So, um, I was at the University of Alberta library in downtown Edmonton, quietly doing research for my Law term paper due in three days when I actually saw something...amazing. I was taking a much needed study break after hours of writing, and since all the coffee I'd been drinking shot straight through me, a brother had to pee quite badly. When nature calls, all must obey.
I was coming out of the washroom when I saw...her. A big-booty Somali woman of apparent middle years, clad in a traditional Islamic long skirt and the Hijab...all the while bending over to pick up something. Guess what happened next? Instantly I got a boner, and although I tried my best to conceal it, the sweatpants I had do did nothing to help. Dammit.
"As Salam Alaikum brother," the Somali lady, who was pushing a cleaner's cart, said to me with a warm smile. I blinked nervously, and paused before nodding and answering. I am kind of a shy guy, which often surprises people since I'm a six-foot-two, dark-skinned brother with a hefty build.
"Good morning sister, how are you?" I said at last, answering the Somali lady's greeting. The lady paused, put one hand on her cart, and another on her hips. I took a good look at her. At least five feet ten inches tall, curvy and in her own way, quite lovely. If I had the guts, I'd call her a MILF.
"You must be new around here, brother, I'm Hodan Ismail," the lady said, extending her hand for me to shake. I hesitated briefly, then smiled and took her lovely hand in mine. I shook Hodan's hand gently, looking into her lovely, soulful dark brown eyes.
"I'm new to the school, yes, my name is Adam Clovis," I said evenly, and Hodan and I made small talk. A lot of the students at the University of Alberta in Edmonton are uptight, and narrow-minded. As in they wouldn't be caught dead talking to a cleaner. I am not one of them. I am the son of Haitian refugees who moved to Canada from the island of Haiti a little over a decade ago.
There are a lot of Somali students in the University of Alberta, and not a lot of Haitians, though our numbers are growing. I've only been here a year and haven't made that many friends. I miss the City of Montreal, Quebec, where my family stays. Sometimes I curse myself for accepting a scholarship to a promising university that's so damn far from home.
"Good luck in your studies, brother Adam, Masha' Allah," Hodan said, waving me goodbye. I nodded respectfully, and went back to my seat. People stared at me as I walked by in the library. Even though Alberta is becoming more racially diverse due to an influx of Somali, South Asian and Arab immigrants, it's still very much redneck country.
"Dude, you were gone a while, I was about to leave," said Max Chang, this short Asian dude I met in my legal ethics class. I sat next to him, thanked him for looking after my stuff, and then put on my headphones. I resumed writing the Law paper, while listening to Linkin Park's song What I've Done, which served as the background for an epic Dragonball Z video I really like.
"Sorry Max, I was busy," I said absentmindedly, looking at my little buddy as I felt him staring at me pointedly. Max is a cool guy usually, but no one will ever accuse him of being the most patient man in the universe. Max smiled, shook his head, rolled his eyes and resumed playing Solitaire on his PC.
I was on page nine of my twenty-page paper when I heard a noise and looked up from my PC. I smiled when I saw Miss Hodan, the Somali cleaning lady, walk by with her cart. I smiled and waved at her, and much to my relief, she returned the gesture. Max looked at her as she walked away, then smiled knowingly at me.
"Got MILF, bro?" Max whispered, in his best Steve Stifler impression. Max is an international student from Zhuzhou, southern China, and much to my everlasting amusement and occasional annoyance, he watched all the American Pie movies plus old-school like Animal House to prepare himself for a "North American university experience." I don't have the heart to tell him that the reality is far different at Canadian schools. I'm going to let Max figure this one out for himself.
"Dude, I don't know what you're talking about," I said with a smile, and discreetly checked out Hodan as she made her way to the elevators. Dammit, that woman has a booty. I've got a thing for Somali ladies, man. I grew up in an area full of Somalis and Arabs in Montreal, and they've always held a special attraction in my eyes. Maybe it's because they're Muslim, and for a Catholic guy like me, the ultimate forbidden fruit.
A couple of hours later, I went to the university center and grabbed a bite in the school cafeteria. Guess who I saw grabbing a bite at Tim Horton's? I walked up to Hodan, who was just done with her work, and smiled at her. "Adam again, small world, my brother," Hodan said, grinning.
"Indeed, ma'am, please let me get you a drink or something," I said hesitantly, and Hodan looked me up and down, and finally smiled and nodded. Okay, the pretty Somali lady is willing to grab a bite with me. Cool. Let's see where I can take this from there, I thought.
A few minutes later, I sat at a table with Hodan, and we talked a bit. "New to Alberta I take it," Hodan said, smiling at me while sipping her coffee. I nodded, wondering if I had Montreal, Quebec, written on my forehead somewhere or something. People always guess that I'm from out of province, even though I lost any traces of a Haitian accent after spending over a decade in Montreal.
"Montreal raised and damn proud of it sister," I said wistfully, pointing to my P.K. Subban sweatshirt. I love the Montreal Canadiens fiery defenceman, he's proof that brothers can excel at anything, including ice hockey, which many consider to be the dominion of white males.
If more brothers start playing, we'll eventually dominate this sport. I'm sure of it. Black men are physically strong and athletic, the whole frigging world knows that. That's why they're trying to discourage black guys from playing certain sports. Face it, we tend to dominate every physical activity we partake in. Nobody can deny that.
Hodan Ismail looked at me, an odd look in her lovely eyes. "Tell me more about yourself, Adam Fleur," she whispered, her fingers brushing against my hand as she did so. A frisson coursed through me, and I did my best to answer the lady's missive.
"Not much to tell, ma'am, I'm from Montreal, my background is Haitian and I'm slowly adjusting to life in Alberta," I said with a shrug. Hodan shrugged, and drained her coffee with one gulp. I looked at this lovely lady, taking in every bit of her loveliness. Like I said, Somali women, with their Afro-Arabian features and unique skin tones, are beyond lovely in my eyes.
"A cute guy like you all alone in Alberta," Hodan said, smiling while shaking her head. The hijab framed her lovely face beautifully. I nodded and shrugged. Seriously, I'm not exactly a hit with the ladies on the University of Alberta campus because I'm shy and nerdy, instead of loud and outgoing, like most other black guys around. I'm twenty and have only been with two girls. Why is it that everyone can see that in me?
"The right lady will come along," I said wistfully, looking out the window for a second. I saw a tall black man walking around the Tim Horton's parking lot with a short, plump white chick. The two of them held hands and seemed very much into each other. Lucky brother, I thought enviously.
"You can do better than her," Hodan said, her voice snapping me out of my reverie. Dammit, this Somali broad can read minds? I thought. Hodan had evidently followed my gaze and seen the interracial couple outside, and guessed what I was thinking.
"One day," I said, sipping the last of my coffee. Hodan looked at me, smiling, a dangerous light in her dark eyes. I looked into those eyes of hers, the eyes of a beautiful, exotic Northeast African woman, and a Muslim gal at that, and almost drowned in them.
"What if I told you that day is today?" Hodan said, licking her full lips suggestively while her hand suddenly gripped mine on the table. I was surprised both by her words and her gestures, for in my experience with Somali females, especially the ones who wear the Hijab, they're a touch-me-not bunch. Hodan Ismail was a surprise in every way.
"Do tell," I said, gently stroking my chin thoughtfully while smiling confidently, like I'd seen Will Smith do while talking to ladies in, well, all of his movies. Hodan smiled, and I gasped in surprise when I felt her hand on my thigh, underneath the table.
"Come with me," Hodan said, and I saw in her eyes the promise of untold wonder, and danger. Shall I follow this lady? I was filled with both dread and excitement. Excitement won out over dread, and moments later, Hodan and I left the Tim Horton's together.
Hodan and I walked to a nearby building that appeared to be partially under construction. Not a surprise, since the University of Alberta is always expanding. With the influx of immigrants in the province, the major universities in Edmonton and Calgary have had to grow since supply has to meet demand for a business to stay afloat.
"Where are you taking me, pretty lady?" I asked Hodan, and the tall, lovely Somali MILF flashed me a wicked grin. Moments later, we found ourselves in what looked like a rec room. There was a large table there, and chairs, and cleaning equipment. The room was very warm, much warmer than any other building I'd ever been to on campus.
