I met Jamila at the bar. Well, it was my cousin's wedding. She was an elegant lady who oozed everything desirable. She was dressed in a black dress that clung and hugged her accentuating all the right curves on her body. The upper part of the rest of the dress was made of lace that outlined her breasts in such a way that left little to the imagination. Or maybe it was just me looking for finer details. Her lips thinned in spontaneous smiles that I found myself smiling along to. I stared at her pale hands that held her...