I couldn’t sit still when I got home. I poured myself some whisky, then I brewed some coffee, went back to my bar and poured me a glass of rum – at the end I had four glasses of hard liquor and two mugs of hot drinks in front of me. I was a nervous wreck. I sat staring at the clock in my library for a good hour. As the clock moved to five, I remembered that I had to call Aimeé and cancel our date. Her heavy accented voice that did things to my groin did nothing to calm my nervousness.
“What’s up sweetie,” she drawled on the phone, “you don’t sound yourself.”
“Had a long day,” part of it was true though.
“Mmh hmm,” she replied doubtedly, “I bet some hot girl somewhere is causing you such confusion.”
Her jokes were just too close to home. After placing the call, I decided to settle for the whisky on the rocks.
My palms were sweaty on the steering wheel. I was both excited and scared. I felt my heart in my mouth. My heart pounded faster and more furiously as I was approaching the neighbourhood where I was instructed to go. I took my hands off the steering wheel for a moment as I wiped my sweaty clammy hands on my faded jeans. I then parked the car under the tree as instructed after spotting it. 18h25, my watch read, five minutes early. I tried to listen to some music. The soothing jazz music playing in the radio did nothing to ease my nervousness that squeezed my gut. It was hot in Arusha so I had the a/c in the car on and on full blast, but the sweat of my brow and palms could have filled a dam.
“Just drive,” she said breathlessly as she eased herself into the leather car seats.
I was so nervous that I didn’t even see her get in the car.
“Where to?” I stammered.
“Where you are staying,” she stated as a matter of fact.
We drove silently to Njiro Hills, where I was leasing a short-term town house. I had so many questions but now wasn’t the place nor time to ask. I quickly stole a glance and found her staring absent mindedly up ahead.
“We are here,” I announced as I drove the car to the carport.
“Nice place,” she murmured after getting out of the car without really looking at the place. She then took the keys from my hand and headed for the door. I watched her silently as she twisted the key and could hear a bit turn. She walked into the house. I was so mesmerized, surprised and awed that I found myself not moving.
“Ain’t you going to come in?” I heard her calling from somewhere inside.
Had I been standing outside for that long? I asked myself when I got in, for I had found trails of her clothing on the wooden floor. I didn’t know what to do. I stood there stunned.
”I made myself at home,” I heard her say. She was holding two glasses of red wine, “sit.”
She placed the glasses on the side table next to the couch and with one fluid motion; she was on me, pinning me down. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” she whispered as she straddled me, her hands holding me down, her eyes ablaze with an eager fire.
Copyright Sandra A. Mushi . All rights Reserved
