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It's Thursday morning, and I lie on my bed, sighing profoundly. Tonight, at midnight, I'm finally getting paid. As of right now, though, a quick logon into my CIBC account reveals my combined assets totaling one dollar and seventeen cents. Why is that a problem, you may wonder? Yeah, why can't a brother wait until Friday? Um, it's my lady Fayruza "Fay" Bin Sultan's birthday. Today my darling Fayruza is celebrating her twenty first birthday. A momentous occasion, wouldn't you say?

As the dutiful boyfriend that I try to be, I should have one hell of a celebration ready for her. Fayruza told me she didn't want anything special, that she wanted to keep things low-key. Every time a chick says she doesn't want anything special for her birthday, she's lying. I wanted to do something cool for my lady. We've been together for a year. I wanted to take her to dinner, someplace nice. Maybe Restaurant Goyave, the new Haitian restaurant in Orleans, or a Japanese sushi place or maybe the Baton Rouge downtown. Their ribs are legendary!

But, um, that's not what happened. Dude, when it rains it frigging pours. I'm broke like a joke, and my father is out of town on business. My older brother is a thousand kilometers away. What am I going to do? Oh, snap. I almost forgot to introduce myself. Sorry about that. See what happens when a man has too much on his mind? My name is Mansur "Manny" Osman and I'm a young man of Somali and French Canadian descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I'm nineteen years old and currently studying accounting at Carleton University. Always been a numbers man, since high school.

Stuff like geometry and algebra made sense to me while sociology and western literature baffled me. I think I get it from my father, Kader Osman. He's a civil engineer working for Hydro Ottawa. I have an older brother, Abu, who's studying computer science at the University of Minnesota in Saint Paul, thanks to a special scholarship he won. My mom Alma Beaumont, was White, originally from Montreal, Quebec. As the fates would have it, she died giving birth to me, so I never knew her. My pops raised my brother Abu and I on his own, though my paternal aunt Yasmin helped out when she could. I guess that's why I am so awkward around women sometimes. I grew up in a very male environment.

I'm six-foot-one, brown-skinned and curly-haired, with a wiry build. I also wear thick nerdy glasses, though not by choice. When I take them off everything five meters from me becomes a blur. Yup, I'm the stereotype of a Black nerd, if such a creature exists. I work for Boston Pizza, making deliveries all over the east end of Ottawa as well as downtown. Standard salary is ten dollars and seventy five cents per hour plus tips. People in Ottawa are cheap, and downright racist at times. I don't make much as a pizza deliveryman.

Still, as much as I complain about my job, without it I wouldn't have met the woman who changed my life. Even though we're both Muslims, Fayruza Bin Sultan and I come from two different worlds, to say the least. I was born and raised in Ontario, Canada, and Fayruza is originally from the town of Duba, Saudi Arabia. How we met is certainly one for the ages. Like I said before, I'm a pizza deliveryman and typically my route covers the east end of Ottawa, mainly Vanier, and sometimes I go as far as downtown. When we got a call for an order from Bronson Avenue, near Carleton University, I couldn't believe the Boss actually told me to go.

I hopped on my beat-up old 1980 Can-Amm Bombardier 250 ex-military motorcycle and raced from the pizza shop on Saint Laurent and headed downtown. I made it to Rideau in five minutes by cutting through Montreal Road from Donald. I finally made my way to Bronson, seventeen minutes after the order came in. We have a thirty-minute delivery policy, otherwise the order is free. I dialed the number once I got to the door. A female voice with an odd accent told me to wait, and I patiently hung around the building lobby. Five minutes after I'd arrived, someone finally came down the elevator. I was ready to leave, man, but then the elevators opened, and a vision of beauty emerged from within.

Now, I see exotic pretty girls all the time, for Ottawa is home to lots of immigrants from all over the world. Somalis. Lebanese. Turks. Mexicans. Chinese. Lovely ladies from faraway lands, really. All shades and all body types. Believe me, man. I look. Still, I was unprepared for what came out of the elevator. A short, curvaceous young woman with dark bronze skin, clad in a dark blue sweatshirt, long Black skirt and ebony hijab. Definitely Arab, I thought, as she came near. Her light brown eyes positively glowed when she saw me. At last, the young woman said, smiling and rubbing her hands together.

I smiled and nodded, then said the company line like a good little schmuck. Boston Pizza at your service, I said, looking at her. The young woman came closer, and produced thirty dollars from her wallet. The order comes to seventeen dollars and thirty cents, I said evenly, trying not to stare at her. Thank you brother I'm Fayruza, she said softly. Those mesmerizing golden brown eyes of hers were something else. I am Mansur, I said, and shook my head as I looked at the money.

Sister you've given me too much, I said, placing the ten back in her slender hand. Fayruza smiled at me and shook her head, then walked back to the elevator. My heart skipped a bit and a wry grin split my face as I noticed her spectacular derriere. Damn, Arab girls got booty! Right before she got in, the young woman turned and looked at me. Always a pleasure to meet an honest man, Fayruza said, smiling, as she got in and the elevators closed. I was smiling from ear to ear as I walked back to my motorcycle. I got on, and headed back to the store. Just another day in Ottawa, I said to myself.

I figured I would never see Fayruza again, but guess who I saw in the quad at Carleton University the very next day? Her loveliness herself, nearing the old library steps. Hello Fayruza, I said, quickening my step and walking toward her. The young woman turned around, and looked at me. Those unforgettable golden brown eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. As Salam Alaikum brother Mansur, she said evenly, a look of surprise creeping into her pretty face.

Fayruza looked lovely in a long-sleeved red T-shirt, tight Black jeans and shiny Black boots. You remembered, I said, smiling. Nodding, Fayruza raised a bushy eyebrow. You work and go to school at the same time? she said, awe in her voice. I nodded with admirable false humility. Brother must earn his living, I said casually, and then told her I had a lot of work to get done, accounting stuff. Fayruza's pretty face lit up like a Christmas tree. I'm studying the same thing, she said excitedly. Tell me all about it, I said, pulling the door for her as we went into the library.

That's how it all began, ladies and gentlemen. How I met Fayruza Bin Sultan, an international student at Carleton University and the daughter of a wealthy Saudi sheikh who sent her to study in Canada's Capital. I've always been shy with women and my father and brother used to tease me about it, as did my male friends. After Fay came into my life, they held their tongues. Lovely women are found all over the world, in every culture and nation, but lots of Muslim men consider Arab women to be among the most beautiful. I've had a fascination for them for a long time.

Arab/African relations are complicated, to say the least. Lots of Arabs live in Black nations such as Somalia, Uganda, and South Africa. Lots of Africans live in Arab countries such as Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Morocco and many others. We share culture and religion, and we have much in common, but sadly, there's a legacy of racism. The Arabs were the first to enslave Africans, long before the first White man ever set foot on the African continent. In ancient times, the people of the African kingdom of Cush ( present-day Sudan ) invaded Egypt and conquered it.

For thousands of years, there's been conflict between Africans and Arabs, as well as peace, and even a level of intermingling due to commerce, religious travels and mixed marriages. Arab men's fondness for Black female flesh is well-documented. Still, it's a rare Arab woman who will marry a Black man. There's a lot of racism that comes into play once the issue of interracial marriage arises, especially when the prospective groom is of African descent. Such is life.

I was thrilled to have Fay in my life. I don't know what I thought of Saudi girls before I met her but the lady exceeded my expectations. Since Saudi Arabia is the most conservative nation on the planet earth, I expected Fay to be meek and repressed. Instead, she stunned me with her vivacious personality, her fearlessness and her eagerness to experiment. You westerners take too much of life for granted, Fay told me once, as she tried to convince me to go Bungee Jumping and I balked at the idea, since I was scared shitless.

I don't want to die foolishly, I countered, shaking my head vehemently. Fay rolled her eyes and flashed me that fearless smile of hers. You're such a chicken Mansur, she laughed, then shoved me. Don't do that, I warned, and Fay laughed, shoving me again. We were sitting on her couch, watching a movie. You can't stop me, Fay laughed, tugging at my ears. Frustrated, I finally grabbed her hands. Stop that shit, I said, fuming.

An amused look crept into Fayruza's pretty face. Unexpectedly, she leaned closer and kissed me. I kissed her back, passionately. Make love to me, Fay said, wrapping her arms around my neck as soon as I let go of her hands. I looked at her, my gorgeous Saudi goddess. Clad in blue sweatpants, a blue T-shirt and a modest azure hijab, Fay was the picture of loveliness. Sure thing, I said, holding her face in my hands.

I'm not the most experienced guy when it comes to sexual matters, and in fact, I'd only been with one other chick, a Jamaican gal named Margret, before I met Fay. Yet my Saudi goddess definitely helped me make up for lost time. I smiled as Fay pulled off her T-shirt, then kicked off her pants. Clad in a red bra and matching panties, with her hijab still on, Fay looked sexy as hell. Instantly I got a boner. You like what you see, Fay laughed, pointing at my erection.

I smiled and nodded, then took Fay's foot in my hand. I'm a sucker for lovely toes, I said, as I took the big toe of her right foot and put it in my mouth. Grinning, Fay told me she was ticklish. This only emboldened as I sucked her toes, all ten of them, one at a time. Don't forget to use that wicked tongue on my Awrah, Fay grimaced, and I nodded. Spreading her shapely thighs open, I yanked down her panties, exposing her hairy pussy. Fayruza had never shaved in her life. Some men would be turned off. When you're me, Mansur Osman, the brother who hasn't gotten laid in ages, you don't squirm at the sight of the unexpected. You roll with it.

Eagerly, I began licking Fayruza's pussy, and watched her react to the intrusion of my tongue and fingers inside her cunt. Just like that, Fay said, licking her lips and leaning back on the couch as I pleasured her. I stuck my tongue into her cunt like a spear, teasing her clit while my fingers explored her womanly folds. That's when Fay just about lost it, squirming on the couch and moaning loudly as I worked my particular brand of magic on her. My normally poised and proper Saudi girlfriend was screaming obscenities like a madwoman. Grabbing the back of my neck, Fay glared at me. Don't you dare stop, she snapped, then forcibly pressed my face against her cunt.

Damn, I had never seen Fayruza this intense or bossy, and I kind of liked it. That's why I licked her cunt with gusto, fingering her nice and deep. An intense shudder and loud screams were my reward as she came, her cunt oozing hot womanly cum all over my face. Yummy, I said, and licked it all up. Damn that was hot, Fay squealed, her pretty face covered with sweat, a wild look in her smoldering eyes. Thank you sweets, I said, then took both her hands and placed them on my hard, aching manhood.

You know what to do, I said gently, and Fay smiled coyly, running her fingernails on my dick. Grinning, she pushed me back on the couch and grabbed my balls. Go easy on my jewels, I yelped, and Fay squeezed them harder. Just when I was about to scream, Fay suddenly let go, and in one smooth move, got most of my dick in her mouth. Wow, I said, amazed. Fay winked at me as she began sucking my dick. I'm not huge, only about seven and a half inches, and fairly thick. Still, she handled me well.

The sight of my sweet Fayruza on her knees, her gorgeous body stark naked ( save for her hijab, which she forgot to take off ) as she sucked my dick proved too much for me. I'm almost there, I shouted, as a warning. Fay just kept sucking and sucking. At the last minute, just as my legs were starting to wobble, Fay did something utterly surprising. The wicked Saudi chick stuck a finger up my ass, buried it to the knuckle, in fact. Whoa, I groaned, surprised by the intrusion. Moments later I came, and amazingly, Fay swallowed every last drop of my cum.

You taste good, Fayruza said, smiling at me while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Come here sweets, I said, pulling her to her feet. I kissed her full and deep. You rock, I said, and gave her big, wide ass a firm smack. Fay giggled, then pretended to struggle as I pushed her on the couch, spread her legs and entered her with a smooth, firm thrust.

Fuck me hard, Fayruza said, winking at me as I raised her thick, sexy legs in the air and thrust deep inside of her. I buried my face between Fay's big tits as I rammed into her. The feel of her tight cunt gripping my dick was unbelievable. Her arms wrapped tightly around me, her legs spread invitingly, Fay welcomed me inside of her. You're unbelievable, I said, gently sucking on her left breast. Fay kissed me on the forehead. Thank you my sexy brother, she laughed, her fingernails digging into my back.

I'm not sure for how long we went at it but it was absolutely fantastic. A world of passion opened up to Fayruza Bin Sultan and I that day. I'm in love with this crazy, freaky, and yet deeply spiritual and kindly young woman from Saudi Arabia, the world's most conservative nation and the Heartland of our great religion, Islam. We're inseparable these days. I recently took her to see the new Spiderman movie, the one where the blonde chick dies.

We hang out at Saint Laurent, our favorite mall, located not far from my place. When I walk through downtown Ottawa or the Carleton campus with Fayruza's hand in mine, I feel like I'm on top of the world. I love this young woman, and I wasn't shy about letting her know. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, I told Fay one night, as we sat inside the Gloucester shopping center food court, eating pizza and sandwiches. Fay looked at me and smiled. Corny but sweet, she laughed, then laid her hand on mine. Love you too Mansur, Fayruza said, then she kissed me.

People often stare when they see us out together, a young Black man with a hijab-wearing Arab woman. I don't care what they say, or think, because Fayruza Bin Sultan is with me. I'm used to being the odd man out. I was born to a White Canadian mother and a Somali immigrant father. Although my background is Muslim, I'm not particularly religious. There's much about Somali culture I don't agree with, starting with female circumcision and the separation of the sexes. I'm thoroughly Canadian, I guess. For my westernized mindset, I'm unwelcome among most Somali Canadians, the majority of which are quite conservative. Due to my biracial heritage, I'm somewhat of a cypher in mainstream Canadian society. Mixed people like myself upset the social order because we represent change. I can only guess at the discomfort felt by bigots on all sides as they see a couple like Fayruza and I, happily walking together.

As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, Fay means worlds to me. That's why I am feeling so bummed right now, since her birthday is today and I don't get paid till tomorrow. What's a brother to do? I hopped on my bike and drove around town, since it always helps me clear my mind. As I neared Bronson Ave, I saw two large stone vases filled with flowers. What do you think I did? I grabbed a dozen roses, and drove off. I drove a couple of blocks and stopped by Fay's building.

I went into the lobby, and pressed the seventh floor button. Who is it? Fayruza's sleepy voice demanded sharply. I waited a few seconds, chuckled to myself. The Main Man is here for the birthday gal, I said enthusiastically. A groan from Fayruza, then she buzzed me up. I rode the elevator, and got off at the seventh floor. I walked up to door number eleven, and knocked. Five seconds passed, then I heard shuffling feet. The door opened. Fay stared at me, clad in a ratty-looking T-shirt and shorts, her long Black hair cascading on her shoulders.

Hello sweetie, I said, clutching the flowers and smiling. Fay looked at me, smiled and gave me a hug. You brought me flowers, she grinned, taking them from me. I hugged her back tightly. Happy birthday, I said, and kissed her on the forehead. I love you corny bastard, Fayruza grinned, and gave my ass a firm slap. Had my behind stinging and everything. Fay and I didn't do a lot of talking once I closed the door behind us, if you catch my drift.

Fayruza Bin Sultan and I spent the whole day together, and it was absolutely wonderful. My sweet lady cooked some tasty Saudi dishes for me, and we watched TV, read to each other, and oh yeah, we fucked like rabbits too, of course. No worries, she's on the pill. When Friday morning came, Fay and I showered together ( always fun ) and then got dressed and got ready to hit the streets. We borrowed a bicycle helmet from one of her neighbors, then took off on my motorcycle.

Where are you taking me? Fayruza shouted into my ear as we rode Bronson, weaving through traffic while making our way to Rideau. It's a surprise, I grinned, loving the feel of her arms clinging tightly to me. Earlier, I checked my CIBC account and I'm happy to report that direct deposit happened overnight. I'm one seven hundred and forty seven dollars richer. Of that sum, three hundred and thirty is going towards paying my rent but I don't care. Today, I'm treating Fay to a day of fun. I'm taking her shopping, then dinner and a movie. My way of letting my Saudi goddess know her favorite Somali Canadian truly cares. How am I doing?