The
rest of the day passed without activity; and that sweet ambience of the fore
afternoon seemed like a short dream from which I’d long awoken. Now night fell
on a different house. A quiet one... One without the sweet hustle and bustle of
budding love. It was now Hamlet’s Soliloquy all over again – to be or not to be
– the state of things before they are... before they exist, huh! We better
watched how we quarrelled, I thought; the right measure of warfare and our
romance would be like a well seasoned food. Excess quarrels would mean a
cuisine laden with salt... Who could eat it!
This Sunday was
supposed to be penetration Sunday. Just as the name implies. But now it wasn’t
to be. I better made sure we attained that height before this week began its
descent to weekend again, or she would develop thick skin against my eventual
sexual overtures. If that happened, everything we did would just be base. How
would a man and a woman relate if sex was out of the question? If a woman’s femaleness
diminished even her male casual friends would instinctively find a new approach
to the platonic friendship. No matter the agreement between male and female
friends, no matter the platonicity of the friendship, the whole thing is
suspended and held in place by the friction that exists between the sexes; and
would come crashing down otherwise. In other words, if sex were expressly ruled
out from my therapy with Abbey, the entire thing would have been gross, and
would surely have climaxed way before schedule, although proceeding normally,
we might end up not having coitus. The friction created by the possibility of
sex wafts us onwards exactly as it should. Like leading us by the nose through
unknown terrains... Where we’ve been was cold like what, but we keep walking,
trudging, hoping to find warmth just a few steps ahead. That hope suffices to
help us travel through the Arctic even though we never find the warmth we seek.
If I crossed the
Rubicon with Abbey, then we arrived at a whole new level of relations. One
usually has a more valid claim over a girl he’s slept with. And, going that far
would mean I was no longer a visitor or a tenant... I would become a landlord
of some sort. Then access would almost always be guaranteed.
But all I could do now was lie on my bed
and mope. With the music sounding so distant it was inevitable for me to
appraise the tantrums of the afternoon. None of the girls did any fundamental
wrong. They were just victims of circumstance, as everyone else on this planet.
Doesn’t it happen in friendships – girls’ friendships – that when men happen
upon the group an unknown force almost always pushes them to a particular girl?
Taking Abbey and her friends for example... four pretty girls... though Sasha
and Tanya seemed a little below the cadre of the other two, Tanya especially –
the nerd... For Sasha and Tanya, it was probable that their men didn’t fish
them out from the group. It was likely the case that they met their men in
outer circles, in the absence of Abbey and Isabelle... and kept them away from
the group or risked losing them to Abbey’s charm or Isabelle’s... allure.
Otherwise they’d clearly be modest men who desire no women too elegant – who
believe they can’t have them. Isabelle was eroticism personified. But an
eligible man chancing upon the four would, eighty percent of the time,
gravitate towards Abbey, simply because she wore her naivety like spectacles.
Isabelle had a domineering presence, and men could really do without the
threats of female lordship. And Isabelle’s beauty was too emphasized... had
obviously engulfed tons of make-up. Her breasts stood like soldiers on parade.
Her curves were arrogantly conspicuous no matter the clothes she wore.
Everything about her was overtly pronounced. It wasn’t then to be far from the
case that any man approaching would deduce, perhaps wrongly, that all this
beauty, so obviously extravagant, would start to wane in no time. So they took
their steps accordingly. Abbey on the other hand, had a more down-toned beauty.
Like she was frugal with it or something. Drawing close, you knew there was a
lot more to cherish in her – a lot more depth. Touching her, you knew the bulk
of her beauty lay beneath her skin. Looking into her eyes, you were surer and
could stake a bet on this claim. Kissing her, you doubted that a sweeter
paradise exists. Abbey reminded me of some Nigerian women whose beauty never
waned: the diplomat, Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala; the actress, Caroline King; the
journalist, Adesuwa Onyenokwe; the politician, Daisy Danjuma; the late Maryam
Babangida... and some others. These breed of women looked prettier than their
daughters’ on their daughters’ wedding days. Abbey here, seemed to be of that
breed, but it was too early to tell yet. For now, beauty was still her right.
Beauty being almost a right in youth and a privilege in senescence! Isabelle
becomes the bitter member of the group... for she saw no reason why the men
they met tilted towards Abbey. I was to learn that it was the same thing when
Naeto and his crew breezed by. Isabelle’s bitterness drove her to such
ridiculous fits of rage as to try to snatch men away from Abbey’s embrace. And
it was her aggressiveness that was toning down her charm. Leaving the group and
going off on her own wasn’t easy to accomplish. She’d done that a few times in
the past perhaps, to go and enjoy secret love affairs but returned after the
love boat keeled over. One couldn’t have any lasting emotional affiliation
hiding away from her best friends. And perhaps she knew that if she got half
the men that flocked to Abbey, she’d produce, in no time at all, a spicier love
relationship than Abbey could accomplish. Abbey, to Isabelle, must have
appeared to be wasting men... because of her naivety. This was what I thought,
until I started to learn new, queer things about their friendship.
I kept thinking about the two girls until I
fell asleep.
I
was awakened by a knock on the door. Instrumental music was playing on my laptop.
Reminded me that this wasn’t Nigeria – there’d been power all through the
night. There was always light. Images sliding by on the screen... a recent
picture: Tanya, Me, Abbey, and Isabelle – the night out. Sasha took the
picture. I was looking at Isabelle. Damn! The girl was truly beautiful. I went
to get the door. Abbey was all dressed for work already, looking radiant as
usual. Sharp.
“I’m
going to work. There’s breakfast on the dining table for you. And there’s lunch
in the kitchen.”
“Okay.
Thanks.” Cold.
“I’m
sorry about yesterday,” she said.
“I’m
sorry too.” I truly was.
She was staring at me, then came for a
kiss... I gave a peck. She was disappointed.
“See
you later.” She left.
I
went back to sleep some more before going to bathe. Then I wore my second pair
of jeans and T-shirt, though I wasn’t sure where I was going to go today. But I
knew that, in any case, I’d end up taking a walk, no matter what. I went and
gobbled up the breakfast of cereals, and then hit the road.
At
the gate when Zuma stopped me, I felt uncomfortable because I thought I’d
become a part of Abbey’s life now. I thought Abbey had left instructions. I
feared she had. Zuma told me I had a note. He went into the gatehouse and
re-emerged with the folded paper. I thought... ‘I’m sorry note’ or what! Or ‘leave
my house note’! Whatever it was she wrote on the paper, I was sure going to be
amazed. I opened the paper and, yeah, I was amazed. More so than I’d thought I
would be.
Ring me
Isabelle.
... with what I thought must be her phone
number sprawled across the paper in queer handwriting. I chuckled, then
swallowed hard, unsure of what I should do. I stepped out of the gate still
staring at the piece of paper... in welcome amazement. Zuma closed the gate.
I heard his phone ring. I lingered around.
“Hello
madam.”
It was Abbey no doubt.
.
. . .
“No,
he just leave, madam.”
.
. . .
“No
ma, he no tell me, madam.”
Call ended.
Abbey wanted to know my whereabouts huh! In
the evening it would be established that I left the house... would she think I
went anywhere else but to Isabelle’s? Zuma had told her that ‘he just leave’...
He just left: ten minutes later he shows up at your office... where else was he
going but thither! There we go... where I was going had crystallized out of
nowhere. I walked to the junction and hailed a cab. The driver knew the
complex. Fine. I was heading to Abbey’s office.
I
met a pretty lady at the desk in the reception. I complemented her neat, smart
appearance. And when she smiled, I let her know how her face illumed. I
lingered in front of her desk awhile... flirting with her. She told me Abbey
was in. I was lucky to catch her before she stepped out for lunch. I knocked
gently and she invited me in. She was surprised to see me... her suspicions
crumbling, for I couldn’t have gone to Isabelle’s and come here all in the
space of thirteen minutes or thereabouts. Her surprise was turning to elation,
and then smiles.
“Hi!”
I said.
“Hi!”
she managed.
I moved closer and stared at her for what seemed
like an hour. Then I looked at her desk and the papers and files and
computer... all called work. She was confused, and asked,
“What
brings you?”
“The
evenings are too short for break up, inhibitions, and make up... I thought I
should come start the process of reconciliation, so we can both look forward to
a beautiful evening at home... if you agree? Let’s light a match in this our
gas laden atmosphere and flare up our tensions. What do you think?”
“It’s
nice.” She cleared her throat. “It’s nice.”
“So...
may I sit?”
“Sure!
Forgive me please.”
I sat on the edge of her desk, in front of
her.
“What
can I offer you?” She stood, visibly uncomfortable.
“Must
you offer me something? Thought you offered me breakfast... and lunch...
already?”
“I
mean... would you like to drink anything?”
“No
baby. Don’t bother.”
She sat down, and I stood, and walked
around, and closer to her.
“Baby...
the truth is... I just couldn’t wait to kiss you again. I didn’t foresee that
fight. I was looking forward to pure bliss yesterday... but then...”
She must have felt the same way; as I drew
ever so closer she warmed up to me and we kissed... deeply... then caress...
then we lost control....
Next
thing I know I had Abbey on the desk and thrusting hard. She moaned immitigably,
and I knew the receptionists and people passing by heard. The door wasn’t even
locked. I was her lunch. By the time we came back to sanity I was the one on
Abbey’s chair now, and she was sprawled in my arms, spent. I understand it’s
called a quickie – what we just did. I discovered she was deeply hungry for
sex. And I only succeeded in watering the hunger and made it grow. Her eyes
were closed, and she wanted to make sure she bit my lips of today. She didn’t
care about the door, or about anyone bumping in on us. It was great sex. I was
lucky she wasn’t a champ... or I wouldn’t feel so manly as I felt. Foreplay
usually made me come early. I didn’t even have a firm erection. But today,
thrusting as soon as I hardened was the best sex I ever had. Plus, it was with
the best girl I ever met. Arguably. If it was Isabelle, I was sure the outcome
would be different... but I didn’t think I’d mind the challenge.
“Hey
baby,” I struggled for space to speak, restraining her. “I gotta go... look... I
gotta go Abbey, I gotta go... so you can face your work. Lunch must be over
already. We’ll continue when you get home.”
I dressed her up, while she still fell over
me like one hypnotized.
“Baby, I’ll need a
little advance payment so I can take care of some things,” I said.
“That’s true,” she
said, “but all I have here is...” she looked in her drawer, “...about a
thousand Rands... you just hold on to it... I’ll get you more from the ATM on
my way home.”
“Thanks baby,” I
said.
“Why? You earned it. I should be thanking you
really.”
I earned it? That made me feel like a
prostitute who’d just been paid after a... quickie.
“I’ll see you
later.”
I planted one on her lips, and made for the
door. At the door I blew one, and then left.
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