Are the soulmates or is she just after a good story?
The narrator, 'One',is a fledgling reporter. She is fascinated by a young man from the Middle East, but she never expects to fall in love with him, let alone become seduced by a powerful psychological bondage that wraps around her like tentacles and find herself totally vulnerable and willing to obey his every command.
When 'One' befriends Zee, a young Arabic student, he knows he must have not only her body -- he must capture her soul. He sets out to make her comprehend what it means to be prepared at all times to accept your destiny.
Muslim Lover is the moving love story of a young woman torn between her own independence and the love she feels for a mysterious young man. As they explore each other's bodies and minds, the two young lovers find peace and love with each other.
But can they fight against a world that is shaped and crowded by prejudice and suspicion?
I was his; that was all that mattered. I was driftwood, dry and ready to burst into flames for him. What had begun as a paean to a mysterious stranger had evolved into a need to glimpse a world I'd known little about, one so many people are eager to condemn.
I found myself willing to forego sleep and food to prepare myself mentally for him. I simply could not pull myself away from this fascinating, beautiful man. The price of loving him didn't matter because he had chosen me and I had chosen him above all else. I was trapped in that vortex, bracketed by events that I simply came to call ‘what came before' and ‘what dreams may come.'
Even in my arms, Zee could be mordant, bitter about things that were happening here and in his country. Even after we'd made love four or five times in a night, even after we read poetry or let the sea wash across our feet, I would sometimes see a pained expression on his face. But I would hold him close and we would retreat into our bubble.
I often wondered what my friends back home would think of what I had become. Would they see me as a veiled woman, nothing more than a slave with an almond to be plucked by a brutal master? But I knew we were equals and that was all that mattered.
He came to me once in the middle of the night. I felt his body, muscular and tight, as he slid into my bed.
I turned over to face him and felt the softness of his sex. I caressed him until he moaned. He looked at me and put his arms around me. He swept my hair back and kissed me.