Helen gasped when Karen gave him another slap across the face. "Did I say you could look at me you stupid turd. Keep your head down, I don't want to s...e your ugly face."Cyril lowered his head, "Yes, Mistress," he whispered. "Sorry, Mistress." What do you think Helen, should I punish this excuse for a man?" Yes," Helen replied instantly. "Give him what he deserves for driving my daughter away." Not him, it," said Karen with a wicked grin. "This doesn't deserve to be called 'him'. Let's call it. He noticed me noticing him, and smiled. He walked over to me, and in accented Somali, he asked me if I had seen the bus go by. I coyly told him that I missed the last one. He looked at the seat next to mine and asked me whether he could sit down. I nodded, and he plopped down next to me. I asked him where he was from, and he told me that he grew up in the City of Minneapolis, Minnesota, but his parents came from Somaliland. And that’s how I met Omar Laban, the Somali-American stud from. More

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