A Feisty Saudi Woman In Nepean

"Zeinab Al-Sharif, you do not at the present time meet the Immigration & Refugee Board's Criteria and Conditions for refugee protection, therefore, your request for political asylum has been denied," read the letter from Citizenship & Immigration Canada, and Zeinab Al-Sharif shook her head, and sighed deeply. This was the end of all hope for her. Having denied her refugee claim, the Canadian government was sure to send her back to Saudi Arabia, where her cruel ex-husband and family awaited, with vengeance on their minds.

The young Saudi Arabian Muslim woman's heart thundered in her chest, and she exhaled sharply, willing herself to be calm. So this is how it ends, Zeinab thought, and she crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it into the trash can. After living in the Capital region of Canada for years and years, Zeinab was starting to think of it as home. After all, she had a job she loved, and friends. And recently, she'd begun taking classes at Algonquin College. To the Canadian government, her hopes and dreams apparently meant absolutely nothing...

Lying on her bed, in the one-bedroom spot she rented on Canter Boulevard in the suburb of Nepean, Ontario, Zeinab closed her eyes. Since she moved to the Canadian Capital from her hometown of Al-Jubayl, Saudi Arabia, life had been a rollercoaster ride at best. Zeinab first set foot in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, in the summer of 2013, with her then-husband Hamid Alharbi. They were on their honeymoon, and everything was wonderful. And then Zeinab discovered a side to Hamid that she never knew existed...

"You're going home with me and that's final, you're nothing without me," Hamid chastised Zeinab, after she hinted to him that she liked the idea of settling down in the City of Ottawa. After all, Hamid had done a lot of business in the Toronto area and thought about expanding to the City of Ottawa. Zeinab had fallen in love with the Canadian capital during their trip, and found herself dreaming of a life there, but her husband did not share that sentiment.

"As you wish," Zeinab replied, using a deferential tone with her husband Hamid Alharbi, as was customary in their homeland. On the day she was supposed to join her wealthy businessman hubby at the Ottawa International Airport, Zeinab fled their rented townhouse with only the clothes on her back. Hamid had her passport and without it, Zeinab knew her options were severely limited. Nevertheless, Zeinab refused to look back. Thus began her journey in this strange, wonderful and at times rough country called Canada.

"I'd rather live on a tiny cot than to share a palace with a man who treats me like shit," Zeinab said to Nancy Vernet, the young French Canadian social worker at the social services office on Constellation Road, not far from the Algonquin College campus. Nancy looked at Zeinab with sincere empathy in her eyes, and then nodded gently. For some reason, this blonde-haired, twenty-something white woman seemed to relate to Zeinab's pain, much to her surprise.

"I used to date a bastard named Bill who liked to treat me like this, I know how you feel, Zeinab, I'll do whatever I can to help you," Nancy Vernet said firmly, and Zeinab looked at her and nodded gratefully. That same afternoon, Zeinab went to the nearby RBC Bank and set up a checking account. With Nancy's help, she was able to get an Ontario Photo ID Card, a necessity since she didn't have any other forms of identification.

"I will survive," Zeinab said to herself, as she thought of the incredible twists and turns her life had taken. Hamid Alharbi returned to Al Jubayl, Saudi Arabia, with Zeinab's passport and informed her via Facebook that he'd destroyed it. Oh, and he also divorced her in absentia. Zeinab was now stranded in the City of Ottawa, without any friends or family, or any means of support. Nevertheless, the young Saudi Arabian Muslim woman was determined to build a life for herself in the Canadian Capital.

Nancy Vernet proved to be a tremendous help for Zeinab. She helped her get a work permit, and with it, a social insurance card. With those documents, Zeinab walked into the Tim Horton's located in her neighborhood and applied for a job. The restaurant manager, a tall, forty-something black man named Mustapha Klassou, hired her on the spot. Thus, Zeinab got herself a job and a place to stay. It was her first victory in a long, rough time...

"What's wrong, Zeinab?" Mustapha asked her, when Zeinab walked in that afternoon, a forlorn look on her lovely face. Mustapha looked at Zeinab, and was surprised to see tears brimming in her eyes. Standing only five-foot-seven, a bit chubby, with dark bronze skin and curly dark hair which she always tucked away under her Hijab, Zeinab was nevertheless one of the strongest women that Mustapha knew. He recalled that time when a racist white customer had been giving him a hard time, and Zeinab stepped in and told him off...

"Listen, buddy, if you don't stop harassing my co-workers, I will call the police and say that you were about to commit a hate crime, and I'll make sure it sticks to you," Zeinab haughtily said to the irate customer. Locking eyes with him, she stood her ground. The angry customer, a middle-aged, balding white guy with reddish brown hair looked at the short, round little Saudi Arabian woman who stood before him, her brown eyes blazing with anger. He looked like he wanted to say something, but everyone inside the Tim Horton's was watching...

"Fucking immigrants," Mr. Angry Man said, and he walked out of the Tim Horton's, shoving his way past a few people who were standing in line. After the bozo left, a lot of people stood up and applauded Zeinab, and the young Saudi woman smiled and nodded. Mustapha, who had been stunned when the angry old white dude got on his case because he had three sugars instead of five in his coffee, sighed in relief.

"You're totally my hero, Zeinab," Mustapha said, and Zeinab smiled and nodded, then patted him on the shoulder. Mustapha found that gesture comforting but also surprising. Muslim women, especially the ones from the ultra-conservative realm of Saudi Arabia, were a touch-me-not club. Zeinab on the other hand was very friendly, outgoing and oddly affectionate. And he was quite fond of her. More than he cared to admit. That's why seeing her come in with teary eyes bothered Mustapha so much...

"They're going to kill me if the Canadian government sends me back to Saudi," Zeinab said, and she handed the crumpled piece of paper to Mustapha, who unfolded it and read it. After he finished reading the letter, Mustapha looked at her with sympathy, but he wasn't sure what to say. Zeinab smiled and shrugged, and then resumed pouring coffee for an impatient-looking young white woman with hair dyed bright pink. What a woman, Mustapha thought, admiring Zeinab's calm demeanor.

Mustapha thought of his own path in Canada, which was far from easy. Born in the City of Lome, Capital of the West African nation of Togo, Mustapha Klassou came to Canada in 1997 at the age of nineteen. Political unrest drove him and his parents, Ahmed Klassou and Nina Eyadema-Klassou, to come to Canada to claim refugee status. Fortunately in those days, the Canadian government was lenient toward foreigners, and accepted their claim.

Mustapha Klassou enrolled at the University of Ottawa, where he studied Business Management, graduating with his MBA in the summer of 2003. In 2004, he began working as a Business Development Manager for the Department of Public Works, a position he held until his firing in the summer of 2013. Try as he might, Mustapha couldn't find another job in the government or the private sector. That's how he ended up as a manager at the Tim Horton's where he met and subsequently hired and befriended Zeinab Al-Sharif.

"Don't despair my friend, we'll find a way to save you," Mustapha said to Zeinab as the two of them grabbed lunch at Quizno's restaurant on their break. Zeinab looked at Mustapha and flashed him a brave smile. The tall, dark and handsome Togolese-Canadian Muslim gentleman wasn't just her boss. He was also one of the friendliest and most compassionate people she knew. Oh, and a good Muslim as well. Zeinab recalled how Mustapha let her use his mailing address several times over the years, since she moved around a lot. If only...

"Thanks for your kind words, brother," Zeinab replied, gently brushing her hand against Mustapha's. In her homeland of Saudi Arabia, Zeinab watched her fellow Arabs treat Africans very poorly and it always bothered her. In Ottawa, Zeinab got to know many Africans from a variety of nations and found them to be friendly, decent and hard-working people.

If not for Mustapha's support, Zeinab knew that she wouldn't have made it this far. When she needed help finding a lawyer, Mustapha convinced his cousin Ibrahim Klassou to represent her. The man was so kind, and handsome too. Living in Canada, having to work for her own survival rather than depending on a husband like most women back in Saudi Arabia did, Zeinab gained knowledge about the world and about herself. One thing she knew for sure, is that a good man is a rare find...

Mustapha looked at Zeinab, and seemed like he was about to say something when something caught his attention. Zeinab followed his gaze and saw a tall, handsome and well-dressed black guy walk into the Quizno's restaurant, hand in hand with a tall, busty white woman with blonde hair and a big butt. Life in Ottawa taught Zeinab to get used to interracial couples, which were rare in Saudi Arabian society.

"What is it with brothers and women with big butts?" Zeinab said slyly, and she playfully slapped Mustapha's hand, causing the Togolese brother to snap out of his reverie. Mustapha blushed and smiled bashfully. This wasn't the first time that Zeinab caught him checking out another female. If Mustapha had a weakness it was big-bottomed women. He simply couldn't resist them...

"I'm sorry, I got, um, distracted," Mustapha said, and Zeinab grinned and rolled her eyes. Excusing herself to go to the washroom, Zeinab 'accidentally' dropped her pen, and bent down to pick it up. When she briefly turned around, she could see Mustapha's eyes on her. Of course he'd checked out her bottom, just like Zeinab knew he would...

"So, boss, did you get a good look when I bent down? And most importantly, is my butt bigger than hers?" Zeinab said in a conspirator-like way as she sat back down. Mustapha looked at her, stunned, and Zeinab smiled. The Togolese Muslim brother was always surprised when Zeinab dropped the wallflower act and spoke her mind. She wasn't shy, soft and sweet like so many of the Arab ladies he knew. Nope, Zeinab was definitely one of a kind...

"Um, I don't know what to say, Zeinab," Mustapha said, shocked by her words and coy demeanor. Zeinab smiled and that's when Mustapha gasped. For she'd reached under the table and laid her hand on his thigh. Yes, in that spot. Mustapha flinched, then smiled nervously. Looking at the curvy, Hijab-wearing Saudi beauty who sat opposite him, he saw a burning desire in her eyes, and a come-hither look. Time for a brother to bust a move, as they say...

"So don't say anything," Zeinab said, smiling as Mustapha finally grew a pair and drew closer to her, until his dark, handsome face was inches from hers. That's when he kissed her. Zeinab kissed Mustapha back, and he slid his tongue into her mouth. As patrons in nearby tables looked on, the tall Togolese brother and the curvy young Saudi woman made out like it was nobody's business. When they came up for air, they smiled at each other. Happy as can be...

"You have sweet lips," Mustapha said, smiling at Zeinab, who nodded eagerly. Shortly after, they left the restaurant, hand in hand. Mustapha did several things that were out of character that day. He called his assistant manager, Sophie, and told her he'd be leaving early. As for Zeinab, she texted Sophie to inform her of an undisclosed emergency. Grinning, Zeinab and Mustapha walked down Baseline Road, and headed for her place on Canter Boulevard.

"I've been wanting to do this for so long," Zeinab said, as she sat Mustapha down, and undressed before him. Mustapha sat on a nearby chair, his eyes riveted on Zeinab as the young woman disrobed, revealing her curvaceous loveliness. The bronze-skinned, wide-hipped and large-breasted, big-bottomed gal stood before him, stark naked and looking glorious. Such beauty, Mustapha thought admiringly.

"You are so beautiful," Mustapha whispered, and a smiling Zeinab walked up to him. Drawing her into his arms, Mustapha kissed her full and deep, and then Zeinab lovingly wrapped herself around him. For ages he'd dreamed of her, such a beautiful and lively woman, and now, at last, they were about to drink each other in. Mustapha stroked Zeinab's lovely face, and she smiled and sucked on his thumb.

"Make love to me," Zeinab said softly, and Mustapha saw a burning desire and a command in her eyes. Laying her on the bed, he kissed her lips and caressed her breasts, pinching the areolas. Zeinab sighed happily as Mustapha began pleasuring her. The Togolese Muslim brother definitely knew his way around the female body. Pleasure-filled groans erupted from Zeinab as Mustapha spread her thick thighs and began licking her pussy. It had been so long since she'd known a man's touch...

"You taste amazing," Mustapha paused to say, as he lathered up Zeinab's pussy with his tongue, and teased her clit with his nimble fingers. Zeinab squealed in delight, driven absolutely wild by what Mustapha was doing to her. To really shine her on, Mustapha propped her on all fours and caressed her big bronze booty, then spread her ass cheeks wide open.

"Oh yes, eat my ass," Zeinab squealed, arching her back as Mustapha playfully slapped her thick bum. Inhaling the smell of her booty, Mustapha slid his tongue into her asshole and began to pleasure her that way. This was hot, forbidden, and intimate. Zeinab simply couldn't get enough of it. Mustapha fingered her pussy as he tongued her asshole, and she was like putty in his agile hands, moaning and crying out his name.

"That is fantastic," Mustapha said, licking his lips as he watched Zeinab shudder violently, orgasmic thanks to his endless licking and probing of her holes. Zeinab sighed happily once the sensations wracking her voluptuous, horny body subsided. The young woman looked up at her lover, and grinned, thankful beyond measure for what he'd done to her. And for her. Zeinab's eyes flitted up and down Mustapha's body, and she licked her lips lustfully.

"My turn to please you, handsome, now lie down and relax, Habibi," Zeinab said softly, and Mustapha grinned as she grabbed his dick and stroked it. Instantly he hardened, and smiled upon realizing how wrong he'd been about Zeinab. Indeed, the young Saudi woman straddled him, and pumped her hands up and down the length of his shaft. Zeinab looked at Mustapha hungrily, and he watched, amazed, as she leaned over and took him into her mouth...

"Damn it, you are freaky, you crazy beautiful woman," Mustapha whispered, and Zeinab paused, winked at him and then flicked her tongue over his dick head. Slowly, lovingly, Zeinab sucked Mustapha's dick and tugged on his ball sac. She worked him over real good, and soon he found himself throbbing. Once Zeinab had Mustapha good and hard, Zeinab looked at him, and tugged on his dick as he sat up. Zeinab licked her lips, an expectant look on her lovely face...

"Let's see what you're made of," Zeinab said, grinning mischievously as she pushed Mustapha down on the bed and straddled him. Mustapha smiled and caressed Zeinab's tits with one hand and playfully slapped her big round ass with the other. Zeinab grinned, and rubbed Mustapha's dick against her pussy. There was a fire at her core, and only he could put it out. If he was up to the task, that is...

"Challenge accepted, Miss Zeinab, now, come ride this Jimmy," Mustapha said, and Zeinab smiled at the moniker he used for his penis. Without further ado, Zeinab impaled herself on Mustapha's dick, sighing deeply as his hard dick filled her up. Mustapha bucked his hips and thrust into her, and Zeinab began to ride him, hard. She welcomed the deliciously hot pain she felt down below as Mustapha's dick invaded her pussy, exploring womanly folds that hadn't been probed or pleasured in ages...

"Pull my hair and fuck me harder," Zeinab squealed, pressing her big ass against Mustapha's groin as he took her from behind. Hard and fast he pumped his dick into her snatch, which gripped his dick like a vise. Mustapha went to town on Zeinab, smacking her big ass which jiggled under the force of his thrusts. Grabbing a fistful of her long dark hair, which was Hijab-free for a change, Mustapha yanked Zeinab's head back and spanked her big ass as he fucked her.

"Dammit, Zeinab, you're going to break my dick," Mustapha laughed, as Zeinab rolled off of him, after they'd been going at it for several hours. Zeinab grinned and lay beside him on her small bed, and the two lovebirds exchanged another passionate kiss. Lying in bed with Mustapha, in a tiny room in a crowded Canadian suburb, Zeinab Al-Sharif felt happy for the first time in ages. Astonishing how it took losing everything to make her realize what truly mattered...

Zeinab thought of her old life in Al-Jubayl, Saudi Arabia, and of her former husband and family. Her feelings toward her homeland and the people she left behind were always complicated. Saudi Arabia flowed through her veins and would always be part of her, but she had to admit that her life was now in the City of Ottawa. Perhaps the fates would let her build a life in the Canadian capital, who knows?

"Thank you for making me feel alive," Zeinab said, gently stroking Mustapha's dark, handsome face. The Togolese Muslim brother smiled and gently rubbed his index finegr against Zeinab's full lips. It was astonishing how much he cared for this vivacious, lively young woman from the other side of the world. Prior to meeting Zeinab, Mustapha thought Arab women forever unreachable and haughty, almost like the stars in the night sky in a way. The woman who lay in his arms was very real, very lovely and very vulnerable, though she put up quite a brave face...

"Right back at you, Zeinab, this wasn't just sex for me, I care for you," Mustapha said, and Zeinab looked into his eyes, and smiled. They kissed again, and for the rest of the afternoon, they were constantly together. They went out for a walk, grabbed ice cream and hopped on the bus, returned home, ordered Chinese food, ate, and then made love before falling asleep in each other's arms. To many more days like this one, Zeinab thought as she rested her head against Mustapha's chest.

Thus began a most remarkable chapter in Zainab Al-Sharif and Mustapha Klassou's lives. They were a most unlikely couple, the Togolese Muslim businessman and the Saudi Arabian divorcee/refugee. Even in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, where interracial couples from all walks of life could be seen at the mall, the local grocery store or on college and university campuses, Mustapha and Zeinab definitely stood out. And they were more than okay with that.

"When you go to the appeal board, we should claim that we've been in a relationship for years, and use your old mail as proof of cohabitation, that way I can file for you," Mustapha proposed to Zeinab, a few months later. Zeinab and Mustapha sat inside East Side Mario's restaurant at the Saint Laurent Mall, dining on tasty pierogis and sandwiches. They'd taken the day off and were grabbing a bit before going to the movies at Silver City. The past six months had been absolutely wonderful for the two of them, and Zeinab thanked her angels in Jannah for the blessings that Mustapha brought to her life. Nevertheless, his words stunned her...