You had painted your sitting room yellow with white woodwork and furnished it with a sofa upholstered in black leather. You tell me that the store had been on clearance sales the Christmas you bought it. The store had also provided the nest of brass-legged occasional tables, and the imitation onyx lamps with pleated shades.
The sitting room was a small haven for me. As I sit and watch old movies. You’re sitting on the wooden floor, almost in between my legs as we sip red wine together. During longueurs in the movies, I thought about how life would be in a few years’ time with you and I, when I’ll finally relocate from Nigeria to America to live with you as your wife. And even if we don’t marry so soon as I wish, I could visit you often and we would have romantic moments together alone in the dark.
“I am cold,” I say. You rush to the bedroom and bring me a black quilt. It was a big quilt that fell softly to the floor even when you covered my body with it. It was warm and smelt of old books.
Then you pull me gently to the floor, and I stay by your side.
You begin to run your hands over my body. I know what this means, an invitation to our first kiss, to our first lovemaking.
“When we go to Lagos,
there is something I would want you to tell my mom,” you say as you look into
“What?” I ask gruffly.
You look down again. “Just tell her how much I love and adore her, and don’t forget to give her all what I would give you to give to her.”
I gasped. “Won’t you be coming with me anymore?” I ask.
“I will. Why not?”
You kiss me again for a few moments.
“I will be spending the Valentine eve and day with you in Lagos. We will book our flight together.”
“This is the first Valentine I will ever honor,” I say with a soft smile.
“Aww…babygirl, I will make it memorable for us. Where will you want us to lodge after we come back from Uyo?” you asked delightedly.
“I don’t know,” I smile, and then shrug, “We must stay on the island. They have beautiful hotels there on the island,” I say. You hold me tight to yourself, like the breezy cold was about taking you away from me.
I want you to kiss me more, that is the reason I keep stealing glances at the hot, handsome you.
“We will go to a hunky-tonk tonight.”
“Tonight?” I ask.
“Yes tonight. I wanna show you around America. The funniest part of this place,” you say, as you turn to me. “I want to make love to you in a car,” you whisper into my ears, like people are in the room, and you wouldn’t want them to hear us.
I smile and busy myself with the wine. The warm liquid slid down my throat, but it did nothing to ease my pounding heart or the craving in the pit of my stomach.
Men who make a woman’s heart pound and her legs quiver and her panties damp. Men like Dada.
My gaze shifted to you again and my lungs constricted. You are handsome as I remember.
Your wild, carefree aura now contained an air of maturity that plainly said you knew what to do to me, but you didn’t have to be in a hurry.
It wasn’t fun to keep a woman waiting for that long.
Next Chapter: |Chapter 12|
|Chapter 1||Chapter 2||Chapter 3||Chapter 4||Chapter 5||Chapter 6||Chapter 7||Chapter 8||Chapter 9||Chapter 10||Chapter 11||Chapter 12||Chapter 13||Chapter 14||Chapter 15||Chapter 16||Chapter 17||Chapter 18|