Broke Black Lesbians Inc.

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“What kind of security company doesn’t do direct deposit for their employees? I hate these fuckers,” Nadia Barnes said angrily, as she walked to the bus stop at Pinecrest Station. Try as she might, she couldn’t find the damned cheque which she’d lost right after picking it up at the offices of First Response Security Inc. If those fuckers had direct deposit, she definitely wouldn’t be in this damned predicament…

The plan had been quite simple, hence why it went so spectacularly awry. Nadia would go to First Response Security and grab the cheque, then head to the TD Bank located inside the nearby Bayshore Mall, and deposit it. Of course, when one is afflicted with lousy luck like Nadia, nothing is ever simple. Frustrated, the young woman sat inside the Bayshore Mall food court, wondering what else she should do…

Nadia traced back her steps, and figured that she’d either lost the damned cheque on the OC Transpo bus, or at the Bayshore Mall. A cursory call to the Bayshore Mall security office turned out to be fruitless, and the good folks at the Lost & Found office of the aforementioned mall were none too helpful. What’s a gal to do?

Nadia was pissed, at her own lousy luck, at the bozos that made up the bulk of Ottawa’s population, and mostly, at herself. She should have put the cheque in her bag instead of tucking it into her damn pocket. Not my fault, if those suckers at First Response Security had direct deposit, this never would have happened, Nadia mused, and her once-chipper mood turned sour.

If it weren’t for Nadia’s second job, with the good folks of Securitas Canada, she would have been flat broke. Luckily, after paying rent for her apartment in Vanier, Nadia had about six hundred dollars to herself. The four-hundred-dollar cheque from First Response Security, which she’d lost, gnawed away at Nadia. She had big plans for that small pile of dough…

Even worse, when Nadia called First Response Security to ask them to cancel the lost cheque and issue a new one, the young guy at the phone was none too helpful. The bozo claimed that they wouldn’t be able to cancel the cheque and issue a new one because there was something of a cancellation fee. What in the actual fuck?

Upon hearing that bullshit, Nadia stared at the phone, wondering what was wrong with this fool and the money-grubbing people he worked with. Nadia wouldn’t have bought that line if it came with a set of steak knives. What a load of crock! A big-shot security company like that refusing to budge an inch to help out an employee! Sheesh! Nadia made a mental note to call them back tomorrow…

“Maybe OC Transpo has it,” Nadia said to herself, and she looked up the number for the lost and found office for the bus company. She vividly remembered taking the 61 bus from Pinecrest Station and riding it to Bayshore Mall. She also remembered that the bus was packed, and people had been staring at her. Maybe one of those goons saw her drop the cheque and didn’t even point it out to her. Ottawa people suck balls, Nadia mused darkly.

On the island of Jamaica, where Nadia Barnes was born, people were a lot friendlier and warmer than in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. Whoever is fond is saying that Canadians are friendly ought to get punched. This was a big joke. Out here, everyone Nadia met seemed to be a fake-smiling, passive-aggressive bozo, always assessing others through a rigid class system that was all the more evident due to their sheer denial of its existence.

I shouldn’t have come to Canada İstanbul Escort and kept my Black ass in Kingston, Nadia thought angrily. Like a lot of foreigners, Nadia was drawn to Canada by the prospect of higher education and a decent living. After graduating from Carleton University with a degree in business, Nadia looked for work everywhere. Unable to find even an entry-level position connected to her field of study, Nadia ended up becoming a security guard. It was the beginning of her nightmare…

Tired, Nadia sat inside the food court, and dined on rice, salad, and lamb, courtesy of a small Greek restaurant housed inside the Bayshore Mall. Their lamb was to die for. As Nadia ate, a tall, athletic young Black woman walked by, holding hands with a short, curvy, Hijab-wearing Arab gal. Now even Arab girls want some Black pussy, Nadia thought, amazed.

Looks like everyone is getting some but me, Nadia thought, and she grinned, marveling at how unlucky she was. Two months ago, Nadia’s ex-girlfriend, a tall, bodacious and absolutely stunning young Nigerian Muslim gal named Malika Ajoku, unceremoniously dumped her. Nadia’s attempts at reconnecting with Malika resulted in a little chat with the fellas in blue, and a piece of paper telling her to maintain a certain distance.

Nadia did go a little overboard, but in her defense, Malika Ajoku had been Nadia’s first true girlfriend, and that meant something. Malika was the one woman who convinced the repressed young Jamaican gal that Nadia had been that it was okay for a normal young woman to love women. The two of them met in class at Carleton University, and Nadia’s life hadn’t been the same since that fateful day. Gosh I miss Malika, Nadia thought sourly.

Growing up on the island of Jamaica, Nadia Barnes heard a lot of awful things about gays, lesbians and bisexuals. Out of all the Caribbean islands, Jamaicans seemed to object to queers the most. In such an environment, Nadia wisely kept her head down and pretended to be straight. When Nadia met Malika, however, her world changed…

I ate that bitch’s pussy all summer and showered her with gifts and she did me like this, Nadia thought bitterly. A pleasant frisson went through Nadia’s body as she thought of Malika and herself in bed, making love. Nadia would lay Malika down and lick that curvaceous body of hers from her head to her toes. Malika’s moans of delight were, as always, sweet music to Nadia’s ears.

While Nadia and Malika had their problems, passion was never one of them. Nadia smiled as she recalled bending Malika over and spanking that big beautiful West African booty before banging her with the strap-on dildo they’d bought at Pleasures N Treasures near downtown Ottawa. They would go at it for hours with wild abandon. Good times, Nadia thought longingly.

To add insult to injury, Nadia’s air bed, which she bought for fifty five dollars a few months ago at the Walmart located near Hurdman Station, developed a frigging leak. Nadia, desperate to avoid buying a new air bed, went to the local Loblaw’s, and bought duct tape, along with some industrial super glue from the Dollar Store. Nadia tried to fix the hole in the air bed, but it kept getting bigger.

“Fuck it,” Nadia said to herself, and she piled a bunch of blankets on top of the now deceased air bed, and use them to cushion herself during her sleeping hours. With the onset of the Canadian winter, Nadia thought it prudent to buy a comforter or three, and with those, plus İstanbul Escort Bayan a portable heater, the young Jamaican woman kept herself warm. Dammit I’m cursed, Nadia thought, lamenting her lousy luck.

After finishing her meal, Nadia walked around the Bayshore Mall. It was packed, which was odd for a Thursday night. Young Black guys with their White girlfriends, White guys with Chinese gals, Black gals with their lady friends or whatever Arab dude or White dude they met this week, effeminate gay males gawking longingly at masculine men…who prefer the company of other masculine men. Everyone was out and about, and Nadia was enduring the mother of all dry spells, on top of everything else…

“Hello there,” came a voice, startling Nadia out of her dark musings. Nadia turned around and saw…her. Malika Ajoku, looking mighty fine in a Black leather jacket over a White turtleneck shirt which contrasted nicely against her dark brown skin, stylish Black Yoga pants and Black leather boots. An ebony tuque partially covered her long, curly dark hair.

“Hello, Miss Ajoku, I’m just here shopping and nothing else,” Nadia said quickly, holding her hands. Nadia stood there grinning, in spite of everything that happened between them, and Malika rolled her eyes. Nadia admired Malika’s full lips, her round, lovely face, those golden brown eyes, that cute button nose, that tall, curvaceous body, those wide of hers, and those thick legs, designed to support an even thicker ass. My Nigerian Goddess, Nadia thought happily.

“Hey yourself,” Malika replied, in a neutral tone, and just as Nadia was about to say something else, they were joined by a newcomer. A tall, red-haired young woman with alabaster skin and freckles, dressed in a dark gray men’s vest, men’s sky blue dress shirt, burgundy tie and Black dress pants. Nadia quietly assessed the tomboyish ginger and frowned when the bitch put her hand on Malika’s shoulder.

“Hi, I’m Nikki, Malika’s partner,” the ginger tomboy said, extending her sleek, pale hand while flashing Nadia the kind of frosty smile a polar bear shows to a penguin before tearing it apart viciously and eating it. Nadia saw a world of hostility in those blue eyes. I don’t like this ginger broad, Nadia thought. Nadia did not smile, and, after a brief hesitation, she shook Nikki’s hand.

Bitch dumped me and quickly shacked up with this wannabe-male-snowflake, Nadia thought bitterly. Nikki reminded Nadia of a TV special she’d seen, about girls who wanted to become men. Oh well, if that’s what Malika was into these days, it’s a good thing she and Nadia were no longer together. Any woman who wanted to become a man was downgrading rather than upgrading, in Nadia’s opinion…

“Hey, Nikki, this is Nadia, the one I told you about, we used to date,” Malika said coldly. Nikki smirked, then possessively wrapped her arms around the lovely and seemingly glowing Malika. Nadia frowned, and kept her cool. This red-headed tomboyish bitch was obviously staking her claim to Malika, who smiled and leaned against the masculine broad. Goad me all you want, I won’t give you the satisaction of losing it, Nadia thought. Finally, Nadia spoke…

“Nice to meet you, Nikki, good to see you again, Malika, sorry ladies but I’ve got to get to work,” Nadia lied, and then she walked away. She headed for the escalator, the one close to the Manchu Wok place. Half-running through the crowded mall, Nadia headed to the bus station, and caught the bus heading Escort İstanbul to Saint Laurent. Still shaken by the encounter, Nadia slumped down on the very last row of seats at the back, closed her eyes, and willed herself to sleep.

“Ma’am, we are at Saint Laurent Mall, this is the last stop,” came a male voice, and Nadia blinked, and sighed. Before her stood a tall, handsome brother in a dark blue uniform. She looked past him and saw that the bus was empty. Thanking him for waking her up, Nadia walked past the driver and headed for the exit. Arriving at the Saint Laurent Mall bus stop, Nadia grabbed the 14 bus and rode it home to Vanier.

“Here’s to my hell,” Nadia said to herself as she went into her one-bedroom basement apartment. The place contained a living room, a kitchen, two closets, and a bedroom. Nadia went inside, and began stripping down the moment she closed the door. After such a long, horrible day, she felt like showering. Wash away my losses and my sins, water of purification, Nadia thought.

After showering, Nadia stood naked in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom. A tall, chubby, busty, kind of average, but pretty-in-the-face young woman with mahogany-hued skin, almond-shaped yellowish brown eyes and long dreadlocks stared back at her. Nadia was twenty four years old, but looked older after five years of hard living in Ontario, Canada. Ah, the life of a single Black lesbian in the Canadian Capital.

“To the next step,” Nadia told herself. As she lay on her bed, actually, the makeshift pile of sheets and comforters and dime-store pillows which she draped over the deflated remnants of her air mattress, Nadia thought about her life. This state of the affairs was quite simply unacceptable as far as Nadia was concerned. She couldn’t go on like this…

“I can do better than this,” Nadia told herself. The young Jamaican woman silently vowed to get a better job, something better than security, where she would make more than minimum wage, and oh yeah, get direct deposit instead of having to pick up her cheque. Once Nadia found that dream job, she would hopefully get a better place to live, with a real bed. Tomorrow, Nadia would work on her resume and start applying for jobs left and right.

Maybe I’ll even find someone decent to share my future bed with, Nadia thought wistfully. She’d seen a lot of pretty ladies at the Bayshore Mall. Some of them even gave her the look, the prolonged eye contact that women who love women do when they see another woman. Of course, none of those ladies were Nadia’s type. Nadia liked them dark-skinned, curvy, busty and big-bottomed, and somewhat on the sassy side.

In the movies, lesbian life is fun and glamorous, but Nadia knew in real life it was anything but. Gals who like gals have supportive parents, good jobs, wear nice clothes, live in condos or townhouses, and they also have really pretty bodies. Oh, and they get laid like all the damn time. Steamy, satisfactory sex too. Hmm. That last bit was so untrue, and it irked Nadia most of all.

Fuck both The L Word and Orange Is The New Black, Nadia thought bitterly. Hollywood liked to glamorize the lives of LGBT people, and the reality was far different. Not to mention, the few Black folks showed on television shows about LGBT people were the embodiments of the worst stereotypes about the Black community.

For this and many other reasons, Nadia loathed the mainstream LGBT world with a passion. I don’t feel frigging fabulous, and I’m not rich, so take your parades and your TV shows and your glamor and shove them, I live in the real world and I got bills to pay, Nadia thought, angrily. Her life is definitely not like that which is shown on TV. To be fair, she was definitely ready to make some changes. Within minutes of lying down, Nadia was fast asleep.

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