The nightclub was alive. The kind of ‘Lagos friday night alive’, if not for his sure and guiding arms , wound round her, Tina was sure she would have bumped hard, into one of the many dancers on the dance floor.
A slim girl with long multi – coloured braids, reaching down to her slim waist was once in while twirling about, an off key step to the jazzy love song, that was playing from an artiste Tina didn’t know.
Tina’s mind jogged back to the time when he extended his manicured hand to her, it had been akward for her, she couldn’t remember the last man who had such gentle manli-ness, or whose hard-soft palm, sent bolts of uncontrollable lightning from their point of contact, all the way to her head.
His dance moves weren’t bad. Before the unknown jazzy song came on, the speakers had spilled out Wizkid’s ‘Ojuelegba’, followed by Iyanya’s ‘ KuKere’.
His body moved effortlessly to the beat, one would think he had spent years reharsing those particular moves, or mybe he choreographed for a living.
And that was what she asked him, after the jazzy song died away, and Adekunle Gold’s ‘Sade’, filled the crowded, stuffy, sweat and alcohol prevaded dance floor,
He made her lean on his chest, ‘Such hardness’, Tina thought aloud, not really caring if he heard, and if he did , he made no memtion of it.
“You dance well, are you a choreographer?”. Tina said loud enough for him to hear.
“Do I look like one?” His voice, like rich milk answered, with a question.
“Well……. one can never tell, and judging from your casual look, no dread lock, punk, afro……. I don’t know” Tina concluded.
“I could as well be, there are many choreographers that don’t grow dread locks”.
“So you must be one then”
“I just might be”. The tune changed then, to Makifizolo’s ‘khona’.
“Do you know this song?” He asked, stepping slightly away from her, as his lithe body warmed to the beat.
“You bet I do,” Tina replied. She herself had had bedroom reharsals.
He didn’t ask her for her number!
Tina didn’t push it, they talked about music and dance, movies and food, while drinking second rounds of their prefered drinks.
The night was much fun, wearing away like a nice dress, that’d gotten it’s desired attention. Tina ,as much as she enjoyed his company, she couldn’t beat down the obnoxious voice at the back of her mind that wanted him to ask for more.
He was a choreographer for heaven sake, nothing would be amiss if he just needed someone to dance with, and he undoubtedly had some one else waiting for him at his house.
“I’m Subo, and you?” he asked, his milk -like voice breaking into her thoughts, and dragging her out of them.
“Tina”. She replied, he really was handsome, the rare kind, with not so full lips, lips that had dots of pink, that looked natural, probably from biting it too hard. His eyes were a startling black, a deep abyss that sucked her in like the vaccum cleaner in her house. His nose was pointed, but not so sharply…….
All in all, he really was a good looking man, she wouldn’t mind being with. ‘Only if he would ask for your number’
The obnoxious voice, interposed again, and again Tina tried to dispel it, she wasn’t going to force the man.
She may not have wanted to force Subo, but most certainly she intended to make him know that she hadn’t completely enjoyed the night with him, because after their third round, and he still hadn’t made a move, Tina declared she was going home.
“I have some very important things to do,” she explained, when he inquired about her rush to go home.
“But tommorow is saturday” he said, his voice sounding a little petulant, but Tina didn’t notice.
“Which is the more reason why I need to get going. Nice speaking with you Subo”
“You are not pronouncing it well jhoor” If he had said that a few minutes ago, maybe she wouldn’t have intentionally tip his drinking glass, down .
So that in no time, it was raining down on his chinos…
The weekend would have gone better if Tina could explain why she upended his drink on his chinos.
Because as suprising as it was for him, he couldn’t stop thinking about her lush lips………………………………