Hana Al-Zaghab of Palestine

"My name is Hana Al-Zaghab," said the short, curvy, Hijab-wearing young Arab woman, smiling faintly. Ottawa Police Constable Rupert James Sherman nodded gently, and noted this on his pad. In spite of the ordeal she'd just gone through, as evidenced by her bruised face, the young woman looked sturdy and dignified. Attacks on racial minorities, especially Muslims, were becoming quite common across provincial Ontario.

The various police forces of the province were doing very little about those xenophobic attacks, a sure sign of the times in this part of Canada. According to the latest criminological statistics, the biggest minority groups in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, people of African and Middle-Eastern descent, were the biggest targets. Several mosques had been vandalized, Black Lives Matter activists had been attacked in public, and now, this lovely young Arab woman got attacked on the bus. Dammit.

"Hana, I am Constable Rupert James Sherman with the Ottawa Police Service, please, tell me exactly what happened," he said gently, and he waited for Hana to begin. They were at Lincoln Fields Station, where Hana's attackers had fled after attacking her on the bus. The young woman took a deep breath, and then told him how she'd been attacked by a couple of young white guys while riding the OC Transpo bus going to Barrhaven, Ontario, from downtown Ottawa. What began as a casual bus ride soon took a tragic turn...

"Officer, is this going to hurt my chances with immigration? I'm an international student from Gaza and I've recently applied for permanent residency," Hana said, and Rupert looked at her, stunned by the worry that shone in those dark brown eyes of hers. Taking a deep breath, Rupert wondered how to best answer that question. The Constable understood all too well the worries that plagued the immigrant class in Canada, after all, he moved to Ottawa from Saint Lucia with his family ten years ago.

"Ma'am, you are the victim of a hate crime, you did nothing wrong, those men had no right to treat you like this, I will personally pursue them to the full extent of the law," Rupert said, and Hana looked at him, surprised by his choice of words. Rupert scribbled in his notepad, feeling slightly uneasy under Hana's unwavering, penetrating stare. This young woman is something else, Rupert thought to himself.

"Good, I just don't want to have a criminal record or anything like that, I'm close to finishing the nursing program at Ottawa University, " Hana replied evenly, and Rupert nodded, and reassured her that the Hate Crime Investigation Division of the Ottawa Police Service was taking the incident seriously. After a few minutes, he handed her his card, and promised to keep in touch. Hana nodded gratefully, and then began to head toward the bus stop. Rupert bit his lip, feeling bad about leaving Hana alone after the ordeal she'd just gone through.

"Ma'am, if you want, we can have a cruiser escort you home," Rupert suggested, and after a brief hesitation, Hana nodded. Rupert spoke to patrol supervisor Helena Locke about escorting Hana home, and the tall, blonde-haired policewoman nodded her assent. She glanced at Hana, and shook her head sadly. Poor thing, she doesn't deserve this, the officer thought.

"Young lady, Constable Rupert will get you home, and we will keep you updated about the investigation," Supervisor Helena Locke said, and Hana nodded. Rupert thanked his supervisor, then held the backdoor open for Hana, and then got behind the wheel. Turning to look at her, he asked for her address, and after a slight hesitation, Hana told him.

"I live right across the new Minto Center off Cambrian Avenue," Hana said, and Rupert nodded, then punched it into the GPS tracker. They sped away from Lincoln Fields Station, and began the long trek to Barrhaven. Blaring his police siren, Rupert sped through the streets of Nepean with seemingly wild abandon, and the police car arrived in Barrhaven's Cambrian area in no time.

"That was cool, the way you used the siren like that, thank you, Mister Rupert, I mean, Constable," Hana said shyly, and Rupert nodded, and then got out and held the door open for her. Hana nodded at him after exiting the back of the police cruiser, and held out her hand. Rupert hesitated. He was raised Catholic and didn't know much about Islam but he knew that usually, conservatively attired Muslim ladies like Hana didn't shake hands with men.

"Um, have a good night, ma'am," Rupert said awkwardly as he shook Hana's hand, and the young woman smiled and nodded, then headed for the front door. Rupert stuck around for another minute, just to make sure she got home okay, and then he drove away. He'd only been working for the Ottawa Police Service for eight months, and this was one of the hairiest situations he'd encountered in his police career. He was still a rookie, sure, but the Hana case touched him in ways that others hadn't. Rupert could actually relate to what Hana had gone through...

Rupert thought about his not so great days at Cadmus Academy, a private Catholic which he attended in the Orleans suburb of Ottawa back in the day. He was one of only sixty five black students at a school of six hundred. This was the late 1990s, and although Ottawa was already quite diverse back then, elite schools like Cadmus Academy were lagging behind.

Rupert recalled how a lot of the white students teased him for his dark skin color, and teachers got on his case due to his parents steadfast refusal to do away with his dreads, which apparently clashed with school policy. Cadmus Academy had a preppy image and boasted of several high-ranking Canadian politicians and two prime ministers among its distinguished alumni. Rupert was destined to become one of those famous alumni, for different reasons.

When Rupert's very Afro-centric parents, Louis and Madeline Sherman, went all the way to the Ontario Supreme Court to fight against the school's racist policies, they became famous as a result. For starters, they won, and the policies were seen as discriminatory and struck down. Many hated the Sherman family as a result of the court case. In spite of all that, Rupert graduated and later went on to study criminology at York University, before coming back to Ottawa.

Adversity cannot be avoided, Rupert thought sourly. He ran his hand through his mini-Afro and smiled. As Constable Rupert Sherman drove from Hana Al-Zaghab's household in Nepean, he contacted dispatch, which requested his presence to Baseline Station. Apparently, there was a fight at the dorms at Algonquin College and an assailant being held by the college security team. As the officer closest to the scene, Rupert accepted the call, and sped away, intent on helping in any ( lawful ) way that he could.

"Dispatch, this is Unit 117-D-11, responding," Rupert spoke into the radio, and he headed toward Algonquin College, which was only a few minutes from his current position. Rupert went there, and was met by two other patrol officers, a tall, red-haired and green-eyed young policewoman named Patricia Dean, and a burly, bearded older white male officer named Bobby Winchester. The three officers headed into the residence building, and spoke to staff and students.

The incident at Algonquin College involved four individuals, three of whom were students. A young white woman named Deirdre invited her Jamaican boyfriend Lenny to spend the night, and that didn't sit right with her ex-boyfriend Doyle or his buddy Richie, both of whom happened to be in the building when Lenny came calling. Doyle and Richie attacked Lenny out of jealousy, yet the brother was the one accused of assailing them, according to campus security.

"You can say whatever you want, they came at me and I defended myself," Lenny said, shaking his dreadlocked head as he looked at the newly arrived police officers, and Rupert pursed his lips, wondering how to address this. This was the dilemma that police officers of color were often placed in. If they sided with a brother, the other police officers might look at them funny, and if they didn't, then they were sellouts to their own community.

"This fucker came at me, attacked me for no reason," said Doyle, looking at the police and security teams, then at Deirdre, as though daring the plump, blue-eyed blonde gal to say otherwise. Doyle stood about five-foot-ten, wearing a flannel shirt and blue jeans. Rupert could smell the liquor on his breath from a distance of just about twelve meters.

"Ma'am, is this what happened?" Rupert said, addressing Deirdre while Officers Dean and Winchester spoke to Lenny and the security team, respectively. Deirdre bit her lip, and looked at Lenny, then at Doyle, who smirked, flanked by his buddy Richie. The two young white men looked smugly at Lenny, who was still handcuffed, and then something changed in her eyes.

"No, officer, Lenny is my boyfriend, and he did nothing wrong, we were on our way to my room when Doyle and his buddy attacked us without provocation, they said racist things and tried to hurt me, Lenny was just defending me, I tried to explain that to security but they didn't listen," Deirdre said firmly, without wavering. Upon hearing those words, Rupert smiled while Lenny sighed in relief. Doyle and Richie stood there, shit-faced and astonished.

"Watch your head," Rupert said to Doyle, after handcuffing him and leading him to the back of the police squad car. Officers Winchester and Dean handled Richie, while the college security team cut Lenny loose. Once freed, the young Jamaican man went into Deirdre's arms. The blonde gal hugged her boyfriend fiercely, and Rupert smiled and wished them a good night. The young policeman began the long drive from Nepean to the police station on Elgin Street in downtown Ottawa. Sometimes I love my job, Constable Rupert Sherman thought with a smile.

Hana Al-Zaghab took a shower, afterwards, she stood in front of the mirror. The young woman thought about the events of that harrowing night, and frowned. Looking at her reflection, a lovely but battle-hardened face looked back at her. Hana sighed, and remembered her hometown of Gaza, Palestine, and the clashes between the government forces and the rebels. For years and years the world ignored the Palestinians pleas for help, until it was too late.

The nation of Palestine had been a war zone for a long time. There were constant clashes between Israeli government forces and so-called Palestinian rebels, clashes which claimed the lives of Hana's parents, Amin and Tooba Al-Zaghab, and her older brother Karim. In one fell swoop, Hana lost everything that mattered to her, and was forced to pick up the pieces someplace far from home. In Canada, the land her folks dreamed of calling home, Hana didn't exactly find peace...

"One day, you will find someplace where you belong," Hana told her reflection, and then she dried herself off, wrapped a light blue towel around her body, and exited the washroom. Lying in bed, Hana could not sleep. The building landlord cranked up the heat after Hana complained about the cold the other day, and now her room felt like a sauna. Tossing aside her top and pajama pants, Hana lay naked on the bedsheets, sweating profusely.

Hana sighed deeply, tired as can be, yet unable to sleep. Her mind raced, and she stressed herself out thinking about her immigration troubles, her difficult classes, and the Constant loneliness that she felt in Ottawa. Hana missed her family sorely, and she also missed having love or any kind of companionship in her life. At her very modern and very Canadian campus, Hana saw happy couples left and right. It simply wasn't right...or fair.

Hana's attempts at finding a lasting connection produced less than optimal results, to say the least. Her last relationship was nothing to write home about. Six months of her life which she'd pay to get back. Hana went out with a young Mauritanian Muslim brother named Samir, and although the tall, dark and handsome scholar seemed promising, things hadn't worked out. Hana's relationship with Samir fizzled out part due to the fact that she was still mourning her slain family...and Samir had a secret fondness for white women. In the end, it just wasn't meant to be.

"Dammit," Hana said to herself, and she recalled those awkward kisses between Samir and herself. The brother looked good, the result of his Afro-Mauritanian and Caucasian parentage. Too bad that didn't translate into being good in bed. Hana recalled how Samir took her brutally the night she offered herself to him, and he did little more than kiss her lips and briefly caress her breasts before pounding his way into her.

Hana, hailing from a culture where men's desires and women's pleasure seemed to be almost mutually exclusive, felt less than satisfied with Samir's performance. They hooked up a few more times, then she dumped him. After Samir, there was a young Palestinian guy named Youssef, and although this one was good in bed, he was a bit too controlling for Hana. They didn't last long either.

Yawning, Hana closed her eyes, and absentmindedly began touching herself. Alone in the dark, with only her murky thoughts and forbidden fantasies for company, Hana let her mind drift. Out of the blue, a certain masculine form intruded upon her thoughts, that of Constable Rupert James Sherman of the Ottawa Police Service. Hana licked her lips and began rubbing her clit while pinching her nipples.

"Ma'am, I'm here to protect and serve the hell out of you," Constable Rupert said, in Hana's fantasy, as he appeared at her bedroom door, wearing his police uniform. Hana grinned and beckoned for him to come closer, and the Constable did a sexy little strip tease before joining her on the bed. Horny as can be, Hana welcomed her fantasy guy with open arms...

"Come here handsome," Hana said, and in her fantasy, Constable Rupert showed her what he was made of. Hana licked her lips, visualizing the tall, dark-skinned policeman on top of her, his musculature pressing against her womanly curves. Constable Rupert kissed Hana full and deep, and then he began caressing her breasts, taking care of those oh-so neglected parts of her which yearned for a man's touch. Constable Rupert took care of Hana alright, he took care of her better than she thought he could...

"Let me taste you, sexy lady," Constable Rupert said to Hana, as she spread her legs for him. The handsome policeman inhaled Hana's womanly fragrance, and then buried his face between her legs. Hana licked her lips as she envisioned Constable Rupert's tongue in her pussy, and his fingers squirming inside of her, probing her. Without opening her eyes, Hana reached for the thick black dildo which she kept in her nightstand drawer...

"Oh yes, fuck me," Hana squealed, as Constable Rupert finished lathering her pussy with his tongue, and then began rubbing his hard dick against her mound. Hana's breath came out in staccato bursts as she poked her vulva with the head of the dildo, visualizing Constable Rupert's hard dick about to enter her womanhood. Without further ado, Hana thrust the dildo into herself, and sighed as she felt a sharp pain followed by wicked pleasure...

"Take this fucking dick," Constable Rupert said as he took Hana's legs and raised them in the air while thrusting into her. Hana looked up at him, this handsome, virile hunk of a man, this proud son of Africa, and smiled. Constable Rupert flashed her an almost feral grin and began pounding away at her, and Hana welcomed this most wonderful intrusion. She hadn't gotten fucked in a while, and the brother was exactly what she needed...

"Hmm, nice," Hana whispered, and her eyes snapped open, and in the darkness, the young woman smiled. Tossing aside the dildo, she pulled the covers over herself. For some reason, the room no longer felt as hot, though she'd been too busy to notice. Hana's curvy body felt tingly all over, especially down below. Thoughts of Constable Rupert and his hard body swirled about Hana's mind, causing her to smile bashfully, thankful that there was nobody around to see her in such a state.

"Hmm, I must see that man again," Hana said to herself, naughty thoughts of Constable Rupert James Sherman and his muscular, dark-skinned, uniform-clad body inundating her mind. Still smiling about the wicked things she'd just done to her own body, Hana yawned a bit. The young woman finally fell asleep, and rested peacefully, her body's urges sated and her mind at ease in spite of the harrowing experiences she'd just had.

Somewhere in that wondrous state between sleep and wakefulness, fantasy and reality, Hana decided that she'd give the good Constable a call, and maybe sit down with him to discuss the case, among other things. In between explanations of her ordeal, Hana had 'absentmindedly' noticed that Constable Rupert James Sherman didn't wear a wedding ring. This was very promising. Hana could think of a few fun and creative ways to thank the good policeman for his aid, it was the least she could do...