Wow! Mindblowing! Precise!

I av been asked dos Questions b4 and i coudnt say a word. So i seriously understand ow isi feels!

Weldone safarigirl

Sorry for the delay guys....I just finished my exams last week and haven't had time to write. Plus, I'm trying to see if I can get this story published before June *fingers-crossed*

Anyway, pending when that happens, here's the next update


******

I have his eyes. I obviously have his height as well. Even without a DNA test, it’s obvious I’m related to the man sitting across the table with an uneasy smile.

The tension is palpable, largely because of my prolonged silence. I want to study this man longer, I want to know if I can read him simply by his body movement like I can read others, I want to know his intentions, his person, all with a look. I wish I could understand it all with one look, make sense of his reasoning when he left me with the devil that was my mother. I wish it would all make sense that it has taken him twenty six years to reunite with me just by studying him, but that is impossible.

I can’t feel any bad vibes coming from him, he’s a bubble of excitement and happiness, when we came in, he stared at me like he had seen a ghost, I saw his eyes water slightly as we approached, he didn’t let the tears fall, but it was easy to tell how overcome he was with emotions at that point and I can’t understand the act. He’s really pulled the whole ‘regretful father’ act very well so far, but I can’t help but wonder if that’s all there is to this- an act. I guess the pessimist side of me favors that thought.

He clears his throat for what is perhaps the fourth time in as many minutes, each time he gives off the impression that he’s about to say something, but he never does, the uneasy smile remains though. I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to speak, which is a wait in vain, because I plan tio be silent for a long time and if possible, the entire duration of this meeting. His eyes dart to Chuma who’s sitting beside me and has remained as silent as I have been, I find it hard to believe that Chuma can actually follow my lead, I had thought he would be having the conversation on my behalf…..like earlier observed, he surprises me with his sense at times.

“You look beautiful.” He speaks! I guess this is the kick needed to keep the ball rolling, he’s willing to engage me now. I don’t know if I’m ready to speak to him yet. It might probably take me a while to say much to the man, it’s so surreal that he’s right in front of me and I can’t even think up anything to say. All the questions I planned to ask, all the things I planned to say just so he’d feel like scum, all of my blames, not one thing is coming into my head.

He smiles uncomfortably as I fail to reply his compliment, “You…you look very good. I don’t think I could have done any better a job than your adoptive mother has done all these years.”

Those words flip a switch in my head. I know it’s supposed to pass as a compliment to Gladys, but it just sets off a docile part of me that has just been lurking around, just waiting to be unleashed, and I forget that my vocal chords should be on mute, “You could’ve done something.” I bite back bitterly. Wouldn’t he love to know where I had been before Mrs. Gladys found me, he would probably lose that annoying smile if he heard of all the vile things my body had been put through before the arrival of my saving grace.

His face drops and he bows his head in regret, I assume, “I know….I know I should have been around, I know I made a great mistake, probably the greatest in my life, and no amount of apology will wipe away the years I lost. I’m not here to just say I’m sorry, I want to show you I’m sorry.” He replies remorsefully.

I snicker at his words, he wants to show me he’s sorry. I wonder how he plans to do that, by waving a wand and making the nightmares disappear? By going back in time to stop the abuse? He can do nothing at this point that hasn’t been done. He can’t show me he’s sorry, he can’t show me anything. He should have remained with his family and saved us all the awkwardness.

His eyes dart towards Chuma in a silent plea, he must think he can get my favour through Chuma. When we got here, I had struggled to come up with an appropriate title to I and Chuma’s relationship, the conflicted thoughts that had plagued me throughout the drive here hadn’t abated at out arrival. I was still trying to wrap my head around my first kiss….i still am, and I was largely unprepared for the introductions. I was pretty much tongue-tied from the word ‘go’, but Chuma, once again, had pulled a surprise on me. I have to start anticipating his surprises at the rate he pulls them recently. Once my father’s eyes fell on him with the unspoken question of his identity, he simply interjected in my bumbling and told my father he’s my foster brother. It gave me a moment’s pause, I whipped my neck up at him so hard it’s a wonder I don’t have whiplash. He didn’t even flinch to acknowledge my shock. He just gelled into the role like a seasoned pro and has remained largely mute since then.

“Isidore…..”

“Don’t call me by that name.” I lash at him before he can even finish, he hasn’t earned the right to use my first name.

A large hand covers mine underneath the table and I turn to find Chuma staring at me with pleading eyes. He squeezes the appendage just slightly, but maintains eye contact. I grasp his message in that moment and I calm down. This must be some negative reaction to the nerves. I close my eyes and do a small breathing exercise, only to open them back and redirect my gaze to my father whose gaze drifts between I and Chuma, he’s probably questioning our relationship, but I don’t care about his thoughts or opinion about us. No, it’s of no importance to me at this point.

I open my mouth to speak to him, but close it back when I realise I don’t know where to start, do I tell him of all the abuse? Do I keep it to myself? Is this even the right setting to bring up such a discussion? In the presence of his PI? A man who barely knows me? I realise too late that I haven’t prepared for this meeting, I was too engrossed in thinking of what he would think of me after I told him my story, but I never quite thought out how I would tell it to him, because to be honest, the telling was much harder than the reaction. But I will tell him, he needs to know, he deserves to know. I won’t do it because I want some form of violent reaction from him, but there can be no closure if he doesn’t know the consequences of his actions, actions he can’t make amends for.

I squeeze Chuma’s hand that still has mine in its grasp and shake my head ruefully, “I…I thought I was ready to meet you, I thought we could iron everything out today, but I was wrong. I’m not ready to meet you and I can’t talk to you today. I’m sorry for wasting your time.” I say sincerely, my admission is met with silence, so I just pick up my bag by the chair and say to Chuma, “Chuma, let’s go.”

I get on my feet, and everyone else stands immediately, “Isidore.” My father calls just as I turn to leave. I halt in my movements, my hand is still in Chuma’s, he hasn’t moved with me, “I still want to see you some other time this week if you’re free. It’s my last week here and I can’t leave without making amends.” I remain silent to his plea and he continues, “Just one meeting, you can come with your…..brother if you wish.”

I don’t even have to see him to know he must have given Chuma a long stare before mentioning the title, the pause in his speech is all the clue I need to come to that conclusion. Maybe if I do decide to see him again, I’ll introduce Chuma properly, because I doubt I’ll ever see him on a one-on-one basis.

I turn around and speak softly, “Fine, sometime mid-week we can meet at a public park, preferably alone….” My gaze moves to Mr. Toriola to emphasise my point before I continue, “….Chuma will get back to you if I do take you up on your offer.” I finish, “Have a nice day”.

I turn around and this time, Chuma is close behind me. Before we exit the restaurant, he has his arm wrapped around my waist and pulls me into him, too exhausted to fight an available support, I follow his lead without a word. I don’t think he’ll ever understand the impact of his presence in these meetings for me, he’s probably just being nice, but his thoughtfulness and overall support have been the pillars upon which I have held on these past days. Never mind that I tend to regard him as a thorn rather than what he truly is to me; my sanity, my support, my conscience, my strength, my everything.

After all of this, I never want to imagine a life without Chuma being the sweet thorn in my flesh

Yay safarigirl is back Hope we'll get more updates soon

mhiz:
Yay safarigirl is back Hope we'll get more updates soon

I hope so too.

Wish u d best in ur exams dear. Welcome back

Welcome back Safarigirl, how was the exam, I hope it went well

oya, lala credit her account. mtchew

Savigne:
OMG!!!
I'm FTC on a Safarigirl story.,...
Signs of better things to come this month
*grins*

Welcome Back Honey.
Thanks for the update

CuteTolex:
Welcome back Safarigirl, how was the exam, I hope it went well

exams went well dear. Thanks

9z work safarigirl. keep it up

Got started with 'Tormented' couple of days ago...got some crazy catching up to do but I've got to say oscar goes to U Olanna, great write up...learnt U just got done with exams...Success!!!

congrats babe
front page tinz!

An0nimus:
Safarigirl I didn't know you write stories too. You're pretty multi-faceted and I like - football, rap, literature, video games? dance? keep it up miss.

A few observations on this last update:

" we left the building and drive off, " - I think the 'drive' should be 'drove' seeing the 'left' is past tense.

" I branched" - Looking at the usage I doubt "branched" is the right word. Branched is not proper english in that context.

The second paragraph was a bit long with many commas before the full stop. Feel a full stop can come in after "drive off" and the following sentence tweaked a bit.

On Gladys knowing some French which Isidore didn't know before: my brain protest small for that place. For two people to be close up to "phone call" level I feel they should know they both speak some level of french. Maybe there's an explanation for that I skipped.

As with the first case I pointed out there're a few other tense mix up.

A couple typos here and there but running spellcheck should cure that.

I say make I support your ministry with the small I know. The pros should have more to say. All in all, its a great effort. You can only go higher

there are several stages in book writing and proofing, where u make such corrections above, is just one. Her story I still yet to get there I think, if she tries to correct every mistake and grammatical error she'll lose focus on d plot itself.
proofing is a time consuming process. Took me 2 months on my own story.
let d girl be.

When are u posting the next update

@animous and eze. the lady is in school. she is doing this while studyin, attending classes, doin assignment, sociALIZE, attend church services, eat, sleep, bath and many more. and u still want her to edit all errors after writing. biko she is nt omni knowest. u shld at least praise and encourage her. as a matter she said she just finished her exams.
safari babe. well done jare
animous #fault finder.

Safari girl, you really awed me. You made me comment for the very first time on NL. Had to read the previous posts. Been on it all day, even though J.O.B was pressing. Girl, i am so enthralled. You are one scintillating writer. Good job. Can't wait to read more. You are so blessed.

safarigirl:
[color=#006600][/color]exams went well dear. Thanks

u re welcome

safarigirl:
exams went well dear. Thanks

u re welcome

Sgirl good to have u back

kinah:
@animous and eze. the lady is in school. she is doing this while studyin, attending classes, doin assignment, sociALIZE, attend church services, eat, sleep, bath and many more. and u still want her to edit all errors after writing. biko she is nt omni knowest. u shld at least praise and encourage her. as a matter she said she just finished her exams.
safari babe. well done jare
animous #fault finder.

That was what I was saying exactly. pls re-read my post. I implored him to let d girl he.

Meanwhile, lets observe A MINUTE SILENCE for all the guys that approachd Isidore in the name of love during her univsty days. #Rage#
9z work Sgirl

Chapter Six

“Mummy, mummy, mummy…..”

I open my eyes to find Ismail starring at me with concerned eyes, he’s shaking me, so that would explain why I’m awake this fast. He eases up on the shaking once he sees that my eyes are open. I watch him lean closer to me until he’s in my face- literally, peering at me like a doctor examining his patient.

“Are you okay?” he asks

His ginger breath fans in my face and I scrounge it a little, he’s been drinking that ginger drink again. I hate the smell o ginger, so I never get it for him, but Chuma is always quick to counter my decisions so Ismail stays as spoilt as he pleases.

I blink a couple of times and sit up, he watches me, only moving just a little when I move to sit up, but he remains within my space, waiting for an answer to his question. I blink again, clearing my thoughts and gaining a perspective on my surroundings. I’m still in my bedroom, I can barely remember how I got here, the last thing I remember is lying on the couch with….my cheeks flame up when the memory comes to mind.

After meeting with my father, rather than take me home, Chuma chose to drive us around town and take me to places he felt would lighten my mood. We had gone to an ice-cream and candy store, then we went to the mall to do some window shopping. We ended up playing some video games, he made sure I won every round, but I could see through his act. I’ve seen Chuma playing video games with Ismail- he’s ruthless even with a kid. We spent the rest of the day at the beach before he brought me back home sometime in the evening.

Suffice it to say, being back in my house had washed away all of the fun and just reminded me of the meeting with my father. Chuma prepared some tea for me and suggested we just relax in golden silence. We said nothing to each other the entire two hours, we just sat and stared into space- well, I sat and stared into space, but he was right beside me. At some point, the exhaustion brought about from all of the activities of the day weighed me down, Chuma lowered my head onto his laps and I made no move to fight him off, I guess I had zoned out. The last thing I remember was him humming to some tune while I forced myself to stay awake. I guess I lost the battle.

So, how did I get to my room?

Just as that question reverberates in my head, something else occurs to me. I turn alert eyes to Ismail, he shouldn’t be here, “What are you doing here?” I ask. I shuffle out my bed, where is Chuma? If Ismail’s breath smells of ginger drink, Chuma should be somewhere around, surely.

“Chuma came to get me.” He replied.

“How? Why?” I ask hurriedly. He should be with Gladys, Gladys has him till this afternoon, is it afternoon already? I rush to the clock on my bedside and check the time, it’s just a few minutes after 9am. What am I missing?

Ismail watches me running around the room, unperturbed by my obvious lack of direction, “Grandma Gladys had an attack.” He replies.

I pause in my movements, what the hell? Attack? My heart begins a rapid beating, “Att….what do you mean Ismail? What kind of attack? Is she okay?” I ask, and then it occurs to me that I’m asking a nine-year old all the questions he’s not likely to have answers to, “Where’s Chuma?”

“He’s downstairs.” He replies.

I rush past him and he follows me, talking even as I try to find someone in a better position to answer my questions, “She woke me up around 2 in the morning, she was talking funny and breathing funny. She gave me her phone and asked me to call Uncle Chuma, so I did. He came by, but she wasn’t moving anymore, but I could still hear her heart beating. He took her down to the hospital, we just got back two hours ago.” He says as he rushes after me, scaring me even more and telling me all this information better broken down with subtlety than the naiveté of a child.

I finally get to the lower floor of my house and find Chuma on phone, I grunt in frustration. Now, I have to hold off my questions till he’s done with his call. I don’t think my anxiety can take that much time. He thankfully notices my presence, but makes no move to end the call. From what I can hear, he’s speaking with a doctor. He doesn’t seem alarmed, so the news must not be bad. That is what I tell myself, but I also tell myself that he’s a man used to seeing some gory stuff so he may not come off as alarmed, but it’s no signal for ‘A-Okay’.

He maintains eye contact with me as I wait with bated breath for the damned call to be over so I can get some much needed information, “The doctor didn’t look very happy when he came out…..”

“Ismail!” I almost scream at him, but my bark gets him to be quiet, I calm my frayed nerves and turn to him, “Please, can you go to your room and play for a while so me and Uncle Chuma can talk?” I ask, it’s a wonder that my voice is not shaky in this instant. Gladys should not be sick, Gladys never get sick, she’s strong, she’s….she’s invincible.

Ismail nods at me and then runs off just as Chuma is getting off the phone- thankfully, “What happened? What’s wrong with Gladys? Why didn’t you wake me as soon as you got the call?” I ask Chuma accusingly.

He approaches me slowly, a small part of my brain notices that he’s dressed bit too casually in my house in a pair of shorts and a wife-beater, but that’s a discussion for another day. He places his hands against my shoulder and I shrug them off, “Talk to me, what’s going on?”

He repeats the action, unfazed by my rebuttal, “calm down, she’s fine” he speaks softly to me, I stare up at him, waiting for something else to hold on to, “I just got off the phone with her doctor and she’s responding to treatment, it was just a mild concussion.”

“Mild concussion? She’s in the hospital!” I scream at him as if he’s gone crazy. Whatever it is that takes someone, especially someone as strong as Gladys to a hospital, is NOT mild

“I know that, and she’ll be out this evening.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I ask again. I feel so betrayed, so let down. Everyone was there for Gladys, he was there and Ismail too, I should have been there. What kind of person will I seem like? If he wasn’t here, I would be the one rushing her to the hospital, what right did he think he had not telling me the minute the call came through?

“You had a long day, I didn’t want to disturb you”

I move away from his hold defiantly, “It wasn’t in your place to determine if I was being disturbed or not. Gladys means the world to me, if something were to happen to her and I didn’t find out on time….” I choke on my words. No, that should never happen, it never will

Chuma, undaunted, approaches me once again, “You know I would have woken you up if I thought it was that serious.”

“Ismail said she fainted”

“Ismail told me she was vomiting blood too when he called, he’s a child. He exaggerates.”

I allow his invasion, a little too shaken up to fight him off, “You’re sure she’s okay?” I ask

“I swear to you, she’s fine.”

I let out a deep sigh and unconsciously snuggle closer to his warm body. I dread the day something terrible will happen to Gladys, I know she’s getting old and will have to be faced with death soon, but I never want to see the day I lose Gladys. She’s been my rock and my strength all these years, the thought of losing her rattles me. I doubt I’ll ever survive her death. I need her with me just a little more, especially now.

Gladys is strong, Gladys is a fighter.

Plz dnt let any tin 2 happen 2 Gladys ooo

Madam safarigirl I appreciate ur dedication in updating but pls it's been 3 days since you've updated last pls pity me nawn,I need to know what happened to mama gladys

Hello guys, been a while.

Update's finally here. Hope you like it

****

I don’t think I’ve ever felt the kind of relief I felt when I saw Gladys walking out of her room in the hospital. Not even when I killed that scum that touched me or my mother.

It was like a heavy weight was lifted off me when I saw her smile at me as if telling me she was fine. I still asked her how she was doing though, I wanted go know if she had eaten well, if she had medications, if she was feeling weak. I wanted to know if she was eating right and even if her feces had the right colour to it. I guess worry got the best of me and I wasn’t as comported as I thought I would be when I saw her.

Chuma had been thoroughly amused by my antics, but I was too concerned by Gladys to shower him with my royal attention. He could laugh as much as he wanted, after all, he was the one with foreknowledge of her break down, I was just the concerned daughter playing catch-up after being totally blindsided.

Now, we’re at my house having dropped by a supermarket to get her some fruits. She wanted to go back to her house, but she simply couldn’t out-argue the rest of us and learnt to accept her fate. I and Chuma jointly agreed to come to my house which was more equipped to take care of everyone’s needs than his.

Now, we’re home. Gladys is in the sitting room and I get the pleasure of hearing her laughter courtesy of Ismail and whatever crazy stories he’s telling, he has a good bunch in his armoury. I guess there really was no cause to worry about Gladys’ health, the doctor said it was just stress and a good rest would surely keep her strong. He also advised us on a diet for her and I plan to keep to that advice if I can. I need Gladys around for a long time.

A sharp pain hits my head and I pause in my movement to hold my head, the stress must have really gotten to me as well. I’ve been working myself up these past few days, a couple of days of rest might do me some good as well, but my life can’t afford such luxuries.

I maintain my position for a few more minutes until the pain ebbs away, I’m done with peeling the fruits, I just need to extract their juice for Gladys and then I can just leave everything else to Chuma. This routine we’re falling into kind of creeps me out, how comfortable it is for me is also disturbing. There was a time I would never consider anyone invading my sanctuary. Some years ago, just the thought of having some other person in my space repulsed me. It was an impossibility.

Many impossibilities have proven to be very much possible in my life, I can only imagine what other previously termed atrocities may be wiped out with time and a certain someone.

The thought of kids briefly flashes in my mind’s eye and just as quickly, it’s gone. Kids. A couple of years ago I chuckled at it, then Ismail came and I figured I was only meant to be an adoptive mother, now…now I’m not so sure. Maybe there’s more, what if there’s more? What if….?

I shake the thoughts out of my head, how did I go from hating men to wanting to start a family with one? The same one whose advances I had rejected some years ago based on the same premise, how have my ideals, ideals fostered for years, watered with care and fed with experience, gotten twisted up in just a couple of years? Did they ever really exist? Did I ever really hate all men or was it just a certain kind? Maybe I kept on with the charade that my hate was all encompassing because I never really was confronted with an ideal man. The men I encountered never gave me a different view than that which I was accustomed to. So I just thought….

No, I’m right, I always have been right. Chuma may be the exception, but…..

I growl at my thoughts and shove them back to the recesses of my mind where they hopefully stay locked up. I don’t want to think these thoughts, I don’t want to doubt myself and I honestly don’t need this right now when I’m facing one of the toughest battles in my life with my father’s presence. I’ve been alive twenty-six years and only now do all of these thoughts and feelings hit me. Don’t I deserve a break? A reprieve of some sort? Couldn’t one of them have come earlier in my life or later? Preferably, couldn’t neither have come at all? What was so wrong in my comfortable existence three years ago?

I should do something to keep myself busy, yes, busy hands mean less idle time to dwell on useless thoughts. What am I doing? Juice! Of course. I return to the matter at hand and go to the cupboard where I keep my juice extractor. I open it and find….no juice extractor. What the hell? I shut it and open the cupboard next to it, no juice extractor there either. Who moved my stuff?

I see things in these two cupboards that I am sure were not here recently, and I haven’t drank in a while so I know it’s not my mind playing tricks on me. Even when I drank, I was sober enough to know where I keep my things and NOTHING is where it’s supposed to be. I move to slam the door of the cupboard, but I stop it just before it hits when I remember Gladys is in the sitting room and I don’t need to be throwing a raucous and causing her any form of distress for something as flimsy as a juice extractor.

I know who should be distressed….but he’ll get his just desserts when I find my juice extractor.

I move through all the other cupboards and come up empty. Just as I stand up to wonder where that imp hid my juice extractor, my eyes zero in on a cupboard high up in the kitchen. It came with the house, when I first moved in, there was just one set of cupboards and they were too high up for me to reach, so I had a carpenter make the ones I could reach. I just never bothered to remove the other useless things some idiot had installed. Yes, the kitchen is that big and no I’m not forgetful, it just….it just never bothered me.

I should have known some giant would invade my space and put my stuff in unreachable areas, then I would have done better to protect my fortress.

Still, he simply wouldn’t dare to put anything that belongs to me in there, would he? It wouldn’t be beyond him.

I look up at the cupboard, regretting another decision- I should have a stool in this kitchen. I look up at the cupboard and guess I should try to open it. I stretch to open the cupboard, but even as I do, I can barely reach it’s handle. I refuse to be defeated by this cupboard or Chuma, so I stretch further.

And then I hear it.

It starts with a chuckle, then it slowly increases until it’s clear, full blown laughter. I regain my stand and turn to shoot daggers at the i.diot who thinks my quest to reach the possible location of my beloved juice extractor is some sort of amusement for him. Seeing his large frame shaking with laughter and those gleaming white teeth sets off my temper. I bet he put my juice extractor there on purpose just so he’ll get this much awaited sight. I wouldn’t put it past him to pull off such a sly move.

He looks up at me to meet a glare, but I doesn’t change the large smile on his face, “Darling you’re tall for a woman, but you’re not that tall.” He says

Remember how I always seem to do the dumbest things around Chuma? Well, today is no different. Never mind that the moment I guessed the juice extractor was in that cupboard, the first thing that came to my mind was it was too high for me to reach. Once he speaks those words, my mind reads it as a challenge and I tell myself I’ll prove him wrong even if it gets me a broken limb.

I turn around and continue to reach up for the cupboard, but it just appears higher now than it did before the annoying buffalo who likes to be called Chuma, but really should be called annoying buffalo showed up. I swear, the Universe keeps me around simply for it’s entertainment. I stretch until I think a nerve in my foot will actually snap, but that doesn’t happen…..but something else does.

“Lemme get that for you.”

I feel his breath fan across the nape of my neck, but I lose all mobility at the sound of his voice in my ear. When did he get this close? Why is he this close? One of the very few senses I still have functioning in this moment, watches his hand reach above my head, choosing to follow the path of my outstretched hand rather than create it’s own. He doesn’t touch me directly, but the anticipation, just the thought of his soft touch causes me more torment than the actual action.

He easily reaches the handle of the cupboard and opens it. there it is, the purpose for all of this stress- my juice extractor, looking so much better than it did the first day I got it. but I can’t even admire it like I want to because the closeness of this man to me won’t even allow me breathe right. He gets out the extractor, “I suppose this is what you’re looking for.” He says.

Yay him! somebody give the man a Nobel Prize.

He brings it down slowly and my eyes follow it, desperately seeking to channel my mind to some other thing apart from Chuma’s proximity. I suppose a juice extractor being lowered down to the counter will have to suffice as good entertainment.

The descent comes to an end and I’m filled with regret once the extractor has met the surface of the counter. My gaze never leaves the object even when his hand does. I’m fixated on it, my interest has been piqued by this machine in an attempt to escape the reality, but the beauty of my juice extractor barely grasps my mind as I wish it to.

He’s not moving.

His hands are placed on both sides of me effectively caging me and putting me between a rock and a hard place- literally. He hasn’t spoken, but his mere closeness does all the speaking I previously would never think possible. I need him to move away from me. I hate the feelings he evokes by just being near, I hate that it rattles me in this manner. I hate that I’m not spooked by him or alarmed by his closeness. I hate that the reaction he brings forth from within me is not one of repulsiveness, but….but….

“You’re welcome.” That smooth baritone sprinkles upon my being, flaming embers within me that shouldn’t exist and causing an uncomfortable heat to build up in the pit of my stomach. God please, I know I’m not deeply rooted in religion and spirituality, but just this once, I’ll need a supernatural intervention, I’ll need some other worldly being to come rescue me from the imminent danger I face with Chuma. It’s a battle I can’t afford to lose.

I wait with bated breath for some other action, a movement. A release. I need him to free me from this artificial prison he’s built with his body, but his lack of further movement proves he has other plans. Plans that fill me with worry and anxiety.

His hand finally moves, but it’s not to release me like I need, rather, it’s to reach out for mine which is still up in the air and lower it down to the counter. Once again, I watch the action like a stupefied zombie with no knowledge on self control. To think I wasn’t even aware my hand was still in the air, no juju man in the world should be able to cook jazz that strong.

“You have very lovely skin.” He speaks again as the hand that had just lowered mine skims over my exposed arm. Goose pimples scatter across the skin he comes in contact with.

How did we go from juice extractor to my skin? At some point, I have to reign in my haywire emotions and regain full control of my sense because I’m currently running on autopilot and I don’t mean the bad kind. I close my eyes, trying to find my balance like they do in yoga. If I can find a centre upon which I calculate my bearings, I should be able to rip myself out of this little bubble Chuma has effectively built.

“Open your eyes Isidore.” His voice invades my mind before I can even think, for the love of God, can’t I even have some control within the recesses of my own mind?!, “when you close them, you travel. You travel to troubled places and block out your reality.” He speaks.

I close my eyes tightly, squeezing them in a bid to block out his voice as it continually distracts my thoughts. I can do this, I can fight him. it just requires a little more effort than I usually put, but it will work. It always works. It worked with the men then. A simple trick. Close your eyes long enough and they’ll be gone faster than….

My eyes fly open with a gasp as I’m literally dragged out of my solitude by Chuma who turns me around to face him, “I know what you’re trying to do Isidore, and let me tell you now that the method you used to ignore the bastards who touched you without your permission will not work with me.”

My eyes widen at his accusation, but my lips are unable to deny them. He’s right. It didn’t work because even as I almost reached that place in the time my eyes were closed, I’m still not filled with the kind of fear and dread I’m familiar with. Once I see Chuma, I can’t seem to conjure up fear anymore. I’m not afraid of him.

“Go on. Lie to me, lie that you weren’t trying to block me out just like you block out the rest of them.”

I shake my head, I don’t know why, but….i just do. I’m not denying his accusation because there is truth to it, but I can’t seem to find words to tell him I don’t mean to. I’m just so attuned to dealing with men in that way that even when I want someone….i want someone?

He chuckles, perhaps at my reaction, my assumed denial, “Really? Well, can you say that to my face? Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you weren’t just trying to block me out?” he asks. He bends lower until he’s looking straight at me with a determination than shakes me from within.

His gaze is unflinching, daring. Those light brown orbs that have orchestrated one too many dreams . I reach out for him and my fingers touch his cheek, first lightly grazing and then I push out the courage I know resides deep within me. The same courage that moved me to kill, I fill my entire hand with his cheek and shake my head once again. I see a flicker in his eyes at my touch, rather than the challenge with which they met mine, I see surprise. I could smile at the look of surprise on his face, if I was capable of it, I would even laugh at the surprise on his face just as he’s laughed at me many times.

I don’t think he expected my touch, even now as my hand remains on his face albeit nervously, I’m still surprised at myself and my ability to touch him with so much affection, “I….I can’t. I can’t seem to block you out and I don’t know….”

He doesn’t let me finish.

In a flash, strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me to a hard body. Strong lips mold against mine and faster than the last time, my resolve breaks. I’m not shocked this time, I don’t stay frozen while a man who melts every hardness I ever thought existed inside of me kisses me to submission. I slide slightly shaky hands up a solid chest and fuse those hands to broad shoulders. His kiss weighs me down- literally and I get the feeling I would be on the floor if strong hands aren’t holding me up against a hard body.

I try to match his vigour and I have to commend him for his control. I know he can be so much more aggressive, I feel the power in his hold and I realise he’s holding back so he doesn’t overwhelm me. A small part of me wants him to lose that control and be unraveled, but another feels safe not testing turbulent waters.

I think I’m doing something right because a low growl rumbles from within his chest and he tightens his hold on me but is careful not to crush me. I feel one hand travel up my back and stop in the middle, the other is still around my waist, strong fingers skim just above the top of my butt, but he doesn’t full on palm it even as he signifies willingness to.

All of that just culminates into my being extremely worked up, the warmth in the pit of my stomach has unfurled into a consuming heat, rapidly s[reading through my body, his deft lips have branded me in ways I can’t fathom, killing off all of my nervousness and extinguishing cautious thoughts. Nobody should be able to use his lips this well.

A shiver passes through me as I imagine all the scandalous places those lips could enslave. The thought slams me so hard I let out a soft moan and find myself pulling him closer. I can no longer deny my state of insanity at this point. There can be no other explanation as to why wanton thoughts and indecent needs have seized control of my entire being.

What have I become?

I feel his withdrawal even before it begins, he pecks me against the corner of my lips, “Jesus Isi, what the hell happened to you?” he breathes against my skin.

The same thoughts fill my head, but I have no answer to that question. I’ll need days of thinking to come up with something that may pass for an answer.

A few moments pass and then something occurs to me- Gladys’ juice. I’ve been here far longer than I should and there is every possibility that she may be getting impatient. What if she comes looking for me? For us, how will we explain this scene? That thought brings me to my senses like cold water being poured on my heated body

“Chuma, we….” I cough to clear my parched throat, my sudden use of vocal chords surprises me, “….you need to leave, we don’t need mother coming in here to see us like…..to see us.” I finish uncomfortably, suddenly too ashamed to complete my words. Where was that sense of shame when I was moaning for this man? My subconscious asks me and I’m tempted to flip the finger at it

“No need, I’ve seen all I can see for the rest of my life.”

The familiar sound of that voice seems to echo around the kitchen and I’m absolutely mortified by it. Lord, let there be an intercom somewhere in this kitchen I was previously unaware of. My wide eyes don’t leave Chuma’s face, for some reason, he doesn’t look as mortified as I am. He’s not giving me one of his signature smirks so I know he’s just as startled as I am, but that is the only similarities we have in this moment.

He slowly releases me from his hold- a hold I’ve forgotten I’m still in, well, there goes the poorly constructed lie I was going to come up with in thirty seconds flat.

He turns around to face his mother and then does what is so shady, I would definitely be glaring at him if my state of immobility didn’t prevent me from doing such. He steps to my side, so that I’m in the full view of not one pair of eyes like I’ve been assuming, but two.

There cannot be a more perfect time for my death to occur- quickly.

Gladys’ presence is bad enough, but seeing Ismail, standing in my kitchen with a grin similar to that of the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland just hammers the nail in a coffin twice my size. I may be a sinner, but this sort of punishment is simply cruel

I started a story on another site. My first story in a while with the lead being a guy.

I'd like to know what you guys think about it so you can check it out:

http://afritalks.com/threads/the-proposition.873/

Your feedbacks will be GREATLY appreciated. You can drop them there or come to this thread and tell me what you think. Feel free to quote or mention me

The story is titled 'The Proposition' and it's about a young man facing hard times who is offered the unconventional job of wooing the difficult daughter of a rich woman.

It's still at it's early stage though

Just walking by until I read the last update. Wonderful story and delivered with dexterity. Safari-lady, you are too gbaski!!! [color=#000099][/color]

Sgirl, Sgirl biko publish books so that we can buy oooo.

U are so good with words.


This episode is my best so far. Choi, I love the way Gladys caught them.

Thanks Sgirl.

Thank u for giving us a double doze. More blessings!

Ma...ur update has brought back ma sanity...tanks for the update!

wow...thumbs up! it would be nice to share updates earlier