MONDAY:
She walked into the studio with her head held high. Her ginger dreadlocks loose, smelling of the beauty saloon’s goodies, where she had just been.
Her black crocodile skin high heels clopped through the polished Tanga slate floors.
Passing the young petite receptionist who loathed her and who she always ignored.
Smiling at herself after she passed her, for she knew she had made her angry.
She flung open the strong Zanzibar door that led to his office.
He was bent over a drawings table, comparing something with what was on the computer screen.
His salt-and-pepper with blonde highlights hair disheveled and white linen shirt unbuttoned to the chest.
The scar he got when taking photographs in Rwanda could be seen. Sexy and devilish.
He didn’t look up, but she knew he could smell her. He was expecting her. She walked behind him and nuzzled him.
She moved in front of him while undoing her micro-mini wrap-around black skirt.
Underneath she only had a garter belt and stockings. Revealing nicely trimmed pubs.
She sat on his rock-hard glass-topped table with thick Mahogany Makonde carved legs, parting her legs slowly and started playing with herself.
He watched her stroking her hair. Two pretty lips opened slightly each time her fingertips stroked up.
He licked his lips in unison; seductively she drew him to kiss her. He loved the way her wet hair felt on his tongue.
His white chocolate skin against her dark chocolate skin. Delicious.
She rouses her ass to him and he plunges his hungry tongue in deep. She is tight, warm and moist.
His fingers spread her open wider, lapping her so heavy and deep. He loved burying his face in her.
Her body began to move, building a rhythm with each tongue dart. Belly dancing across his mouth.
She raised a leg and jammed her crocodile skin shoe onto his side. Her stiletto heel digging deep into his ribs.
It must have hurt but his dick was too hard to notice the pain. Throbbing intensely.
He excitedly and impatiently started unzipping his pants, but she stopped him.
She was there to seduce him into getting what she wanted – for her birthday. Sex could wait. Until her mission was complete.
She moved, trying to wriggle free. “I just came to say hello baby, missed you. Can’t stay, I have some errands to run.” She said as she played with his soft hair, smelling of musk shampoo.
“We closed the deal,” he smiled, turning around to kiss her “we got a good team. I’ll be meeting them on Saturday to finalize everything. You and I will celebrate on your birthday … …”
She had stopped listening to him as he went on about the project; she was plotting how to sink her teeth in the money to come. Dreamily, she wrapped her skirt around her 24” waist.
TUESDAY:
The club was full. It was so hard to believe that a club can be this full on a weekday. Ain’t people working tomorrow, she pondered. She walked to the lounge where she knew she would find him.
She turned heads as she swished and sashayed by. The black fine silk dress she was wearing had clung to the warmth of her body. The material, clinging to every nook and crevice of her body, outlining the thrust of her nipples.
She spotted him; he saw her – and the commotion she had caused.
‘Oh baby, you look good enough to eat,” he whispered in her ear, as he kissed her.
He introduces her to his friends. She sits on the plush leather seat.
He looks good too. Always did. Bold head, moustache, a dimple, and gleaming eyes. Luscious man from the soil.
Strong mahogany torso in an African prints shirt. He loved his ethnics’ prints. “Proud of where I came from,” he always said.
He puts his hand up her dress, using one long relentless finger, he rubs above her clit.
His finger strokes her pubs. The teasing is getting intense. She is getting heated and is afraid of losing the plot.
Someone at the table is talking but she is not listening, she can not hear. His finger is still stroking her hair. She pushes her hips forward, gyrating slowly. Some one asks her something, but she can not hear. All she wants is to be taken right there on the table.
He puts his thumb on her clit, tweaking her. She can feel an orgasm tickling.
No, it’s not supposed to be like this. The ball is supposed to be in my court, she panics.
Her silk dress is now clung to her moist perspiring body.
“Excuse me, I need to freshen up,” she murmurs and quickly gets up with a brave, forced smile of someone about to lose a battle.
Get hold of yourself, she repeats to herself as she touches her make-up in the powder room. You have a plot, follow it. Composed and confidently she walks back.
“I am in a celebrating mood today,” he leans over and tells her, while handing her a drink he had been holding out all this time, “I have struck gold! Finally got the scheme I have been telling you about. First I have to get my queen something very special. Let’s go to my place and celebrate … …”
“I had a long day, babes. I’m exhausted,” she lied, “I had missed you. Had to see you even for a minute. Let me go rest then I’ll be all yours when you are not so tied up.”
At least he has something planned for my birthday, phew. She sighed with relief as she was leaving the club.
WEDNESDAY:
The elevator opened into a penthouse accentuated by a carving glass staircase.
On either side of the colossal staircase was long mirrors sandblasted with prayers in Arabic.
“I walk up and down this stairs everyday; I placed them here to remind me to pray to the Almighty.” He had one day told her in his heavy accent. He had such exquisite features from his mixed blood.
Huge picture windows gave the most beautiful view of the skyline everywhere. Rich, sumptuous sari fabrics casually draped on them. She loved this penthouse. The only way she could get it is by agreeing to his marriage proposal. She wasn’t ready. She was still playing the field and enjoying the fruits of it immensely.
She found him at the terrace. Sitting on wrought iron patio furniture, deeply engrossed in whatever he was reading from his lap top. Papers were scattered all over the table.
“Hi baby,” she drawls as she kisses his brown nose, “ain’t you going to take a break?’
“Almost done, babes,” he murmurs without looking up, “I have to e-mail this report for approval from my group. I got this once in a lifetime venture.”
She got up and went inside and makes herself a drink – Southern Comfort.
She goes back to the terrace with the drinks – only on her high heel sandals. Without the halter neck summer dress she was earlier wearing.
Like a jaguar on the prowl, she goes to the terrace bench. Ignoring him, she sits on the concrete bench with scattered fluffy cushions, covered in rich, colourful chenille.
Aware of the neighbouring penthouses and apartments, she moved her thighs apart fully exposing herself.
Dipping her fingers in the glass, she takes an ice cube.
Sucking on it seductively first, she then slowly proceeded to outlining it on her body – around her neck, then nipples – while with the other hand feeling herself. She let it linger on her nipples until they became ice hard and tout.
Again she dipped three fingers in the glass and with her wet fingers she slowly fingers herself.
Turning her head she could see watching her attentively and hungrily. She kept on playing with herself to frenzy.
He got up, hypnotized, going towards her, unbuttoning his shirt.
“No baby, you have work to do,” she said stopping him at his tracks, as she got up.
“Oh come on babes,” he begged, “we’ll do something special on your birthday then … got something really exceptional for you … .. pretty busy now with this …”
Got him right where I wanted, she thought praising herself.
THURSDAY:
As she was boarding the chartered plane she laughed when she remembered what her best friend, Candy’s always nagged her about, “they all serious relationships with you … they are all nice … why don’t you settle for one … you ain’t getting any younger … easy comes easy goes …”
She was the real deal. Her friends called her “a walking hard-on.” She had “fuck me” on her face, in her attitude and dress. With that she got whatever she wanted from her men.
They all wanted exclusivity. Exclusive love. Some marriage even. But she only wanted exclusivity with their bank accounts. They could give her whatever she wanted. They provided for her. Individually they would not meet her needs unconditionally.
She learnt the trade from a friend who had invited her over for a ‘house-warming week’ as she called it.
“Girl, how did you build such a beautiful house and get it furnished so lavishly while you are not working?’ she had asked her.
In reply, her friend introduced her to her men, her providers who paid her a visit individually – showering her with expensive house warming presents.
“You and I know that I don’t work,” her friend had told her later, “but they don’t. I tell one I have money for the floor finishes and not wall finishes …. And the other that I have money for the wall finishes and not floor finishes. ”
Now Candy is waste! She is wasting away!
Candy is drop-dead gorgeous, but she doesn’t know how to use her God-given assets. She thought sadly.
She lives in a little crammed up two-bedroom apartment – with a housemate who has an ugly cat that makes her sneeze! Since she can’t afford to pay for the pathetic little place. Candy’s painter of a boyfriend can hardly make ends meet and they claim to be in love.
Love does not put food on her table nor buy you a car and furniture or pay your rent and bills. She laughed sarcastically and started humming to Tina Turners “What’s Love Got to Do With It.”
FRIDAY:
That evening after a tour drive around the wilderness, they drove back to their lodge tired.
He had a cottage a few miles up, where he hides when he needs ample time and space to write. “Preparing a presentation for this killer deal that landed on my lap. I’m meeting the guys next week ... now I need some time with my baby … can you fly here tomorrow …” he had said over the phone in his heave American drawl.
He left her at the bar soothing her thirsty throat with Southern Comfort on the rocks.
After finishing her drink, she slowly made her way to their cottage.
She loved the way the warm air kissed her face as she walked out.
She was moved by the landscape, hills rising around her.
She loved the smell of the coffee plantations around the lodge and birds chirping happily. It was so serene.
If she played her cards right, he would bring her here again for her birthday, she mused smiling.
He had run a bath for her, lit candles and incense. India Arie was softly playing in the background.
Without speaking he undressed her slowly, and then carried her to the tub.
He still didn’t say a word as he sat her in the fragrant steaming bath.
He tied her ginger dreadlocks back, away from her face.
With a soaped loofah, he slowly started massaging her tired body.
He squeezed the plush loofah over her weary sun-kissed shoulders with his sculptured, strong muscular mahogany hands, while paying special attention to her breasts and thighs.
Slowly he got into the tub behind her, the fragrance of sandalwood incense soothing her.
Still without talking he sat her on the edge of the tub.
He then lowered his head to her big breasts. He sucks her nipples, his warm quick tongue flickering across each.
Her nipples stiffening under his tongue as he nibbled them.
He then gently squeezed her tits and pinched the stiff, coffee-coloured buds.
She gasped and grabbed his finger-length dreadlocks as he kissed then nibbled her neck and shoulders.
His fingers returned to her nipples, now hard and sensitive. Gently at first he tweaked them, then increasing the pressure, he bit his nails into her tender flesh.
Enticed her knees apart and aimed the shower massage between her legs.
Spraying the water over her vagina, then ass, then back again to vagina and finally on her clit, alternating the speed. She opened her legs wider, allowing the explosive pressure, releasing hot spray massage her clit. She came almost instantly.
She noticed he was swollen and alert. “Not yet,” she whispered in his ear, “fly back.”
She left the tub, without saying another word. Now she was sure of getting what she wanted.
SATURDAY:
What a great coincidence, they are all busy today – with meetings and presentations. Today, I will give myself a treat. Treat myself for a nice spa, and then go for some lingerie shopping. Johnny likes silk chemises, Thabo likes baby doll, Omar likes lacy thongs and Malcolm likes teddies …
She started making mental notes as she went through the mindless ritual of coffee making, “… new car, hope he gets the colour right … that Tanzanite jewellery set I saw at … credit card must be maxed up, need more money … maybe some new furniture … ooh, that shopping trip to Milan next month for the Fashion Week … maybe I should also start thinking of owning a house ... “
SUNDAY:
On her way from brunch with Candy she passed a movers’ truck leaving her place,
Outside her house, instead of her old red Mercedes, was a brand new black convertible – exactly the one she wanted.
She had left her old Mercedes behind purposely, after hinting a million times that she wanted a new car - knowing it will be swopped for a new one.
New car and new furniture, she smiled proudly at her accomplishments, I wonder what else. Her surprises were always delivered at her place when she was not in.
Hurriedly she rushed to her apartment, wanting to see what birthday surprises awaited her.
Anxiously she unlocked her door. On the floor of her apartment were Johnny, Thabo, Omar and Malcolm.
She then remembered the new project. The team - “damn, they know each other!”
Not speaking or giving her a second glance, they all got up and walked out of the door of the now empty apartment and drove away in the brand new Mercedes.
Copyright Sandra A. Mushi . All rights Reserved
