"Winter came early this year," Yusuf Osman thought to himself. The big and tall, dark-skinned young Somali-Canadian Muslim man looked outside the window and shivered. A fast-driving snow blanketed much of Ottawa, Ontario. That's March up north. Even after living in the Capital for almost two decades, Yusuf disliked the snow. There are certain things that a man never gets used to. Yusuf thought of his homeland, the Puntland region of Somalia. Sometimes, in his dreams, Yusuf roamed about in Puntland. There's truly no place like home.
Life in Canada is okay, for the most part. Yusuf came here with his parents, Yasmin and Ahmad Osman, almost two decades ago. In the years since, Yusuf's folks relocated to the City of Edmonton, Alberta, while he remained in Ottawa, Ontario. Yusuf got a job working for the prestigious Nav Canada Corporation and it paid pretty well. In Ottawa, the good jobs are scarce, especially for recent graduates of the city's many colleges and universities. Plenty of people who studied at Algonquin College, Carleton University, College La Cite, the University of Ottawa and Saint Paul University work at Starbucks, Tim Horton's and Walmart. Yusuf is lucky to have a good job. Of course, he has other problems to worry about.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Refika Aoun asked with a sly smile. The short and curvy, bronze-skinned and dark-haired young Lebanese Canadian woman brushed her hand against Yusuf's, startling him. Yusuf sniffed and then smiled at Refika. Refika's inquisitive brown eyes stared him down. Refika is definitely the law enforcement type. Even today, on her day off from the MInistry of Corrections, Refika was quietly intense. Depending on the days, Yusuf either loved that about Refika or intensely disliked it. No middle ground.
"Sure," Yusuf said, and Refika pursed her lips expectantly. Yusuf quickly got himself together. For a moment, he'd almost forgotten where he was. He and Refika were grabbing lunch. They were inside a Shawarma restaurant in downtown Ottawa, a short distance from Parliament Hill itself. Right in the heart of Ottawa's political and business center. Government offices, coffee shops, hotels, fancy stores, business offices, the area has it all. Refika licked her lips and looked intently at Yusuf. He gave her a reserved smile. What's going on in that mind of hers?
"I am down with what we discussed," Yusuf replied, and Refika nodded. Every woman is pleased when her man tells her what she wants to hear. Refika leaned back in her chair and sipped her coffee while musing over the possibilities. A year ago, shortly before their graduation from Carleton University, Yusuf revealed his bisexuality to Refika. At first, Refika was shocked and disappointed in Yusuf for keeping such a monumental secret from her, but eventually, she came around. Now, fast forward a year later, Refika was pressuring Yusuf to explore his bisexual side and he was being reticent about it. Imagine that.
"Yeah, Yusuf, I know you love my pussy but you need some dick," Refika said with a naughty grin. Yusuf almost spilled his Pepsi. He looked around, wondering if someone heard Refika. The Shawarma restaurant is owned by Mr. Ali, a nice older Arab gentleman and his Zainab. In such an environment, and as practicing Muslims, Yusuf and Refika are expected to mind their manners. The wild, wanton and disrespectful conduct of western men and western women aren't tolerated in their Faith. Refika slid her hand under the table and grabbed Yusuf's crotch. He gave her a tight smile.
"You are such a tease," Yusuf said with a tight smile. Refika smiled, shrugged and adjusted her Hijab, tucking in a stray curl, then got up. Yusuf could not help admiring Refika's thick round ass as she headed to the bathroom. Yeah, Lebanese women got booty. It was that booty that first drew Yusuf to Refika, one fine day in the Carleton University library. He was there, doing research for his Criminology class project when he spotted her. Yusuf, typically shy, got enough nerve to approach Refika, and the rest, as they say, was history.
