Dhara Desai of Gujarat

"The only certainties in this life are death and taxes," Brandon Jones said with a sigh. Lying on a hospital bed, in the intensive care unit of the Ottawa Hospital Civic Campus, Brandon felt his eyes drooping, although whether that had to do with the meds or his general tiredness, he couldn't say for sure. He would have fallen asleep again if it weren't for the small hand steadily gripping his...

"We met because you approached me to do your taxes, remember?" said Brandon's wife, Dhara Desai-Jones. The tall, curvy, pleasantly plump young woman flashed her husband a wan smile. Seated by the hospital bed, with a copy of author Chelsea Quinn Yarbro's novel Writ In Blood on her lap, Dhara was worn down and tired, but refused to leave Brandon's side.

"Actually, I saw you in the Carleton University library and just wanted to get your number, I just happened to have my tax forms with me," Brandon said, chuckling softly. Dhara laughed and shook her head, then playfully slapped his arm. To say that Dhara and Brandon came from different worlds would have been something of an understatement.

"I figured, I mean, you always looked so thirsty whenever you saw me," Dhara chided him, laughing, and Brandon nodded. He simply couldn't help himself, he felt butterflies in his stomach whenever he ran into the lovely Dhara. She always seemed so serene, the Sari-wearing beauty, originally from the Gujarat region of India.

What chance does a guy like me stand with a gal like that? Brandon wondered, and he felt those doubts for a long time. There are lovely women in every race, every culture, every background. What Brandon felt in Dhara's presence was different. When he looked into her eyes, he sensed a kindred spirit,

"Not my fault, sweetie, your butt threatened to burst out of that Sari and had a brother almost drooling," Brandon said, and he tried to laugh, but coughed violently instead. Concerned, Dhara drew near, and she looked into Brandon's eyes. Dhara hated to see her beloved Brandon like this, so vulnerable. He gently squeezed her hand even as he covered his mouth with a paper cloth.

"I'm going to get the nurse," Dhara said firmly, rising from her seat, and Brandon nodded, watching as his darling wife exited the room, and called for a nurse. Moments later, a nurse came by, the same older Haitian woman who had first tended to Brandon, a couple of days ago. He smiled as he suddenly recalled her name...

"Hello, Suzanne," Brandon said, and the nurse beamed at him, then nodded at Dhara. The two women exchanged a look. Seventy two hours ago, when Brandon was brought in, the doctors weren't sure he was going to make it. Working as a police officer is not the least hazardous of occupations, and the wives, girlfriends and partners of cops had their work cut out for them.

"Nurse, he's been coughing violently and his chest heaves," Dhara said, in a voice choked with emotion, and Suzanne nodded. Brandon closed his eyes, as a combination of fatigue, and the toll that his injuries took on his body wore him out and sent him tumbling to La-La-Land. The burly, dark-skinned stud was snoring within moments.

"He's going to be alright, dear, don't you worry," Suzanne Marceau said, looking at Dhara. The young woman nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Suzanne, who'd been working as a Nurse for over two decades, gently laid a sympathetic hand on Dhara's shoulder. Dhara nodded, and then, the floodgates opened, and she wept for her husband's fate, and herself.

"Those bastards nearly killed him, just because he's black, and he's one of their own," Dhara said, both sad and angry, and Suzanne nodded sympathetically. Having emigrated to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, in the early 1990s, Suzanne was all too familiar with how violent the Capital of Canada could be. Brandon wasn't the first police officer to be brought in, barely breathing, and he wouldn't be the last...

"I'm sorry again, dear, but these things don't surprise me," Suzanne said softly, gently hugging Dhara. The older woman thought of her own son, Jacob, who once got roughed up by some bigots while visiting his girlfriend Patricia's family in the City of Calgary, Alberta. When Jacob and Patricia went to report the incident to the Calgary Police, they didn't do anything about it...

"I always knew, I always prepared myself for the day something might happen to him, but I thought it be a criminal who harmed him, not a fellow cop," Dhara said, shaking her head in anger and disgust. Suzanne bit her lip, deeply moved by the younger woman's anger and passion. Dhare definitely surprised her, to say the least...

Like a lot of women from the older generation, Suzanne had her share of doubts about interracial relationships. Suzanne was once strongly of the opinion that Black folks should marry their own, for folks of other races couldn't understand their struggle. Amazingly, this young Indian woman, Dhara, seemed to genuinely care for her husband Brandon, who was almost the same age as Suzanne's son Jacob...

"Dear, your Brandon is going to pull through, he's strong," Suzanne said, and she glanced at the wounded cop's sleeping form. The bullet had gone straight through with minimal damage, and Brandon would be up and running in a little while. He'd lost a lot of blood, sure, but a good transfusion and surgery definitely repaired a lot of the damage which he'd sustained.

"I pray for him," Dhara said, and Suzanne nodded, and gently urged the young woman to get ahold of herself. Dhara nodded and sat down, and after making sure that Brandon was on painkillers and that Dhara was alright, Suzanne left the room. In a busy hospital like this, a nurse's job is never done. There was always something for a nurse to do, and other patients to tend to. It's only on TV that the doctors do everything...

"I pray for your husband too, my dear," Suzanne said softly, glancing at Brandon and Dhara one last time as she headed down the hallway, grabbed a cart and made her way to the next patient. Lots of good people from loving families come to the hospital for various reasons and don't make it. Suzanne sincerely hoped that Brandon and Dhara would have a happy ending...

When Brandon Jones first set foot in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, he absolutely hated the place. It seemed so quiet and boring to the boisterous and outgoing young man. Born on the island of Saint Lucia, Brandon visited the U.S. and Canada many times with his family while growing up. Brandon always wanted to study in the U.S. but his parents, Lincoln and Genevieve Jones of Vieux Fort, Saint Lucia, convinced him to study in Ottawa, Canada, instead.

Brandon enrolled at Carleton University, where he majored in Criminology. It took him six years to get his degree, but during that time, he became a Canadian citizen. Brandon wouldn't have traded those years for the world, for during that time, he got to know Canadian society while working odd jobs. Along the way, Brandon also met the love of his life, Dhara Desai of Gujarat, India.

Conventional wisdom would have one believe that Indian ladies are off-limits for gentlemen of African or Afro-Caribbean origin. Brandon had seen an odd dynamic at work in the City of Ottawa. He saw lots of young Black women with Indian boyfriends, Arab boyfriends and Chinese boyfriends. This was fine, as far as Brandon was concerned, since he wasn't a hater...

Brandon noticed that he seldom saw Indian women, Arab women or Chinese women with Black boyfriends. Men from those cultures jealously guarded their women. Well, too bad because Brandon always went for who or what he wanted. When he first spotted Dhara at the Carleton University library, Brandon immediately felt drawn to her.

Gathering his courage, Brandon approached Dhara, under the pretext of needing help with his taxes. Sparks flew between them, and the rest was history. The happy couple stuck it out together. When Brandon finally earned his Criminology degree, to the relief of his family, Dhara was there to support him. When Dhara finally earned her double degrees in Business and Accounting, Brandon did everything short of hiring a marching band to celebrate her accomplishments...

Dhara's parents, Arvind and Anasuya Desai, were shocked when she introduced them to her future husband. Dhara loved Brandon and would not be dissuaded from sharing her life with him...however long or short that life might be. Some Indian ladies who went against their parents wishes when it came to matrimonial matters have lost their lives. Fortunately for Dhara, her parents put love ahead of the bonds of tradition, and that was that...

Brandon and Dhara were married in a lovely, intimate ceremony involving only their immediate families and a few friends from Carleton University. The couple had their honeymoon at the Jones family ancestral estate in Vieux Fort, Saint Lucia. The couple spent their time roaming the beaches, making love, eating delicious foods, and had themselves a grand old time.

Upon returning to Canada, Brandon went to the Ontario Police College, while Dhara began working for Howard & Randall Tax Agency. Brandon got hired as a constable by the Ottawa Police, and began his career in law enforcement. Brandon absolutely loved his job, for he'd always wanted to be a cop like his late grandfather Alphonse Jean Jones. Now it looked like his job might be the death of him...

"Come back to me, my love," Dhara said softly, gently kissing Brandon's forehead. Brandon stirred in his sleep, but did not wake up. Dhara frowned, still shocked at seeing him like this. Brandon had always been so fearless, and he walked around everywhere like he owned the place. At six-foot-three, Brandon was much taller than Dhara, who at five-foot-ten was considered tall by South Asian female standards.

"Bae, I'm still here," Brandon murmured, with his eyes closed, and Dhara sighed happily. Leaning over, Dhara kissed her beloved on the lips, and Brandon kissed her back. Husband and wife looked at one another, and then, Dhara broke the silence between them. No man can lead a woman where she won't follow, and every wife can and will demand answers of her husband...

"Tell me everything," Dhara said, somewhat sharply, and Brandon sighed and nodded. Brandon took a deep breath, as he got ready to venture into painful territory. He'd done everything right, as he was trained to do, only to be betrayed by those he thought had his back. Brandon held his tongue as he dealt with the Police Captain, the Police Union Boss, and the Media, but he wouldn't hold back when dealing with Dhara, he owed her the truth...

"Alright, babe, here goes nothing," Brandon quipped, and then, looking into Dhara's eyes, he told her...everything. Brandon had been working long hours as a Constable for the Ottawa Police Service. He responded to emergencies, and dealt with spousal abusers, crackheads, gangsters, and the like. He saw the seedy underbelly of Ottawa, the town full of wickedness with the facade of boredom and blandness.

A couple days ago, Brandon was out, having gone to the local Quickie's to buy some Pepsis. Dhara sent him on that errand, having ordered Shawarma from Brothers Shawarma, and then realized that their fridge was low on drinks. Grumbling, Brandon nevertheless braved the Canadian winter and drove three blocks to the Quickie's...where he saw three guys robbing the place.

"Police, freeze," Brandon said, and he pulled out his police badge, and his gun, facing the three robbers. Like any police officer, Brandon responded to the situation, as per his training. He wasn't scared of the thugs. They'd roughed up the young Indian guy working behind the counter. As Brandon dealt with them, a scuffle ensued, and then a gunshot was heard. Brandon was shot, but not by the robbers. A police officer responding to a 911 call placed by passersby shot Brandon, nearly killing him.

"Band of cowards and bigots," Dhara said, and Brandon nodded, gently stroking her face. His chest felt oddly cool, and no longer burned. The bullet had gone through his side, somehow missing everything vital. According to the doctors, he was lucky to be alive. The headline from the Ottawa Sun newspaper read Black Cop Shot, and the incident was now the topic of discussion across Canada.

"I'm not ruling out legal action against the police force," Brandon said grimly, and Dhara nodded. Brandon closed his eyes, resting once more. Dhara sat back down, her eyes never leaving her husband. Dhara vividly remembered how wild, fearless and passionate Brandon had been throughout their courtship, which occured during her last year at Carleton University.

"I'm with you every step of the way," Dhara said firmly, and Brandon smiled without opening his eyes. Dhara leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes. She remembered better times, days that now seemed so distant. A smile creased Dhara's lovely features as she recalled one time when Brandon, bold as ever, got her to throw caution to the wind...

"Ever had sex on school property?" Brandon asked Dhara, as they sat in a computer room inside the Loeb Building. It was Reading Week, and the two of them ended up on campus because they had nothing to do. Brandon was bored after hours spent watching YouTube videos and browsing articles on ESPN and Yahoo Sports. As for Dhara, she was looking at potential grad schools...

"Uh, nope," Dhara said hesitantly, even as the heat of desire ran through her. She looked at Brandon, who flashed her a naughty grin. That man can make me do anything, Dhara thought. How else could she explain how he talked her into going into an empty classroom, locking the door, and she ended up doing the nasty with him?

"You don't know what you're missing," Brandon told Dhara, as he flicked his tongue against her earlobe. Taking Dhara's hand, Brandon led up to an empty classroom nearby, and then after checking their surroundings, he locked the door. Dhara, clad in a black leather jacket over a black T-shirt and blue jeans, looked positively fetching and Brandon definitely wanted some of that...

"What are you going to do to me?" Dhara asked Brandon, both excited and nervous at the same time. She sat on a table, the instructor/professor's table, to be exact, and waited for him. Brandon came to her, grinning like the Devil. His soulful brown eyes roved up and down her body, and Dhara felt a pleasant frisson run down her spine...

"I'm going to do everything to you, Dhara," Brandon told her, and the young woman soon found out he was a man of his word. Dhara watched as Brandon knelt before her, and took off her shoes. He began sucking on her toes, causing her to squeal, for she was very ticklish. Brandon smiled up at Dhara as he sucked on her toes, and worked upward. He was just getting started...

"Mārā prēmanē rōkō nahī, don't stop, my love," Dhara said softly, switching to her native Gujarati tongue as Brandon did his thing. He pulled down first her jeans, then her bright pink underwear. Dhara felt exposed as Brandon saw her partial nakedness, her exposed parts, but he flashed her a loving smile that put her at ease. The handsome Saint Lucian brought his face to her sex and kissed her vaginal lips, then slid his tongue inside.

"Tamē adbhuta svāda, you taste wonderful," Brandon paused to say, remembering the few words of Gujarati that Dhara had taught him. He inhaled the scent of her womanhood even as he licked her pussy, then slid his middle finger inside of her. Dhara moaned softly, welcoming the intrusion of Brandon's tongue and finger inside of her. The brother knew what he was doing...

"Fuck yeah, go for it," Dhara shrieked, and Brandon took his sweet time as he ate her pussy, savoring the experience. It felt so wonderfully naughty, getting their freak on like this in an empty classroom during the Reading Week break. At anytime, a cleaner or a campus safety officer might come by and bust them. The thrill of it all excited them both, and Brandon and Dhara couldn't get enough of each other...

"Show me that big butt," Brandon told Dhara, a little while later. Driven wild by Brandon's tongue and fingers in her pussy, Dhara would refuse her man absolutely nothing. Grinning, Dhara got on all fours and shook her big ass for Brandon, knowing he couldn't get enough of her posterior. Brandon unzipped his pants, freeing his hard dick and stroking himself as Dhara began twerking for him...

"You like my ass?" Dhara teased, and Brandon grinned, proceeding to show her how much he liked her ass. Brandon kissed Dhara's big round ass, and then began eating her pussy from behind. Sliding a finger into Dhara's butt hole, Brandon probed her hole while eating her out. Dhara licked her lips, loving what Brandon was doing to her. She wanted to feel him inside of her, though, and informed him as much...

"Dammit I want you," Brandon told Dhara, who looked at his hard dick, hungrily. She sat on the table, legs spread invitingly, and reached for his manhood. Brandon sighed happily as Dhara pumped his dick with both hands, and nodded firmly. Without another word, Dhara placed Brandon's dick against her vaginal opening, and waited, her eyes locked onto her lover's.

"Then claim me," Dhara said, half-dare and half-plea, and Brandon did just that, entering her with a swift thrust. Dhara gasped as Brandon entered her, and began fucking her with deep, slow strokes. Brandon took his time making love to Dhara, who wrapped her arms and legs around him, welcoming him inside of her. She needed to feel his manly tool in her, and his heat, for she craved him...

Brandon didn't quite remember how he and Dhara ended up on the floor, using their jackets to provide some cover, doing it like there was no tomorrow. Dhara was on all fours, face down and big ass up, with Brandon drilling his dick into her pussy. While Brandon fucked her, Dhara screamed obscenities in Gujarati and English, and continued to grind her big ass against her lover, craving his dick, and wanting him to go deeper and deeper...

"Fuck yeah, babe, give me that ass," Brandon bellowed, gripping Dhara's long, curly dark hair with one hand while smacking her big, jiggly brown ass with the other. Gone was the prim and proper, intellectual beauty whom Brandon first spied in the campus library. Dhara was cutting loose, and her passion and wildness astonished Brandon. He welcomed this different side of her, and continued to dick her down...

"Hmm, I needed that," Dhara said to Brandon, as they walked out of the Loeb building, much later. Brandon kissed Dhara and then, holding her hand, he walked to the nearby O-Train Station. They rode the train to Bayview Station, then caught a bus going to the East End of Ottawa. It was their favorite part of town, full of racial minorities and ethnic restaurants, and they felt quite at home there...

"Babe, we'll get through this," Brandon told Dhara, and she blinked, noticing that her husband was wide awake. Looking into Dhara's chestnut eyes, Brandon was grim and determined. Dhara nodded, and squeezed his hand. The two of us against the world, Dhara thought, ready to support Brandon through anything. He'd always been her protector, and in his hour of need, she'd be there for him...

Six weeks after getting shot by a fellow Ottawa Police Service officer, Brandon Jones got back on his feet, thanks to his good fortune, personal fortitude and the support of his loving wife Dhara. He spoke to the Mayor of Ottawa, the Chief of Police, and reporters from RDI News and the Ottawa Sun newspaper. He also voiced his support for Black Lives Matter, much to the delight of members of the Toronto branch of the much-needed but controversial group.

"We're taking a break from the madness," Dhara told the reporter from RDI News at the conclusion of an interview conducted at the home she shares with her husband Brandon. Looking at the strong, beautiful and determined woman he married, Brandon thanked his lucky stars. The next day, Brandon and Dhara boarded a flight for Boston, Massachusetts. It's their first trip to America ( as a couple ) and a chance to get away from the madness and chaos. A second honeymoon, of sorts, before they figured out their next move. Life is good...