Carleton University Love Birds

"You'll never guess where I come from," Rachel Van Boeijen said, smiling faintly. Sitting opposite her inside The Page Break, the Starbucks located inside the Carleton University library, Kinuthia "Ken" Makenga stroked his goateed chin thoughtfully. The international student from Kenya was one of the special mentors and tutors assigned to the International Student Life Office or I.S.L.O. to help newcomers acclimate to their new campus.

Like a lot of schools in Canada's Capital region, Carleton University had recently received an influx of international students from places like Africa, the Caribbean, Asia and Latin America. Given the current situation in the United States, foreign students, especially the ones of color, viewed Canada as a safer alternative. America's current leadership did not like foreigners, so foreign students were coming to Canada's colleges and universities in droves. Good business, as far as Canadian schools were concerned.

For schools like Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, keeping up with the influx of international students meant hiring new professionals to help move things along. The foreign students were now a sizeable part of the overall student body at close to thirty percent, so they had to be managed properly, by professionals sensitive to their unique needs. Ken Makenga, a fourth-year student in the International Business program at Carleton's very own Sprott School of Business, happened to be one of those professionals.

Fluent in Swahili, English, French and some Spanish, Ken Makenga had lived all over the world as the son of former diplomats. The tall, smart, well-spoken brother seemed the perfect person to deal with students from diverse backgrounds. Indeed, the friendly and easygoing Kenyan national was one of the best tutors and mentors affiliated with the International Student Life Office. Today, though, Ken had his hands full with one Rachel Van Boeijen...

"Well, Rachel, your last name is Dutch, so I would have to say the Netherlands," Ken said after a brief pause, and Rachel grinned and vigorously shook her head. Twirling a strand of her long blonde hair between her thumb and index finger, Rachel looked Ken up and down. Tall, dark-skinned, handsome and well-dressed, the brother from Mombasa, Kenya, reminded her of the Hollywood actor Tyler James Williams.

"Nope, totally wrong," Rachel said, imitating the buzzer on a game show, and as Ken looked on, she pulled out her cell phone and on its screen, serving as wallpaper, the red, white, green, black, yellow and blue flag of South Africa. Ken smiled, and shook his head. He never would have guessed that the tall, tomboyish blonde gal he'd been assigned to mentor came from the continent of Africa.

"Alright, you got me, so, where in South Africa are you from?" Ken asked, and Rachel returned his smile before launching into a lengthy discussion on the many reasons why her hometown of Johannesburg rocked, and the City of Ottawa, their current location, absolutely sucked. Ken, who'd been living in the Canadian Capital for about four years, had to respectfully disagree. He'd grown to like Ottawa, and although some of its citizens could be passive aggressive sometimes, a lot of them were genuinely nice people.

"Come on, Ken, it's just us foreigners here, Ottawa is boring, a lot of the locals have chips on their shoulders, and even more unforgiveable to me, they are obsessed with hockey and ignore the beauty of rugby," Rachel scoffed, shaking her head. Ken smiled, admiring Rachel's feistiness, and the fact that she was speaking aloud about her dislike of Canada's national ( and perhaps only ) sport inside a café on a busy Canadian university campus. The gal had guts...

"Okay, Rachel, I'll be diplomatic and say that Ottawa isn't as exciting as Toronto or other world-class cities, but I've made some friends here, once you do, you will realize that the place doesn't have to suck, you can make your own fun," Ken said confidently. Rachel appeared to be pondering that, and then she flipped through her phone's photo gallery, and held the phone inches from Ken's face. A bit startled by Rachel's brusque movements, Ken kept his cool and calmly looked at the picture on display.

"This is a picture of me, my best friend Ayanda and my cousin Nicole at Hobie Beach near Port Elizabeth in the Eastern Cape Province," Rachel said proudly. Ken looked at the picture, Rachel was standing there, in a tank top and shorts next to a tall, curvy young Black woman in a bright green swimsuit and a slender, dark-haired young Caucasian woman in a bright red bikini. The trio of beauties stood on the sands, with the ocean in the background, smiling and throwing up gang signs. Ah, the sheer Whiteness of it all...

"Cool, you look like Californian surfer girls, all three of you," Ken said, laughing, and Rachel fell silent, frowning. Ken, a rather astute young man, looked at her, wondering if he'd inadvertently said the wrong thing. Black or White, women were, well, women, and a man had to watch his words around them. Lest they be used against him in their personal court where they served as judge, jury and especially executioner...

"Ken, come on, I don't look like an American gal, as you can tell, my best friend is a Zulu gal, I've known Ayanda my whole life, she's like family, those idiots in the States like to call everyone racist, especially us South Africans, but they're letting an idiot with a bad toupee take them back to the Dark Ages," Rachel said, sucking in her teeth. Ken looked into her blue eyes and Rachel held his gaze, without smiling. She meant what she said, Ken thought, quietly astonished.

"You're something else, Rachel," Ken said earnestly, and he ran his head across his smooth shaved head. Once every two months, Ken went to the Royal Barber Shop, a Haitian-owned spot in the east end of Ottawa, to get his head shaved. During his first year at Carleton University he sported an Afro, which became stylized dreads, and quickly realized that a lot of the smiling, seemingly friendly and progressive Canadians he saw everyday harbored hostilities toward him for his unique look. Ken, always smart and adaptable, cut his hair. He shopped his resume around, and the job offers started pouring in.

"Careful, handsome, South African girls are addictive," Rachel said in a decidedly flirtatious tone, while rubbing Ken's arm for some reason. Ken sipped his overpriced and under-sugared coffee and smiled, for he totally knew what Rachel was up to. In his four years in the City of Ottawa, Ken had always been friendly with the local Whites, but there were certain things he didn't do. Banging White girls was definitely not on the proud Kenyan's agenda...

"Ahem, we should really continue with your acclimatization to Ottawa, Rachel, I can help you with getting a Canadian driver's licence, if you want, I'm a foreigner too and I have one," Ken said with a polite smile. Rachel looked at him and grinned. A lot of women get really pissed when they make a pass at a guy and he doesn't respond the way they want. Women lacked men's patience and persistence ( and capacity for taking rejection ) when it came to pursuits...

"Hmm, sounds good, Ken, I have my bachelor's degree in Accounting from the University of Johannesburg and I'm here at Carleton to get my Master's degree in Business, and I might stay if I get a job after graduation, so I need to know and explore all that Canada has to offer, you're going to be a good lad and help me with all of that," Rachel said, her tone switching from amorous to crisp and businesslike in a flash. Kitty has claws, Ken thought with a grin.

"My pleasure," Ken said, and he rose, and gently inclined his head while holding out his hand. Rachel, unaccustomed to such displays of old-fashioned chivalry, smiled but took Ken's hand. Unfortunately for Ken, Rachel did not let go, and he was too much of a gentleman to press the issue and cause a scene, especially since a lot of the other patrons inside The Page Break were looking at them.

"Ken, word to the wise, I usually get what I want," Rachel said in a quiet, soft voice, and then she let go of his hand. Ken smiled and nodded, then watched her exit The Page Break, sauntering out of there like a supermodel on the catwalk. A pair of tall, gangly White male students, who walked in while holding hands with a Chinese-looking gal and a curvy Black gal, looked disapprovingly at the sexy, blonde Rachel as she paused at the library door and turned to flash Ken a sexy wink.

"What a world," Ken said to himself, amazed both by Rachel's behavior and that of the interracial quartet that just entered The Page Break. It would seem that White guys with Black girlfriends and Asian girlfriends don't like to see White women flirt with Black men. Who would have thought? Ken was all smiles as he gathered his belongings and headed for nearby Dunton Tower. He had a class in Business Ethics starting at one fifteen in the afternoon and it was already twelve fifty seven...

Later that day, when Ken checked his Facebook on his laptop, he saw that he had a message and a friend request from Rachel Van Boeijen. Intrigued, he decided to look her up online before accepting. The good news about the web is that local news are global news. Ken felt his heart skip a beat when he read about a wealthy South African couple, Mirjam and Hans Van Boeijen, dying in a tragic car accident in Gauteng, South Africa, and leaving their multi-million dollar fortune to their only daughter Rachel.

"Poor thing," Ken thought to himself as he added Rachel as a friend. A cursory check of her profile revealed tons of pictures, mostly of Rachel partying with friends, or doing risky things like surfing, riding motorcycles, shooting Gauss guns. The South African cutie was obviously an adrenaline junkie. A rich gal with a tragic past who's interested in me, Ken thought. In spite of himself, he felt curious about her.

"Look who's coming around," Rachel said to herself as she checked her messages on her laptop. After a rigorous two hours on the exercise bike at the gym and an hour at the Carleton University swimming pool, Rachel returned to her one-bedroom apartment located at the Rockcliffe, within walking distance of the university campus. The message from Ken made her smile...

"Hello Rachel, thanks for the add, sorry if I seemed distant earlier, my ex-girlfriend Yasmin really did a number on me, I look forward to our friendship because I think you're a cool person," Ken's message read, and Rachel smiled. Looking through Ken's profile, she was surprised to see that he only had a couple hundred friends, most of whom either Kenyan nationals or fellow Carleton University students. Rachel had a major presence on Facebook and Twitter, with thousands of friends and followers, thanks to her daredevil lifestyle...

"Let's see who is this Yasmin person," Rachel said to herself, flipping through Ken's list of online friends. Upon finding Yasmin Osman, Rachel paused. The gal in the picture was beautiful, with light brown skin and dark hair, and her lively brown eyes seemed to look right through you. A quick check through Yasmin's profile revealed that she was Muslim, born of a Somali immigrant father and White Canadian mother. Yasmin looked like the Hollywood actress and singer Alicia Keys in a Hijab, but Rachel was not intimidated. Ken shall be mine, Rachel silently vowed.

Over the next few weeks, by 'random happenstance,' Rachel kept bumping into Ken, and they ended up grabbing lunch at Oliver's Pub, among other things. As Rachel got to know Ken, she found him handsome, charming and very smart. The brother from Kenya impressed her with his ambition and business smarts. Rachel, the daughter of one of South Africa's top businessmen, knew the real deal when she saw it. Ken was trying to become Kenya's version of Oprah or Elon Musk.

"Tell me more about this Yasmin gal, the one who let you go," Rachel said to Ken as they sat inside Creole Sensations, a nice little Caribbean restaurant located in the east end of Ottawa, within walking distance of Ken's apartment. Ken who was chewing on some White rice and brown bean sauce, paused. He took a sip of his Pepsi and looked at the fried goat meat he hadn't touched yet, and then flashed Rachel a forced smile. This was an uncomfortable topic for him...

"Well, Rachel, I met Yasmin my second year, at an interfaith meeting for Muslim students and Christian students at Carleton, we kind of butted heads but sparks flew, and we began dating, we were together for two years, and then she asked me to convert to Islam and when I refused, she dumped me, she couldn't spend the rest of her life with a man who wasn't Muslim," Ken said flatly. When he looked at her, Rachel saw a haunted look in his brown eyes. This requires careful handling, Rachel thought, alarmed.

"Ken, sometimes some relationships are simply not meant to be, and that's okay, I've been there, I understand," Rachel said, gently laying her hand on his arm. Ken looked at Rachel's hand and paused. He looked into her eyes. Could it be true? Could she truly understand? For ages Ken thought that he and Yasmin were meant to be, but she'd rather follow the draconian rules of her religion than follow her heart. He thought he meant more to her than that...

When Ken walked around the Carleton University campus, or the Rideau Shopping Center, or the local movie theater with the lovely, smart and ambitious Yasmin on his arm, she made him feel strong. Some of their friends compared Ken and Yasmin to Barack and Michelle, like that time they wowed everyone with their style and dance moves at the engineering formal. Black power couple, that's what people called them. Sadly, it was not meant to be.

"It's cool, Rachel, thanks for understanding," Ken replied in a soft voice, and Rachel nodded, then hesitated. She looked at Ken, and bit her lip. Impulsively she drew closer to him, until their faces were inches apart. Rachel smiled faintly, and Ken sighed, then a slow smile crept across his darkly handsome features. Rachel closed the gap between them, and planted a kiss on Ken's succulent-looking full lips. Ken kissed Rachel back passionately, and took her hands in his.

"Glad I can get my point across," Rachel said with a cocky grin, once they came up for air, and Ken nodded. Other patrons inside the small restaurant looked at them and smiled. After they finished eating, Ken settled their bill with his Bank of Montreal bank card, and then they went for a walk around the Vanier area. Talking and laughing, they made their way to Ken's apartment at the edge of the trendy neighborhood of Beechwood, on Rue Arno.

"How do you like the place?" Ken said as he opened his apartment door, and Rachel stepped inside. The young woman took a look at the small but tasteful place, noting the African and Caribbean artwork and pictures on the walls. Ken, a very Afro-centric guy, had portraits of everyone from South African freedom fighter Steve Biko to Jomo Kenyatta, the founding father of the Kenyan nation, from Liberia's first female President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf to Senegalese football legend Sadio Mane. Rachel nodded appreciatively at a very phallocentric Kenyan fertility figurine standing at a corner of Ken's living room.

"Hmm, Ken, I think this figurine gets more action than you," Rachel said, and she sauntered over to the statuette, and, bending down touched its, ahem, phallic parts. Ken shook his head, and crossed the distance between them, intent on stopping Rachel's foolishness. Abruptly she stood up and faced him. Before Ken could say anything, Rachel patted his groin and smiled.

"You're really something else," Ken said, somewhere between amused, turned on and angry. Rachel nodded, and kissed him while unzipping his pants. Upon noticing that Ken wasn't wearing any underwear, Rachel smiled. Out came his dick, long, thick, dark and uncircumcised. Small wonder his Muslim ex-girlfriend didn't want him but I like big dicks of all kinds, Rachel thought lustfully while stroking Ken's member.

"Let's do this," Rachel said, and she grabbed Ken's dick and led him to the nearby couch. Once there, she knelt before him and took his member into her mouth. Gently pulling back Ken foreskin, Rachel flicked her tongue over his dick head, then sucked his dick. Ken moaned softly, unable to believe the freaky things that Rachel was doing for him, or to him. This gal was something else...

"Oh damn," Ken sighed, as Rachel worked him over, causing him to feel a rush in his loins. He warned her that he was about to cum but the feisty blonde gal kept doing her thing and didn't let up. Her soft lips and magic tongue felt like a vacuum cleaner around his dick, and Ken's legs went rigid as he came, violently. Rachel, who'd been bracing herself for the storm, happily tasted Ken's masculine juice. The Kenyan stud tasted wonderful...

"Hmm, I do like the way you taste," Rachel said to Ken, licking her lips and winking at the handsome man before her. Ken smiled, and then pulled her into his arms. He laid her on the couch and Rachel smiled, spreading her creamy White thighs invitingly. She rubbed her erect nipples and cooed softly as Ken began his approach into her. Ken inhaled the scent of Rachel's womanhood and then wrapped his mouth around her clitoris, sucking on it greedily. Let the fun begin...

"You taste good yourself," Ken paused to say, and he began lathering Rachel with his tongue, sucking on her girly juices, savoring the smell and taste of her. Rachel moaned deeply, loving what Ken was doing to her. The brother from Kenya definitely knew his way around a vagina, and Rachel was in thrall to his sexual maneuvers. He thrust three fingers into her wet pussy while teasing her clitoris with his tongue. Rachel cried out in sweet agony, and Ken had her right where he wanted her...

"Don't stop licking me," Rachel squealed, and Ken stepped things up a notch by wedging four fingers inside her pussy while teasing her clitoris with his tongue. The double whammy drove Rachel absolutely buts and she howled like a madwoman, her athletic body thrashing wildly as Ken absolutely rocked her world. The Kenyan stud didn't let up until his favorite South African beauty came, oozing hot girly cum all over his damn face...

"Glad you had fun, now come here and take care of this," Ken said to Rachel, a little while later. Rachel had been trying to catch her breath after climaxing from Ken's sensual play, and now it was his turn to be on the receiving end of some sensual attention. She took one look at his long, hard dick and licked her lips hungrily. Before Ken could get another word out, Rachel all but pounced on him with the grace of a panther, and she landed exactly where she wanted...

"Fuck me," Rachel demanded as she straddled Ken while locking eyes with him, and the burly Kenyan stud nodded. Placing his hands on her hips, he thrust into her, burying his hard member inside her hot, practically pulsating pussy. Rachel dug her fingernails into the flesh of Ken's back as she rode him. Ken gripped Rachel's hips and slammed his dick into her, loving the way her tight flesh seized his member and would not let go. He wanted to lose himself in her, and so he did...

Several hours later, Kinuthia "Ken" Makenga and Rachel Van Boeijen lay sprawled on his living room carpet. Ken exhaled sharply and looked at the ceiling, feeling happier and more alive than he'd ever felt in ages. He hadn't had sex in months, not since he split from Yasmin Osman. Rachel was aglow with happiness, for she hadn't had a good lay in quite some time. She looked at Ken and smiled, and just like that, the two love birds began again...