My Indonesian Muslim Policewoman

The day started out nicely enough for Ibrahim Gemeda, former Corporal with the Ethiopian Federal Police, and current bodyguard of His Excellency Adam Teshome, former Minister of the Interior and the new Ambassador of Ethiopia in the City of Jakarta, Indonesia. The run rose over the City of Samarinda, in the East Kalimantan region of Borneo, Indonesia, promising a lovely day in the beautiful Southeast Asian nation.

With growing tension between the Muslims and the Christians in his homeland of Ethiopia, Ibrahim Gemeda opted to stay in Indonesia for his much-needed vacation instead of going home. It was the cheaper option anyways. Traveling the world after the abrupt end of his illustrious police career taught Ibrahim Gemeda that life was about much more than the petty conflicts involving religious, ethnic and sectarian differences, which seemed to plague much of Africa and the Middle East.

Everywhere that Ibrahim Gemeda looked in the Islamic world, there was conflict. In Egypt, persecution of Coptic Christians remained at an all-time high, even though the new government was secular. In Somalia, the people of metropolitan Mogadishu were mourning the loss of hundreds of lives, thanks to the actions of radical nutcases. In Lebanon, there was tension between Arab Christians and Arab Muslims, due to shifting demographics. And the list goes on...

Proudly Muslim and fiercely secular in his thinking, Ibrahim Gemeda couldn't understand the madness that seized so many people of his faith and drove them to do such tragic things. Ibrahim, who was born in Jimma, and raised in Addis Ababa, found his fellow Ethiopians puzzling. One of the oldest, and most stable civilizations in all of Africa, Ethiopia was magnificent in its day, and Ibrahim would like to see it become truly great again. He wasn't holding his breath, though...

"Ibrahim, I rejoice about your leaving Ethiopia even though I will miss you, my son, these are strange times, the Creator made all human beings, I strongly doubt He would approve of Christians, Jews and Muslims fighting over nonsense," said Ibrahim's father, Imam Yousef Gemeda, leader of the Main Masjid of Addis Ababa. Father and son were having a heart-to-heart talk before Ibrahim's departure for distant, forbidden Indonesia.

"Baba, you worry too much, we have always been a united people, we will get through this," Ibrahim said, and the younger man clapped his father on the shoulder. Imam Yousef Gemeda looked at his son who looked much younger than his thirty four years. A year after retiring from the Ethiopian Federal Police due to a scandal, thanks to his dalliance with a fellow officer's wife, Ibrahim Gemeda was sullen and forlorn, unsure of his place in the world. When the Minister invited him to join the Ethiopian Diplomatic Corps, the ex-cop jumped at the offer.

"Be safe, my son, who knows? Perhaps you might find a lady in Indonesia who might encourage you to settle down," Imam Yousef Gemeda said, and Ibrahim rolled his eyes, wishing the old man would stop chiding him about his marital status...or lack thereof. Ibrahim had been involved with a few women in his time, beautiful Ethiopian women from both the Christian and Islamic faiths, but none that he cared to take as wives.

Fast forward a year, and Ibrahim Gemeda had adjusted fairly well to his new digs in the City of Jakarta, Indonesia. The Indonesian people were a unique bunch, friendly and easygoing, if intense at times. Sure, he got stared at everywhere he went, but the people were far from hostile. Ibrahim laughed when some Indonesians asked him if he was an NBA player, due to his physical stature.

The City of Jakarta was pretty cosmopolitan, with a sizable population of European and Arab expatriates living among its indigenous Indonesian population. Ibrahim Gemeda still stood out in a crowd, but he was far from the only foreigner in town. He spoke the language fairly well at this point and knew enough of the local customs to venture on his own. He felt comfortable enough to start exploring life outside Jakarta, and that's when everything started to go wrong...

"Tolong bawa saya ke Hotel Aston Samarinda dan konvensi center, please take me to the Aston Samarinda Hotel and Convention Center," Ibrahim said to the cab driver, who pulled over in front of the Samarinda International Airport, a big grin on his face. The little man nodded, and then stepped out to help Ibrahim with his luggage. Flying from Jakarta to Samarinda hadn't taken very long, but Ibrahim was still a bit sleepy. The in-flight food had been something else...

"Selamat dating di Samarinda teman Afrika saya, welcome to Samarinda my African friend," said the cab driver, flashing Ibrahim a bright smile. Ibrahim nodded absentmindedly, and scrolled through his cell phone, looking at the amenities offered by the Aston Samarinda Hotel. He was planning to stay a week or so in town, see some spots, check out local restaurants and historical sites, and then return to Jakarta, which he had begun to think of as home.

"Ini bukan hotel, this isn't the hotel," Ibrahim said to the cab driver, as the guy pulled up in front of some type of warehouse. The cab driver turned to look at him, and his eyes were narrowed, and full of malice. Before Ibrahim could say anything else, three men came toward the cab. A sense of dread threatened to overwhelm Ibrahim, but the ex-cop forced him to remain calm. Kicking the door open, he stepped outside, to face the onrushing men.

"Orang asing bodoh, foolish foreigner," Ibrahim heard the cabbie yell, and then the men waded into him. Years of training as a federal policeman in Ethiopia turned Ibrahim into a more-than-capable combatant. After dealing with everything from cutthroat thieves and bandits to radicals and crazed insurgents, he wasn't afraid of some random thugs.

"Inilah yang Anda dapatkan karena menyerang orang kuat dari Ethiopia, this is what you get for attacking an Ethiopian strongman," Ibrahim shouted as he went on the offensive. With a swift lunge, he decked the first assailant, knocking him out cold. The other two seemed surprised, and this allowed Ibrahim to kick the second man in the shins.

As the assailant yelped, Ibrahim dropped him with a punch to the temple. Before Ibrahim could reach the third assailant, however, he felt something hard strike him at the back of his head. As Ibrahim fell, consciousness fading from him, he suddenly remembered the smirking cab driver...

"Sir, sorry about the robbery, if you don't mind my asking, what brought you to this land?" Officer Zeinab Beratha of the Samarinda Police Department asked, looking at the six-foot-five, burly and dark-skinned man who sat on a bench before her. Ibrahim Gemeda, an agent of the Ethiopian Embassy of Jakarta, was having a rough night. In fact, the man looked a bit lost, and it took him several moments to finally answer.

This man looks like he's been through hell, Officer Zeinab thought, as she considered the well-dressed man who sat there, a haunted look on his dark, handsome face. Hard to believe that this was the same man who had his picture taken with the Mayor of Jakarta, a few months ago. The Mayor had personally thanked this foreigner who risked his life by diving into the ocean to save a couple of young women from drowning. Now the hero looked like he needed help himself...

"Um, I've been working at the Ethiopian Embassy for some time, and always wanted to see the interior of Indonesia, Samarinda seemed like a good place to start," Ibrahim said, and he applied ice to the back of his head, where a robber had stricken him before taking off with his belongings. That's what happens to tourists and careless diplomats, Zeinab thought, shaking her head.

"Well, thank you for visiting our fair city, Mr. Gemeda, sorry that this happened to you, here's my card, don't hesitate to contact me if you remember anything," Officer Beratha said, and the tall Ethiopian nodded and pocketed the card she offered him. Rising from his chair, Ibrahim looked at the officer, and forced a brave smile. This man has been robbed of everything on him but he still looks formidable, Zeinab thought.

"Terimakasih perwira tapi saya telah mengalami lebih buruk lagi, thank you officer but I have been through worse," Ibrahim Gemeda said, and then he asked to borrow her phone. Zeinab looked at him and smiled, then handed him her phone. Ibrahim called the Ethiopian Embassy in Jakarta, and asked them to wire him some money through western union.

"Saya harap Anda akan baik-baik saja, I hope you will be fine," Officer Zeinab said to Ibrahim, as the towering Ethiopian handed her back her cell phone. Ibrahim nodded gratefully and shook her hand, looking so damn calm, as if getting robbed and left bloodied and unconscious happened to him on a daily basis. Nothing fazes this one, Zeinab thought, admiring Ibrahim's sang-froid...

Officer Zeinab Beratha walked away, and got in her squad car. Ali, the rookie officer whom she was still training shot her a look. Zeinab shrugged dismissively at Ali, and they drove away, returning to their patrol duties. The City of Samarinda was a fairly peaceful locale, but as Ibrahim Gemeda had just found out, danger lurked behind almost every corner.

In his hotel room, Ibrahim Gemeda lay on his bed, seriously wondering why he didn't fly back to Jakarta first chance he had. I refuse to give in to fear, Ibrahim thought to himself. In Addis Ababa, he'd faced every kind of threat there was. Militants. Radicals. Psychopaths. And more. He wasn't about to let the thugs of Samarinda intimidate him. He thought about Zeinab Beratha, the Indonesian policewoman who'd showed up at the scene. Intense eyes on that one, he thought, before he went to sleep.

"Sometimes I seriously want to change jobs," Zeinab Beratha, Patrol Supervisor with the Samarinda Police Department, said to herself as she went home. After a ten-hour shift which saw her deal with vagrants, domestic abusers, and the like, she was ready to go home. After reaching her house, located in near the Grand Sawit Hotel, Zeinab got undressed and took a shower. Afterwards, naked, she went to bed, still sore from tackling bozos while on patrol...

Lying in bed, Zeinab thought about the events of the day...unable to sleep. At thirty three, Zeinab had lived through a divorce, and been the subject of scorn and ridicule from her family due to her choice of career. Indonesia was fairly progressive as far as women's rights went, far ahead of other Muslim nations, but sexism still ran rampant in its society and culture. As a policewoman in modern-day Indonesia, Zeinab still stood out...

"I don't want to be sitting at home waiting for you, Zeinab, I want a real wife who will bear me sons, and take care of our household," said Zeinab's former husband, Abdul Rais, the day after she came home from the Indonesian National Police Academy. Zeinab, who looked resplendent in her dark blue police uniform, was shocked by her husband's words. Was this truly the handsome and free-spirited man that she married?

"Abdul, how can you say these things? You're a teacher, I'm going to be a policewoman, we're going to make this work," Zeinab replied, and Abdul Rais shook his head. When he glared at her, she saw disgust and anger in his eyes, instead of the love and wit she'd come to expect since he'd begun courting her. They got married and bought a house in the middle-class Novanta neighborhood, not far from the Grand Sawit Hotel. They were going to build a life together, or so Zeinab thought. And then Abdul ruined everything with his big mouth...

"Silence, woman, I have spoken," Abdul Rais said, and Zeinab stared at him, wondering who this foul-mouthed, sexist stranger was and what he'd done with her husband. She walked up to him and defied him. When Abdul tried to strike her in a fit of anger, Zeinab caught his hand, her police training kicking in. That's how Abdul found himself on the floor of their living room, with Zeinab's foot pressed against his throat...

"Abdul Rais, if you ever try to hit me again, I will kill you," Zeinab Beratha said in a dangerously calm voice. Abdul nodded, eyes downcast in submission, and only then did Zeinab pull her foot from his neck. Abdul rose to his feet, and looked at Zeinab with newfound respect. He mumbled something that might have been an apology but Zeinab did not really listen. To her, the marriage was over...

Closing her eyes, Zeinab pushed thoughts of her ex-husband out of mind. She hadn't had many lovers since her divorce. As modern as Indonesia considered itself, with women soldiers and policewomen becoming a common sight in the big cities, there was still a stigma against divorcees. Zeinab was definitely not every Indonesian man's cup of tea. Standing five feet ten inches tall, neither fat nor thin but sturdy, Zeinab wasn't dainty like most women from her homeland. Nor did she care to be, in thought, appearance or action...

Elsewhere, Ibrahim Gemeda was still unable to sleep. He thought of his last sexual encounter, which occurred six months ago. His last sexual partner was Nadia Berhanu, a young woman whom he met while speaking at an Ethiopian Community Event held at the Boston Convention & Exhibition Center in the City of Boston, Massachusetts. Ibrahim was thrilled to be in Bean Town, his every expense paid for by the Ethiopian government. And then he met a most formidable Boston gal...

"What are you looking at, big man?" Nadia's first words to Ibrahim, when he approached her after the conference. Six feet tall and curvy, with light brown skin and long, curly dark hair, Nadia was exceptionally beautiful. Born of an Ethiopian immigrant father and a White American mother, this exotic beauty took Ibrahim's breath away the very first time he met her. The women of Ethiopia were renowned the world over for their beauty, but Nadia was in a category by herself. A beautiful blend of East African and European, with the unique sass of American women, Nadia was simple to die for.

"Wish I could have made you mine," Ibrahim said to himself, and he lay in the dark, smiling as he thought of Nadia and her curvy, enchanting body. Although things hadn't worked out between Ibrahim and Nadia, who, even though she slept with him a few times, had a preference for White dudes, he couldn't forget her...or that big brown ass of hers. Ibrahim felt his manhood harden, and began to stroke it, as he thought of Nadia...

For some reason, Ibrahim's thoughts veered in an unexpected direction. Instead of Nadia, he found himself visualizing Zeinab Beratha, the Indonesian policewoman from that afternoon. Surprised at his own thoughts, but too damn hard to care, Ibrahim continued to masturbate. Even though he'd still been dizzy from getting whacked at the back of his head prior to talking to Zeinab, he definitely noticed the policewoman's charms.

"Come here, sexy woman," Ibrahim whispered, and in his fantasy, a naked and very voluptuous Zeinab came to him, smiling and eager. Ibrahim kissed her full and deep and caressed her breasts, his hands roaming all over her curvy body. Zeinab giggled when he caressed her thick round ass, and then Ibrahim went to work with her. He'd always thought of the female body as a wonderful playground, and he really, really wanted to explore Zeinab's...

"Hmm, show me what you Ethiopian Muslim gentlemen can do," Zeinab replied, and a smiling Ibrahim laid her on his bed, feasting his eyes on her curvaceous loveliness. Ibrahim kissed Zeinab from her head to her toes, and then sucked on her tits while fingering her pussy. After teasing the areolas of her breasts with his tongue, Ibrahim kissed a path from Zeinab's breasts to her pelvic area. Spreading her thick thighs wide open, Ibrahim inhaled her womanly scent, then began feasting on her pussy.

"Hmm, I love the way you taste," Ibrahim said, and he munched on Zeinab's pussy like a hungry man. Afterwards, he put her on all fours, rolled a condom on his long, hard dick, and pushed his way into her. Zeinab's thick ass jiggled as Ibrahim began pounding his way into her, and she cried out, moaning deeply. Ibrahim gripped her hips, fucking her with deep, powerful strokes. And he pounded away at her until he finally came...

"Oh fuck," Ibrahim said aloud, and his eyes snapped open, and he took a moment to compose himself. He was alone in his air-conditioned hotel room, and Zeinab was gone, just another fantasy conjured up from the depths of his mind. Ibrahim realized that his hands were sticky and wiped them on the bed sheets, and then pulled the covers, trying to get some sleep. Sleep continued to elude him, and he found himself thinking about the tall, curvy Indonesian policewoman. What is it about her?

A few kilometers away, the woman whose image haunted Ibrahim's mind, also found herself unable to sleep. Zeinab Beratha lay naked in bed, tossing and turning. Her small fan could do little to keep out the heat which choked much of metropolitan Samarinda this time of year, so she tossed away the covers. Sighing, Zeinab thought about doing some reading, then ended up tossing aside her copy of Saman by controversial Indonesian novelist Ayu Utami. Rather than read about sexuality and taboo, Zeinab felt frustrated due to not experiencing such things lately...

"Sialan aku butuh seks, dammit, I need to get laid," Zeinab said to herself, and as she lay there, naked and sweaty, tossing and turning, she suddenly wished she were engaged in very different activities. Licking her lips, Zeinab began pinching her nipples, and her hand slid between her legs. It had been more than six months since Zeinab got laid. Smiling in the dark, Zeinab began masturbating to a guiltless pleasure. For some reason, her mind wandered back to her first encounter during that afternoon patrol. A certain hunky Ethiopian Muslim gentleman...

"Halo pria Ethiopia yang gelap dan tampan, hello dark and handsome Ethiopian man," Zeinab said to herself, as she visualized Ibrahim Gemeda in bed with her. After her divorce from the dullard known as Abdul Rais, Zeinab really began exploring her sexuality. She found herself drawn to foreign men, from British businessmen to Filipino workers, from Pakistani contractors to Australian tourists. She'd never been with an African man before, though, but from what she heard about them, Zeinab couldn't wait to try one...

"Aku akan menjagamu, I will take care of you," Ibrahim said to Zeinab, speaking in that deep, masculine voice of his. In Zeinab's fantasy, the tall, dark and handsome Ibrahim kissed her passionately, and then showed her what he was made of. Zeinab moaned softly as Ibrahim caressed her breasts and fingered her pussy, his digits playing with her insides with the skill of a virtuoso. Squirming on the bed as Ibrahim made love to her, Zeinab sighed happily and relaxed and enjoyed...

"Persetan dengan susah payah, fuck me hard," Zeinab demanded, and in her fantasy, Ibrahim was happy to oblige. She spread her thick thighs invitingly and Ibrahim smiled, then buried her face in her core. Zeinab sighed happily as Ibrahim slid his tongue into her pussy, and began sampling her goodies, as they say. A pleasant shudder shot through Zeinab's body as Ibrahim ate her pussy like his life depended on it, and he didn't let up until she came, hot girly cream oozing out of her like a torrent...

"Oh yeah, give me that fat ass," Ibrahim said, in Zeinab's fantasy, as he ate her out from behind, smacking her ample derriere for good measure. Horny as can be, Zeinab moaned deeply, pinching her nipples and arching her back, grinding her pussy against Ibrahim's face. After eating her pussy thoroughly, Ibrahim waved his big and thick, dark dick at Zeinab. She looked at his shaft hungrily...

"Aku ingin cokelat itu, I want that bar of chocolate," Zeinab said lustfully, and she grabbed Ibrahim's dick, and stroked it. Ibrahim smiled as she took him into her mouth. Zeinab greedily sucked Ibrahim's dick, and when he finally came, she welcomed the torrent of liquid masculinity which poured down her throat. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Zeinab looked up at Ibrahim, impressed with the Ethiopian Muslim stud and his seed...