As Salam Alaikum, dear reader. My name is Mahmoud Ali and I'm a young biracial Muslim gentleman with a story to share with you. I was born in the City of Dammam, Saudi Arabia, to a Saudi Arabian father, Ahmed Ali, and a Somali mother, Sagal Hussein. I'm a Saudi citizen thanks to my father, and I'm quite grateful for that. I know lots of people born and raised in the Kingdom who aren't citizens, because of the country's weirdness when it comes to ethnicity, religion and nationality.
Anyhow, these days, I live in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, while studying economics at the University of Ottawa. As a young Muslim man and an international student, I've got to be extremely careful navigating the treacherous politics of campus and everyday life in the Canadian capital. Canadians like to pretend that they're the most progressive, tolerant and modern country in the world, but they're anything but. The racism I experience daily speaks volumes about how white Canadians truly view people of color. I won't dwell on that, though. Just thought I'd mention it.
There are stereotypes and hidden truths about every people, every nation, and some of us tend to forget that. Not every Muslim male living in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is a control freak who hates women. Not every man in Canada is a progressive and liberal person. Both countries have their share of bad apples because, guess what? Saudis are human, and so are Canadians. Thank you very much.
Now, I brought you here because I had a story to share with you. It's customary for wealthy young Muslim men studying at foreign universities to indulge their wild oats while far from the constraints of home and parental influence. Works for me. The City of Ottawa may seem boring to a lot of people but to me, it has a lot to offer. I'm talking about female entertainment, of course. Lots of girls on campus but their feminist bullshit and issues turn me off, so I sought my pleasure elsewhere.
That's how I came across Amy, a blonde-haired and green-eyed white female escort who advertises her services in the back pages of the Ottawa Sun newspaper. Amy identified herself as nineteen, open to in calls and outcalls, and down for whatever. Sounds awesome to me because I hadn't gotten laid since I left Dammam, and after two months in Ottawa, my balls were bluer than the Atlantic Ocean. I needed something to cheer me up since a ton of snow blanketed the Canadian Capital, and I had a case of the winter blues. Amy cheered me right up, folks.
I took the number four bus leaving Carleton and rode it all the way to the Rideau Shopping Center downtown. From there, I caught the number twelve bus and rode it to this area called Vanier. I got off around MacArthur Road and walked the rest of the way to a certain nondescript building. I followed Amy's instructions to the letter, and once in front of the place, I dialed her up on my Blackberry.
