Marrakech The minaret's shadow was short and distinct in the early afternoon sun. The blackness spread over the pavement obscuring a figure that staggered as if drunk as it dodged past a group of young women dressed in djalabas, their faces hidden under the hoods. Of course, Hamid wasn't drunk. He'd not had a drop to drink, although this was something he i...
Camden Marianne never used to smoke. It just wasn't something you ever did in New York. So much had changed in the last year that it was natural to accept the cigarette Phillippa offered her. It was far from the first she'd had today or even the last few weeks. She balanced the length of the British cigarette on her lower lip, her upper lip holding it in p...
"Another drink?" Sam asked me, slurring his words a bit. He didn't bother waiting for a response - just lumbered into the kitchen and left me with the telly smoking a cigarette. His sister and parents had gone for two weeks in Morocco, leaving him to rattle around alone in his house. For us this meant a lot of drinking and smoking inside. I checked the clo...
(Again, I originally published this story under the name of NewForester, but I now write under the name of Rockycoveboy. I hope you enjoy the story second time around.) ***** Rabat, the capital of Morocco, situated on the north-western coast of Africa. Its teeming streets, its hot climate, miles and miles of sand, and Atlantic waters, making it a wonderful...
Part One On the last day of school, he came to take her out for lunch, as he had promised. As he entered the room, a wide smile spread across her face. He looked at her, wide eyed – a bit too serious – and nodded. He sat down. "I'll be a minute" she told him, swinging her legs around in her chair and motioning to the back of the room, where a group of...
Standing over the body of Prince Khaled, General Abel raised his head to the heavens, arms wide and howled a cry of triumph which reverberated throughout the palace. Although not a large man, General Khaled had about him an air of quiet authority which hinted at ferocious inner strength. Five feet nine inches tall, slender and dark-skinned, clad in a suit of...
I was in London for two weeks on business and had dinner with an old friend, Philip, who now owned a very successful agency and had bought and restored a Riad in the center of Marrakesh, Morocco as a weekend home. He was good friends with the king of Morocco. He invited me to stay for a week after my business trip was over. His assistant booked the flights....
Chapter Two: A Steamy Night in Bou Arfa Adele’s narrative. The hot Sahara sun hit my blonde streaked hair as I stepped down onto the cracked tarmac of the small airport at Bou Arfa. I looked back at the small aircraft that we had chartered to fly us from Rabat to this out of the way Moroccan town on the edge of the Sahara Desert just a stones throw from th...
"Holding you in my arms makes me feel alive, my sweet," I whispered into my girlfriend Samira Ali's ear as we walked through Vanier Parkway together. After waiting an eternity for the OC Transpo bus at the Rideau Center, we decided to walk home. Public transportation in the City of Ottawa absolutely sucks, trust me on that one. That's especially true in the...
The life of a bisexual man is seldom easy or simple, but mine is more complicated than most. The name is Suleiman Mehdi. I was born in the City of Casablanca, Morocco, to a Moroccan father and Somali mother. Growing up a biracial man in one of the Muslim world's most beautiful and famous cities wasn't easy. Even though Moroccan society is fairly tolerant and...