"They're talking about us, they're mocking us in Arabic," Yolanda Aoun said softly, her head down as she spoke. The young Lebanese-Canadian woman stood in line at the box office at the Scotiabank Movie Theater in Gloucester, Ontario, accompanied by her lover Marcus Jefferson Dixon. Normally calm, cool and collected, the towering, Chicago-born brother bristled upon hearing his lady's words...
"Hey buddy, you got something to say, say it in English," Marcus said to the trio of Middle-Eastern males who stood a few meters behind them. Ever since they spotted Yolanda in line with him, they'd been muttering among themselves while looking in their direction. Marcus at first didn't think much of it, until Yolanda clarified things for him...
Marcus Dixon, born and bred on the South Side of Chicago, Illinois, was raised to fear no man. Not the trigger-happy racist cops, the local hoodlums who did nothing but prey on their own, or anything else, really. He reacted the way he'd been taught, hands balled into fists, his handsome face contorted in rage, even as a great calm washed over him in anticipation of a good fight.
"Bro, watch your fucking mouth," said one of the Middle-Eastern guys, a rather tall, dark-haired and scar-faced dude with a scruffy beard. His buddies chuckled at his words and said something in their language. Marcus started in their direction, but Yolanda laid a restraining hand on his arm. For a brief moment Marcus took his eyes off the men, and looked at Yolanda.
"They're not worth it, my love," Yolanda said softly, and, looking at the trio, she said something in Arabic which gave them pause. Marcus saw it in their faces, for anger and outrage are pretty much universal. The three men started screaming at the couple in their language, and Yolanda laughed defiantly. Marcus braced himself for a fight. Let them come, Marcus thought, for he was born ready.
"Whoa, gentlemen, hold your horses," came a loud, masculine voice. Marcus watched as the movie theater security guard, a rather tall, large white man with a goatee approached the scene. He placed himself between Yolanda, Marcus and the oncoming trio. The three Middle-Eastern dudes looked at the guard, and glared at Marcus, but chose not to go through the guard to get at their foe.
"See you around, Abeed," the scar-faced Arab dude said, and he and his buddies left the movie theater in a huff. Marcus did not take his eyes off the three men until they left the movie theater's front door. They cut through the parking lot, and disappeared from his vantage point. Only then did the Chicago brother allow himself a sigh of relief.
"Folks, what was that all about?" the security guard asked, and Yolanda and Marcus exchanged a smile, then shrugged innocently. They casually laughed off the whole thing. Their turn came and they bought their tickets at the box office. Marcus paid for the movie and Yolanda used her Scene Card to get points, and then they headed into Theater Seven to watch the new hit movie Creed 2.
"What was with these foolks anyways?" Marcus asked Yolanda, as they sat in the front row. The young Lebanese Christian woman readjusted her horn-rimmed glasses, and shrugged. They sat up front mainly because of her, for Yolanda's eyesight was not what it could be. The otherwise flawless young woman had a case of myopia, and refused to either have surgery or wear contacts. My nerdy cutie, Marcus thought, smiling.
"Arab guys don't like seeing Arab women with men of other races, especially Black guys, even though most of them Arab dudes have White girlfriends nowadays," Yolanda replied casually, as though discussing the weather. Marcus took that in, and shook his head. He thought he'd left all that racial bullshit back in Chicago, but Canada's Capital region was turning out to be even more hostile than his hometown...
"Duly noted, cutie, but they can forget because you're with me," Marcus said, and he drew close to Yolanda's face, and planted a kiss on her lips. Yolanda smiled as she kissed Marcus back. The brother was full of passion and energy, and she simply couldn't get enough of him. They were still making out as the previews ended, and the movie was about to begin...
"Hmm, you've got sweet lips, handsome, but let's not miss the movie," Yolanda said, gently patting Marcus leg. The brother smiled and shrugged. He'd been a fan of Hollywood actor Michael B. Jordan for a long time, having followed his career through movies like Creed, The Fantastic Four, and most recently, Black Panther. Still, for a moment, he'd forgotten all about the movie, blame it on Yolanda...
Marcus Jefferson Dixon had always been the adventurous type. He played varsity soccer at Loyola University in the City of Chicago, and graduated with a bachelor's degree in Economics. While studying at one of America's top private schools, the six-foot-four, athletic and handsome young black man also explored his sexuality, eventually developing a fondness for the world of BDSM.
A bunch of shootings pitting the Chicago police and the local gangs scared Marcus parents, Louisa and Jefferson Dixon, so much that they sent their only son to stay with his aunt Macy Dixon in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. While there, Marcus decided to enroll in the MBA program at Carleton University, intent on pursuing his education.
One night, while browsing Fetlife, Marcus heard about a BDSM munch happening in the By Ward Market area of Ottawa, Ontario. He decided to give it a try. The munch was friendly enough, with eight women and twelve men in attendance. Most of them were over thirty, and white. The only other non-black person in attendance was Yolanda Aoun, who also went by the moniker Mistress Baalbek.
All night Marcus flirted with Mistress Baalbek, whom he mistakenly thought was a Latina. The curvaceous, bronze-skinned, dark-haired and brown-eyed cutie looked dashing in a black leather jacket over a black tank top and black leather pants. Marcus didn't have much experience with folks from the Middle East, but he most definitely knew an interested woman when he saw one.
Mistress Baalbek/Yolanda flirted with the bold and dashing Marcus, and he responded in kind. Ignoring the other attendees of the BDSM munch, they got to know each other a bit. They ended up exchanging numbers, and that's how it all began. Marcus, who also went by the online moniker ChicagoPrince1994 was smitten with Yolanda. The Arab Christian cutie, who'd been dabbling in BDSM for almost a decade, had a few years on him but that didn't faze the Chicago stud a bit.
"Fuck the movie," Marcus said, and he kissed Yolanda's neck, and licked that spot behind her ear, knowing it would drive her absolutely crazy. Yolanda purred like a kitten, then slapped Marcus thigh. As much as she liked, no, loved the handsome, fearless Chicago stud, she did come to the theater to watch the movie. She'd been a fan of Sylvester Stallone forever. In fact, Yolanda's late father, Solomon Aoun, was the one who introduced her to classic Stallone films like Rambo, Assassins, and the like...
"Hmm, Marcus, if you distract me again, I'll spank you when we get home," Yolanda said, smiling. Marcus flashed her a sly wink and stroked his goateed chin thoughtfully. The thought of getting spanked by Yolanda positively aroused Marcus. He didn't say anything and instead took both her hands and placed them on his crotch. Yolanda felt something hard move under her hand, and rolled her eyes.
"I'm incorrigible," Marcus said, laughing, and then, abruptly, he resumed watching the movie. Yolanda grinned and shook her head. What am I going to do with this one? She thought. At the age of twenty eight, Yolanda was at something of a crossroads. She'd gone back to the University of Ottawa, to pursue her Master's degree in Technology Innovation. Previously, she'd studied civil engineering, but after getting her bachelor's years ago, Yolanda decided it wasn't for her.
