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Fatima





Cèdric Daurio





Copyright © 2015 by Oscar Luis Rigiroli
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Published in 2018 in the USA


It was originally published in 2015 with the name: Ebony Lady

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.





Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

From the Author

About the Author

Works by C.Daurio

Coordinates of the Author

About the Publisher



PROLOGUE


He finally left the baggage claim area of the Kennedy Airport of New York dragging his own suitcase and another with casual clothes that Fatima had asked him to bring, since she had taken with her only the African costumes tailored to the meetings that she was going to attend.

First he recognized in the huge hall was the impressive and unmistakable figure of Malik, the refugee from the Central African Republic who had already saved them from the intrigues of hostile actors in their previous stay in the city.

Cristian hugged him affectionately surprising the big man characterized by a more cautious attitude. To his embarrassment Malik took charge of the luggage without the slightest effort.

“The Princess will meet with you at the hotel” He said recalling to Cristian the rather royal treatment given to his wife. “Today she is having a meeting arranged at the last minute and could not come to the airport as she wanted to.”

“The history of my life as a married man.” Thought Cristian.

Already in the car asked Malik if he had any news about clashes between different African ethnic groups on their continent and if they had had repercussions among the expatriate groups in New York.

“In Africa, conflicts have moved to the Central African Republic, my country, and possibly in the near future will arrive in Nigeria. Here the situation is calmer that when you and the Princess were a couple of years ago but we cannot lower our guard.”

These words reminded Cristian that one of Malik´s the functions was acting as a custodian of Fatima while she was in the city.

When the African parked his car in front of the hotel Cristian was surprised to see that it was the same in which Fatima and he had first met. A wave of memories invaded his mind and a knot formed in his throat but he refrained from making comments.

When they entered at the hotel Fatima had just arrived and they met in the lobby the woman threw herself in his arms in a completely unexpected attitude. Guests of the hotel looked askance at that woman richly dressed in her obvious ethnicity silk dress hugging a newcomer looking tired and dressing wrinkled clothes. Seeing the scene with the corner of his eye in a lobby mirror brought Christian even more emotions and they both whined for a second.

Malik cleared his throat to call them into reality and they separated with a certain embarrassment.

“It´s only a week since we last met.” Cristian told his wife in a tone of false reproach.

“Why then you have red eyes?”

In fact what had worked in the encounter between the two was not the brief recent separation but all the vicissitudes that had occurred since they had left the hotel two years before with their joys and sufferings. No doubt this relatively brief period had transformed their lives in a deep and lasting way.

The woman had already obtained her key at the front desk and guided him towards her room.

“But... this is...” Sputtered Cristian.

“Yes, it is the same room that we were when we met. I spent several days in another but I ordered the Concierge to move me to it as soon as it was vacant.

The detail moved him again. He knew the value of symbols for his wife and her tenacity to achieve her purposes. Having obtained the same room spoke clearly of the importance Fatima granted the event when they had loved for the first time.

They entered the spacious room and the employee left the suitcases. She made him sit on the bed smiling and placed her arms around his neck.

Mon cher, you don't know how long I have dreamed with this moment, to relive the most important stage of my life and to taste again its flavor.



CHAPTER 1


She had been contemplating him over breakfast in the spacious lounge on the ground floor of the hotel. She had seen him for the first time one week before, along with one of the older women whose sexual needs he was without a doubt satisfying. He didn't have the muscular and athletic appearance of other gigolos she had seen before but there was something in him that drew her mightily. Thin and very high, with an undisciplined but not very long blonde hair he had a somewhat fragile although manly appearance. His features were fine and correct and at the distance it seemed that his eyes were clear. He did not exceed much the twenty years.

The woman looked at him fixedly from her own table and finally managed that their eyes crossed. The young man realized that she was looking at him and he looked at her briefly but then surely by shyness he lowered his eyes.

“Insecure, odd trait in his profession.” Thought Fatima. “I don´t think that it is by racial prejudice.”

The woman had taken her decision and wouldn't reverse for a timid reaction of the young man. With natural elegance she rose from her table and turned resolutely to his. The eyes of the other guests, mostly men, stood in admiration of her magnificent silhouette causing the twitching in the ladies who accompanied them. Very tall and slender, with upright bust, narrow waist and prominent buttocks, her black skin shone with strange blue flashes. Her head and facial features were an excellent sample of typically African beauty in the fullness of life; her walk was feline and she seemed to slip into space with pure grace.

The young man noticed that the woman approached him and stirred simultaneously excited and restless in his chair. He was accustomed to more or less veiled female approaches but who was now approaching in no way resembled his usual clientele. He had already seen her at the hotel in previous days and her sight drew and disturbed him at the same time.

The woman stood in front of his table, and the man reacted by standing up and moving a chair so she could sit.

“Good manners, he is not from New York. I wonder where is he from.” Wondered Fatima. After a few moments of shared silence they both began to speak in unison.

“We knew...?” He began saying.

“Why did you...” The lady temporarily interrupted her speech but finally imposed silence to the man, foretelling what their relations would be like from there on.

“Why did you turn your eyes away from me when we looked each other?” She asked

“I don’t know, it was an instinctive reaction.”

“Look at me now!”

Their eyes kept an intense look until each was dissolved on the other. The simple gesture of observing each other provided Fatima the information she needed. Without further preambles she told him.

“Follow me.” Then she walked without looking back. The man with certain signs of embarrassment followed her in direction to the elevators. Several people made comments in a low voice and the concierge of the hotel discreetly grimaced to another guest.

They crossed the lobby and entered an elevator that was arrested. The lady pushed the 14th floor button.

The woman opened the door of the room 1421 and noting a hesitant attitude of the youngster took him by one arm and gently pulled him inside. Then she dragged him to the bed and then pushed forcing him to sit in it. In absolute silence she unbuttoned her dress revealing her magnificent black body. She wore long white stockings up to the thighs, a brief panty also white and a bra that barely contained her breasts. Without delay she placed her body close to him, then took his head and approached it with their hips, then broke the silence and ordered.

“Pull down my panties... with your teeth.”

The man obediently took the edge of lace between his teeth and began the downward movement in the course of which his face slid over her black skin and soon contacted her short but not shaved pubic hair. Then he felt a sudden erection but continued with his task passing in front of her moist genitals. The movement went on until the brief garment was at the level of her thighs when he grabbed it in his hands and took it off her legs. Then he took the buttocks of the woman between his hands and got his face into her crotch. She set him aside with a sudden movement and pushed him placing him with his back on the bed, with his head hanging barely on the lateral edge of the mattress. Supporting one of her legs on the floor on one side of his head, and turning the other over the bed from the other side; she sat on his face putting in contact directly her sex with his lips.

Surprised but excited, the youngster began the task which was requested from him in such an obvious way. The woman pleased because her intentions had been well interpreted and accepted, began performing a soft rolling her hips while she aired unintelligible whispers.

The African began rocking more energetically and her groans almost inaudible at the beginning became louder and more frequent. After a few moments, however she found that in that position she could not reach the climax so repeatedly changed the relative position of her sex and his face. Finally, in the midst of an uncontrolled swing the woman had a deep and long orgasm.

Momentarily calmed her cravings she changed its stance kneeling on the pillows at the head of the bed with her hands resting on the wall and her legs bent at a right angle. Then she whispered something indicating the youth to continue his work. So they tested different positions until she underwent a second climax. Then the woman stretched on the bed, opened her legs and instructed:

“Now penetrate me, I want to feel you inside me.”

During the rest of the morning they copulated several times and then they lay exhausted side to side completely covered in sweat. Exhaustion finally overcame their resistance and excitement and made them sleep for hours.


Fatima opened her eyes and blinked several times. A slim ray of afternoon sunlight that filtered between cracks of the roller shutter hit her right in the face. She found herself embraced by a young man and what happened quickly came back to her mind.

She got out of bed being careful not to wake the man and entered the bathroom; all her movements were stealthy like a cat. Personal hygiene was meticulously performed and then she showered quickly putting on a robe on the naked body.

Then she returned to the room and sat in a chair facing the bed. Fatima looked at the sleeping man and set out to make a balance of what had happened, which she had postponed to be able to savor it at will. Indeed, the events of that morning were highly rewarding. She had been meditating about a change in her life for some time and was choosing which elements would be part of the new era. The week before when she had seen the boy for the first time entering a room on the same floor with a fat woman in her fifties, she had conceived the idea of including him in her network. Indeed she realized that she needed a stable relationship with a man in her life, and had fancied this particular youngster in the moment she saw him, but until that morning there were many questions about her ability and the wisdom to do so: could she tackle it with success? Would he be interested in a relationship not based on money? Would she be able to handle the situations that eventually presented to her will? Would he be the kind of vigorous lover that she needed? Would she wake up in him the devotion for her that she intended? Would he be a thug, or addict, or a violent sadist? Doubts assaulted her in droves.

Fatima felt very confident in her beauty, her body and the lure that her exotic features exercised in men, as well as in the firmness of her character to carry out her designs. She had almost always achieved the objectives she proposed to herself, but there was always an imponderable element that could fail. This time what she had achieved with the boy- whose name was not yet known and whose voice she had barely heard- exceeded her expectations. Her doubts and fears dissipated, Fatima knew that she could trust her instincts. Her sense of triumph was complete.

She sat down on the bed, stretched a foot and introduced the thumb in the mouth of the sleeping man. He turned on the pillow but one of Fatima´s most relevant features was the persistence in her purposes. He finally woke up, looked at his foot opened his mouth and allowed her to introduce the finger. Then the woman smiled but withdrew the foot.

“I am really pleased for your instincts but I just had a shower. In addition, we must retain some fire for tonight. Now I want to ask you some questions and hear your voice.”

He sat on the bed and stared at her for the first time; however he remained in silence.

“What's your name?” The woman took the initiative of the conversation.

“Cristian.”

“Your accent is not American. Where are you from?”

“Argentina” His answers were always succinct.

“So you're also away from home. How old are you?”

“Twenty-two years.”

The woman was doubly pleased by the confirmation of her conquest youth.

“How long have you been in New York?”

“Almost a year.”

“And how did you get here?”

The young man blushed slightly.

“I came with... a lady.”

“American?”

“No, Venezuelan.”

“Was she old enough to be your mother?”

“Yes, just about.”

“And tell me, do you have residence in the US? A green card?”

A touch of alarm appeared for the first time in the youngster face.

“Don´t worry, it is not my intention to betray or finger you or harm you in any other way. It was just a question. So go on, answer it.”

“No, the fact is that I am only another illegal in this city.”

“And how do you make your living?

“I work in a publication supported by the Puerto Rican community. I am a graphic designer by profession.”

“And then there are the ladies, of course.”

“Of course.”

“What is your last name?”

“Colombo. I'm Cristian Colombo.”

“Is an Italian surname?

“Yes, in my country they are very frequent.”

“Where are you staying now?”

“I rented a small apartment in Brooklyn.”

“In a difficult area?”

“You could say so.”

“Would you like to know something about me?” Asked the woman.

“Of course.”

“But tell me before what you think of me?”

“That you are a very beautiful lady; your accent sounds French.

“Why do you think that I am a lady and not a prostitute?”

“Because of you behavior... lordly.”

“And do you really think I look French?

“No, African.”

She considered the questions completed, with evident satisfaction on perceptions of the man, and set out to speak.


“My name is Fatima, and I was born and raised in Chad. Do you have any idea where it is?”

“Yes, in Central Africa.”

“Right. I was born in one animist village, beleaguered by the wars between Muslims in the North and Christians in the South. These wars have brought massacres and endless suffering.” Fatima looked at the man and saw that he was carefully listening.

“I was educated in France for a long period and ten years ago I came to the United States to study, and completed my Master degree in Administration. Since then I have taken care of the interests of the people of my own ethnical background, who live scattered in my village and other neighboring areas. My father is...let´s say, the authority in the entire region.”

“Are you a resident in the United States?”

“Yes, since two years ago.”

The conversation lasted all afternoon. Fatima was subtly checking the intellectual and cultural level of the young and intimately was quite satisfied with her findings. He was a quick-witted man although at first impression he looked somewhat opaque. Cristian was under the strong magnetism emanating from the woman, who irresistibly drew him in a physical way, had captivated him with his enigmatic and overwhelming personality, and stroked him with her velvety voice. An invisible network hovered around the couple increasing their mutual attraction.

After several hours both dressed up and went down to the restaurant located near the hotel. Fatima wore a very discreet dark set with pants, and for once went unnoticed among the passengers who filled the hotel's crowded lobby.

When they returned to her room they stripped quickly and rested on the bed, the lady placed once again her slim foot at the youngster mouth saying:

“Well, let's go back at the point we were...”



CHAPTER 2


As he did several times a week, Cristian entered the hotel that afternoon. The concierge barely paid attention to him and continued with his work. He was already well known.

Fatima was expecting him dressed with a light negligee that highlighted her curves. From the beginning Cristian perceived a slight change in the woman attitude. He had placed a hand on her hip but she smiled and gently moved away. They had been meeting for two months walking around New York, roaming department stores to which the African was very addicted, taking tea in elegant lounges and had dinner together. Upon returning to the hotel, they made love as if it were the first time. The woman always found appropriate positions to achieve mutual satisfaction. Cristian was soon convinced that they were not part of a practiced baggage but instinctive gear that the lady came equipped with. He had already heard about the exuberant sexual ardor of black women and his experience just confirmed it.

Fatima saddened for the scarce apparel Cristian had brought with him had purchased some formal clothing for his outputs and insisted in his trying them. However that day she looked a little distant.

“Something troubles you Zouby? You look concerned.”

“Actually I'm not worried, but I do have something important to tell you. Something that you have the right to know.”

Cristian remained in an expectant silence.

“I'm pregnant... logically of your child.”

The man despite a barely perceptible slight shudder, as it was his custom made a respectful silence until she resumed her speech.

“I can imagine that you must be thinking “you cannot lie down with a black woman without finding out the next day you're going to be a father"”

“Not! No! I would never think that of you. What I want to know is what you intend to do; go forward or...”

“Of course I intend to go ahead with the pregnancy. I am 34 years old and it is time to have a son. In addition, I will be honest with you; I have not taken any precaution to prevent pregnancy because ultimately I want to have your son.”

“Well, this is flattering.” Said Cristian blushed as it was his custom whenever a mention regarding him was made. “Then it is good news.”

“It is without doubt good news for me, but I don't want to tie you to a commitment you've not wanted. If you don’t want to recognize him as your son I will understand.” And she added “You don´t even have to stay with me against your will.”

“No! In no way I would leave you. Depart from you in this situation would be something that I could never forgive myself.” He paused. “And how will you stand in front of your family and your people?

“I became aware of the pregnancy already a couple of days ago. Yesterday I contacted my mother in Chad and told her. She was happy because it will be her first grandchild. My only sister is still young and unmarried. My mother was losing hopes of becoming a grandmother; what for an African is devastating in a country in which women have an average of five children. She is going to lay the groundwork for tell it to my father.”

“How do you expect he will react?”

“He hoped to marry me to a tribal chief, that is why I left Chad and came to America. I think that the idea of having a métis grandson will disturb him for a couple of days, but then he will rejoice also. I'm his favorite daughter and objectively he needs to have a numerous offspring given his role in the village. His may not be a sterile branch.”

“Will he accept a métis grandchild as you called him?"

“All the villages in the area are mixed to some extent for some time; ours is the exception. The Arabs and the French have left their mark... and well?

“Well what?”

“Can I count on you as the father of my child?”

“Of course. I already said that I will not leave you. You already are a very important part of my life.”

“Well. This will change a lot how things are between us. To begin I invite you to move tomorrow with me. I'm going to ask for a more spacious room at the hotel.”

“I have paid my apartment until the end of the fortnight.”

“To hell with that! You move out tomorrow. I don't want to be far away from you one more day.” Fatima could not tell whether her rage was real or simulated.

Defeated his formal rather than real resistance, Cristian accepted finally to move, but he was still reflective and quiet, so the lady asked.

“What´s now in your head?”

“What do you would have done if I had answered that I preferred not to accept the responsibility of being a father?”

“I would have thought of something to make you change your mind.”

“Something like what?”

“Persuasion, lust, threats, bribery...”

New silence of Cristian.

“Well, what are you thinking now?” She asked.

“I prefer lust, it suits you best.”

“You have not heard my threats yet!”

Fatima dragged him to the bed and removed her negligee. While she lay down next to the man, she whispered some unintelligible words in his ear.

“What you said?”

“It´s our dialect.” She replied with a smile. “I said that the hart has finally fallen into my trap.”

“And who is the deer?” Asked him playfully. “ And what's the trap?

“You are the deer, stupid, and I have the trap between my legs.”

“Have you planned all this in advance?” Asked him as they hugged and kissed passionately.

“Meticulously. From the first day I saw you.”


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