"Alinifunza mama, niogope wavulana...nikae mbali, ni wabaya sana."
Obviously, the nduthi guy had no interest in the song that his machine was broadcasting as he sped by. For him it was but a form of entertainment to his esteemed customer. I feared for the passenger though. But as I smiled, enjoying the lyrics of the song, my eyes met this awe-inspiring, mesmeric lady. All of us in the business of attending to our three meals a day routine. Sad life, huh!
"Pia we huogopa wavulana?"
Well, I couldn't just let that alluring smile go to waste. It was time to put my communication skills to task. The question brought back from the archives a whole lot of memoir. This got our mutual friend, mama mboga, to consign to oblivion her supposed daily grind and turn story teller, advice giver e.t.c.
"Its getting dark, I could escort you home."
I wasn't asking. It wasn't a request. I wasn't giving her the chance and concession of denying me this fine opportunity to grace her condo with my presence. As she was cooking, I was busy staring, goggling. Busy being amazed. How we got here is subject to debate.
Her hair, long. Down to that place where ass barely meets back. Thick, just like her thighs. Dark, just like her eyes. Complimented by her perfect skin tone. She had those hold me, spin me kinda hips. How much does it take to kill a man? Is it the curves of her body or the curves of her smile! Well, it was her smile that lured me to this place. By the time she was done cooking, I had seen every curve of her body. Where it got narrow and where it widened out. She had stirred feelings in my loins. Right then, I was pondering fifty shades of gray. My breathing quickened.
Three hours into the night, it hit me. I had to get home. As we hugged goodbye, my fingers lingered at the end of her hair. I let my hands do the talking. Touched her so soft, she trembled a little. I broke the code. Not knowing, I had a few strands of her hair on me a reminder of being with her.
"Wapi chakula nlikutuma? And why is your shirt unbuttoned?"
I could put the blame of me having an unbuttoned shirt on the fast rising temperature in the room. I felt my skin soak in wetness. As I handed over that paper bag full of groceries, I knew very well that I had signed my own death certificate. In my defense, the other lady was for lack of a better word, blessed.
Following her into the kitchen, trying to explain why I had an unbuttoned shirt, strands of hair on myself and a shade of purple lipstick just above my shirt's pocket. I grab her, she turns...slaps me. I could see the anger hidden behind her tears as she tried effortlessly to hold them back. I pull her close, trace figure eights along her body. At this point, all I want is to find out if the damage can be undone. I look into her eyes with a mysterious provocative gaze.
"You left your shadow on my sheets" read the text that sealed my fate. "You should have said no," was all she let out as she locked me out of our room.
Comments
Post a Comment