I’d kissed Greg before when we were children and I wanted to practice for kissing Emeka Umekwe, the most handsome boy on school. He had just transferred from Imo State and all the girls fawned over him except for me. When I fell down in front of the ‘Girl’s Tree’ during break time, all the girls laughed but Emeka helped me up and invited me to his party.
“Just bend your head this way,” Greg instructed when I bumped noses with him for the thousandth time.
“Why don’t you bend your head the other way? It feels more natural for me to bend to the right. And do we need to bend at all?” I asked.
Greg sighed. “Don’t you see how James Bond does it?”
The affair with Emeka had been short-lived, as it turned out. I didn’t even get to kiss him. After he started hanging out with the Terrible Trio I knew he was a lost cause.
Greg’s lips, softened under mine. I didn’t know his skin was so soft, so….male. Certainly different from the boy I kissed. My breath quickened. He moved and I bumped my nose.
I splayed my hands on Greg’s chest, pushing him away, just as my phone started buzzing on my hip. He stepped back, searching my face, for what? I didn’t know. His eyes were overly bright like he expected me to say or do…something.
“Greg, stop being weird. That’s exactly what a closeted gay person would do,” I checked my screen and slipped the phone quickly into the pocket of my jeans. Greg watched me, his weary expression replaced by one of alert suspicion.
“That was Wes wasn’t it?”
“You hid your phone from me.”
“Otito, what are you doing?”
“Nothing. None of your business. You’re supposed to be my friend and …just be my friend okay? Don’t judge me.”
“I never do,” Greg turned around and went downstairs without another word. I pulled out the phone and checked the screen again. All thoughts of Greg weird behaviour vanished from my head.
Abby, I gotta see you man, I’m going out of my mind here.
I thought for a moment. Today was out of the question, but tomorrow…I texted back quickly, hands sliding all over the screen of my phone.
‘Tomorrow, noon. The Okido hotel. Don’t talk to anyone; just walk up the stairs to the 5th floor. Don’t take the lift. Suite 501.’
My suite in the hotel lay empty. There was no need not to put it to good use.
The reply came: You make me so happy. I smiled.
I begged off any Boxing Day plans my mother had for the two of us. I told her I had to work, so I was on my way to pick up some papers at the hotel and go to the site. Oh and I invited Wes since he was an architect.
“Okay o,” she said. I could tell she was sad but happy that Wes’ the Great White architect was taking an interest in my work.
Housekeeping had been. It was obvious from the crisp white sheets and the gleaming bathroom. I pulled the blackout curtains apart and smiled at the view over the rooftops. The sky was so blue; the sun glinted over coloured roofs like bits of tile in a mosaic.
At a quarter to noon there was a rap on the door, followed my two long ones. I smiled. Wes’ looked flushed when I opened the door. He had rolls of plans under his arms.
“I came. And I brought these,” said Wes. “As requested.”
“What are they?” I asked.
“Just random shit,” he said. He unrolled one to show me the blank sheet.
“Hard going?” I said pointing at the door leading to the many stairs.
Wes’ eyes lit up. “Hard going,” he pointed to his trousers.
I threw my head back and laughed. Wes’ pushed his way in. The plans fell on the floor and rolled about the room. He kicked the door shut.
“Deja vu,” I said.
Wes’ hands were around my waist. I pulled him closer by his shoulders. Our lips met at the same time.
Wes was hungry. He tackled my lips like they were a buffet, putting one huge hand around the back of my neck and moulding me firmly to his face. I could feel my knees failing me.
“Wes, easy tiger,” I said. Wes came up for air, smiling. His grey-greens twinkling, his irises dilated.
“Shit, Abby. I missed you.”
In reply I joined my lips with his again. He was still hungry but gentler, licking at the inside of my mouth, suckling on my lips, rubbing my neck, my back, sliding down to grab and knead my bottom. I ran my hands all over his broad shoulders and followed the line of them until they dipped at his hips into his trousers. I yanked at his belt.
“I have to touch it,” I said.
“Touch whatever you want, baby. You own me.” Wes pressed his crotch into mine, slid upwards and did it again.
I took his belt off, undid the button on his jeans and unzipped it. When I touched his penis it was hot and fevered. Wes groaned, thrusting into my hands. I pulled off his boxer briefs and he stepped out of both items, standing there in only his shirt. He looked comical with this cock sticking out from under the hem.
“I look funny, huh,” he pulled the shirt up over his head and stood there, naked.
I inhaled and held my breath.
“I gotta get you out of this dress,” said Wes when I stood there speechless. He placed on arm on his knee and put the other under his chin, imitating the statue of The Thinker.
“Hahahahah!” I laughed again. “You don’t look nearly pensive enough.”
“I am. This is a serious conundrum. Must you vex me with buttons?” he said. My shirt-dress was covered in a line buttons from chest to knee. Wes shrugged. “Oh well,” he said.
“Oh no you…!”
Wes held both part of my dress in his hand and ripped. Three buttons flew off. The rest miraculously complied.
“It’s your fault,” he started. Then he stopped as he’d hit his head on an invisible door. “Oh Abby.”
I wore the corset from the other night and only the flimsiest of underwear.
“Fuck, Abby,” said Wes. He walked behind me and sat on the sofa. I let the dress fall off my shoulder. “Fuck,” said Wes, confronted with my behind.
“You seemed to like it,” I said.
“I wanna bite that ass,” said Wes. He fell to his knees and crawled to me. I popped my bottom. “Umbrella-ella-ella,” he sang.
“Silly man,” I said. Wes gripped my underwear in his teeth and slid them down my legs.
“Abby, I can’t do this today, girl.” He took it off the rest of the way with his hands and led me back to the sofa. As per his complaint, I dug my heels into the sofa, spreading for him. “Juicy, juicy,” Wes said. He pulled my lips apart until he could see my pussy hole, then he stuck his tongue in as far as it would go.
“Ohhhhh,” I unhooked the first few latches on my corset, giving my breasts some relief. Wes replaced his tongue with a finger, gently fucking me, licking at my clit. I could feel him inside grazing at the front walls of my pussy, like he wanted to dig my pleasure out of it.
I took his hand and pushed it deeper, thrusting hard.
“I got something better for that,” said Wes.
“My bag. Condoms,” I said pointing. Wes turned the bag upside down, picked up the packet and ripped that to shreds. He tore off a foil square, breaking it open with his teeth. He all but manhandled his penis getting it into the sheath. He paused at the entrance to my pussy and without further ado, smashed into me.
“Sorry, Abby. God you feel so fucking good,” He started moving mashing my back to the sofa. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Wes, easy up a bit,” I said. “My back.”
“Sorry, Abby,” the veins in Wes’ neck looked like knotted rope. His face reddened from his exertions. “I can see your ass from the front, Abby, it’s so thick.” He grabbed onto my hips for a few more thrusts. “I gotta see more of that ass Abby,” he said.
“Let’s go to the room,” I got up from the sofa and walked towards the bed chambers. I had barely touched the bed before Wes was bending my head down upon it. I rested my weight on my elbows, legs splayed and Wes entered me again. My phone rang.
“You wanna get that?” asked Wes still banging me.
I shook my head. “Ahhhh….ahhhhh….Wes, Wes,” the corset pushed my breasts up and they jiggled like water filled bags under my chin with each thrust. Wes held my hips, bending almost backwards and thrusting me upwards. I felt impaled upon the spear of his dick, each bang lifting the points of my heels off the floor for a millisecond.
“Fuck Abby, oh shit, oh shit,” Wes was sweating. He lifted one of my legs to kneel on the bed and I pulled the other one up after. Wes smacked my ass. He gripped my thighs. “M-m-m!” He smacked me again.
Wes, take it slow,” I said. The phone cut me off again. This time Wes ignored it.
“Abby, you’re so fucking hot,” he said. “Lie down baby.”
I lay on my back. Wes spat on my pussy and entered me again. “Oh Abby, oh Abby, I am fucking coming Abby,” he said.
“Come then,” I said.
“I’m coming Abby.” He was still saying it when he came. Saying ‘Abby, Abby, Abby’ with each spasm that wracked his body.
“Sorry,” said Wes. “I’ve been fantasising about you since we met up again.” He rubbed the sweat on his forehead against mine as he begged to kiss me.
“Me too,” I said. I could see the skin on the left side of his chest ripple as his heart slammed against the ribcage. Wes looked more like himself. His eyes were twinkling again.
“And now you, gorgeous,” Wes said. “Let’s make it all better.”
“Better?” I asked. I felt my face crinkle in a frown. Before I could pursue my line of thought, a knock came on the door, insistent and fast.
“I’m sorry to disturb you Ma, you have a message downstairs. A man called Orji,” said the voice.
“Tell them to fuck off,” said Wes, talking and sticking his tongue in my pussy at the same time. “You’re mine today.”
“I can’t. He’s our chief security…oh,” the feelings were building. I allowed myself three quick licks before jumping out of bed and into a robe.
“Yes?” I said when I opened the door. I recognised the young man as the receptionist. He was in the act of scribbling a note on a notepad to slide under the door no doubt.
“I’m sorry to disturb you ma, but this man Orji, he says it’s important,” he said, taking in the wreck of the room. He quickly looked up at me again and then away.
“Tell him I will be down in five minutes,” I said, closing the door. I checked among the contents of my bag on the floor for my mobile phone. Fifteen missed calls. “Shit.” I said, picking my dress off the floor.
“Tell me you don’t have to go now,” said Wes appearing at the door between both rooms. “We were just getting started.” His dick glistened and he held a bottle of lotion in his hand, stoking away slowly, methodically. “I got all this for you Abby, just for you.”
I wanted to hit someone- Orji probably – but whoever else made Orji seek me out on Boxing Day. He was not a drama queen so I knew it must be serious.
“I can’t,” I said feeling my body caving in on itself. Wes licked his lips and my eyes followed his strong pink tongue. He saw me looking and stroked himself harder.
“This could be even better with your mouth on it, and mine on yours,” he said. I could see pre-cum glistening in the head of his dick.
I took off my robe.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” said Wes, stepping forward.
“I’m sorry Wes, I have to go.” I pulled on my wet pants and fastened the rest of the hooks on my corset. I buttoned the shirt dress up. One of the buttons had broken, leaving half behind which I used to fasten the dress. It stayed.
I picked two more buttons off the floor. I would reattach them later. I repacked my handbag, thanking God for the scarf I carried everywhere, which I used as a belt to hold the dress closed at the waist.
Wes looked forlorn, but his dick didn’t wilt. I kissed him quickly on the mouth. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”
Wes kissed me back, lingering. He slid a hand up my dress, fingering me through my pants. I moaned into his mouth.
“Three minutes are all I need, Abby and you can go do your thing satisfied,” he rubbed me as he spoke. I couldn’t help it. I ground against his hand, hearing the ‘scrunch, scrunch’ of the material against my pubic hair.
“I love quickies. The fact you’re in a rush is turning me on,” he said. He knelt down, pulling my dress up. He moved my pants to the side and sucked my clit through my panties. “Fuck my face, Abby.”
I rubbed my pussy all over his face. My phone buzzed in my newly assembled bag and I started. “Sorry, Wes,” I pulled my dress down over his face. “I have to go.”
“I’m coming too,” he said still under my dress. His breath tickled. I smacked at him and ran for the door. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t take too long,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Just because you have stopped doesn’t mean I have.”
When I got downstairs to reception, Orji was pacing. He bounded towards the lift.
“We have trouble,” he said by way of greeting.
“What trouble?” I asked, allowing him to take my bag. His hands seemed to be looking for what to do. He looked jittery.
Orji looked at me and said the one word which froze me in my tracks. “Fire.”