The Princess of Arabia

"The Most High doesn't send us where we want to be but where we need to be," said Imam Samir, leader of the Ottawa Grand Mosque, speaking to a wayward member of his flock. The supplicant in question happens to be Naima Al-Fujaira, a disgraced former member of the Emirati Royal Family, now fallen on hard times. The young Emirati Muslim woman did not seem pleased with the old preacher's words, to say the very least...

Standing around five-foot-eight, curvaceous or pleasantly plump, whatever the politically correct term happens to be, Naima is a striking young woman. Bronze-skinned and raven-haired, with light brown eyes that blazed with a singular intensity, Naima is a proud daughter of the desert. The young Emirati woman is less than enamored of her new digs in Ottawa, or the direction her life was going. Like many young people in dire straits, Naima lashes out at those around her...

"Whatever," Naima scoffed, and she walked away while the old man stood there, shaking his head. Imam Samir Nahas had long been the leader of the Muslim community of Ottawa. Born in the City of Beirut, Lebanon, and raised in the City of Paris, France, Samir studied at the University of Paris-Sorbonne and worked for Oberthur Technologies as a mid-level manager before he felt the call to spread the Islamic faith. That's when the young businessman he'd been went to study Islam in Saudi Arabia, and came back a changed man.

"You will learn, daughter, all in due time," Imam Samir said wisely, and he looked at the clear blue skies, and smiled. Meanwhile, the departing figure of Naima Al-Fujaira left the courtyard of the Ottawa Grand Mosque, and sped away in her rented car, all screeching tires and swear words. The young woman's reaction didn't surprise the old preacher at all...

Living and preaching in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, taught Imam Samir a lot about his fellow Muslims. Mainly, the fact that the born Muslims were often far more arrogant and intolerant than the converts. Naima Al-Fujaira hailed from noble blood in the United Arab Emirates, a country whose financial success, political clout and excesses made them the envy of the world. Life will teach this spoiled brat, Imam Samir reflected.

"I can't believe I went to this Majnun ( fool ) for advice, and he offered me platitudes," Naima screamed, shaking her head as she drove away. The Ottawa Grand Mosque receded in the distance. Naima sped to Westboro, the quaint neighborhood where she'd been holed up every since she moved to the Canadian Capital. The circumstances which led Naima to flee her native land, the United Arab Emirates, and seek refuge to Canada had been dire, to say the least...

The United Arab Emirates, whose fabulous Dubai City continues to amaze visitors from far and wide, is a complex society. On the one hand, it's so liberal that it makes Saudi Arabia look like Lebanon by comparison. Lots of Europeans, Americans and Canadians live in Dubai and consider it a lively, beautiful and very modern place. People like to drink and party, and women come and go as they please. The United Arab Emirates ride the fence between being Westernized and being Arab, and show the rest of the region that it's possible to do both.

On the other hand, the Emirati people are proud of their Islamic faith and Arab heritage. The Al Badiyah Mosque, also known as the Ottoman Mosque, is one of the oldest mosques in the region and receives millions of visitors every year. The Emirati people balance being Muslim with being a nation of businesspeople. They are also outgoing and pleasure-oriented, in more ways than one. Modernity and tradition needn't always clash, and can blend together beautifully, that's what the Emirati people believe...

Naima Al-Fujaira's father Yasser was a powerful man, a distant cousin of the Al-Sharqi family, which rules the Fujaira Emirate. Yasser Al-Fujaira worked for the Ministry of Finance. His direct superior was Prince Mahmoud Abbas, a man known for his largesse. Prince Mahmoud had three wives, the youngest of whom was an Australian-born Muslim convert named Nadja Hauser. When Yasser Al-Fujaira laid eyes on the tall, athletic, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, fearless Nadja, he was never the same...

Arab men's fondness for women with Teutonic good looks is legendary, and Yasser simply could not resist Nadja. As for Nadja, the daughter of German immigrants who moved to Australia shortly before her birth, the handsome and mysterious Yasser seemed fascinating. Nadja met her future husband Prince Mahmoud Abbas while he was visiting his cousin Ali at the University of Melbourne in Australia. The two of them hit it off, in spite of an uncomfortable age gap...

Nadja Hauser was twenty two and Prince Mahmoud Abbas was forty eight when they met. After their marriage, Prince Mahmoud became distant toward Nadja. He was after all a collector of things rare and beautiful, from diamonds and sports cars to exotic women. With her husband often traveling throughout the U.A.E. and all over the Gulf on business, Nadja was quite lonely. She felt like a caged bird in the palace-like villa which she and her absentee husband Prince Mahmoud shared.

Yasser Al-Fujaira was tasked with looking after Prince Mahmoud Abbas affairs, and he and Nadja ended up falling in love. A passionate affair followed, one which was spiced up by the fact that adultery is a crime under United Arab Emirates Law. In the old days, adulterers were put to death but with the U.A.E. becoming more liberal and tolerant, the death sentence was struck from the books and the punishment for adultery became a three-year prison sentence...or deportation.

Yasser Al-Fujaira and Nadja Hauser were careless, and one day, Prince Mahmoud Abbas came home unexpectedly and caught his employee and his wife in bed together. The prince shot both of them to death, and was spared any prison sentence by invoking the old honor system, and also due to the fact that he was of royal blood, however distant. The prince got away with murder, and vowed to do away with his slain enemy's bloodline as revenge...

Yasser Al-Fujaira had no sons, but he had a daughter named Naima, who was twenty one years old and had recently come back to Dubai after concluding her studies in business management at the University of West London in the United Kingdom. With her father slain, Naima feared for her life. In Arab society, it was once common to eradicate an entire bloodline, Roman-style, as revenge. The U.A.E. was modern, but the old days do die hard. Naima fled to Canada...

When Naima Al-Fujaira landed in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, she had six thousand dollars in her account with Alpha Bank, located in London, United Kingdom. The young Emirati Muslim woman was broke and all alone in the world. Her father was dead, due to a crime of passion with a foreign harlot and a prince's need for revenge. Naima had become persona non grata in Emirati society. No family would allow their son to marry her, and no one would offer her aid. They feared the reach and power of the royal family...

"I can't believe I've been reduced to this," Naima lamented, as she mopped the floor of Bridgehead cafe, located in the heart of Westboro. At this hour, the place was packed. Lots of yuppies, young men and women, mostly recent college and university grads, who worked for the government. CRA, NAV-Canada, Health Canada, Global Affairs, Service Canada, those were the places that employed them. How Naima envied and loathed them...

Part of Naima's deal as a refugee claimant and applicant for permanent residence in Canada included showing that she was self-sufficient. As the holder of a bachelor's degree in business management from the University of West London in the United Kingdom, Naima was qualified to do a lot more than pushing a damn broom. Still, the way things work in the City of Ottawa, certain businesses don't hire a person without a certain status in Canada...

"Sister, are you alright?" came a voice, and Naima looked up to see...him. Tariq Khumalo, the brother from Swaziland. Six feet two inches tall, with dark chocolate skin, a ruggedly handsome face and a muscular body, he looked like he should be playing professional football rather than serving people coffee. The man managed to look sexy in his uniform which he wore over a dark gray T-shirt and loose-fitting black dress pants...

"Salaam, Tariq, I'm fine, thanks," Naima replied, smiling, and she felt her heart skip a beat as the brother looked her up and down. With his deep voice, his raw masculinity and effortless charm, Tariq Khumalo had that unique ferocious sexiness common to men of African descent. He was easygoing and gentle...but looked like he could break you in half. And, ahem, Naima found that very alharu ( hot ) in a man...

"Sister, I can finish up here, why don't you go home early?" Tariq suggested, and Naima grinned, muttering her thanks. Nodding gently, Tariq took the broom from her and, without fear or shame, he mopped the place. The tall, brawny young African seemed obvlivious to the customers with their laptops and headphones, and moved about without a care in the world. Hard to believe that up until recently, he was a refugee, like her...

"Thank you so much, Tariq, you're the best," Naima said, and she went out back, and changed out of her uniform. Decked out in a long-sleeved old black T-shirt featuring Jay-Z, a short black skirt with Yoga pants underneath and black sneakers, her long dark hair tucked away under a Hijab, Naima looked both pious and sexy. Grabbing her purse, the young woman exited the Bridgehead cafe while waving at her co-worker. She made a bee-line to her car...

"The princess has left the building," Tariq muttered to himself as he cleaned up the place. It was five thirty and the cafe closed in half an hour. Tariq was the manager, a fact which surprised the cafe's mostly white clientele. Tariq knew what they saw when they looked at him. A ferocious black man with golden brown eyes and a deep voice that sent chills down their spine. A man with a foreign accent. The eternal other in supposedly liberal and progressive Canadian society...

Five years ago, Tariq came to Ottawa, Ontario, from his hometown of Big Bend, Swaziland. He'd come as a refugee because his parents Maher and Amina Khumalo publicly voiced their opposition to King Mswati III of Swaziland. Swaziland's Muslim minority had long been critical of the monarchy's excesses. This forced them to leave the country. They came to Canada, seeking refuge. After many years of lawyering and maneuvering, the Canadian immigration authorities accepted their claim. Tariq and his folks became permanent residents of Canada.

Tariq, who'd studied accounting at the University of Ottawa as an international student, felt like he had the world on a string. He'd recently graduated, and dreamed of working for Canada Revenue Agency. He'd applied and they were processing his clearance forms with the Department of Public Works, something all government workers had to do. In the meantime, Tariq holds down the fort at the Bridgehead in Westboro...

"Hurun w'akhiraan, free at last," Naima screamed as she sped through the streets of Westboro, the cozy part of Ottawa which she called home. She returned to the one-bedroom apartment that she rented in the basement of Louise Hayes, a mean-mouthed white woman with some serious problems with anyone who wears the Hijab. Oh, and the bitch was a miser who stole Naima's hygienic pads and refused to hire a plumber to fix the clogging-prone toilet...

Upon arriving home, Naima was thrilled that landlady Louise Hayes was gone. The young woman took a shower, and then locked herself in her room. Turning on her laptop and accessing the Wi-Fi, Naima began watching old movies on YouTube. She went to watch one of her favorites, the 2012 film Rengaine, starring French Arab actress Sabrina Hamida, and Stephane Soo Mongo.

"Now that's more like it," Naima said to herself as she lay in bed, stark naked. She watched the love scene between the film's protagonists, a black man and a young Arab woman who were passionately in love. Naima admired the couple, even as she remembered fooling around with a young Haitian guy named Jean-Charles back in West London, U.K.

"Hmm, I miss my chocolate care bear," Naima murmured, her thoughts turning to lust as she recalled passionate nights spent in Jean-Charles arms. Of course, the romance didn't last, and eventually, he stopped seeing her and went back to his big-booty black girlfriend Marie-Josee. Still, Naima definitely missed Jean-Charles hard body, his stamina, and that big dark dick of his...

Without even realizing it, Naima began to masturbate. She thought of Jean-Charles, whose image was beginning to fade from her memory. Surprising herself, Naima thought of Tariq Khumalo, the handsome Muslim brother from Swaziland. Naima felt her nipples harden, just as a wetness began between her legs. Rubbing her nipples with her left hand, Naima slipped her right hand between her thick bronze thighs, and began masturbating...

"Hello handsome," Naima thought, licking her lips and smiling wickedly as she visualized the tall, handsome Tariq joining her in the bedroom. He came to her, an enigmatic smile on his face, and he was gloriously naked, his virile body beckoning for her touch. Naima went to Tariq, who pulled her into his arms and kissed him passionately. Tariq boldly slid his tongue down Naima's throat and grabbed her ass, giving it a firm squeeze...

"Been wanting that ass for ages," Tariq told a grinning Naima, and then he tumbled into bed with her. Propping Naima on her back, Tariq spread her thick thighs wide open and went to work on her. Naima sighed happily as Tariq buried his face between her legs, and began eating her pussy. The brother's tongue slid over her clit, driving her absolutely mad...but in a good way.

"Laek zahratan baladi, lick my flower," Naima said, clucking her tongue as Tariq ate her out. With her eyes closed, Naima fingered herself, thrusting two fingers into her vagina. When this proved unsatisfactory, Naima reached for the dildo in her nearby drawer and slid it into herself. Sighing happily, Naima began fucking herself, fantasizing about Tariq's dick plowing into her instead...

"Give me that pussy," Tariq said in that deep, passionate voice of his as he rammed his hard dick into Naima's pussy...in her fantasy. Naima shrieked, her voluptuous body shaking as she imagined Tariq pounding his way into her. Raising her thick legs in the air, he filled her with his dick. Moaning loudly, Naima relaxed and enjoyed as her lover fucked her like there was no tomorrow...

"Oh fuck," Naima squealed as she came, and her eyes snapped open. After taking a few calming breaths, the young woman looked at her surroundings. She was alone in her bedroom. Tariq was gone, back to fantasyland, along with that fantastic body of his. Naima sat up on the bed, and went to Facebook. Looking up Tariq, whom she had on her friends list, Naima began to creep through his profile...

Tariq Khumalo, proud son of Swaziland, isn't the most active person when it comes to social media. Creeping through her friend and co-worker's profile, Tariq saw the usual stuff. Photos of Tariq and his parents at his recent graduation from the University of Ottawa. Tariq proudly holding his Canadian permanent resident card. Tariq holding hands with his ex-girlfriend Mildred, a big-booty French Canadian gal from Gatineau, Quebec...

"Damn, her pic is still there," Naima said aloud, remembering how heartbroken Tariq was when he and Mildred split, a few months ago. Naima bit her lips, even as a wicked idea sprang into her mind. With her life in the gutter at least until the Canadian government granted her permanent residence, Naima needed some fun, preferably with a hunk of the African persuasion. As Naima pondered this, her phone rang...

"Good evening, Miss Fujaira," came Tariq's deep, masculine voice, sending a pleasant thrill down Naima's spine. The young woman chuckled softly, pleased to hear her friend and co-worker's voice. A slick smile spread across Naima's features as her free hand slid between her thighs. If Tariq could only see her now...

"Hey, Tariq, I was just thinking about you," Naima said, and Tariq laughed on the other line, evidently not believing her. Naima leaned back on the bed, resting her head against the pillows. Tariq had a very pleasant voice, and he distracted her from her problems by talking about his fondness for Salsa dancing, a passion that his ex-girlfriend Mildred apparently shared. Time to seize the moment, Naima thought, as she finally gave voice to the question that was on the tip of her tongue...

"Naima, you want to hang out tomorrow? You sure? I guess we could, I mean we're both off," Tariq said, somewhat hesitantly, clearly surprised after Naima asked him out. Naima lay there, her heart thundering in her chest. She'd actually asked Tariq out. And the dude was mumbling instead of playing it cool. Hmm, he's lucky he's got a cute face and a good body, Naima thought, wryly amused.

"Tariq, shut up and meet me at the Rideau Center at noon tomorow, in front of Nordstrom, and don't be late," Naima said, chuckling softly. It felt good to assert herself like this, since Tariq was her boss at work. Tariq got the damn hint and after a brief pause, he laughed and promised to do as he was told. Now that's more like it, Naima thought, smiling. She wished Tariq a good night, then hung up. Not long after, Naima went to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be lit, and she needed her rest...