Love or something like that.

I would have listened to the painting on the wall, the first object I noticed when I entered his room. A woman with big brown beads resting comfortably on her wide waist looking as though she was running away from something. I would have understood her desperate look for help and run away. But I stayed, I was curious, it felt like an exploit and so when he slowly stroked my clitoris on his soft 6 by 8 moukafoam I didn’t stop him.

 He was the type they called the ‘Yoruba Demon.’ The good looking man that knew how to act perfect and get away with it.

I was attracted to him from the first day I met him. We met at a supermarket. I was having difficulty picking which chocolate bar to buy and then he chipped in, ‘take the snickers, no one wants to spend seconds waiting for a chocolate to dissolve in their mouth, you chew something to get yourself busy’. And when he said that I looked at him and froze because he was handsome, not only was he handsome, he was tall and fair in complexion. My type. He returned my gaze with a smile. He had a little gap between his central incisors which was perfect to me. ‘That helped. I am getting it for my nieces and nephews’ I told him.

‘I am glad I could help,’ he said. From that very moment to the end of the day we spent it with each other.

He was good with words, he knew what to say and when to say it. I remember the first time we kissed, I was filled with a mix of excitement and sadness. It was as though I had eaten a forbidden but sweet fruit. He knew how much his body thralled me. He knew what and how to make me want it.

They say the most dangerous love is the one you don’t see coming. ..

please comment if you want to see the continuation 🙂