From Persia with Love

"Wake the hell up, Samson, we're going to be late for class!" Those words, coming out of my girlfriend Farzana Hashemi's luscious lips, roused me out of a very good and restful sleep in a quiet corner of the Algonquin College library. I looked up at her through sleepy eyes, and forced a brave smile. Man, I am extremely T-I-R-E-D today.

"Sorry, bay, I didn't get any sleep last night," I said, as I slowly got up and did the whole yawning and stretching thing before grabbing my backpack. I looked at Farzana, who stared at me impatiently. Gently I pulled her into a hug, and after a brief hesitation, Farzana hugged me back.

"What would you do without me?" Farzana said smartly, smirking as she clapped me on the shoulder none too gently. I nodded, shrugged and put my arm around her as we made our way out of the campus library, and headed to our accounting class.

My name is Samson Carl Clayton, and I'm a big and tall young Black man of Jamaican descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. My parents, Clinton and Gladys Clayton moved to Ontario, Canada, from their hometown of Malvern, Jamaica, in the summer of 1989. I was born two years later in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, and as far as I'm concerned, I'm as Canadian as anyone, even though folks around here ask me about my origins at least once a week.

"Dude, did you remember that we're having our accounting midterm today?" Farzana's borderline shrill voice said, snapping me out of yet another reverie. I daydream a lot these days, side effect of working thirty hours a week as a security guard while attending school at the same time.

"Bay, I've got this accounting shit down pat," I said, and gently kissed Farzana on the forehead. My sweetie looked at me and rolled her lovely brown eyes, but couldn't stop herself from smiling. By all accounts, Farzana Hashemi and I can be considered an odd couple.

I'm a six-foot-two, dark-skinned and ruggedly handsome Jamaican-Canadian brother and my sweetie is a unique blend of South Asian and Persian. Farzana's mother Mariam Khan is originally from Pakistan and her father, Lucien Hashemi, is originally from the Islamic Republic of Iran. Standing five-foot-seven, with light bronze skin, golden brown eyes and curly black hair, Farzana is simply lovely. Most days I can't believe my damn luck, having a gal like her in my life.

Farzana and I met while I was visiting my cousin Ashton in Toronto a year ago. I was chilling with Ash in the Eaton Center, when I spotted a lovely middle-eastern chick walking through the food court, sporting a green and white sweatshirt with the Algonquin College logo on it. I just had to approach the lady, and it's a good thing I did.

"Excuse me lady, are you from Ottawa?" I asked her sexiness when I saw her standing in line at Manchu Wok. The pretty-faced, dark-haired young woman looked me up and down, and smiled hesitantly. Doubtless she was wondering who in hell I was and what I wanted from her.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she said, and I grinned while pointing to the furry Thor, the official Algonquin College mascot, emblazoned on my T-shirt. When she saw that, Farzana smiled brightly, and introduced herself. Like us, she was from Ottawa and visiting family in Toronto.

From the moment Farzana shook my hand and flashed me that fearless smile of hers, I knew that I wanted her. That's why I invited her to grab lunch with my cousin Ash and I inside the Eaton Center food court, since we "Ottawa folks had to stick together". Not my cleverest ploy, I know, but it worked. Farzana joined us for lunch, and that's how it all began....

"There, we're on time, just like I knew we would be," I said smugly, and Farzana shot me a look as we strolled into the Accounting For Business class near the Transportation Technology Center. I'm only taking three classes this semester because the government of Ontario determined that my folks make too much money for me to receive OSAP.

My mother works as a manager in the TD MBNA Call Center in Gloucester, Ontario, and my father works as a corrections officer for the Ontario Ministry of Community Safety and Correctional Services. We're just a middle-class family, we're not rich people. Unfortunately, the Ontario government feels otherwise and since I don't want to burden my parents, I have to work as a rent-a-cop to pay for tuition, rent and groceries.

"Good evening folks," Professor Vincent Tremblay's melancholy voice said, and I looked at the rotund little man standing at the front of the class. This is the second time I've had this prof and I don't like him at all. Look, I'm going to be blunt here. If you're an intelligent young black man with ambition pursuing higher education, middle-aged white guys from the professional classes see you as a threat.

Not to toot my own horn here but I'm a damn good student. With strict Jamaican parents, I have no choice but to be. Profs like Mr. Tremblay here are used to thinking of young black men as delinquents and troublemakers. The fact that some of us want to get an education and achieve success is something many view as an anomaly. I think our prof doesn't like me, but I can't say that to Farzana, though. My gal thinks this dude's shit don't stink.

"Please grab your pens and pencils and place your student ID cards on the table while I hand out the midterm," Professor Tremblay said, and just like everyone else in the classroom, which holds about thirty students, I did as I was told. I fumbled through my backpack, looking for a pencil.

"I've got you," Farzana said, holding a number two pencil and shaking her head. I ignored her, and continued looking through my backpack. Finally, I found an old pencil with a chewed-up top, and held it up triumphantly. I looked at Farzana, and smiled like I'd just won the NBA championship or something.

"I'll be just fine, boss lady, no worries," I said to her. I meant it as a jest but Farzana's lovely face fell, and she pursed her lips. Instantly I realized that I'd done something wrong. But what? That's the thing about females, man. They feel things and overanalyze everything. I was just trying to show Farzana that I'm not as careless as she thinks I am, and now she's acting offended.

"Whatever," Farzana said, rolling her eyes. I looked at her pensively, and was about to say more when a masculine voice shushed me. I looked up, and Professor Tremblay dropped my exam sheet in front of me. I sighed, and wrote my name on it. I took one last look at Farzana, who ignored me, and then began my exam.

Two hours later, I walked out of the room after handing in my paper. I was one of the last people to leave. I looked for Farzana, but couldn't find her. I texted her, and got like no reply. Frustrated, I called her. It went straight to voicemail. Feeling blue, I went to Asia Imperium, a Chinese restaurant located on Baseline Road, and had myself some fried rice with orange chicken and two egg rolls, which I washed down with a Pepsi.

"Good afternoon, Sam, eating alone today?" The owner, an older Chinese gentleman named Jerry Chan, asked me in that singsong voice of his. I smiled wistfully, and shrugged. Farzana and I are regulars at the Asia Imperium restaurant. Have been for a while.

"Looks like it, Mr. Chan," I said with a shrug, and told him that Farzana was at work. A total lie, I know. Farzana doesn't work because her father, Lucien Hashemi, is the owner and CEO of Hashemi Realty. They're giving Coldwell Bankers Real Estate some serious competition in high-price areas of Ottawa such as Barrhaven, Kanata and Orleans.

When I said that Farzana and I come from different worlds, I meant it. I'm the son of hard-working Jamaican immigrants, and Farzana is the daughter of a wealthy Persian-Canadian businessman. There are a lot of Persians in Ottawa, and many of them, like Farzana's father, are highly educated and entrepreneurial Christians fleeing the Islamic regime back in Iran.

A chance encounter brought Farzana Hashemi and I into each other's lives, but it took all that we had to stay together. Here we are, a year later, still going strong even though a lot of people thought we wouldn't make it this far. I'm a lapsed Roman Catholic who only goes to church sporadically and Farzana is a staunch member of the Persian Apostolic Church of the East. I'm Afro-Caribbean and she's Middle-Eastern and South Asian. Yeah, couples like us are a rarity, that's for damn sure.

"See you next time Mr. Chan," I said, and used my CIBC debit card to pay. Or tried to. When it was declined, I gaped at Mr. Chan, feeling beyond embarrassed, as you can imagine. Hastily I pulled out my seldom used MBNA Master Card, a present from my mother, and used it. Thankfully, it worked. "Until next time Sammy," Mr. Chan said, smiling, as I sighed in relief, and hastily left the restaurant.

What a day, I thought. I worked overnight last night, and didn't get home till seven o'clock this morning. I had an exam, and an apparent fight with my girlfriend, and it's not even three o'clock yet. Sighing, I decided to walk home. I called Farzana one more time.

"Look, babe, sorry about the whole pencil thing, alright, you were just trying to help and I was a jerk, I'm sorry," I said, straight to Farzana's voicemail. No reply from her. I walked my black ass down Baseline Road, and finally headed to Canter Boulevard, where I live.

There's an old Vietnamese dude named William Nguyen who rents a house on Canter Boulevard to students. Dude charges four hundred a month, all included. A little steep considering it's a one-bedroom spot, but it's less than a mile from the Algonquin College campus so I can't complain. Capital Security, the company I work for, likes to send me to work in Kanata. That's one hell of a trip but whatever.

I didn't get any sleep today since I basically had to get to school shortly after getting home from work. With the exam and the fight with Farzana weighing heavily on my mind, I figured some sleep might do my tired ass some good. I went straight to my room, and...froze. For the door, which I remember locking tightly, was slightly ajar. What the fuck?

I pushed the door wide open, fully intent on confronting whoever might be inside. Trying to steal my shit is a bad idea, as whoever is responsible was about to find out. "What's going on here?" I shouted, as I leapt into the room, fists clenched and ready to defend what's mine.

"Hello stranger," Farzana said, grinning wickedly. My eyes went wide when I saw her lying on my bed, clad only in a crimson bra and matching panties. I stood there, frozen. Unable to speak. This was totally not what I was expecting, as you can imagine.

"Farzana, what are you doing here?" I asked, my head still spinning. A demure look crept into Farzana's beautiful face. Her lovely golden brown eyes narrowed. Her full lips pursed. I looked her up and down, my eyes drinking in the sight of her. A vision of loveliness, lying on my bed. Seemingly waiting for me. Yeah, at once I realized what she was doing there. Should have been fairly obvious, I know, but give me a break, eh? This brother hasn't slept a wink in the past day or so.

"Don't talk, boo, just come to me," Farzana said sweetly, and I nodded, walking to her as if in a trance. My sweetheart greeted me with a passionate kiss, and drew me to the bed. As I felt her soft, womanly curves press against mine, all of the doubts I'd been feeling melted away like ice in the sun.

"I've missed you babe," I whispered, as I kissed Farzana's luscious lips, and licked a path from her lips to her soft throat, and finally, to her small, yet firm and succulent breasts. I caressed them gently, and began sucking on them. Wrapping her arms around me, Farzana kissed my forehead and drew me deeper into her loving embrace.

"It's been too long," Farzana said, and I absolutely agreed. The last time my lady and I made love was over a week ago, and that's an eternity for a couple as passionate as us. I licked and sucked on her breasts, and Farzana's deep, soul-stirring moans were all the reward and encouragement I needed to continue pleasuring my lady.

A world of a woman was welcoming me, and I embraced it with all of my being. My lady was drawing me into her core. Looking into Farzana's lovely eyes, watching her hesitant smile, I kissed a path from her breasts to her slightly rounded belly, and finally buried my face between her legs. "Yummy," I said, as I inhaled her womanly fragrance.

Taking my sweet time, I began lathering up Farzana's sweet-tasting pussy with my tongue. Any man who doesn't know that every inch of the female body needs to be lovingly licked, tasted and savored isn't a man. Farzana moaned softly, and her small hands gripped the back of my head with a strength that surprised me.

"Don't stop," Farzana said breathlessly, locking eyes with me in a moment of depthless passion. The smoldering heat I saw in her golden brown eyes was something I would never forget until my soul departs this world. Nodding gently, I stuck my tongue into Farzana's cunt, teasing her clitoris while sliding my fingers inside her.

My lady arched her back and cried out, moaning deeply as I continued working my magic on her. Soon I had Farzana gushing, a first for me. I knew that girls could and did cum, but this was my first time seeing it in action. Farzana squealed in delight as she squirted hot girly cum all over my damn face. "Fuck yeah that was awesome," Farzana said, sighing happily.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, after tasting her. "No need to tell me, bay, I was there," I said with a wry grin, and a happy Farzana reached for my dick with both hands. I'm not huge, only eight inches, and that's counting foreskin. Farzana pumped her hands up and down my shaft, and then, without another word, pushed me on my back.

"Let me taste you," Farzana whispered, and next thing I knew, my sexy lady had her head in my lap. I watched, mesmerized, as Farzana slowly took my dick into her mouth. Gently pulling back the foreskin, Farzana licked my dick head, and then began sucking it earnestly.

"Oh shit," I said, sighing happily as Farzana sucked my dick with gusto. We're a passionate couple, as I said before, but very rarely has Farzana done this. My lady comes from a somewhat puritanical background. Both of her parents are staunchly Christian, and while I also hail from a strict Christian background, my outlook on things is more liberal.

Farzana once told me that I'm her first serious boyfriend and indeed the first guy she's ever been with. When a female tells something like this to a guy, it can be a bit overwhelming. I'd like to thank I handled it like a pro. A grin crossed my face as I thought of our first night together.

"You're my first too sweetie," I replied to a smiling Farzana, before we made love for the first time on that night, so long ago. Truth be told, I'd been banging girls since I was in high school. Farzana Hashemi, my collegiate girlfriend, didn't need to know that, though.

After Farzana got me nice and hard, I was ready for the main event. Once again my lady took the lead. As I rolled a condom on my Johnson, Farzana climbed on top of me and slowly, very slowly, impaled herself on my manhood. "Let's do this," Farzana said, through gritted teeth.

"Amen to that sweetie," I said cheerfully, playfully smacking her pert little derriere as I thrust my dick deep into her snatch. Farzana rested her hands on my shoulders and straddled me. I put my hands on her hips and thus we began making love.

As we did our thing, Farzana bounced up and down on my dick, her pretty face contorted in concentration, her dark eyes wild. "Harder," Farzana hissed, and I grinned, wrapping my arms around her and slamming my dick into her cunt. If the lady likes rough sex, who am I to refuse to comply with her wishes? I pounded my way into Farzana's cunt, delighted in feeling her womanly flesh yield to my thrusts. Hard and fast we went at it, until exhaustion claimed us.

About an hour or so later, Farzana and I lay side by side. "That was fun," my lady said, gently kissing me on the lips before resting her pretty little head on my hairy chest. I nodded, and looked at Farzana through eyes that were drooping, thanks to lack of sleep and the fun yet strenuous bout of lovemaking that we just completed.

"Absolutely sweetie," I said, and then yawned and fell asleep. When I woke up, around eight o'clock that evening, my room was tidy, and Farzana cooked me supper. It's a Persian specialty called Khoresht-e-fesenjan, which consisted of duck covered with pomegranate sauce, and white rice, along with a type of yogurt that Farzana calls "Doogh".

"You look cute when you're sleeping boo," Farzana said to me, as we sat at the dinner table downstairs. Thankfully, my other roommates weren't home yet so we had the place to ourselves. I looked at the delicious meal that lay before me, and looked adoringly at the gorgeous, amazing young woman who prepared it.

"You are amazing Farzana," I said, taking her hand in mine before bringing it to her lips. Farzana sighed, and blushed all the way to those small, lovely ears of hers. For once my lady remained silent, and simply smiled at me. We ate in silence for a moment, and then, just like I knew she would, Farzana had something to add.

"I've done some grocery shopping while you were asleep, and got you some school supplies as well at Dollarama," Farzana said with a grin. Reaching into her backpack, she showed me what she bought. Notebooks, pencils, pens, and more pencils. I looked at all the pencils, and smiled. This time, I knew better than to argue with her.

"Thanks, babe. What would I do without you, my sweet Farzana?" I said, smiling. My lady shrugged, smiled and resumed eating. I squeezed her hand, and Farzana winked at me. I love this woman, folks. She's bossy and at times gets on my nerves with her borderline anal attention to detail, but I can honestly say my life would suck without her. That's my lady, my sweet Farzana, and her meticulous brand of orderly craziness is part of the many reasons why I love her.