Sawsan Kalba of Fujairah

"You're Haitian and Muslim? No way, what on earth made you decide to embrace Islam?" Sawsan asked, and she looked at the big and tall young black man who stood before her, looking rather sharp in his dark blue security uniform, and shook her head. Will wonders never cease? For weeks now she'd been noticing the security guard following her every move whenever she came to Walmart, and today, of all days, he finally struck a conversation with her.

The City of Ottawa, Ontario, had always been a major hub for recent immigrants, and Sawsan guessed that the brother who seemed so utterly fascinated with her was a newcomer. Most of the guards whom she saw at the vast supercenter located near her house were recent immigrants, whether African, Latino, South Asian, or some other minority group or classification. Most of them were simple people, but this one, well, he kind of stood out among the rest, hence why Sawsan spoke to him.

Sawsan and Suleiman had spoken a few times, but never about anything too deep. She was used to having guys of all shades holler at her. At five-foot-ten, the curvy and sturdy Sawsan was considered quite beautiful. With her dark bronze skin, long curly hair, and a beautiful, slightly angular face dominated by lively brown eyes and full, ever-pouty lips, Sawsan had that raw sensuality quite common among Middle-Eastern women. Thus, she understood the brother's fascination with her...

I've got this one mesmerized, Sawsan thought to herself as she faced the security guard. For example, she knew that he was born Salomon Vincent in Ouanaminthe, Haiti, and was a newcomer to Ottawa, studying chemistry at the University of Ottawa. He spoke with a bit of a French accent, and seemed curiously out of place. This one feels that he's meant to do more than what he currently does and I can relate, Sawsan remembered thinking the first time she saw Suleiman.

"I felt drawn to the Islamic faith, it kind of surprised my Haitian Catholic family but I made my choice," Suleiman said firmly, and there was a look of determination in his soulful brown eyes which surprised Sawsan. There's a lot going on in that brain, Sawsan thought, and when Suleiman's eyes flitted over her, she blinked and blushed as something unexpected shot through her. A bolt of excitement, seemingly out of nowhere...

As Suleiman went on about his conversion to Islam, Sawsan noticed that something seemed to come over him. It was almost as if something inside of him were fighting to get out. Only once had Sawsan seen eyes of such smoldering intensity, back in her homeland of Fujairah, in the heart of the United Arab Emirates. On that fateful day, Sawsan had been riding her horse, a magnificent black stallion which she called Shaitan.

Sawsan, daughter of Amir Kalba, a high-ranking member of the Sharqiyin tribe, the powerful clan which ruled the Fujairah realm of the United Arab Emirates, was a woman of privilege. After graduating from the University of Melbourne with a degree in business, Sawsan returned to Fujairah to help her family govern it. There were rising tensions between the traditionalists who felt that the UAE was losing its way, thanks to the 'infidels' in Dubai, and the modernists who wanted the Emirates to become even more westernized.

Sawsan Kalba understood the viewpoints of both sides, and that's why she was one of her father Amir's closest advisers. After living in the City of Melbourne, Australia, for four years, Sawsan understood the western mindset. On a day when she was free of her duties, Sawsan went riding by Wadi Ham, an important trade route leading through the mountains of Fujairah all the way to the Persian Gulf. Upon arriving by the docks, she heard shouts and went to investigate the commotion.

A tall, slender young Somali dockworker was quarreling with his manager, a burly, bearded old Emirati. The two men had come to blows after engaging in a shouting match. Things soon took a very violent turn. In the United Arab Emirates, men seldom went about unarmed. Everyone carried a pistol, or at the very least a knife or dagger. Blade drawn, the Somali dockworker launched himself at his tormentor, and managed to stab him fatally before three guardsmen subdued him and took him away.

What became of the Somali dockworker, Sawsan didn't know, nor did she care to. The United Arab Emirates was a dangerous place, people got killed or outright vanished all the time. Blood feuds between noble families, as well as between commoners of all hues, were pretty common. The outside world thought that the fabulous City of Dubai represented all of the Emirates, and while it was an important as a place of commerce, business, entertainment and the like, it was but a drop in the ocean.

Outside of the glittering spires of metropolitan Dubai, the United Arab Emirates was an almost medieval world of tribal alliances, staunchly steeped into tradition. Lots of people from places like Somalia, the Philippines, Nigeria, Ethiopia, Pakistan and the like came to the United Arab Emirates in search of work. Their Emirati employers were often unkind to them.

Sawsan guessed that the Somali dockworker had a serious grievance against his manager. She thought she saw a similar intensity in Suleiman's eyes, and then it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by his shy smile. Suleiman was once more calm, cool and collected. The man acts as though he's not bothered by anything, Sawsan thought.

"Well, Suleiman, I for one like to encourage all new Muslims, it's people like you who make our faith the beautiful and diverse place that it is, so if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me," Sawsan said, and she surprised Suleiman, and herself, by taking out her business card and handing it to him. Suleiman smiled and nodded gratefully before pocketing the card, and then Sawsan wished him a good day and casually walked away.

Sawsan Kalba headed for the pharmacy and picked up her medicine, and then headed for the grocery section. After stocking her cart full of apple juice, TV dinners, along with necessities like toilet paper, a new toothbrush, toothpaste, and the like, she headed for the self-check out. Which happened to be about fifty meters from the security guard's post. She expected to find Suleiman looking her way, but his attention was focused elsewhere.

"Sir, listen to me, I am telling you that this isn't personal, any person who beeps while exiting Walmart has to show their receipts to security," Suleiman explained patiently. He was getting a headache from speaking to the short, stocky old white dude who stood before him, gesticulating while holding onto his grocery bags. The big and tall young black man rolled his eyes, and that did not go over too well with the man standing before him.

"You're being racist, you know that, son? You're picking on me because I am white," the old white dude said, deadpan. Suleiman's eyes went wide with surprise, and he shook his head and laughed. The old man continued to stare at him, and he ranted about minority this and minority that. A small crowd of shoppers gathered to watch the back-and-forth between the irate old white dude and the young black security guard. Ottawa-style entertainment, Sawsan thought grimly as she used her debit card to pay for her purchases.

"Hey, man, I'm not your son, alright? If you don't want to show the receipt, fine, just leave," Suleiman said tersely, his ire rising. The old guy smiled, knowing that he was starting to get to the younger man. When the old guy touched his shoulder, Suleiman batted his hand away. The old guy gasped in surprise, and looked like he was about to try something else...and that's when Sawsan stepped in, placing herself between the two men.

"Gentlemen, please," Sawsan said, and Suleiman looked at her, clearly surprised. Sawsan winked at him and smiled in a reassuring manner. The old guy was still not ready to let it go. Sawsan had to tell him to get lost a couple of times before the old buzzard walked away, muttering about immigrants and minorities taking over Canada. Sawsan watched him until he exited the store, and then turned to face the security guard.

"Thank you, Sawsan," Suleiman said, and the young man sighed deeply, and relief washed over his dark, handsome face in an awesome way. Sawsan smiled, and nodded, and then pulled her receipt from her grocery bag and showed it to him. Suleiman shook his head dismissively, and smiled at her. Sawsan looked at him, and licked her lips, and for some reason, Suleiman flinched. This one is sweet on me, Sawsan thought, amused.

"You are something else, Brother Suleiman, you got my number, don't keep a gal waiting," Sawsan said coyly, and Suleiman smiled and nodded, and she could feel his eyes on her as she exited the store. Sawsan smiled all the way to her car, a 2011 ebony Fiat which she bought a couple of years ago. After loading her grocery bags in the back, Sawsan drove to her spot, located not far from her current workplace, Hafiza's Bakery, located on Old Innes Road in the east end of Ottawa.

The circumstances that brought Sawsan Kalba, the daughter of a wealthy Emirati Muslim family, to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, were something she preferred not to think about. In the Arab world, blood ties mattered more than anything else, except maybe the religion of Islam itself. When her father, Amir Kalba, one of the leaders of the Sharqiyin tribe which ran the realm of Fujairah, lost favor with the Royals, he knew that his time on earth was limited.

"You must leave this country, my daughter, your brother Hafiz and I will stay and stem the time of the madness, the Kalba name still means something, we still have allies, the Royals messed with the wrong people," Amir Kalba said, on the evening of his last day. The old Emirati tribesman looked at his only daughter, and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"Baba, I don't want to leave you, I can stay and fight," Sawsan said, and Amir Kalba shook his head. A lot of his tribal brethren found his daughter Sawsan too willful and headstrong, but Amir admired her fiery tenacity and willfulness. That's why he taught her how to ride a horse, and use a pistol, just like he taught her brother Hafiz, his only son. In that moment, he couldn't be prouder of his daughter, but knew he had to send her away.

"Leave tonight, little one, if all goes our way, we will send for you, if not, Baba and I will join you in Canada," Hafiz Kalba said, and the tall, burly and bearded young Emirati tribesman looked at his father, Amir Kalba, and his sister Sawsan. Flashing them his fearless smile, Hafiz drew them into his big strong arms and embraced them warmly. Sawsan kissed her brother on the forehead, and hugged her father fiercely.

After wishing upon her brother and father the Blessings of the Most High, Sawsan Kalba slipped away in the night, guided by Ali, the family's elderly Sudanese groundskeeper. The young Emirati woman made her way to Dubai, the most famous city in the Arab world, aside from Makkah and Madina of course, and boarded a flight for Europe. First step on her long journey to Canada. She did not know that she would never see her family again.

The Emirati Royals military forces stormed Fujairah, the last of the small Arabian kingdoms of the Gulf to join the Emirates, and captured Amir Kalba and his son Hafiz. The father and son were brought to Dubai, and held in prison. They were publicly tried and found guilty of sedition against the Royal Family of the United Arab Emirates. Amir Kalba and his son Hafiz were executed by a firing squad, and rulership of the Fujairah realm was awarded to Amir Kalba's younger brother Ahmad Kalba, who remained loyal to the Royals.

Sawsan Kalba found herself alone, and powerless, in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. With her father Amir Kalba and her brother Hafiz Kalba dead, she was lost, angry, and distraught. The young Emirati woman had a devil of a time convincing Citizenship & Immigration Canada not to send her back to the U.A.E. where she'd face the death penalty. Finally, after years of legal wrangling, they granted Sawsan refugee status, and allowed her to apply for permanent residence from within Canada under the humanitarian clause.

"It's my life," Sawsan said to herself as she sat on her living room couch, watching an old episode of Marvel's Jessica Jones on Netflix. In this episode, there was a steamy love scene between the pale, leather-clad heroine and her love interest, a burly African American superhero. Sawsan smiled to herself as she watched the two of them go at it, and she felt a wetness begin between her legs.

The past couple of years hadn't been kind to Sawsan, and the young Emirati woman led a solitary life. The local Arab guys were too busy chasing white girls to notice her, and the few times they did take notice, it was out of jealousy. Sawsan had a thing for darker-skinned men, and had a few fun encounters with Mahmoud, a burly Sudanese guy she met at Goodlife Fitness. Unfortunately, Mahmoud wanted more than just sex and the occasional fun outing, he wanted a relationship and Sawsan wasn't interested. Hence why they split.

"A gal's got her needs," Sawsan whispered, and she slid her hand between her thighs, and began fingering herself while watching Jessica Jones and Luke Cage get it on. As the dark-skinned guy took the pale, slender and raven-haired actress on all fours, Sawsan imagined herself in that position. Jabbing two fingers into her pussy while pinching her nipples, Sawsan visualized herself on all fours, face down and ass up, with a chocolate stud drilling into her.

"Oh yes," Sawsan squealed, and she worked three fingers into her wet pussy, and imagined a big dark dick filling her womanhood. Instead of imagining the black actor on screen servicing her, or even her ex-lover Mahmoud, Sawsan thought of Suleiman, the burly Haitian security dude from Walmart. In Sawsan's fantasy, Suleiman got aggressive with her and showed her what he was made of...

"Shake that ass for me, freaky woman," Suleiman said, smacking Sawsan's ass as he rammed his long and thick dick into her. Sawsan moaned deeply, loving the feel of the Haitian Muslim stud's manhood inside of her. Clenching her vaginal muscles around Suleiman's dick, Sawsan began backing that thing up, as they say, grinding her big bronze ass against his groin. Suleiman slapped Sawsan's big ass and fucked her roughly, just the way she liked it.

"Fuck yeah, give me that dick," Sawsan moaned, and Suleiman hammered away at her, slamming his dick deeper and deeper into her pussy. Sawsan kept grinding her ass against Suleiman's groin, loving the way it filled her womanhood so nicely. The burly Haitian stud gripped her long, curly dark hair and yanked her head back while ramming her, and Sawsan's squeals of delight filled the air.

"Oh shit," Sawsan said, actually choking a bit, as she suddenly felt...it. A slow buildup deep inside her core. With three fingers jammed in her pussy, Sawsan rubbed her clitoris between her thumb and her index finger, and that's when it happened. Her floodgates opened, and she cried out as she came, oozing hot girly cum all over herself. Panting furiously, Sawsan took a few calming breaths. Looking around her living room through moist eyes, it took her a moment to remember where she was...

"Dammit, I need a man," Sawsan said to herself, smiling and licking her fingers, which tasted of her pussy. Leaning back against the couch, the young Emirati Muslim woman thought about the day she'd just had. Her life had taken so many twists and turns lately. In a few years, she'd gone from being the daughter of a wealthy Emirati Arab family, to working at Hafiza's Bakery and making sixteen bucks a hour. Will wonders never cease?

Sawsan was still lost in thought when her phone buzzed, and she frowned, seeing n unfamiliar number. Hesitantly she picked it up, and a deep, masculine and vaguely familiar voice chimed in. Sawsan's heart skipped a beat, and she chuckled softly, waiting until Suleiman said her name three times before finally answering. Someone's persistent, Sawsan thought, smiling wickedly.

"As Salam Alaikum, Sawsan, it's Suleiman, I'm on my lunch hour at Walmart, just thought I'd say hello," the deep voice intoned, sending a pleasant thrill down Sawsan's spine. Sawsan licked her lips, and her ear accidentally hit the speaker feature on her iPhone. The brother's oddly soothing voice suddenly resonated throughout her apartment, and it was a really nice sound...

"Hmm, good to hear from you, Suleiman, I must say, you have a really nice voice," Sawsan remarked, and Suleiman mouthed his thanks, and laughed a bit. Without even thinking about it, Sawsan started touching herself while speaking to Suleiman. They talked about work, and life, the seemingly madness of Walmart customers, and the agonizingly slow pace of life in Ottawa. The brother's sarcastic yet deep comments had Sawsan laughing out loud, and it felt really good to be doing that...

"Meet me up Friday morning at the Starbucks inside Saint Laurent Mall, we'll do coffee and you can teach me some Arabic, all I know are greetings and basic prayers," Suleiman said, playing the 'new Muslim' card, and Sawsan paused. Although she saw right through his scheme, she felt like going. The brother from Haiti was easy on the eyes and definitely interesting. Hanging out with Suleiman for a few hours sure beat all hell out of working in the bakery or staying home alone...

"Sounds like a plan, Suleiman, I'll see you there around eleven, Insha'Allah, have a good night," Sawsan heard herself say, and Suleiman laughed, wished her a good night and then hung up. Sawsan sat there and looked at her phone, and laughed. She'd been talking to Suleiman for a good forty five minutes. Talking, laughing, making plans and fingering herself while on the phone with a hunky Afro-Caribbean man, of course. Looking forward to Friday and not just for Jummah prayers at the Masjid, Sawsan thought, laughing merrily.