Ashima Shaji of Kerala

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Indian kleptomaniac seduces Haitian-American officer.
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Samuelx
Samuelx
2,122 Followers

The City of Ottawa, Ontario, is really an amalgamation of smaller towns, and the locals are fiercely territorial, though they express it in a passive aggressive manner. Take the suburb of Kanata for example. One of the capital's fastest growing areas, it has a rural look, yet it's home to high-tech giants like Avaya, Deloitte, Mitel and Cisco, luminaries of the Canadian tech sector. Orleans has long been a stronghold of the French Canadian population of the Capital region, yet many Haitians, Chinese and Arabs also call it home.

Vanier has a bad reputation, due to being hit by recent crime waves, yet nowhere else in the capital region will one see more ethnic diversity and vibrant multiculturalism. Barrhaven is considered to be home of the city's business elite, yet it's friendly rather than snobbish in its quiet affluence. This unique place, where people of all hues are thrown together, is home to a rather troublesome pair. Today they descend upon downtown, for mischief, mayhem and profit, of course...

"Ottawa is full of bigots, Paul, we've got to make it work for us, that's all," Ashima Shaji said softly, looking into her lover/accomplice's soulful brown eyes. The two of them stood in Confederation Park, on a sunlit Friday morning in early August. Unlike a lot of other people coming and going through the park, however, these two weren't enjoying the sunshine. Nope, they were plotting...

"Cool, I go into Shoppers Drugmart and act all thuggish, draw attention to myself and you discretely make off with the goods while I distract everyone," Paul Herisson replied, stroking his goateed chin thoughtfully. The idea of hitting a store in the downtown core didn't appeal to him because there were so many cops around. They were down the street from the Elgin Street police station, after all. Still, he had to admit that Ashima's daring plan seemed pretty cool...

"That's the plan," Ashima said, nodding firmly at Paul, whose hesitation annoyed her. Standing five feet three inches tall, with medium brown skin and long, curly black hair, the golden-eyed Keralite cutie was used to being underestimated. Something she used to her advantage every chance she got. Never let them see you coming and be more than you seem, that was Ashima Shaji's mantra.

Today, Ashima Shaji was definitely dolled to the nines, as they used to say. Clad in a white vest over a white blouse, silver Capri pants and platform sandals, the young Indian-Canadian woman looked both sexy and professional. To complete her disguise, she had a lanyard around her neck, with a fake government ID on it. Anyone looking at Ashima would see a pretty young South Asian female professional. No different from so many others working for the Canadian government or private sector companies in the downtown core.

"The fools won't know what hit them," Ashima said, winking at Paul, who still looked a bit nervous. Today he wore a hooded black sweatshirt, blue jeans and black timberland boots, his normally stylish Afro looking wild and unkempt, all the better to sell off the image of the 'urban troublemaker.' My lady definitely thinks of everything, Paul thought, amazed by the sheer boldness and raw cleverness of Ashima's plans.

Everyone knows that black folks, especially black men, get followed around stores by racist clerks and that the security camera focuses on them more than anyone else. These two clever thieves found a way to make stereotype and human stupidity work to their advantage. They'd successfully hit store after store across the Canadian capital. Grocery stores, big shopping malls, small retail outlets, you name it, they've hit it. They made a mockery of loss prevention officers across the City of Ottawa, since they seemed to be able to spot them in a way that ordinary customers never could.

"Let's do this, bae," Paul said, and he pulled Ashima into his arms and kissed her. Paul intended to give Ashima a quick peck on the lips but the passionate young woman embraced him warmly and gave his derriere a tight squeeze. Paul grinned at Ashima as they came up for air. She gave him the thumbs-up sign as he headed down the street, making his way to the drugstore located a few blocks away. This is going to be good, Ashima thought, her heart afire with anticipation of the day ahead.

It has often been said that to know oneself and one's enemy is to pretty much guarantee the outcome of a battle. Ashima Shaji, born in the environs of Kerala, India, and raised in the suburb of Orleans, Ontario, is a tiny brown pixie with the mind of a four-star general. Educated in psychology at the University of Ottawa, Ashima worked for the suicide hotline for a time, before taking a leave of absence due to feeling a bit burnt out.

While on leave from her job, Ashima rediscovered a long-lost friend, her dormant kleptomania. The young woman doesn't steal out of need, but for a thrill. Ashima came from a moneyed cocoon. Her father Ramesh Shaji works as a plant supervisor with the Avaya Corporation at their new location in the rural suburb of Kanata, Ontario. Her mother Leema Shaji is a quality control specialist with Oberthur Technologies. Her older sister Parvati is studying medicine at the University of Toronto. The family lives in a nice townhouse in a secluded area of Orleans. Why did Ashima turn out the way she did? Difficult to say. One might as well ask why the sun comes up...

"Showtime," Ashima said to herself, and a thrill shot through her as she walked at a leisurely pace to the drug store. On her way, she saw a couple of police officers grabbing lunch at Nando's restaurant. A bunch of government worker types, including a few Pakistani guys walked past her. One of them, a tall bearded guy in a nice suit, looked at Ashima longer than was considered socially acceptable. She winked at him, and the Pakistani dude shyly looked away.

"Do you have Black Enterprise among your magazines, ma'am? It's one of the biggest black-oriented mags in America, where I come from," Paul said to the drugstore clerk, a pleasantly plump Arab woman in her late thirties. Paul spoke rather loudly to the lady, whose name tag read Mariam, and she shook her head, and listed the magazines that the store carried. As the two of them interacted, people stared while pretending not to stare. Nobody paid attention to the short, well-dressed young Indian woman who walked in and headed for the makeup aisle...

"Like taking candy from a brat," Ashima thought to herself as she discretely filled her pockets with makeup, and a few other things. A special scrambler which she'd 'borrowed' from her father's lab at Avaya silently deactivated the electronic tags on every item she rubbed against it. Without further ado, Ashima walked to the front counter, paid for some gum, kept the receipt, and walked out. The young woman resisted the urge to sigh in relief as she exited the premises...

"You know what, lady? I think I'll buy a copy of Chatelaine instead," Paul said to the frustrated Arab female clerk, and he watched as she scanned the female-oriented magazine, and then paid for it using cash. The big and tall young black man politely thanked the clerk for her time, smiled at the group of polite white Canadians who'd been observing the exchange with fake smiles on their pale faces, and then exited the premises. Game, set and match, Paul thought to himself.

Calmly, Paul Herisson headed for the Ottawa Main Library on Metcalfe Street, without a care in the world. Once inside, he made his way to the second floor, by the comic book section, where a certain well-dressed South Asian cutie was waiting for him. Ashima Shaji seemed to be glowing, the way she often did after pulling off a well-planned heist. What a woman, Paul thought, amazed.

"Am I good or what?" Ashima said to Paul as he sat opposite her, and she discretely showed him the contents of her purse. Several hundred dollars worth of makeup. Paul looked at her and smiled. Taking her small hand in his, he brought to his lips and kissed it. Ashima beamed at him, and her heart skipped a beat. She recalled how they met, and another thrill shot through her...

"Damn right you are," Paul replied, and he remembered how he felt when he first laid eyes on the lovely, unforgettable Ashima Shaji. He was working security at Loblaw's and she was there to steal. Paul didn't get along with the Loblaw's manager, a racist old French bozo named Frank something or other. The old bozo didn't think much of young black men in general, especially the ones from the States, and he didn't hide it from Paul...

At the time, Paul was a newcomer to Ottawa by way of Miami, Florida. His concerned parents, Geraldine and Mathieu Herisson sent him to study Social Communications at Saint Paul University in Ottawa because thing got dicey in his hometown, the enclave of Little Haiti, Florida. Paul's life got threatened by the local thugs when he wouldn't join them, and his parents sent him away for his own good.

"You shouldn't speak to the security guard like that, old man, if you do it again, I'll report you," Ashima Shaji said to Frank, the night she saw him berate Paul in front of everyone at the front of the store. The uniformed young security guard stood there, simply taking it, as the old white dude insulted him and called him every name in the damn book, and then some.

"This is a private matter, young lady," Frank said to the spirited young Indian woman who glared at him defiantly. Ashima refused to back down, and in the end, Frank walked away. A relieved Paul looked at Ashima, quietly astonished by her boldness and bravery. That's how they met. Paul walked up to her and introduced himself before thanking her, of course...

"Thank you, that guy Frank is a piece of work, and my managers at the security team refuse to do jack about his attitude towards me," Paul said, as he shook hands with Ashima. The tiny, well-dressed young Indian woman smiled at the big and tall, handsome young black man with the soulful eyes and dopey smile. This one looks too innocent for his damn good, Ashima remembered thinking.

"Paul, you've got to stick up for yourself," Ashima replied, wincing a bit as Paul shook her tiny hand a bit too hard. The dude had to be like six-foot-four and didn't seem to know his own strength. He apologized profusely when he saw that he'd caused her pain, and Ashima smiled. I can definitely work with this one, the young woman thought at the time.

Ashima Shaji, University of Ottawa psychology degree holder, well-to-do member of Ottawa's South Asian community, and lifelong kleptomaniac, found herself drawn to Paul Herisson, the Haitian-American student working as a security guard at Loblaw's. The feeling appeared to be mutual, for Paul asked for her number the next time he saw her, and Ashima began seeing him shortly after that. Things came to a head, however, the day Ashima was caught stealing from the makeup aisle...

"Catch her," Owen, the store's loss prevention officer, shouted to Paul. And the chubby, middle-aged white male sighed as he huffed and puffed while chasing the short young Indian woman across the store. The taller, more athletic Paul could have easily caught Ashima Shaji as she made a beeline for the Loblaw's, but for some reason, he tripped over a nonexistent obstacle and fell on his ass. Thus the comely thief was able to get away...

"You threw away your job to save my ass, I love you Paul," Ashima said to Paul, looking at him adoringly as they sat inside the Ottawa Main Library's comic book section. Paul smiled at Ashima, pleased by her words. After echoing them, he kissed her on the lips. Looking out the window, he gazed at the people coming and going on the street below. They looked so purposeful. Since meeting Ashima, life had become a roller-coaster for Paul, and not always in a good way...

"I love you, Ashima, but we can't keep doing this, one day our luck will run out," Paul said firmly, and Ashima tried not to roll her eyes. After losing his gig as the security guard for Loblaw's, Paul started working as a bouncer at various clubs in Ottawa since he still had a valid security licence. Along the way, he'd taken to accompanying Ashima on her, ahem, shopping trips. Sure, they had fun, but he felt that something bad was coming. They definitely had to stop while they were still ahead...

"Paul, you worry too much, my love, I'll be right back," Ashima said, and she blew a surprised Paul a kiss as she got up, and headed for the stairs. Paul watched the diminutive beauty as she took the steps two at a time, and headed for the third floor. Paul sat there, thinking about his life and the weird turns it had taken since he'd met and started dating Ashima. We're like Batman and Catwoman, Paul thought, smiling wickedly.

"What is it now?" Paul said to himself as his iPhone buzzed, and he swiped his finger across the screen, opening it. The text message from Ashima made him smile. I'm inside the washroom on the third floor, stop fussing and frigging come inside, read the message. Paul felt like ignoring the message, to tell you the truth, and then Ashima sent him a picture message featuring her big brown butt in a lacy red thong. Dammit woman, Paul thought, and he felt a stir down below. Smiling, he hurried upstairs...

"What took you so long, handsome?" Ashima said, smiling wickedly at Paul as he came into the washroom. She pushed the red button, locking them both inside. Sitting on the toilet seat, with her blouse unbuttoned and her pants around her ankles, Ashima leaned back against the wall. Pinching her nipples with one hand and rubbing her hairy pussy with the other, Ashima winked at Paul. Got you right where I want you, Ashima thought slyly.

"I had to think about it," Paul teased, and he was still grinning when Ashima came at him like a tiger, and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Propping Ashima against the washroom sink, Paul caressed her breasts, and kissed her throat while she spread her thick thighs invitingly. Paul's fingers slid into Ashima's womanhood, and the young Indian woman moaned softly as he began fingering her. She'd been craving his touch all day. The morning heist only heightened Ashima's arousal...

"Paul, stop playing, I need you, right now," Ashima hissed at Paul, and she looked at him demandingly. Paul nodded, and knelt before her, kissing her lovely breasts before making his way to the space between her legs. Ashima held her breath as Paul inhaled her pussy's scent, and then slid his tongue inside of her. The young woman sighed deeply as her lover began munching on her pussy like a hungry man, just the way she liked it...

"Hmmm, you taste so damn good," Paul paused to say, and then he flicked his tongue over the hood of Ashima's clitoris while fingering her wet pussy. The young woman moaned urgently, arching her back as he pleasured her. Ashima bit her lip and pinched her nipples as Paul devoured her pussy, taking his sweet time as he probed her with his tongue and fingers. It was sheer torture, and she absolutely loved every minute of it...

Later, Ashima found herself on all fours, her hands against the wall, as Paul fucked her from behind. Gripping her hips tightly, Paul pushed his long, hard dick into Ashima's pussy. The young woman squealed, and gave as good as she got, grinding her big derriere against Paul's groin. Smacking Ashima's big ass and pulling her long, lustrous black hair, Paul fucked her hard and fast, drilling her pussy with his hard, dark dick. It was almost as if he wanted to make her beautiful, thieving ass pay for being too damn tempting...

"Yeah, fuck me hard," Ashima all but hissed at Paul. She turned around and fixed her gaze on him, an almost feral gleam in her normally calm and thoughtful brown eyes. That's when Paul cut loose, fucking Ashima with wild abandon. If you like the rough stuff then I can dish it out, Paul thought as he fucked Ashima furiously, slamming his dick into her pussy, watching as her small but powerful, curvaceous body shook under the force of his thrusts. A knock at the washroom door interrupted their fun, though it took them a moment to notice...

"Have a lovely day, thank you," Paul said to the security guard, a young black man in a dark blue uniform, as he and Ashima exited the washroom. The stunned-looking security guard blinked, and mumbled something. Ashima winked at the brother and wished him a good day, and then she and Paul made their way downstairs. Moments later they emerged on the street.

"That was ridiculous, and fun, hmm, say, handsome, what can we do to top it off?" Ashima asked Paul, a sly look on her beautiful face. Paul shook his head vigorously and playfully slapped her thick ass. As far as he was concerned, he'd had enough of Ashima's high-risk, thrill-seeking fun for one day. Roller-coasters were never meant to be full-time rides, Paul thought.

"I'm going to work later, Ashima, and I've had enough of your antics," Paul said, matter-of-factly, and Ashima fake-pouted, and then linked her arm with his. They started walking toward the Rideau Shopping Center. Tonight, Paul was working as a bouncer at a certain club in the area, and he was looking forward to this particular gig. That's if Ashima doesn't find a way to get us in trouble before nightfall, Paul thought glumly.

"Quickie inside the changing room at Nordstrom, are you game or nah?" Ashima asked, pressing her hot little body against Paul's, and the tall, handsome young Haitian-American smiled, enticed by her curves even though her plan sounded insane. After a brief hesitation, Paul nodded and Ashima smiled and half-dragged him toward the large shopping center. This is going to be good, first we fuck, and then we scope out the place and acquire a few items at a later date, Ashima thought, thrilled at the prospect of yet another fun adventure.

Samuelx
Samuelx
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AnonymousAnonymousover 6 years ago
A new low

Just when I thought you couldn't possibly stoop any lower. What did you do, Google kleptomaniac and decide that was hot? You obviously don't know the first thing about it.

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