His lips lightly brushed mine and I felt the chemistry that had been brewing between us simmer and yet with forced hesitation I pulled away. That was the first time he had ever tried to kiss me although he’d been chasing me for 4months prior to that night. I wanted him. I liked that he liked to hold my hands everywhere. I liked that he shared his itinerary with me. I liked that he called me ‘Hun’ and even more, I liked that he wanted me too. Men these days don’t send emails when they can’t reach a woman via ‘WhatsApp’ or offline calls. They like the easy way to get a woman, but not him. He had done everything from popping by my office to calling or texting every chance he could get. By now you’d think that I did not like him enough or I was playing hard to get but it was neither. I liked our friendship which was mostly exchange of wits & banters and I didn’t want a few nights stand to get in the way. At least that was what I told myself at the time. So I wrote him a long note giving him 12 reasons I couldn’t be with him. Not that I hadn’t tried earlier. I had about 3 times but this time he got the message. I don’t remember exactly what I wrote in that text but I remember feeling defeated and lonely for the weeks that followed. He stopped calling. He stopped texting. He stopped showing up at the office and I missed him. I couldn’t go by his house or office either because I felt I didn’t have the audacity to. I asked for it after all. I missed his smirk. I missed him cussing and looking up for a reaction from me. I missed him threatening to send me nudes, not that he didn’t send them anyway. Reminiscing about those times, I think I missed the attention. The fact that I didn’t have him wrapped around my fingers anymore. I gave myself pep talks on why I couldn’t get in touch. There were times I wanted to call his office and pretend it was work related. I did a great job staying away although I must admit stalking his Instagram page helped sometimes. I was starting to get obsessed. This was someone who was in my life every micro minute and now by my own devices wasn’t anymore. The void was unbearable so 2 months later when he came by the office to see my boss (we work in the same industry). I knew it was then or never. I figured there was no point holding back if I couldn’t have the friendship either. However, I wasn’t prepared for the response I got. It felt like talking to a stranger and yet it had been merely 2 months since our last encounter. He was distant, even a little mean and arrogant. When I asked if we could talk after work, he said he couldn’t because he was going away on a 3 weeks’ holiday. All hope wasn’t lost though when he added that we could talk when he returns if I still wanted to. I had never in my entire 24 years of existence wished for 3 whole weeks to pass by so fast as I did then. I suddenly knew the essence of a desk calendar. I didn’t have to wait for that long though because he got in touch and we started hitting it off once more. All though, I must say it didn’t feel quite as before. He wasn’t as insistent and our conversations felt forced. One thing hadn’t changed though, he still very much liked me.
You see he’s white and my reason for holding back was because I didn’t want to be tagged as a gold digger being a girl of colour. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a low self esteem or suffer from any form of inferiority complex but I had been a witness to white men talk about how local girls are only after their money and a comfortable life, which in my opinion is total nonsense. However, I’ve met women whose sole aim in their adult life is to ‘befriend’ or even marry white men because of the “advantages” it came with. I had a colleague whose main goal was to get me a white husband. In her opinion, black men aren’t romantic enough. Her idea of romance is the ability to afford a getaway to the Bahamas, Dubai or other equally exotic destinations.
He isn’t old or a divorcee like most expatriates are. He is a sexy, young, single, white man with blue eyes who genuinely likes me. I should have told him that was why I had been holding out on him but instead I was eager to get back what I had lost that for the first time since we met, I sent a nude pic back when he sent his and I asked him naughtily to not jerk off till he returns cos I wanted him to save all that cum for me. I believe those were my exact words except it was more of a threat. In my defense, I was drunk on a half bottle of “Le Chateau” and under the influence of my bff. Did he gleefully agree? No. Not him. He’s brutally honest and he thinks I’m worse. He asked if I’d rather he fucked some girl cos he couldn’t keep in all that cum. The tables had turned and at the point, I wanted him so there was no point in dragging it. Besides, I’m not against self-love. We talked whenever we could manage it and made plans to shag whenever he returns.
We texted the entire day before he returned from his trip. Mostly about having sex. I knew within me I had crossed the point of no return and I didn’t care. I had dreamt of that moment since I met him. I had to travel for a funeral the day he was to arrive and stay for 2 days but I drove 8 hours just to get back in time for our plans. Unfortunately, we were both too tired from our journeys so we agreed to meet the next day. The plan was for me to go to church, go by his office to pick him up for lunch and then go to his place. The night before, I shaved my whole body and soaked in the tub with products strong enough to eliminate the odor at Korle Gonno. I wanted everything to be perfect.
I went to church and kept thinking of him throughout the sermon. I showered again as soon as I got home from church and called him. At this point I think he had realized I was really going to go through with our plans no matter what happened so he suggested that we meet later than planned as he wanted to finished some work before I went by. I began to wonder if he was having second thoughts. I had made him wait over 7months after all. Normally, I would have cancelled just to teach him a lesson but at that moment in my life, I wasn’t trying to be normal. I only wanted to live and experience what it felt like to be with him. A few hours couldn’t change anything, I told myself. Eventually, I left for his office feeling so nervous as if I was getting ready for an interview. I had always been in control, yet sitting in his office, I felt like a child. We talked about his travels while I helped with work. I noticed every time his hands accidentally brushed mine or any body part touched me for that matter. I suspect he was teasing.
Finally, I think he couldn’t wait any longer because he came around, took me in his arms and kissed me. Oh Lord! It was everything I had imagined. For someone who had waited that long, he didn’t seem to be in a rush. He kissed every inch of my face and when that wasn’t enough, he kissed my neck and trailed soft kisses down to my breasts. I hadn’t appreciated the relevance of having voluptuous breasts until that day. He spent so much time kissing, sucking and nibbling on them. My legs buckled when he trailed his tongue on my stomach, down to my belly button and finally found my clitoris. Oh how wet I had become then. How every article of clothing on my body came off after he kissed me, I still don’t remember because when his mouth touched my garden, there was none left on me. He lapped at my juices as if it contained vitamins. Thank goodness for the music he played because I moaned louder than a porn star. After he’d had his full of my honey, he carried me to their conference room. He’s the boss after all and reason had deserted me so I went along quietly as a virgin to be sacrificed. I laid face up on the table that I imagine is normally covered with papers or stationeries as he undressed. Though I had seen pictures of his dick countless times, I was shocked when I saw the real thing. Oh he’s BIG. I haven’t seen many and I must say, he’s packing. So much he asked if I wanted to back out. I should have but then I remembered that “my-mom-didn’t-raise-a-pussy” meme. He sheathed himself with a condom and slowly entered me. Even with all my juices, I cried out when he did. From then his dick was all I could think of. It was difficult thinking of anything else anyway.
After so much anticipation, we had finally done it and yet I felt unsatisfied. A part of me felt like there had to be more so we did it 1 more time on a different occasion and in a different setting, however, nothing changed. It’s been 2 months since our last and in my opinion, final trial. I’ve seen him once since then (by choice) and I still miss him with that same obsession but not for sex. I don’t know what it is I crave for now but something tells me I wouldn’t want to find out.