NOTE: Gosh, why won’t my fingers stop ‘itching’, hm? It’s sad sha, really. Well, formerly titled SHOULD I MARRY MY FATHER’S KILLER?, this story was first published in a local state-owned newspaper for fourteen weeks every Saturday, and I have decided to showcase a tiny slice of it. Miss Myne Whitman has a copy of this story tucked away somewhere, with a promise of seeing it through.
“I want you,” he whispered. He pulled me towards him and kissed me. I was taken aback! O God, his tongue gently demanded entrance. This gentle prodding melted all my defences. My response was like that of a lightening rod. I was like a person finally released after years of imprisonment. I sucked his tongue eagerly and he did the same likewise to mine. With one hand on my head and hair, the kiss deepened. Paul used the other hand to hold one of my buttocks. My hands lay splayed on his hairy chest.
“Queenie, please! Please!” he whispered inaudibly. I gasped as his mouth went for my throat. As my senses came back to me, I summoned all the strength in me and pushed him away from me. He took a step back, stunned.
“How – how – how dare you!!” I shouted, vibrating with rage. I frantically pointed to the door. “Get out of my house, Paul,” I barked. A whole minute elapsed before he composed himself and said, “I cannot leave you, Queenie. Remember that.” With that, he left. My hand slowly went to my lips that he kissed and for one fleeting moment, I wished his lips never left mine.
Three months later, Aaron proposed to Christie and she naturally accepted. The wedding was fixed five months after, and naturally the bachelor party was fixed two nights before the D-day. Bunmi and Christie went about frantically making arrangements here and there. I participated less because of my hectic bank job. But I participated fully when I had the chance.
One night, I came back from work a little bit late and terribly exhausted. My present wish was to soak myself in a bathtub and forget myself there. Within minutes of peeling off my clothes and neglecting them on my bed, I did just that. I slowly lathered myself with a soft bathing sponge and gradually, I closed my eyes, enjoying the thrills of my soft caresses. I gave out a gentle, involuntary sigh of pleasure when one of my hands went in between my thighs. My hand went deeper and deeper while lathering. My hand lingered longer there. I was gradually feeling very young and incredibly sexy. I was in that state when suddenly, my cell phone I kept beside me rang. Quickly, I cleaned my hand with a face towel and answered the call. “Hello?”
“Good evening, my queen,” came a heart-melting, Barry White voice. “How are you?” I caught my breath when I recognised that voice. For a moment, my mind flashed to that surprising kiss I was given. I swallowed inaudibly, slightly jittery. “Bunmi gave me your number,” the smooth male voice continued. “I told you I can’t leave you.”
“So you have the guts to call me, right?” I barked out after a moment of hearing him breathe. “You have been on my mind, Queenie,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “I think of you everyday. I will make sure I let you know that, Queenie. You are a very beautiful woman.”
“Don’t ever call me again!” I shouted and cut him off. Minutes later, I got a text message and it read: CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT U. GUESS U R BAFING. HECTIC DAY AT WORK, RITE? STOP AVOIDING ME, QUEENY, PLEASE! PAUL.
Exasperated, I left my phone on standby and dropped it. That call robbed me of my relaxation. That bastard! How dare he!! I stepped out of the tub, emptied it and re-entered my bedroom, wet and naked. Like that, I wore a short, white, silky lingerie, my nightie. After wearing my hair net, I gathered my office clothes together and dumped them on the basket of clothes situated in my room. I gently spread myself on my bed and tried to sleep, but instead, my mind went to Paul.