"Habibi, you give me a new lease on life," Nadia El-Fattah said, and the lovely and very voluptuous Yemeni Muslim immigrant woman looked at her lover and smiled tenderly. Still aglow from their sexual exertions, the pleasurably sore Nadia sighed happily, feeling better than she had in years. And she owed it all to a certain young man who simply would not be denied.
"Why, thank you, Nadia," Jean-Paul Calixte replied, and the six-foot-one, fit and muscular, chocolate-hued and Afro-sporting young man stretched luxuriously on the king-sized bed, then fixed his gaze on his bedmate, his trademark cocky grin etched on his handsome face as he looked her up and down. Nadia El-Fattah, formerly of metropolitan Dhamar, Yemen, was one lovely woman, and all the prettier because she was seemingly unaware of it...
"I'm glad I met you," Nadia said, and she took Jean-Paul's face into her hands, and kissed him. He pulled her into his arms, caressing her voluptuous body. The bronze-skinned, raven-haired, curvy, wide-hipped and big-bottomed, forty-something Yemeni Muslim immigrant woman wasn't everyone's ideal of beauty but to Jean-Paul, who hailed from a land where curvy women are seen as divine, Nadia was simply glorious.
From the moment Jean-Paul laid eyes on Nadia, on that fateful Friday night inside the Saint Laurent Mall in the east end of Ottawa, the young Haitian man knew that he had to have that woman. Jean-Paul, who worked for the private security outfit known as Securitas Canada, got sent to the mall to do a routine contract. It involved him looking after some techies while they fixed certain things inside the offices of a certain cellphone company.
The techies were supposed to work from eleven o'clock at night until seven in the morning, but they finished early. Unfortunately, Securitas management mandated that Jean-Paul had to stay inside the empty office until the cellphone company managers came in the morning. Spending the night inside the office didn't sound so bad, but after hours spent playing on his phone, listening to music on YouTube, and re-reading his copy of The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas, Jean-Paul was one bored cat...
Out of sheer boredom, Jean-Paul left the cellphone company office, taking the keys with him, and went for a walk around the deserted Saint Laurent Mall. While walking in front of the Payless shoe store, he came across a most enchanting vision. A big round butt which was swaying lightly, as if moved by a nonexistent breeze. The owner of said booty happened to be a tall, curvy, Hijab-wearing Arab woman in her forties. While pushing a cleaning cart, she bent down to tie her shoe.
"Salaam, may I help you?" Nadia asked, turning abruptly to stare at the tall, uniformed young Black man who stood in front of her. Lovely eyes and pouty mouth, Jean-Paul remembered thinking at the time. His eyes met Nadia's, and the lady sighed impatiently. Jean-Paul realized that he had to say something. He didn't want the lady to panic and start screaming. The Saint Laurent Mall's in-house security team had a bad reputation, and even though Jean-Paul was a fellow guard on assignment, he didn't want any troubles with them.
"Um, Salaam, I'm working here tonight, just taking a walk on my break," Jean-Paul said with a smile, and the curvy Arab lady looked him up and down, a dubious expression on her lovely face. This chick is not buying what I'm telling so better think fast, Jean-Paul thought, and he calmly took his wallet out of his pocket, and showed her his Ontario security guard licence.
"Hmm, Jean-Paul Calixte, you must be new, I thought I knew all the security guards here, I'm Nadia," the lady said, relaxing somewhat. With a smile, she returned his wallet, and Jean-Paul nodded, and thanked her. He didn't bother telling her that he wasn't a site guard but a floater working an assignment. Sometimes, it really didn't pay to tell people more than they needed to know...
"Good to meet you, Nadia, I do hope to see you around," Jean-Paul said, and Nadia nodded gently, and then walked away. Unable to help himself, Jean-Paul gazed at her curvy body and big round butt as she headed toward the escalators, and he blew her a kiss. Amazingly, as if sensing his gaze on her, Nadia turned. Busted, Jean-Paul thought, cursing his damn luck. Even more amazing? Nadia smiled at Jean-Paul and waved in a friendly manner, totally unfazed by his booty-gawking...
Returning to the cellphone office, Jean-Paul closed the doors, and hunkered down for the night. He figured that if the managers were coming in at seven, he ought to wake up around six or so. Fortunately, there was a backroom of sorts where he grabbed a chair and relaxed. Jean-Paul even found stale and overly sugar leftover coffee, which he warmed up in the office microwave and drank most eagerly.
Try as Jean-Paul might, he couldn't sleep. It had nothing to do with the coffee he drank. Jean-Paul found himself having naughty thoughts about Nadia the Arab cleaning lady, and that fat ass of hers. Born in the City of Cap-Haitien, northern Haiti, and raised in the City of Montreal, Quebec, Jean-Paul was a newcomer to the City of Ottawa. His parents, Mildred and Leonel Calixte, fed up with his party-guy antics at the University of Montreal after he flunked out, basically banished him to Ottawa. Enrolling at the University of Ottawa under parental pressure, Jean-Paul was rebuilding his life.
