Muslim Lesbian Connection

"Get the fuck out of my way, bozo," I said cheerfully to the security guard standing at the entrance of Wal-Mart as I took off. The dude surprised the hell out of me by actually getting out of the way. Thus I made off with the three watches I snagged from the jewelry section. I cut a mad dash through the parking lot, and caught the OC Transpo bus. Once inside, I hastily showed my transfer to the driver, a stocky middle-aged white woman with a dopey smile. The last thing I wanted to do was hold up the bus, in case someone was after me.

I'm the picture of innocence, at least in the eyes of western society, and quite often it works to my advantage when fooling bozos. I'm five-foot-seven, slender and alabaster-skinned, with short blonde hair streaked with bright pink ( bad dye job that I am going to change soon ) and people say I look a bit like that blonde gal from Battlestar Galactica. The feisty, constantly fighting one, not the seductive female robot. The name is Amy Guillaume and my hobbies include hockey, soccer, kayaking, and relieving the unwary of their excess goods.

"Don't worry about it, sweetie, I don't like to drive off when I see someone running towards me," said the driver, and she smiled pleasantly. I returned her smile, and then the bus made its way through the busy streets of Nepean, on its way to Baseline Station. I simply love the town of Nepean. It's a rather affluent part of the Canadian Capital, and the people are moneyed and usually easy to scam. Got to love them for it, am I right or am I right?

"Thank you ma'am, have a good day," I said to the bus driver as I exited. I got off, then switched buses, catching the 95 bus heading to the east end of Ottawa, where I live. Having switched buses, I sat down and put on my headphones, listening to Pink's classic Cuz I Can. I've been a fan of Pink ever since my high school days and the classics can't be beat. Hell, I even dye my hair pink because I like to emulate her, you know?

"Saw what you did back there," said a rather loud feminine voice, startling me out of my thoughts. I lowered the volume on my head phones, then turned around to see a rather tall, slender young woman casually leaning against the chair behind me. Clad in a brown leather jacket, white blouse, black jeans and boots, this gal looked pretty good. The Hijab on her head framed her lovely brown face beautifully. I blinked, and for a brief moment I thought I was busted, then remembered I was on the bus and whoever she is, this bitch couldn't do shit to me.

"Um, I don't know what you're talking about," I said, and I looked the woman up and down. A look of amusement crept into her lovely face, and I saw mischief in her brown eyes. Whoever this broad was, she had me dead to rights. I'm by no means a newcomer to the game of item acquisition ( it's nicer than saying stealing ) but this gal had me dead to rights and I didn't even sense her. Damn.

"Come on, now, I saw you," Miss Nosy said, and she casually plopped down on the seat right next to mine. I flashed her my most innocent smile, and wondered who this chick was and where she was going with this. I know of every loss prevention officer working at the various stores that I usually hit. Those guys and gals usually go about in casual clothes, pretending to shop while spying on "suspicious" customers. Translation? They follow minorities around the stores, while I make off with all kinds of goodies. They're so stupid it's not even funny.

"Lady, I don't know what you are talking or what you think you saw, and I don't much care," I said, and I turned the volume back up and resumed listening to my music. Miss Nosy apparently didn't seem to be getting the hint because she took out her wallet and flashed me something that looked like a badge, only it was orange, and read Ontario Private Security And Investigative Services, with a picture of the same Hijab-wearing chick, and a name, Salma Al-Buleihi.

"I'm a loss prevention officer," Salma said, and then she flashed me a wicked grin. I swallowed hard, and wondered whether in-store security guards and loss prevention officers had the right to make arrests away from their work sites. My smile vanished, replaced by a sense of dread. Salma was several inches taller than me and kind of, well, hefty, or, rather curvy, though in a good way. Could I take her on? Not without weapons.

"Look, lady, I honestly don't want any trouble," I said, and Salma smiled and shrugged, then leaned real close, like we were two close friends chatting the day away on the bus. Nothing could be further from the truth, but whatever. I braced myself for what was to come, and visions of handcuffs and prison time flashed through my brain. Instead, Salma laughed and clapped me on the shoulder.

"Sweetie, I'm not trying to bust you, I went for a job interview as an L.P. officer with that store and the racist bitch who runs it looked at me in such a way that I knew she wouldn't hire me," Salma said, and I froze, not knowing how to answer. Seriously, as a semi-professional in the item-acquisition field, I've run into my share of weird situations but this one definitely takes the cake. Seriously.

"Well, sorry about that, I'm Amy," I heard myself say, and I held out my hand. After a brief hesitation, Salma shook my hand. Ladies and gentlemen, that's how I met a most remarkable woman. Salma Al-Buleihi, born in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, to a Saudi Arabian father and a Nigerian Muslim mother. A criminal justice student at the University of Ottawa who moonlights as a security guard for various high-end stores and shopping centers. This lovely but disgruntled cutie was just what the doctor ordered.

"Glad I met you Amy, now stop making such brazen exits, the next LP probably won't be as friendly as I am," Salma said, and with a curt nod and a smile, she got off at the Mackenzie King Bridge/Rideau Shopping Center stop and walked away. I sat there and watched Salma go. Nice ass, Miss Nosy sure is cute, I sure as hell hope we do meet again, I thought with a wicked grin.

When I got to my apartment in Vanier that afternoon, I did something rather unusual. Instead of immediately pawning the stolen jewelry for quick cash, I went to the computer and looked up Salma Al-Buleihi. Took me five seconds to find her Facebook profile. Hmm, let's see. It never ceases to amaze me how much stuff people post on their Facebook page. Don't they know there are unscrupulous opportunists like me lurking about? Oh, well.

Salma was born on October 30, 1993, in the City of Dammam, Saudi Arabia and raised in the City of Montreal, Quebec. I saw pictures of Salma in her security uniform, shots of her around Ottawa with friends, and of course, pictures of her at the Eiffel Tower next to a tall, middle-aged Arab guy and a curvy older black woman whom I guessed to be her parents.

"Interesting," I thought to myself as I sipped on some hot chocolate, and then, I clicked on the friend request button. Alright, not very prudent of me, I know, but dammit, I felt curious about Salma. This chick intrigues me. What can I say? I, Amy Guillaume, have never been able to resist a challenge. I like risk, danger and mystery. That's probably what led me to become what I am in the first place. I don't steal, folks, I simply have, ahem, sticky fingers.

"Hello kleptomaniac, what took you so long?" came the reply from Salma on Facebook, exactly twenty minutes after I sent my missive. I almost choked on the remnants of my hot chocolate, I swear. I totally wasn't expecting her to reply so quickly. Smiling, I typed up a reply, and noticed that Salma had evidently added me as a friend. Hmm, kind of quick on the uptake, aren't we? I thought, wryly amused.

"Are you this forward with everyone you meet?" I typed, and then clicked send. Moments later reply, Salma replied in the affirmative, and I actually burst out laughing. For the next couple of hours we chatted, and I must say...it was wickedly interesting. I don't know that many Muslims and those I have met tend to stick to their own, so to speak. Salma was...different. Feisty, with a nice ass, a sick sense of humor, and a Hijab. Cool, I'll take it.

"Let's grab coffee sometime," Salma suggested, and I smiled as her digits appeared on the chat feed. I punched them into my cell, then sent her a ping. Once again, Salma surprised me. Alright, it's common knowledge that us ladies take our sweet time when deciding to call someone. Salma was definitely the exception, for she called me right away.

"Hello Salma, what can I do you for?" I said cheerfully into the phone as I recognized her number. What followed was a lengthy chat with certainly the most unusual woman I'd ever met. Salma intrigues me, as I said before, so I decided to grab a drink with her at the Honest Lawyer bar, located in the By Ward Market. It's within walking distance of the Rideau Shopping Center, if you must know.

"Your profile says interested in women and men, what's up with that?" I asked Salma bluntly, and there was a pause on the other line, and I heard her take a deep breath before she answered. Alright, I tried to act cool or whatever but I was literally on the edge of my seat as I waited for Salma's answer.

"Well, Amy, if you must be so nosy, some of us Saudi girls like girls," Salma replied smartly, and I laughed. Am I surprised that the strange, unforgettable young woman I met on the bus earlier is not only from the other side of the world but also a woman-loving woman? Well, yes and no. Like I said, I live for the adventure, so I placated Salma, and invited her out for drinks.

"Sounds good, Amy, see you there Friday night," Salma said, and then she wished me goodnight. I hung up, then smiled to myself as I went to my tiny kitchen and got myself some leftover pizza which I warmed up, then ate. After that, I went to the pawn shop and forked over the goods, then walked out of there five hundred bucks richer. Not bad for a day's dishonest work, eh?

"Keep the good stuff coming, Amy," said Omar Abdullahi, the pawn shop owner, and I smiled and exchanged dap with him. The brother just handed me an envelope full of cash and I didn't even bother counting it. What I like about this tall, burly Somali dude, other than his frank smile and the fact that he's cool as shit, is that he buys the goods from me no questions asked. That's how I like it, do you feel me? I don't like answering questions, at least not without a court order.

"Shukran, good night, Omar," I said, and I walked over to the nearby Loblaw's on MacArthur Road and did some much-needed grocery shopping. I was down to about thirty bucks when I woke up this morning and now I have half a grand on me. Yes, I lead a life of sin and what I do is very risky but fuck it, I don't care. That's just the way I am. I used to work as a cashier at this very store, a very long time ago. Back when I was...legit.

I used to have a normal life. I attended La Cite Collegiale, where I studied Nursing and worked as a cashier at Loblaw's to pay for my schooling. I worked as a nurse at Montfort Hospital in the east end of Ottawa, and was engaged to a lovely young woman named Nadia Sharif, whom I met at work. We came from different worlds, Nadia and I. A Lebanese Christian lesbian and a French Canadian tomboy, madly in love.

Nadia and I were an item, and while we cared deeply for each other, we were headed for trouble. Nadia's deeply conservative Lebanese immigrant family weren't exactly thrilled when their precious daughter brought me home. Nevertheless, Nadia and I stuck it out. We got a place near Blair Station, not far from where we both worked, and began building a life together. Then Nadia died in a car crash, and my world ended...

That's when I began drinking, and doing drugs. I was in and out of rehab, and eventually, my last living relative, my father Francois Guillaume, gave up on me. Papa lives in Montreal now, and we haven't spoken in years. I live in Vanier, on my own, I'm sober most of the time, and although I do temp jobs from time to time, I've become addicted to stealing. One of these days, my luck will run out. I will steal from the wrong person and end up dead. Still, I cannot stop...

That night, as I lay on my bed, I thought of the amazing, strange day I had, and the simply unforgettable young woman I met. I laughed to myself as I saw Salma busting me in my mind's eye. Hmm, a Hijab-wearing Muslim lesbian from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, busting a French Canadian lesbian thief, that would make one hell of a porno, I thought, and laughed some more.

Without thinking, my hand slipped between my legs, and I began fingering my pussy. Closing my eyes, I tried to remember Salma's lovely face, framed by her Hijab, and that tall, curvy body of hers. Oh, and that mesmerizing ass I gawked as she walked away from my bus at the Mackenzie King Bridge. As I masturbated to a guilty pleasure, I visualized Salma in bed with me, right on top of me, her smiling face full of mischief and lust.

"Well hello there," I whispered to Fantasyland-Salma, and she grinned before kissing me. Hastily we undressed, then began exploring one another. My hands roved all over Salma's curvy body, caressing her breasts, slapping her big brown ass then caressing it. Salma kissed me, and teased my tits by flicking her tongue over the areolas even as her hand slipped between my thighs. I gasped as I felt her fingers slide into my pussy.

Furiously I masturbated, licking my lips even as I envisioned Salma burying her pretty face between my legs. I moaned and writhed as she pleasured, licking my pussy like a nomad slaking her thirst after a long journey through the hottest of deserts. In my fantasy, Salma gently bit my clit, causing me to cry out, and then she shoved three fingers into me, sending me tumbling toward ecstasy...

"Oh fuck, Salma!" I cried out, and my eyes snapped open, my body shuddered violently as I came. I hadn't cum like this in a long time. Violent and bright, those are the words I would choose to describe it. Dipping my fingers in my still-wet pussy, I slowly brought them to my lips and tasted myself. Hmm, I hadn't been with a woman since I lost my beloved Nadia. No one can ever replace my Nadia. Dammit, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that this Salma gal definitely excites me. Perhaps it's time for me to have some fun. See you soon Salma, I whispered in the dark, then I went to sleep.