Thursday, 2 July 2015

The Seedy Presumption - 7

We're almost there! The last bit of the story will be posted after this particular one....and I must say it's been nice seeing my reader stats increase since I started posting this particular series (If I can call it that) though the absence of feedback leaves me wondering what exactly readers think of what they read :(
Here goes part 7....

The sudden change in temperature when we stepped out of the office felt like I’d just stepped out of an ice box into an oven. I was excited when Mama said she had to go to the market before heading home, releasing me to take the lead. I’d been dreading the taxi ride back home as I suspected she was going to go on and on about the need for me to take the fast serious.
I made my way to Akwesi’s. He burst into laughter on sighting me.
“What’s funny?”
“I see you took my advice to get serious with God to heart.”
 “What’s up with the scarf on your head?”
“Oh, I forgot to take this off! It’s not even mine.” I reached for the scarf and folded it into my handbag.
“You should wear scarves more often.”
“It gave you this afrocentric look. Put it back on and go look in the mirror.”
“No, I’m not doing that. Where’s everyone?”
I asked, as I climbed the stairs heading for his room. The silence was deafening.
“Mum has a class and Akua has been at her boyfriend’s end since Friday.”
His voice followed me up to the landing,
“Why don’t we sit in the living room and watch some TV?”
“I want to use the mirror in your room first.”
“What for?”
“You asked me to put the scarf back on and to look in the mirror.” I rolled my eyes at him in exasperation.
He shook his head and followed me upstairs. I led us into his room and standing in front of the mirror, took out the blue and white striped scarf Mr. Personal Assistant had given me. He sat at the foot of his bed behind me while I took my time to fix the scarf just as I’d seen a natural hair vlogger teach on TV.  I spoke to my reflection,
“I guess this is what you meant by afrocentric.”
He came up behind me and kissed my neck in response. I held my breath and slowly released it in a bid to calm my nerves. I’d always wondered what it would feel like to be kissed, especially by him. Between the time I turned to face him and the time our lips met, my thoughts ran from Elma to Mama and then Papa. Even the Prophet and Mr. Personal Assistant found space in my crowded mind. I had enough time to even wonder if these were the thoughts I was supposed to be thinking. I broke it off and asked,
“Does this equate to cheating on Elma?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
I wanted to ask why, but his lips found mine again. There was a voice screaming in my head, telling me to put an end to this. My mind went back to my earlier thoughts. I reasoned Elma out of my thoughts – Akwesi said it wasn’t cheating. Mama and Papa – well, they’d never told me to not kiss a guy. My earlier prayers to God – He’s supposed to be a forgiving father right? And where in the Bible does it say kissing is sin anyways? I broke it off again.
“Does the Bible talk about this?”
He slowly let out his breath before answering no. I still knew this wasn’t right, but his hands were doing things that left me feeling a way I’d never felt before and there was a part of me that wanted to know if it could feel any better. He turned me around and eased me onto the bed while still standing. His eyes were fixed on mine and a crooked smile formed around his lips as he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans, revealing his Mickey Mouse boxer shorts. A nervous laughter escaped my lips.“What are we doing?” The last thing I remembered before my brains stopped functioning was the feel of his palms against my bare skin.

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