Time VIII

 

The hazy glow of the 2 am moon pierced the curtains, providing sufficient illumination for any observer to see through into the room – if there was such an observer. But the only people who would have any interest in the occupant of the room were already inside.

 

Chris sat up in bed and looked at the other occupants of the room – that is; the other occupants of the bed.

 

In sleep they looked like effigies carved out of ivory – except the soft rise and fall of their breasts were too real. They cuddled each other like siblings – the taller and lighter one holding onto the smaller and darker’s hips, while smaller laid her head on the other’s breasts. There was a light sheen of sweat dusting their shoulders, hips and so on – legs tangled in the aftermath of passion.

 

He looked at them – and sighed.

 

Rising, so as not to disturb them, he padded across the room on bare feet, opened the fridge – and winced as the door squealed, and then, softly continuing, he reached inside and pulled out a bottle of Stout. And then, still naked walked to the terrace of his room and, watching Calabar morning lights opened the bottle and took a huge swallow.

 

He needed to think.

 

He remembered the frenetic activities that had been occurring in the room for the better part of the night – and wondered how he ever thought Temi a prude. The girl he brought back to his room – or the girl that had dragged him back to his room was nothing like the Temi he had described as wore her clothes with as much aplomb as a clothes hangar. It was as though she had taken classes to compensate for her lack of –

 

And then; who was the girl in red and how did she figure in everything?

 

She had suddenly materialized beside him as he was trying to make Temi take a drink – materialized and grabbed his Star bottle – and staring right in his eyes, downed half the bottle. And then, without missing a beat, slammed the bottle on the table, grabbed him and kissed him.

 

From that moment, it had been a blur of skin, of flesh and other things. He had allowed himself wheeled along on a BRT ride of lust – not allowing himself a moment of rational thought – and the BRT had crashed abruptly.

 

He was drained.

 

Throwing back his head, Chris took another longer swallow of the liquid that seemed as dark as his thoughts, enjoying the feel of the predawn air as it caressed his naked body gently. He looked again over the distance – enjoying the slumbering beauty that was Calabar…

 

A familiar sound jerked him out of his mood and sent him scampering into the room he’d just come out of. It was his phone. Ringing from the pocket  of the jeans he had discarded as though they were on fire some hours before. He hastily set the Stout on the fridge and grabbed his jeans, wincing at the volume of the ringing.

 

Indeed, the entire hotel would be awakened.

 

He grabbed the phone and put it on silent before he realized who was calling.

 

Agnes. He stood still in the midst of the room looking ridiculous, phone in on hand, trousers dangling from the other – moonlight streaming from the open terrace doors silhouetting him to perfection. He stood there and stared at the phone as though it was alive.

 

Agnes?!

 

“It’s still several hours till morning, lover.” A raspy voice announced itself in his ear – the same time a pair of hands pawed at his uncovered behind aggressively. Chris jumped, and then turned to face Temi, intending to discourage her passion.

 

She grabbed his neck and buried her mouth in his in a hair-singeing kiss – a kiss that was as violating as the hands that seemed to be all over him. She cannot have so many hands was his last rational thought –

 

The Bold 5, forgotten, fell to the floor and continued its wailing – as ignored as the caller.

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6 thoughts on “Time VIII

  1. This is where my people will say the matter has tied wrapper. But wait, is Chris supposed to go back to working for the clothes hanger after this ‘event’? We shall see.

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