From Cameroon With Love

"Listen up, you pale bozo, I can see right through your bullshit, you're threatened by smart people who don't look like you, well, buddy, you can kiss my fat ass," Fariha Jasmine Dinga said haughtily as she glared at her former boss, criminal division junior partner Luke Stanwood. The short, skinny white guy in the dark business suit swallowed hard, and seemed like he was about to say something, but before he could open his lips, Fariha left in a huff, heading straight for the elevators.

Fariha Jasmine Dinga, a ( soon-to-be-former ) talented attorney-at-law in the criminal division of the law firm of Winters, Dale & Stone, took a few calming breaths as she all but punched the number one button on the elevator. Fortunately, the elevator got off the seventeenth floor before any of her soon-to-be former co-workers could approach it. Closing her eyes hard, Fariha forced herself to be calm. This had to be done, she thought to herself.

Born in the City of Boston, Massachusetts, to a Cameroonian Muslim immigrant father and a white American mother, Fariha Jasmine Dinga was bred for ambition from the get go. Her father Karim Dinga, who used to be a mathematics teacher in the family's ancestral hometown of Bafoussam, northwestern Cameroon, stressed on the young Fariha the importance of a good education and ambition as keys to success anywhere in the world.

"My dear Fariha, in the United States of America, even though there's a lot of racism, a black person who is smart can still reach amazing heights, like Governor Deval Patrick, or President Barack Obama," Karim said to his blushing daughter Fariha as he embraced her at her graduation from Suffolk University Law School. It was a bright sunny day in late June 2010, and the 25-year-old Fariha was positively glowing.

Indeed, Fariha and her father Karim Dinga stood out among the overwhelmingly white crowd of attendees at this special event. Standing six feet tall, athletic but curvy, with caramel-hued skin and a stylized Afro which her graduation cap struggled to cover, Fariha was certainly quite a sight. Passers-by gawked at her, and Fariha smiled, for she was used to people staring at her.

The young woman looked at her father, a short, stocky black man with silvery hair and a continuously animated face, clad in a dark gray suit. This was the man who raised her alone since her mother Mariah Quinn's death many years prior. The old man was practically glowing with pride, and Fariha felt tears of joy stream down her face. This was indeed one of life's special moments, and Fariha thanked her lucky stars that her old man was around to share it with her.

"Amen to that, Papa," Fariha said as she hugged her father, and then the two of them drove back to their house in Brockton, Massachusetts, where Fariha's aunt Fatima and cousins awaited. Fariha smiled sadly as she reminisced about those halcyon days, days when life was good, and everything seemed possible. Of course, this was before Fariha was recruited by the prestigious and at times infamous law firm of Winters, Dale & Stone.

Founded in the summer 1968 by Harvard Law School chums David Winters, Anderson Dale and Tyson Stone, the firm, now housed on Boylston Street, in the heart of Boston, is synonymous with power in the Boston legal scene. When the firm first approached her, Fariha was surprised, considering that she was fresh out of law school and trying not to think about the mountain of debt she owed to the good folks of Suffolk University.

"We at Winters, Dale & Stone definitely need vibrant young minds like yours, my dear," said the recruiter, a tall, attractive and well-dressed black man in his late fifties. Fariha didn't know it at the time but this gentleman was Tyson Jerome Stone, one of the firm's co-founders, and its most active senior partner since of the others retired. The man had been on the cover of Black Enterprise, Newsweek, and The Improper Bostonian. Fariha looked at Mr. Stone, smiled and nodded, overwhelmed.

"Wow, sir, I don't know what to say," Fariha said, and Mr. Stone chuckled. This whole thing felt surreal for Fariha, who wore a tank top and sweatpants as she greeted the tall, well-dressed older black gentleman who showed up at her house door, briefcase in hand, looking all official. Mr. Stone was offering Fariha the opportunity of a lifetime, one she was glad to take.

After Mr. Stone's impromptu visit, Fariha Dinga did her homework on the law firm of Winters, Dale & Stone. The firm had over a thousand employees, and its headquarters at 500 Boylston Street in downtown Boston, Massachusetts, were indeed massive. They apparently had a branch in the City of Atlanta, Georgia, and another one in the City of Dallas, Texas. Talk about widespread...

"Welcome to the big leagues," said Mr. Stone as he showed Fariha Dinga her new office, on the seventeenth floor. Fariha, dressed in a stylish dark gray pantsuit, tried not to gawk at the fact that her new office was bigger than her bedroom. The young Cameroonian-American lawyer's first visit to the firm definitely overwhelmed her. There were lawyers everywhere, along with paralegals and assistants, whom Fariha learned were definitely not the same animal. Fascinating...

"Thank you sir," Fariha said, smiling from ear to ear as she admired her new digs. Oh yes, this office would definitely do. Looking out the window, Fariha could see Trinity Church, which she once visited while attending Brockton High School. The Back Bay area sprawled over much of what she could see, and the rest of the city made a nice backdrop. Fariha could barely stop herself from squealing in front of Mr. Stone. This was the happiest day of her life!

Fast forward six years, and Fariha J. Dinga was in pure hell. Even with plenty of smarts, legal talent and a can-do attitude, Fariha found herself overwhelmed. The Boston legal scene was pretty cutthroat. Law firm politics didn't help. As the firm hired a sprinkling of African-American, Latino and Asian rookie lawyers every year, Fariha watched young men and women of color be put through the grinder by the firm's ruthless owners.

The law firm was essentially a shark tank, only bloodier and more cutthroat. Also, the lawyers at Winters, Dale & Stone, seventy seven percent of whom were middle-aged white males, had a real problem with a six-foot-tall, attractive and well-dressed young black woman who excelled in and out of the courtroom. Fariha's steadfast refusal to get involved with co-workers also marked her as an exception among the firm's crop of educated, beautiful and fast-rising young female lawyers.

Fariha also noticed that some of the other minority employees had something against her and the other black lawyers at the firm. Among the rookies from various minority backgrounds who made the cut, Fariha certainly stood out. The day Fariha got promoted to supervisory associate in the criminal division of the law firm, quite a few people rolled their eyes. They resented her talent and beauty, and feared her blackness. After six years, Fariha had enough...

With her head held high, Fariha Jasmine Dinga stood on the main floor of 500 Boylston Street, near the security guard's desk. Ready or not here I come, Fariha told herself. Taking a deep breath, the young woman strode through the doors, and headed outside. It was a bright and sunny day, and Fariha decided to go to the nearby Copley Mall, to grab a bite and collect her thoughts. After all, she had some decisions to make...

"Lady, look out!" came a panicked voice, and Fariha froze as a car came barreling down the road. Like a deer in headlights, Fariha found herself unable to move. A pair of strong arms grabbed her by the middle, and hefted her out of the way just as the car sped by. Fariha screamed, and then, she reasserted herself, and forcibly untangled herself from the arms that held her.

"Lady, are you alright?" said the owner of the brawny arms that recently manhandled Fariha, albeit to save her life. Fariha turned around and what she saw took her breath away. For a vision of masculine beauty stood before her. A tall, handsome man with mahogany skin and a smooth shaved head, clad in a drab brown uniform, looked at her with concern in her eyes.

"Um, yeah, I'm alright, I think," Fariha said, and the tall, dark-skinned brother looked her up and down. Fariha cocked an eyebrow, and pursed her full lips. The brother took a step back, smiled sheepishly and held his hands up. Fariha, who read body language for a living as an attorney, took that as a sign that the dude was on the defensive. Like the trained legal tactician she was, Fariha went on the offense...

"Thanks for the help, sir, please stop gawking, thank you, good day to you," Fariha said, and the brother stood there, his jaw hanging open. Shrugging, Fariha looked at him once more, and then carefully crossed the street. Walking at a brisk pace, Fariha stepped in front of the Boston Public Library, walked past the MBTA Train entrance, and made her way to the entrance of the Copley Mall.

"Lady, hold up," came a voice, and Fariha frowned as she stepped through the revolving doors. Turning around, Fariha saw the same guy from before, clad in a UPS brown uniform, and he stepped forward, a big grin on his face, and in his hand, he held a rather familiar-looking object. Fariha blinked in surprise as she realized that the stranger held her workplace I.D. Apparently, she'd dropped it on the street without realizing it...

"Oh shit, thanks," Fariha said, and the UPS man held out the card, which she took. Without another word, the brother turned to leave, and Fariha stood there, clutching the small plastic card which displayed her picture and employee number. The helpful stranger strode through the revolving doors, and Fariha felt a pang of regret. Damn it, she couldn't let him go, not like this, not after all he'd done for her...

"Sir, please wait," Fariha shouted, and she darted after the UPS man, who'd already reached the sidewalk by now. Moving as fast as her high heels would allow, Fariha strode after him, and caught him by the sleeve of his shirt. The man whirled around, and there was an intensity in his dark eyes which gave Fariha pause.

"Well, lady, you made it clear you want me to keep away, so what do you want with me?" said the stranger, in a terse tone, and he folded his arms across his chest. Fariha looked at him and smiled. Standing six feet tall while barefoot, Fariha towered over most men. With her heels, she was even taller than the average man. Standing in front of this brother, however, Fariha felt positively tiny. This dude had to be at least six-foot-five...

"Sir, I want to thank you for saving my ass, and finding my work ID, and I want to apologize for being less than courteous with you," Fariha said, and she smiled while extending her hand, which the brother shook after a brief hesitation. The man who stood before her was strikingly handsome, and reminded Fariha of Hollywood actor and martial artist Wesley Snipes, only he was built like NBA legend Lebron James...

"Apology accepted, ma'am, sorry if I was a bit brusque earlier, I go by Yahya since I became a Muslim, but my official government name is Jean-Francois Guillaume, I'm from Haiti," he said, and Fariha smiled, and introduced herself to this intriguing and decidedly handsome brother. This one looked real good, and Fariha liked the confident way he carried himself.

Yahya looked at Fariha Jasmine Dinga, the tall, attractive but somewhat stuck-up young black woman whose life he recently saved. He'd seen her type before, lovely and educated, 'corporate' sisters who looked down on guys like him, brothers who worked with their hands. Still, he felt something when she looked at him, and there was a power in her smile...

"Well, Yahya, or Yahya, I'm off to lunch, please join me, after the day I've had and all you've done for me, it's the least I could do," Fariha said softly, and Yahya smiled and nodded. Part of him wondered why he was doing this. Sure, Fariha was quite attractive and well-dressed, definitely one of those corporate sisters, but there was something different about her.

"My pleasure, ma'am," Yahya replied, and Fariha smiled. Together, they rode the escalator and went to the crowded Copley Mall food court. That's how it all began. Two of the most fateful moments of Fariha Dinga's existence. The day she walked away from the life of a high-powered attorney at a prestigious law firm, and subsequently met the man of her dreams...

"Open your eyes my sweet," Yahya said as he brushed his lips against Fariha Dinga's ears. Sighing, Fariha opened her eyes, and gasped. For what she beheld was something spectacular. The run-down Belmont Street shop in Brockton, which once housed a Western Union money mart office was once deemed unfit by the city, but thanks to Yahya's work, the place was refurbished, redesigned, and sparkling clean...

"Oh wow," Fariha said, marveling at the sparkling woodwork, the shiny clean windows, the sturdy leather chairs, the oak desk, the mini-library, and the waiting rooms with newspapers and magazines on the table. The shop was transformed, looking every bit like a new office, and it was all because of Yahya's handiwork. Hot damn, for once, Fariha didn't know what to say...

"Mademoiselle Fariha Jasmine Dinga, welcome to your new office," Yahya said, and Fariha squealed, and then threw her arms around the towering, gentle soul who'd changed her life by being in it. A year ago they met, under most unlikely circumstances, the two of them met and fell in love. Two people from radically different worlds met, and formed a bond.

"What am I going to do with you, Yahya?" Fariha said, and she looked at the tall, handsome Haitian stud whom she held in her arms. A year ago they met, and her life hadn't been the same since. Yahya, the rugged, taciturn, hard-working brother from the Caribbean swept Fariha off her feet. After dating a bunch of stale, boring white guys from corporate America, Fariha finally found herself a good black man...

"Hmm, oh my, I could think of a few things," Yahya said, laughing, and he gave Fariha's big ass a firm squeeze. Giggling, Fariha kissed him, and just like that, the two of them began making love. Off came Fariha's white blouse, and Yahya smiled and caressed her breasts, before pressing his lips against her nipples. Fariha moaned softly, and Yahya slid his hand under her skirt, and began fingering her...

"Oh yeah, just like that," Fariha whispered, licking her lips as Yahya's agile fingers worked their way up her pussy. Yahya laid her on the oak table, and then went to work on her. The brother licked a path from Fariha's breasts to her belly, and finally, the space between her thighs. Spreading Fariha's thick, sexy legs, Yahya inhaled the scent of her womanhood, then began licking her pussy.

"J.F. my dude, stop sniffing and eat this pussy," Fariha said in a demanding tone, and Yahya was happy to oblige. Burying his face between Fariha's legs, Yahya began eating her pussy with gusto. Fariha moaned gently, loving what Yahya was doing to her. The brother had a wicked tongue on him. Flicking his tongue over Fariha's clitoris, Yahya fingered her pussy, thrusting his digits deep inside her. Fariha squealed in delight, and begged him for more.

"That was fun, but now let a brother get at that ass," Yahya said, a little later, and a smiling Fariha nodded, then assumed the position. Face down and ass up, right on the brand new oak desk that her man designed for her future law office. Yahya grinned as he admired Fariha's thick, golden brown booty. Hot damn, the mixed Amazon had one hell of a booty on her...

"Eat away, Big Daddy," Fariha called out, and to really shine Yahya on, she shook her voluminous ass cheeks from side to side, driving the Haitian brother absolutely nuts. Reaching for Fariha's butt with both hands, Yahya spread her ass cheeks and inhaled the scent of her ass, then pressed his lips against her asshole. Yahya was an ass man through and true, and he couldn't get enough of Fariha's fine behind...

"Don't mind if I do," Yahya paused to say, and he slapped Fariha's ass cheeks even as he began eating her butt hole with gusto, like it's the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted. Fariha moaned deeply, her mouth slack, and she reached between her legs and fingered her pussy as Yahya ate her ass. Fariha cried out as Yahya pleasured her in a naughty, dirty way, and she loved every moment of it...

Later, Fariha and Yahya got it on. Bent over the desk, Fariha giggled as Yahya spanked her, and then he rubbed his dick against her pussy lips from behind, without going in all the way. Hornier than she'd ever been, her pussy already dripping, Fariha turned around and shot Yahya a look, and saw the smirk on his dark, handsome face.

"Yahya, quit playing around and fuck me," Fariha demanded, and a laughing Yahya was more than happy to oblige her. With a swift thrust he penetrated her, and a happy sigh escaped Fariha's lips. Gripping her hips tightly, Yahya began fucking Fariha with slow, deep strokes. Fariha squealed as he fucked her, and when he started to slack off, she knew just what to do...

"Bring me to life," Yahya whispered, and a smiling Fariha knelt before him, stroking his long and thick, dark dick. Winking, Fariha took Yahya into her mouth, and the Haitian Muslim brother sighed happily as she began pleasuring him. Fariha massaged Yahya's balls while sucking him off, and soon had him harder than a rock...

"I'm ready for you now," Fariha said, rubbing her pussy with one hand as she finished polishing Yahya's fuck stick. The horny Amazon sat up on the oak desk and looked at her man...hungrily. Smiling, Yahya began his approach into her. With a swift thrust, he entered her. Fariha wrapped her arms around Yahya as he began fucking her roughly, just the way she liked it. So much that Fariha started to grind against Yahya, and he gave as good as he got, slamming his dick into her.

"Damn that was good," Yahya said, exhaling sharply as he lay on the newly carpeted floor of his lady Fariha Jasmine Dinga's future law office. Looking out the window, he realized that it had gotten dark. Damn it, he and Fariha had been going at it so long that they hadn't realized how much time had passed. Looking at Fariha, who rested her lovely head on his chest, Yahya smiled.

"No need to tell me, stud, I was there," Fariha said, laughing, and she kissed Yahya on the lips, then got up and went to grab her discarded clothes, which she began putting on. Yahya looked at Fariha as she walked away, her big ass sashaying from side to side, and he smiled and thanked his lucky stars. Rising, he grabbed his clothes and began putting them on.

"Fariha, I don't say this enough but I love you and I'm lucky you're in my life," Yahya said, and Fariha grinned and kissed him. Hand in hand, they left the office, locked the doors behind them and walked toward Yahya's bright red pickup truck. Fariha's 2017 Rav4 was parked in the parking lot of the townhouse they rented on Ash Street, in Brockton's quietly affluent west side.

"Bae, I'm the lucky one," Fariha said, smiling, and she playfully slapped Yahya's ass, which looked oh-so good in his blue jeans. The Haitian Muslim stud looked at his lady love and smiled, and then they pulled out of Belmont Street and headed toward the west end. It was getting dark alright, and high time they got themselves home. Today had been a lot of fun.

Fariha and Yahya started the day by having breakfast at the Dunkin Donuts near the Brockton Area Transit Center, then they went jogging. Later, they had lunch at Tamboo Restaurant on Main Street with Fariha's father Karim. As the afternoon rolled on, Yahya grew quiet, and when Fariha pressed him about it, he told her he had a surprise for her. And what a surprise it was. The dude went and fixed practically a whole building deeded to Fariha by a grateful former client with debt issues, just so she could have an office...