As I was to discover, this shyness did not extend to the whole of the female sex. One morning after breakfast I saw him slip unobtrusively up to the ...econd floor, where our old schoolroom was located, and where he had his small apartment. I was seized with curiosity to see where he was going in the middle of the morning, and even more curious when I saw mother’s French maid, Emilie slip upstairs shortly afterwards. She, at least, had no business to take her up there. I had always envied. I head a gasp from behind me and an ‘oh shit sorry…I-I-I’ll just go…’ I chuckled, and Emily squirmed at my hot breath on her even hotter pussy. Amy had obviously just brought our drinks. ‘Oh well. That was more of me than she wanted to see’ I heard Emily half-say half-moan from above me. ‘haha yeahhh..’ I agreed. ‘But not enough for me see’ I said. I began again at her pussy. Licking up and down her slit, teasing her little hidded clit. ‘Fuck Nick…baby yes’ Emily moaned. I could feel her pussy. Rather than distance myself from my people, I embrace them. I love my fellow Muslims. I love my fellow Somalis. I love my family. Fuck the haters! When you’re a strong Black Muslim woman who happens to be queer, life can certainly be lonely. It’s almost as if I am too strong for my own good. Strong women are said to intimidate weak men. Well, apparently, strong women intimidate weak women as well. My Hooyo ( Somali term of endearment which means mother ) jokingly asked me when I would get off. On second thought, a cold shower might have helped me think about something other than my dry spell. "Sure, honey" my mother said back. She could tell something was wrong, and knowing her, wanted to help.I went down to the basement and flipped on the water in the shower. It always took a second to get warm so I turned it on, then went to my room to get clothes to put on once I was done in the shower. When I got back to the shower the curtain had been pulled shut, which I didn't remember doing,.