The Qarxis Queen
"Qarxis means 'exposure' or 'scandal' in Somali. She's a podcaster who exposes secrets in the community—but she has secrets of her own. When he offers to be her anonymous source, she exposes herself to him instead."
Everyone in the Somali community knows the Qarxis Queen.
She runs the most notorious podcast in Cedar-Riverside—anonymous, fearless, willing to expose every dirty secret the elders want buried. Cheating husbands. Corrupt mosque leaders. Business scams.
Her real name is Hamdi.
Forty-two years old. Divorced. Mother of three teenagers who don't know their mom is the most controversial voice in Somali Minneapolis.
She's also thick.
Two hundred and thirty pounds of investigative journalist. Wide hips. Heavy breasts. A round face that looks innocent—until you see her eyes.
I've been listening to her podcast for years.
Now I'm in her studio.
"You have information for me," she says.
It's not a question.
"About the community center funds. The money that disappeared."
"Everyone knows about that. What's new?"
"I have documents. Names. Proof."
Her eyes sharpen.
"Why come to me?"
"Because you're the only one who isn't afraid."
"I'm very afraid." She leans back. "That's what makes me careful. What do you want in exchange?"
"Anonymity."
"Easy."
"And dinner."
She stills.
"Warya—"
"You've been doing this alone for years. No help. No protection. No one to talk to who understands what it means to fight the community."
"I have listeners—"
"You have anonymous voices in your ear. Not the same thing." I lean forward. "Have dinner with me. Tell me your story. Then I'll give you mine."
She studies me for a long moment.
"My apartment. Tonight. I'll cook."
Her apartment is surprisingly normal.
Kids' photos on the walls. A prayer rug by the window. The equipment for her podcast set up in a spare bedroom.
"My children are with their father this week," she says, cooking hilib. "I hate the silence."
"Is that why you started the podcast?"
"I started it because I was angry. My husband cheated. The community blamed me. The imam told me to forgive and forget." She slams the spoon. "I refused."
"So you expose everyone else's secrets?"
"I expose the hypocrisy. The men who preach modesty while texting young girls. The women who claim piety while stealing from the community." She turns to face me. "Everyone has secrets. I make them accountable."
"What's your secret?"
She's quiet for a long moment.
"I'm lonely." Her voice drops. "I've built an empire of scandal, and I have no one to share it with."
"You have me."
"I just met you."
"So let's change that."
I cross to her.
She doesn't resist when I kiss her.
Doesn't resist when I turn off the stove. Doesn't resist when I pull her toward the bedroom.
"This will be a scandal," she whispers.
"We won't tell anyone."
"Wallahi?"
"Your secrets are safe with me. The way my secrets are safe with you."
She melts against me.
The Qarxis Queen undresses.
Heavy breasts spilling from her bra. Soft belly. Wide hips. The body she hides behind microphones and anonymity.
"I haven't let anyone see me in five years," she says. "Since the divorce."
"I see you."
"You see the podcast. The persona."
"I see you." I push her onto the bed. "The woman underneath the scandal."
I worship the podcaster.
My mouth traces her body—every curve she's kept hidden.
"No one has—" She gasps as I spread her thighs. "Since the divorce—"
I bury my face in her pussy.
She screams.
"ILAAHAY!" Her hands grab my hair. "Five years—ALLA—"
I lick her slowly. Give her something she can't expose.
"Coming—" She's shaking. "I'm coming—ALLA—"
She explodes.
"Inside me—" She's pulling at me. "Ku soo gal—please—"
I position myself.
"Ready?"
"Record this." She laughs. "My best content ever."
I thrust inside.
She screams.
Her walls grip me—tight, wet, five years tight.
"Alla—so big—you're filling me—dhammaan—"
I start to move.
I fuck the Qarxis Queen.
Her massive body bounces beneath me. Her breasts roll with every thrust.
"Dhakhso—faster—" She claws at my back. "Give me your secrets—"
I pound her.
The bed slams against the wall. She screams and screams.
"Coming—" Her eyes roll back. "Ku shub—fill me—"
I let go.
I flood the podcaster.
Fill her where five years of emptiness lived. She moans as she feels it.
We lie tangled together, gasping.
"Macaan," she breathes. "This is the best scandal I've ever been involved in."
"You won't expose this one?"
"Maya." She pulls me for a kiss. "Some secrets are worth keeping."
"And the documents? The community center?"
"Tomorrow." She shifts, straddles me. "Tonight, let's make more secrets together."
One Year Later
The community center scandal broke wide.
Three leaders arrested. Millions recovered. The Qarxis Queen's best investigation ever.
What no one knows is how she celebrated.
"Macaan," she moans, as I take her. "My anonymous source."
Her podcast exposes everyone.
Except us.
Some scandals are too good to share.