Turkish Chicks For Haitian Bros

"Lady, I haven't the faintest clue what you're talking about, and even if I did, I think I am owed an explanation," I said evenly, and I saw something dangerous shine in Sabriye's eyes, and she smiled at me the way a snake might look at a particularly feisty mouse. I flinched inwardly, thinking of her gun, but stood my ground, just the same.

"Look, Mr. Villiers, or Brother Yahya, as you prefer, I know everything about you, your life in the U.S. and in the island of Haiti, and what my uncle gave you for our embattled little family," Sabriye said, and I smiled at her, for this mystery woman had clearly done her homework on yours truly. Alright, I won't try to act like I'm not impressed.

"You're Mehmet Melen's niece?" I said incredulously, and Sabriye smiled somberly and nodded. The young woman's entire demeanor softened somewhat, in that moment. I bit my lip, and Sabriye asked me to sit down, and then talked to me, really talked to me, about what in hell my Haitian ass inadvertently got itself into.

"Brother Yahya, you just walked in the middle of a war," Sabriye said, and then she explained everything to me. Turkish politics are complicated, to say the least. Then again the same might be said of any country's politics. With its European-style cities and its mixture of Islamism and modernism, the Republic of Turkey is a country at a crossroads. It's European-friendly and democratic, but staunchly Muslim. A lot of people don't know what to make of it.

"My uncle Mehmet was a staunch opponent of the Islamist parties in Turkey, and a proud secularist, he organized the Turkish Diaspora against the ultra-religious parties at home and many hated him for it," Sabriye said, and then the lovely, fierce-looking young woman's face darkened, and then I folded my hands patiently, waiting for her to continue. I sensed that the next bit from Sabriye might be painful, and didn't want to pressure her.

"I think that certain elements within the Islamist government have all but exterminated members of my family because of our politics," Sabriye said, and then she showed me pictures of various people, Turkish men and women, who had been killed in international settings.

"My brother Adnan got shot in the head last year, and my aunt Sevgi was killed in a car explosion, and my cousin Asli is at the hospital in Ankara, recovering from an assassination attempt," Sabriye continued, and I shook my head, marveling at her. This chick had gone through things I could barely comprehend or even imagine, to tell you the truth.

"I am deeply sorry my sister," I said, and gently touched Sabriye's shoulder, knowing that I was crossing the line according to the boundaries of Islam, and people's personal space issues in general, but I didn't care. Sabriye was in pain, and she was my friend and mentor Mehmet's blood relative, and I felt like reaching out to her.

"I don't need your pity," Sabriye said vehemently, and I hesitated, then apologized. Sabriye shook her head, apologized for her harsh tone. I smiled apologetically nonetheless, like the pious and friendly Haitian gentleman that my parents and friends helped me become. I know how to talk to a grieving woman, not that there's a how-to guide for such things.

"Sister, I say this respectfully, your uncle Mehmet changed my life, taught me about Islam, and I'm in Turkey now, risking my life, all because I believed in him," I said firmly, and Sabriye looked at me, and amazingly, the dead-serious gunwoman smiled a reminiscent smile.

"That's my uncle Mehmet, alright, always making friends wherever he goes," Sabriye said, laughing. Nice laugh, I thought and joined her. I felt compelled to share something with her, and hesitated ever so briefly. I told Sabriye about how Mehmet and I met.

"I was looking for the men's washroom at UNDH, and ran into this Haitian Creole-speaking older white guy, with a pot belly, and he volunteered to show me the way, and we both tripped on a wet floor and fell on our asses, that's how I met your uncle Mehmet," I said, and Sabriye laughed some more, saying that this was totally something her uncle would do.

"There has never been a man like Uncle Mehmet, and I miss him, I'm going to make those Islamists pay for killing him," Sabriye said, grim determination creeping into her lovely face. With that, the young Turkish woman made a fist and brought it down on the wooden table before us, and it made a resounding thump. Strong woman, I thought.

"I'm going to help you," I said, looking into Sabriye's eyes, and without another word, I pulled the dark box out of my pocket, and placed it upon the table. Sabriye looked at me, and smiled, then looked at the box. The precious box Mehmet charged me with delivering to his family. I expected Sabriye to grab it, but she didn't. For a long time, Sabriye looked at the box without saying anything.

"Thank you," Sabriye said, and I nodded graciously. We looked at each other, and without a word being spoken, we came to an agreement. Sabriye and I were about to embark on a life-changing mission. We would avenge the man who brought us together, Mehmet, he who meant so much to so many people. And we would do it no matter what the cost.

Not to get all James Bond movie on you, but Sabriye and I were definitely in way over our heads. Sabriye wasn't exactly lying when she said that she worked for the General Directorate of Security but she was a techie, not a field agent. She'd taken quite a chance by intervening when the trio of bozos hassled me in the Sultanahmet area.

"We've got to keep moving, if they find us they'll kill us," Sabriye said, and I wholeheartedly agree. I felt like the safest place for us to go would be the U.S. Embassy but Sabriye had a deep distrust of anything American, and felt that with President Obama in power, Sabriye felt that going to the U.S. Embassy in Istanbul was a bad idea. Apparently, holing up in another nondescript place a few blocks from the first one we got to was a much better idea.

"No offense, Brother Yahya, but the Obama administration is allied with Erdogan and that Islamist bastard might be the one behind all of these assassinations, secular Turkish leaders at home and abroad have been taken out," Sabriye said hotly, and I nodded, for I could see some of her logic. I took a look at our new dwelling, and sighed. I missed my hotel room.

I'm an Obama supporter through and true. I was in my second year at Miami Dade College when he got elected the first time around. I voted for him in 2012, shortly after graduating from Barry University. As a black male professional, I consider him an inspiration. Sabriye's words irked me, and I wasn't shy about letting her know.

"President Barack Obama is a good man, remember that, even if you don't like his politics," I said hotly, and Sabriye looked me up and down, and then, amazingly, the young Turkish woman smiled. I saw mischief and playfulness in those dark eyes of hers, and something else.

"Obama is cute, but picking friends isn't his strong suit, nice ass though," Sabriye said, grinning, and I fell silent. Seriously, did I just hear this Turkish broad jump from criticism of Obama's politics to making commentary about his, ahem, behind? Women are weird, that much I think most men will agree with me on, but this broad mystifies me.

"You're a strange woman," I said, shaking my head, and Sabriye smiled and shrugged. We were standing mere inches from each other, and I must say, in the dark, in this weird little house, in which armed creeps might surge any minute, there was something powerfully erotic about Sabriye. Hell, the whole situation was simply surreal to a bookish guy like myself, that's for damn sure.

"You got no idea how strange I am," Sabriye said, and then, amazingly, she kissed me. I kissed her back with a passion that surprised me. Truth be told, for the past year or so, I'd been pretty much celibate. Never had much luck with the ladies. I'm a nerd and a bookworm, great at socio-political debates and writing papers, and all that, but lousy in social situations.

"Show me," I said breathlessly, and Sabriye grinned, and drew me in. We embraced passionately, and then just like that, we began having sex. Off came my long-sleeved T-shirt and loose-fitting pants, and Sabriye pushed me onto the couch, then showed me what she was made of.

Smiling wickedly, Sabriye took off her tight-fitting black clothing, revealing the sexy body underneath. My eyes widened as I took in her lovely breasts, her slender yet curvy body, her firm and sexy legs, and that nice, round ass. I'm an ass man through and true, like most guys from my part of the world. When Sabriye turned around and I got a full look at her heart-shaped, creamy white ass, I got an instant boner.

"Someone's happy to see me," Sabriye said, laughing, then she gestured for me to come to her. I stood up, and went to her. We kissed once more, then I began sucking on her small but firm, and decidedly succulent breasts. I hadn't been with a woman in a long time, and I most definitely wanted to make up for lost time.

"Let me taste you," I whispered, and Sabriye nodded, and I pulled her into my arms, and carried her over to the nearby table. I laid here there, then knelt before her. Sabriye's womanhood smiled at me, and I was most eager to kiss and lick it. I inhaled the scent of Sabriye's cunt, and then buried my face between her smooth, shapely legs.

"Slow down," Sabriye said, gently stroking the back of my head as I began eating her pussy. It had been a while for me and I think I might have rushed things a bit. I paced myself and took my time, flicking my tongue over the hood of Sabriye's fat clit, and sliding my fingers into her wet, hairy pussy. Briefly, I looked up at her. Sabriye smiled at me, cocked an eyebrow and urged me to continue what I was doing.

Some things a man never forgets how to do, such as riding a bicycle, and eating pussy. The last time I was with a woman, I hooked up with this Dominican chick named Roxana, and the encounter was fun though brief. I took my sweet time with Sabriye, and the Turkish lady proved to be an absolute delight, if you catch my drift.

After giving Sabriye's pussy a good licking, I showed the Turkish cutie what us Caribbean men are made of. Sabriye's eyes went wide when she saw my long and thick dick. I am by no means huge, but I am bigger than average. Sabriye stroked it, smiled and then asked me if she could taste it. As if I was going to refuse her!

"Yummy," Sabriye said, and the Turkish gal knelt before me and took my dick into her mouth. I sighed happily as Sabriye's curly-haired head bobbed up and down as she sucked my dick with gusto. She got me hard as a piston in no time at all, and I was ready to get down and dirty. Lucky for me, Sabriye felt the same way.

We got our freak on right there on the table. Raising Sabriye's legs in the air, I rested them on my shoulders, one on each side, and stroked my dick before rubbing my manhood against Sabriye's crotch. The sexy Turkish gal winked at me, and licked her lips suggestively. Clearly we both wanted this, shoot, needed this is more like it.

"Ready for me?" I asked, and Sabriye nodded, then we did our thing. I entered her pussy with a swift thrust, and a gasp escaped Sabriye's sweet lips. Her brown eyes went wide, and those full lips of hers quivered a little. I caressed her tits and continued fucking her, sliding my dick deeper into her cunt, and then Sabriye began to scream.

"Baran karanlik adam sevismek," Sabriye hissed, and I smiled wickedly, more than happy to comply with the gorgeous Turkish gal's request. If Sabriye wanted more of this chocolate stick, I was definitely the man to give it to her. I fucked her with gusto, loving the feel of her tight cunt around my dick. I hadn't been with a female in ages, and they don't get much hotter or freakier than Sabriye, seriously.

I don't remember how Sabriye and I went from the table to the carpeted floor, but I took her on all fours, face down and thick ass up. Sabriye urged me to fuck her harder and I was thrilled by that, for I love the rough stuff. Not every woman can handle it, to tell you the truth. I smacked Sabriye's ass and pulled her hair, and fucked her hard.

"Gimme that ass," I said, as harshly as I could, gripping Sabriye's hips with one hand and pulling her long, curly black hair with the other. Sabriye grinded that ass against my groin, causing my dick to sink deeper into her pussy. I looked down and the sight of Sabriye's ass taking my dick almost made me lose it. I hadn't fucked this good in a while, and this was definitely one for the ages.

Not sure for how long Sabriye and I went at it, but we did it for a good while. In the end, we lay, exhausted, on the cool floor, not caring because we were still basking in our own heat. Sabriye shot me a wicked grin, and I gave her a tired smile. Miss Turkey here definitely wore this brother out, but I mean this in a good way.

"Welcome to Istanbul, Brother Yahya," Sabriye said, and I smiled and nodded. Us men are weak creatures, man. A pretty woman can get most men to do things they wouldn't normally do. For me, that woman is Sabriye Melen, my mentor Mehmet Melen's niece. Thanks to her, I was embarking on the adventure of a lifetime.

"What's in the box?" I asked suddenly, and Sabriye's smile froze on her face. Without a word the Turkish gal got up, put her clothes back on and grabbed the box which lay on the table. I put my clothes back on, and kept my eyes on her. Sabriye looked at me, and gestured for me to come closer. I did, and then Sabriye opened the box.

"Oh shit," Sabriye said, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw what's in the box. Shoot, I was just as stunned as she was. Inside the box was a diamond, something I'd only seen in the movies. It was almost as big as my damn fist, and I could only guess at how much it must be worth. Probably a few million dollars. Diamonds half its size went for a lot, that much I already knew.

"Your uncle was definitely a man of mystery," I said, and Sabriye nodded, then put the diamond back in the box, shaking her head. We sat there on the couch, side by side. This was definitely a lot to take in. I'm not sure what I was expecting to find in Mehmet Melen's precious box, but this wasn't it. Not by a long shot.

"Uncle Mehmet was the financier of our movement, we secular Muslims who fight against the Islamists in Turkey and around the world," Sabriye said, and I saw tears streaming down her face. I gently laid my hand on her shoulder, and this time, Sabriye didn't shrink from my touch. I pulled her close and hugged her, and Sabriye didn't resist.

"Your uncle Mehmet died for this, and the least we could do is continue the fight," I said resolutely, and Sabriye looked at me, shaking her head. The gal looked at me as though she were seeing me for the first time. Truth be told, I wasn't sure what to make of it, but I wanted to make it clear to her that I was committed to take out whoever brought down my mentor.

"This isn't your fight, Brother Yahya, you're new to Islam, hell, you're not even Turkish," Sabriye replied, and I grabbed her face then, and locked eyes with her. Seriously, this Turkish broad's words cut me and wounded me to my core. I had just about had it with her bullshit. I'm knee deep in this shit, hell, I flew halfway around the world for it.

"Your uncle Mehmet was my friend and he helped me pay off my student loans, taught me about Islam, and helped the Haitian Muslim community a great deal, where I come from, we avenge our friends," I said angrily, and then, slowly, I let go of Sabriye's face. My reaction surprised me, and I quietly apologized for it. I'm usually a gentleman, I swear.

"No need to apologize, Brother Yahya, I can see what my uncle saw in you," Sabriye said, and grinned. I looked into her eyes and we smiled at each other, and then I leaned in to kiss her. Ten seconds after our lips met, all hell broke loose. Guess what happened? The local police stormed in, and Sabriye and I were promptly arrested. Nice, huh?

Look, I won't bug you with the gory details but if you're ever in Istanbul, don't ever, ever mess with the Turkish police forces. These motherfuckers scared me more than the racist paramilitary cops of Ferguson, Missouri, whom I only saw on TV, and the trigger-happy NYPD. They're some scary mofos, and they're all big guys, I swear.

After countless hours of questioning, I was ready to confess to flying to the moon on the Devil's broomstick. I could only imagine what they were doing to Sabriye, until I got the surprise of a lifetime. Guess who walked into the interrogation room at the Istanbul Police Headquarters in a crisp police uniform? Detective Sabriye Melen, my "ally", only her real name was Behiye Aybar, of the national intelligence service of Turkey.

"This American fool confessed everything already," said Officer Ekrem, the man who had been interrogating my Haitian ass for Allah knows how many hours. I stared at Sabriye/Behiye as she looked at me smugly, and smiled at the police officer, then joined in on the fun. All kinds of thoughts ran through my head, and none of them pleasant.

"Nicely done, spy," I said angrily, and Sabriye/Behiye smiled, and thanked me for delivering into the hands of the Islamist government of Turkey the very funds meant to be used by its enemies, the underground network of secularists funded by wealthy members of the Turkish Diaspora. I shook my head. The whole time, this broad was playing me.

"You were so easy to fool it was hardly sporting," Sabriye/Behiye said, and then she smilingly told me about all the wicked things she'd done to gain my trust. The rescue in the Sultanahmet? A setup. A fairly convenient one that I should have suspected but didn't. Ditto the moving around from house to house. And the fake pictures that she showed me. This broad played me like a damn Yo-Yo, I swear.

"Go to hell, Islamist scum bitch," I replied, and Sabriye/Behiye smiled, and shrugged, and then told me that I would spend the rest of my days in a Turkish prison cell. I demanded to speak to a lawyer, and my request was denied. I then asked that the U.S. Embassy be contacted on my behalf, and this made them flinch. I smiled, for I knew how this was going to go.

The charges against me were pretty serious, and the Turkish government is notoriously harsh in dealing with its enemies, but no government on the planet can stare down the might of Uncle Sam. The U.S. Embassy sent a representative who spoke to the Turks, successfully argued that I was just a hapless innocent caught up in something way over my head, and asked them, in good faith, to let me go.

I spent eleven days in a Turkish prison cell, but in the end, the Turkish government let me go. Provided I never return to the Republic of Turkey again, of course. I was sent back to the States and my Turkish visa was confiscated and probably shredded. I know that my name and face are probably on a wall somewhere in the intelligence service offices of the Turkish government. All things considered, I was getting off lightly.

"Sorry I let you down my friend," I said, as I looked at an old picture of Mehmet and I at a restaurant in Port-Au-Prince. I sat on the American Airlines flight leaving Istanbul, Turkey, for Miami, Florida. The plane was full of happy tourists, people with fond memories of Turkey. I looked at them and shook my head. Ah, Istanbul. The place is definitely someplace I'd love to forget.

A wicked smile crept on my face as I remembered that Sabriye/Behiye and I had done it bareback while she played the Judas with me. Why am I smiling, you may ask? Hmm, you see, I used to sleep around with a fair number of ladies, paid entertainers of course, both in Haiti and the U.S. before I converted to Islam and became celibate. I got myself checked a while ago and I am sorry to report that I have Herpes. Something I'm happy to have passed on to a certain treacherous Turkish bitch. Goodbye, Istanbul. Hope I never see you again.