voluptuous Somali sister set my heart ablaze with desire. I decided right then and there that I had to have her.

Now, if you're a guy from another faith and culture, going after a Muslim woman for sexual and romantic reasons is ill-advised. Ayaan Jawari looked simply majestic in her bright green Hijab, dark robes and simple yet proud demeanor. The Somali gal strode through the Concordia University campus with her retinue of Hijab-wearing Somali ladies and Arab girlfriends like a queen with her handmaidens. Something about her set her apart from the other ladies of her faith and culture, and I was determined to find out exactly what. Once a man gets a woman inside his head, there's not much he can't do except pursue her. That's the way mother nature made us men.

Now, I've been with quite a few ladies in my time. Not bragging, just being open and honest here. As a six-foot-one, lean and athletic, brown-skinned young man with curly black hair and lime-green eyes, I tend to get looked at a lot by the opposite sex, and the same sex as well. I'm a beautiful man of African and Caucasian descent, and guys like me tend to be exotically beautiful. I have fucked quite a few white girls and Chinese girls. Black girls aren't usually my thing because they have way too much attitude for a slick but at times impatient guy like myself.

What's so different about Ayaan? I honestly don't know, but like I said before, I was determined to find out. That's why, I sort of, well, followed the lovely Miss Jawari around the Concordia University campus. I learned her schedule by heart, and discovered that Ayaan likes to hang around the campus library. I approached her one Friday evening, and casually asked her about her faith. Islam, that's every Muslim's favorite subject. I thought that Ayaan would see through my ruse but the tall, pretty lady smiled at me and asked me to sit down with her.

Ayaan Jawari and I talked for hours, and we discussed a lot of things. What started out as a thinly veiled attempt at accosting her turned into a very lively conversation. Ayaan told me about her faith, Islam, and about her devotion to Allah, the Arabic name for the one true God. The same God worshipped by Jews and Christians, according to her. I considered that. I was raised Catholic but have lapsed as of late. I still believe in God, I just can't stomach the people I see in the church. We're all sinners, people should stop judging each other and just live, since only God can judge all of us.

I shared this with Ayaan, and to my immense surprise, the young Somali woman smiled and nodded understandingly. Gently Ayaan laid her hand on mine. People can deceive you but God will never give up on you my brother, Ayaan said, her golden brown eyes boring into mine. I found it hard to hold her intense gaze, so I smiled nervously and nodded. At the end of our conversation, Ayaan surprised me by giving me her number....and a copy of the Koran. Whenever you have questions, the lady said in a serene voice. I smiled faintly, nodded and then picked up both the thick green-covered holy book and the paper on which Ayaan Jawari scribbled her number.

I wished Ayaan a good night, and then walked out of the library, feeling weird. That night, as I lay on my bed, I wondered what the fuck just happened there. I set out to seduce this ingénue of a woman, this pious Muslim chick, and this broad blindsided me with her eloquence, her wisdom, and last but not least, her beauty. I should have kept away from this wonder of a woman, but I've never been that smart. I had to come back for more. And that's how Ayaan Jawari got me hooked.

The thing most people don't realize about those beautiful and serene, Hijab-wearing and modestly robed Muslim women we see walking around is that they're women with romantic and sexual needs like all women. Oh, and they're also fairly manipulative. When I looked at Ayaan, all I saw was beauty, and a kind of innocence. I didn't realize that before long, this tall, voluptuous and regal Somali beauty would have me wrapped around her little finger. Seriously, I consider myself a player and I never even saw that shit coming. What the fuck?

Ayaan and I began hanging out together, on campus at first, and then gradually we began to see each other off-campus as well. One day, I invited her to Chateau Nadege, an authentic Haitian restaurant located in south side Montreal, and we had a blast. I delighted in introducing Ayaan to Haitian cuisine. Tasty and spicy, the gorgeous Somali gal said, as she ate two plates of white rice with brown bean sauce, goat meat and washed it down with lemonade. Damn, this Somali chick can eat! I like that in a woman.

After the restaurant, I took Ayaan for a walk, and we talked about our lives. Ayaan told me that she was falling in love with Montreal's racial diversity and vibrant culture. Ayaan decried her old life in Ottawa, which she described as a boring town full of bigoted bozos and small-minded xenophobic buffoons. I laughed when Ayaan spoke ill of Ottawa, a town which I detest, like most Montreal folks do. As far as I'm concerned, Montreal is the most beautiful city in North America. To hell with Ottawa, the rest of Canada and all the towns and cities in the States. I'm a proud Quebecer and don't apologize for despising all things Anglophone. C'est la vie, people!

Ayaan laughed when I expressed my Quebecer pride, and told me to tone it down a bit. I looked into her amused face, and was blown away by her beauty. Somali women are a lovely lot, but even among them, Ayaan is in a class by herself. Tall, brown-skinned, voluptuous, large-breasted, wide-hipped and big-bottomed. Must be a whole lot of womanly goodness hiding underneath her conservative Islamic clothes. Ayaan's smile is as enchanting as the rest of her.

Looking into Ayaan's amused eyes, I bit back a horny grin. Still, I cockily asked her what she meant by 'tone it down'. Ayaan shrugged, and then, without warning, the gorgeous Somali Hijabi threw her arms around yours truly and kissed me. I didn't see that one coming, folks. I am always the one who makes the first move with women. Never had a female make the first move on me. Sweet lips you got there, I told Ayaan, once we came up for air. The gorgeous Hijabi grinned sexily, and did something else I wasn't expecting.

I jerked in surprise when Ayaan grabbed my ass cheeks, and squeezed them. Been wanting to do that for ages, Ayaan whispered into my ear. I looked at her, and smiled nervously. The smoldering fire I saw in Ayaan's eyes told me what I had already suspected. Underneath her piety and conservativeness, this tall, lovely Somali Muslim gal was passionate. Like me. I smiled, and took her hand in mine. Gently I brought Ayaan's hand to my lips. Good to know, I whispered into her ear. And then I pulled her close and kissed her.

Hand in hand, Ayaan and I walked through the streets of Montreal. People looked at us, doubtless they weren't used to seeing couples like us. A tall, mixed-race dude of Haitian and French Canadian descent and a tall, voluptuous and gorgeous yet conservatively attired Somali Hijabi. Even for a place as cosmopolitan as Montreal, Ayaan Jawari and I were something else. As we embarked on the relationship of a lifetime, I knew that wonderful and exciting times awaited us both.