"Salaam, Bonsoir, Monsieur Claude," said the hostess at Assad's Palace, and Claude Ferdinand smiled pleasantly at Asma Assad, wife of the late owner Ali Assad. The six-foot-tall, curvy, attractive, fifty-something Arab lady, who had a few silver streaks in her long dark hair greeted him with her customary warm smile, and Claude greeted her in kind.
It's amazing how much one misses the comforts of the familiar after a long trip, Claude thought. It was nine thirty, and the restaurant was closing in an hour, having been open since eleven o'clock in the morning. Located on Rideau Street in downtown Ottawa, Assad's Palace was sandwiched between the public library, the local TD Bank, and the local Loblaw's grocery store.
"Salaam, Asma, nice to see you again, mademoiselle," Claude said, smiling while nodding respectfully. He'd been coming to Assad's Palace ever since his halcyon days at Carleton University. Back in the day, Claude worked at the Rideau Shopping Center, selling phones for Bell Canada to pay his rent and tuition fees. Even though he struggled quite a bit, Claude was fond of those days. Life seemed so much simpler then...
Claude thought of the awful circumstances during which he left the City of Montreal, Quebec, where he was born and raised. As far as he was concerned, his life in Quebec was over and he could never come back. There are certain wounds that time cannot heal, and not even the most forgiving soul can overlook or rationalize. Some things cannot be changed, and Claude learned that the hard way.
Claude's father, Joseph Ferdinand, was a pillar of Haitian-Canadian society back in the City of Montreal, Quebec. The tall, dark-skinned, silver-haired strongman, originally from the City of Cap-Haitien, Haiti, had been teaching Political Science at the University of Montreal for over twenty five years. Quebec wasn't the most welcoming of provinces when it came to visible minorities, so for a man like Joseph Ferdinand to rise to such a lofty position was something indeed.
Claude's mother, Cecilia Williamson was Caucasian, part of the English minority living in Quebec. She met Claude's father Joseph Ferdinand while pursuing her undergrad at the University of Montreal, ages ago. The two of them fell in love, got married, and had three sons, Anderson, Claude and Jean-Paul. Claude, the middle son, was the odd man out. Thanks to the quirks of mother nature and perhaps his environment, Claude Ferdinand turned out to be Bisexual.
Now, in Haitian society, any man who likes the same sex, or happens to like both sexes, is referred to as a "Masisi," the Haitian Creole word for faggot. The Haitian people have a strong dislike for men who are called Masisi. The women who like other women are referred to as "Madivinez" in Haitian culture, it's essentially the Haitian Creole word for dyke or lesbian. The very existence of such people is heavily frowned upon in Haitian society.
Claude Ferdinand remembered the exact moment when he realized that he was different. Ten years ago, on one unforgettable evening, Claude's life changed forever. How could so many terrible things be waiting around the corner when his life had been so wonderful up until that point? He was eighteen years old, entering his final year at Saint Francois Academy, an all-male preparatory school located in the east end of Montreal.
In those days, Claude Ferdinand was already a looker at six-foot-one, and he was big and strong, with light brown skin, curly dark hair, and golden brown eyes. When Claude spoke in his deep baritone voice, people took notice. People said Claude looked a bit like Hollywood actor Shemar Moore, but he couldn't see the resemblance.
A lot of the ladies at Sisters of Saint Joseph Academy, the all-female school located down the street from Saint Francois Academy, fancied the handsome, enigmatic Claude Ferdinand. Unfortunately for them, the mixed brother was taken. Truth be told, Claude was head over heels in love with Fatima Mahfouz, a beautiful young woman of Lebanese heritage.
"Mademoiselle, care to dance?" Claude said to Fatima, at the Homecoming Dance. Fatima, a tall, curvy, bronze-skinned and dark-haired beauty, looked more beautiful at eighteen years old than most models ever would in their lifetime. To Claude, Fatima looked like an Arabic version of actress/singer Jennifer Lopez, whose picture was on his bedroom wall, by the way.
"Claude, you got two left feet but sure," Fatima replied, smiling, and Claude took her hand and led her to the dance floor. The young couple danced among their friends, and everyone thought they made a cute couple. Claude looked great in a dark tuxedo and bowtie, and Fatima looked amazing in a resplendent red evening gown which hugged her curves quite nicely. Dancing with Fatima, Claude felt like he was on top of the world.
As Claude danced with Fatima, he sensed someone looking at him and turned to see his best friend Keith Armstrong, a tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed young English-Quebecer, who was dancing with his own date, a tall, curvy, Afro-sporting young Black Muslim woman named Sadia Adewale. Claude and Keith had been best friends for years and both played football for Saint Francois Academy. They were pals and teammates, but they were never more than that.
"Hey, bro, looking sharp," Keith said, and Claude smiled at him, nodded at Keith's date Sadia, and continued to waltz with Fatima. After the dance, Claude and Fatima headed to a motel, and once there, they didn't do a whole lot of talking. Claude sat on the bed, his eyes riveted on Fatima as the lovely young woman undressed before him, revealing that sexy, voluptuous body.
"Like what you see?" Fatima asked coyly, standing naked before Claude, hands on her hips. The young biracial man smiled and nodded, then he rose and kissed her passionately. Fatima kissed Claude back, and he slipped out of his tuxedo and dress pants with a speed that would have amazed the dude on Smallville. Naked, Claude faced Fatima with a mixture of nervousness and old-fashioned lust.
"Hey gorgeous," Claude said, and he took Fatima's hand and drew her to the bed. Once there, he proceeded to kiss her lips, her throat and her breasts. Fatima moaned softly as Claude pleasured her. He'd been fooling around with girls for some time now and knew what they liked. When Claude buried his face between Fatima's legs and ate her tasty pussy, the young Lebanese woman moaned softly, crying out his name...
