Mouna. One of those mysterious beauties a man simply cannot forget. Tall, curvy, bronze-skinned, dark-haired and as always, uniquely sexy, even in her Hijab and dark blue security uniform. Middle-Eastern women are something else, and at her age, Mouna rocks that confidence known as Muslim MILF Supreme. Whenever Stephen Valentin sees Mouna walking about the World Issues Canada building, where they both work, he can't help but stare. Mouna is mighty fine, as they say...
"Salaam, how are you?" Mouna says with her charming smile, as she walks by Stephen's work station. The tall, burly and dark-skinned young man leaned back in his chair and bowed his head gently. Stephen, a proud son of the Afro-Caribbean Diaspora, has always found ladies of a certain age mystifying and the ones from the Middle East especially. Arab ladies and Persian ladies are something else as far as Stephen is concerned...
"Doing fine, Mouna, always good to see you," Stephen replies. Mouna nods and laughs, causing the dot-like birthmark on her throat dances. She wishes him a good day before walking away. Stephen admires Mouna's fine ass which is threatening to poke out of her cargo pants. He doesn't know if she is married or whatever, but she is nice and pleasant to look at. After Mouna leaves, Stephen gathers his belongings before looking at his cell phone. Another thirty minutes and Stephen will finally head home. Just another day in the City of Ottawa, Ontario.
Stephen waits for the bus on that blistering hot summer afternoon, and puts on his clear blue mask as the OC Transpo bus nears. The driver is an old white dude who looks Stephen up and down as he taps his bus pass against the electronic reader. There is only one other passenger on the bus, a pretty Indian gal who's busy on her cell phone. Stephen parks his heavy backpack on the opposite chair and sits by the window. Time for a tired brother to get his ass home...
When Stephen graduated from Carleton University, he thought he'd find a good job with the Canadian government and get his ticket to the good life. Or at least the decent life. Fast forward two years and Stephen is still living in a crummy little apartment, and he's still working as a security guard. Never mind the fact that Stephen has a university degree, is fully bilingual, and has clearance up the yin yang. What does it take for a black man to get a good job in the Capital of Canada?
Stephen isn't too fond of working at World Issues Canada, for many reasons. For starters, it is a government building and therefore a weird place. There are roving packs of creepy old white dudes who like to leer at him or pry into his business, and cannot take no for an answer. Avoiding eye contact with the bozos is a must. Stephen is by no means homophobic and while he can admit to feeling bicurious at times, he's not looking for companions of the male persuasion, especially at work. Unfortunately, the creeps in Ottawa refuse to get a clue.
Most of the women whom Stephen encounters at work are nothing to write home about either. The World Issues Canada building is packed with pseudo-racist and rather pale women who act uncomfortable in his presence. The black man is no more welcome in Canada than he is in the United States of America, but Canadian racism is largely hidden. Stephen doesn't lie to himself about the state of racial relations in Canada. Nope, this brother knows to watch his back.
Due to Covid, the City of Ottawa is even more dull and boring than usual, much to Stephen's chagrin. By the time Stephen gets to his neighborhood, most stores are closed. Stephen thinks about his one-bedroom apartment, located in a working class neighborhood. Passing by a hair salon, Stephen smiles at a certain tall, curvy white lady who's cutting some dude's hair. The lady doesn't notice Stephen, and he shrugs and walks to his building. Honestly, Stephen wouldn't have done anything if she'd actually noticed him. That's how bleh life is these days...
