Salima the Magnificent

With that, she was gone. She was going to give strangers a ride in her
van after giving me the ride of my life in my bed and on the sofa. I
respected Salima's wishes and resisted the temptation to track her
down. I was miserable all week, longing for Salima's companionship,
love and for a return of the best sex I ever had in my life. My misery
only increased when a couple of white women at the conference hit on
me, implying that they wanted to find out what had been so fascinating
to the black lady that I was seen with.

When it came time to leave for the airport, I hoped that it would be
Salima's van. I noticed that it was the same taxi company that Salima
worked for and a black face was at the wheel. For a moment, I thought
Salima had come back for me. My face fell as a young black man got out
and placed my bag in the back. On the way to the airport, I decided to
go against Salima's wishes one more time and I asked the driver:

"Do you know a woman driver by the name of Salima? She drove me in
from the airport."

"Must have been another company that drove you in. We got lots of
women drivers but I don't know of any Salima working for us."

So, she gave me a wrong name because she knew I wouldn't listen to her
and would try to look her up. Not only was "Salima" smart, beautiful
and great in bed but she displayed a real strength of character in her
determination not to meet again. I often wonder what would have
happened if she had allowed me to find her. Would I have ended up shot
by a jealous husband or would I have brought her to Canada, divorced
my wife, married my black beauty and lived happily ever after?
Probably Salima was right and it would have been too complicated.

I wrote this story to tell the world what a remarkable woman I met in
Chicago. My weekend with Salima was the happiest of my life.