"Yasmin, my dearest wife, would you please get that big round ass of yours away from me? I've got to study for my LSAT," Bashir Diallo said, and the big and tall, dark-skinned and ruggedly handsome West African Muslim scholar sighed deeply, and set down his copy of the Princeton Review LSAT Prep book. Only three weeks until the LSAT and he didn't feel too confident. Suddenly, he had something much more pressing in mind, as well as other parts of his person...
"Hmm, Habibi, you look like you could use a study break," Yasmin Saleh replied, and the curvy, bronze-skinned young woman pouted as she stood in front of her husband, hands on her hips. Clad in a Black leather jacket over a Black tank top and Yoga pants, Yasmin looked pretty hot and tempting, and she damn well knew it. Yasmin licked her lips impatiently, and Bashir sighed, knowing there was only one way out of this particular predicament...
"Um," Bashir said, in a noncommittal tone of voice, and Yasmin scoffed and shrugged, then turned around, heading for the door. While on her way there, she 'accidentally' dropped a pen, or something, and bent down to pick it up. Bashir felt a stir down below, and all of a sudden, getting into law school seemed not terribly pressing on his list of priorities. The young man rose, and walked up to his wife as if entranced...
"Bashir, I knew you couldn't resist me from the moment we met," Yasmin said, and Bashir walked up to her and smiled. The young woman grinned as her darling hubby pulled her close, and his strong yet gentle, eager hands roamed all over her voluptuous body. Bashir leaned in for a kiss, and Yasmin threw her arms around him. Passionately they embraced, and all thought of the LSAT vanished from Bashir's mind...
From the moment Bashir Diallo first laid eyes on the lovely and intriguing Yasmin Saleh at a meeting of the Muslim Scholars Association at Carleton University, he knew that the curvaceous young Yemeni Muslim woman was trouble. There was something about the way she carried herself, a boldness and self-confidence that simply drew him. When their eyes first met, Yasmin smiled at Bashir in a fierce, haughty manner. That most definitely got his attention...
Yasmin Saleh, who was born in the City of Mukalla, Yemen, and raised in the City of Toronto, Ontario, is definitely the daughter of two very different worlds. Life is simply seldom easy for Muslim immigrants in Western society, and the Saleh family was no different. The pressures of adapting to a new world, buying a house and raising a family wreaked havoc on the Saleh household. When her father, Mohammed Saleh, divorced her mother Amina Saleh and married a White lady named Bridget Kingsley, Yasmin rebelled against both her estranged father and Yemeni/Arabian cultural practices.
The young Yemeni Muslim woman stopped wearing the Hijab, got tattoos, started smoking and drinking, and had dalliances with roguish, handsome young men from dubious backgrounds. Yasmin soon earned a reputation as a rough-and-tumble kind of gal. This lasted until the start of Yasmin's university years. Fed up with life in the City of Toronto, Yasmin opted to study at Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. While enrolled in the business management programme, Yasmin met a lot of interesting people, including fellow Yemenis.
At the behest of a new Yemeni classmate named Mariam, Yasmin Saleh came to a meeting of the Muslim Scholars Association. At first, Yasmin thought they were a stuffy, traditional group, and soon discovered how wrong she was. The Muslim Scholars Association was diverse and friendly, with Muslims of all hues and from various lifestyles. When Yasmin found out that the group president was a young queer woman from Ethiopia, she decided to join.
Yasmin began attending group events regularly. Along the way, she met the handsome Bashir Diallo, a newcomer from the City of Timbuktu, Mali. Tall, dark and handsome, with an air of confidence and stern mien, Bashir Diallo had legions of female admirers on the Carleton University campus. Determined to get his Criminology degree, Bashir Diallo focused exclusively on his studies and practicing his Islamic faith. The Mali scholar had no time for the flighty, fickle young infidel women he saw everywhere he looked on campus.
"Hey, big man, got a minute? It's me, Yasmin from MSA," those were Yasmin's first words to Bashir Diallo, the day she approached him in the sunlit quad, right in front of Carleton University's very own Mac Odrum Library. Bashir, who was standing there, smoking casually, looked at the vaguely familiar, decidedly attractive young Arab woman who stood before him, a smug smile on her lovely face. He saw mischief in those brown eyes, and sighed deeply. What did this chick want?
"Salaam, sister, what can I do for you?" Bashir asked, and Yasmin asked him for a cigarette, and clapped him on the shoulder as a thank you when he gave her one. Bashir, who lacked the western habit of randomly touching strangers of the opposite sex, looked at Yasmin like she had two heads. There were several young Arab men standing in front of the library, casually smoking, and Bashir saw them stare at him and Yasmin.
"Relax, Bashir, I just want to pick your brain, you always seem so serious at those MSA meetings," Yasmin said with a wry grin, elbowing Bashir in the ribs. The big and tall young Malian looked at the young Yemeni Arab woman and paused. This gal was so westernized it wasn't even funny. With her numerous tattoos, and her penchant for Black leather coats and yoga pants, she was more like a White female in Arab face than any of the Arab ladies he'd ever met. What was her deal?
"Pleased to meet you, Sister Yasmin, ask me anything," Bashir heard himself say, and Yasmin smiled, knowing that she had him right where she wanted him. Yasmin winked at Bashir, and brushed her hand against his arm. Bashir smiled politely, and felt an odd mixture of discomfort and...something else, when Yasmin touched him. Yasmin looked ravishing, if unorthodox, and smelled of perfume, and danger, and a lot of other things which Bashir found distracting, disturbing, and quite...nice.
