Night falls over the City of Ottawa, Ontario. Canada Revenue Agency auditor Lance Stewart walked out of the downtown office located near Bank Street. At this hour, the Capital of Canada was lively with the sounds of the night. Young men and women of all hues walked up and down Bank Street, heading to clubs on Rideau Street, restaurants on Metcalfe, and other fun spots along the way. Lance, the fabled office nerd, decided to walk home instead of waiting for the number seven bus. OC Transpo bus lines suck even on good days.
It had been a week since Lance's girlfriend Samira Aden, a tall, curvy and big-booty black woman of the Somali persuasion, broke up with him. Folks, Lance is a secularist but he is also the son of Orthodox Jews. As for Samira Aden, she is a Muslim woman. Hell, Samira's father Youssef Aden is a Muslim preacher who heads a famous masjid in the City of Edmonton, Alberta. To say that Lance and Samira weren't compatible would have been the understatement of the century.
"We're too different, I need to think," Samira Aden said to Lance the morning she packed up and left. Lance was heartbroken. He always thought that he and Samira were meant to be. The tall, lanky white dude and the tall, fine-ass Somali Canadian woman, that's an odd couple if there ever was one but they made it work for two years. Lance and Samira met while attending Carleton University and sparks flew between them during their initial meeting, one night at Oliver's Pub on campus.
"Take your time, I hope you will come back to me," Lance said as Samira rushed out of their shared apartment in the By Ward Market area of downtown Ottawa. Walking from Bank Street to the Rideau Shopping Center, which overlooks the By Ward Market, Lance was lost in thought. He crossed the street, walking past the Tim Horton's, the Irish pub, the Scotiabank and other spots. He was walking past a certain fish restaurant when he felt the urge to piss. Lance, a diabetic, couldn't hold it. He ducked into a dark alley, behind a big blue dumpster, and pissed. As Lance tucked his dick back into his pants, he got a surprise.
"Don't move, punk," Stanley Monroe said as he grabbed Lance Stewart from behind and pressed him against the wall. The tall, lean and red-haired, bespectacled and downright nerdy white man froze. The man behind him sounded large, and had the faintest traces of a Texan accent. Stanley grinned and proceeded to pat Lance's ass. The big and tall black man leaned into the white dude, totally imposing himself and intimidating his chosen prey to the max. Lance held his breath, afraid to move a muscle.
"Just take my wallet, it's got three hundred dollars in cash, don't hurt me," Lance pleaded. Stanley laughed and then grabbed Lance's crotch. The white dude froze, suddenly realizing that the big black man wanted something else altogether. Lance started to protest but Stanley ignored his pleas. The big black man unzipped the white dude's pants and grabbed his cock. Lance gasped and shook his head. Laughing, Stanley proceeded to stroke Lance's cock.
