Please Press Play (II)

Photo credit: Cindy Leah

At home, it took everything in me, but I unpacked my groceries and put them away. I shed my clothes and put them in the hamper. A shower was in order. Counting traffic and the time it took me to get home, it’d been over an hour since I met him at the mall, but I was still ragingly horny. 

Belatedly, I wish I’d taken his number instead. There was no telling if he’d call. However, I consoled myself with the fact that perhaps, giving him mine was better. I didn’t come on too strong, since I left the chance of us meeting again entirely in his hands. 

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine his face but I couldn’t even remember what he looked like. I had been too busy memorising his voice. 

You don’t want that bottle. Too dry. Here, this is much better. 

I shuddered as I brought the shower head between my legs. 

No, you don’t. Well, both chardonnay and sauvignon blanc are dry but that particular brand you were holding? Take it from someone who’s tried it before. Bad idea.

I focused the spray on my clit and I nearly screamed. I had to reach out and put my free hand against the wall to steady myself. I let the water assault me, putting the pressure I so desperately needed on the aching appendage.

The first time I came from the shower head, my ex had been the one using it on me. It’d been exquisite torture because whenever I got really close, he’d take it away and then kiss my cries of protest into his mouth. When I finally came, I shuddered so violently that I had to cling to him to prevent myself from falling. He’d held me and whispered lines from Shakespeare into my ears. Shakespeare on its own isn’t very arousing, but as he whispered the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet into my ear, I realised that anything was sexy if you whispered it just right. 

I was so close right now, so close. Well, you closed your eyes so I thought you were praying for patience. Probably want to slap the stranger who is entitled enough to dictate to you what wine to drink.

The voice of this stranger washed over me again, as I replayed it over and over in my mind. The shower head was doing a good job but I was desperate for release. 

I dropped the shower, not caring that I was wasting water and then rubbed my clit roughly. The swollen nub didn’t need much encouragement at this time. 

I think you’ll be glad. That was it. Thinking of that single sentence in his voice pushed me over the edge. My back met the wall and I slumped, but not all the way to the floor. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me and I struggled to remember to breathe. 

I totally forgot about the bottle that was the reason he came over to talk to me in the first place. 


It was Friday and I was at work. I’d managed to wean myself off the tapes my ex made for me. The stranger I met in the mall hadn’t called me and it’d been a full two weeks. I regretted not getting to hear that sound again but at least, he’d gifted me with the memory of it and I was glad. 

I checked my schedule. I had a meeting in thirty minutes with one Nana Kwame Owusu Antwi-Boasiako. I was in no mood for a meeting but somehow, he’d always had to reschedule. It’d been happening for two weeks and frankly, it was getting annoying. He swore that he was going to make it today and while I was tempted to reschedule just to be petty, I just wanted to get it over with. 

I had never actually spoken to the man or met him. That’s why I had an assistant. I hoped he had a personality that made up for his inability to make up his mind. 

I liked the sound of his name though. Nana Kwame Owusu Antwi-Boasiako. I tested it out on my tongue. It sounded great but would be crap for doing a James Bond imitation. I giggled at the thought. 

“Name’s Antwi-Boasiako. Nana Kwame Owusu Antwi-Boasiako.” I said it out loud and giggled again.  

I rolled my neck and checked my watch. Ten minutes. If I was meeting him and representatives from his firm, I’d need the conference room but if it was just him, there was no need to leave my ultra-comfortable chair. I loved this chair more than it was healthy. 

“Sarah, is this Antwi-Boasiako person coming alone? Why am I meeting him again?” I dialled my assistant and spoke immediately she picked up. 

“His company run the diagnostics for______” 

“Oh yeah, I remember. Results. Damn!” 

I heard Sarah chuckle on the other end of the line. “Just remember not to cuss in front of him, okay?” 

Sarah was more friend than assistant and I would honestly be handicapped without her. 

“I think I’ll cuss once for his constant rescheduling and that’s it.” 

“You’re incorrigible. Now, you pay me to work, not talk. I’m going to go over the details of your trip. All the best with your meeting. If he does show up.” 

I sighed and set the receiver down. It rang again the second I set it down. 

“Your four o’clock is here.”

“Yeah, send him in.”

I sat up straight and stopped fidgeting. 

The man seemed vaguely familiar but I couldn’t decide where I’d met him. 

“Mr Antwi-Boasiako, good afternoon. Have a seat.” I refused to stand when he came in. I was still slightly annoyed at his rescheduling. 

“Thank you, and please call me Nana Kwame.”

I closed my eyes immediately at the sound of his voice. I didn’t even realise I had till he said, 

“Praying for patience again?” 

I did not reply. My nipples were uncomfortably hard and poking at the lace of my bra. He was here in the flesh. The man whose voice fueled my wet dreams. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. I needed to get over myself. Jesus. 

“Mr. Antwi-Boasiako, you finally found the time.” I deliberately used his last name. This was business. I refused to let myself be drawn in by the whirlpool that was his voice. 

“I’m sorry. I meant to call but believe it or not, I got mugged after I left the mall. Lost my phone and with it, your number.”

I breathed deeply again. Did he know sign language? Listening to him speak was torture. I ignored his comment about his phone and continued. 

“You have results for me?” 

“Yes, I do. And isn’t it lovely that I met you again? Tell me, how was the chardonnay?” 

I sighed. “Will you concentrate?” 

“I am. So, how was the wine?” He flashed me a smile and I groaned inside. I looked at him, really looked at him. 

He had this boyish look about him, as if he could never take anything seriously. His nose looked like it’d been broken before but it didn’t ruin his face, no. It added to the overall allure. A scar divided his right eyebrow into two and it ran up into his hairline. I wondered what could have caused it. 

He had a fine dusting of hair on his jaw. You’d think it would make him look more grown-up but it didn’t take away the boyishness of his face. 

“If you must know, I haven’t opened it yet. Now, can we talk about why you’re here?” 

“Certainly.” He grinned again and I prayed to whichever deity was listening to give me the strength to go through this without harassing this man.

It was five o’clock when we finished. I stood up, shook his hand and expected him to leave. He didn’t. He remained in his chair, smiling that crooked smile of his and looking like he belonged in my chair. 

“Can I have your number again?” 

I sat down, closed my eyes and prayed for strength. “Tell you what, I have your number now. I’ll call you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why’s that?” 

“I just don’t.” He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Cocky bastard. 

I started gathering up my things. It’d give him the cue. I was travelling on Tuesday for business and I didn’t intend to come to the office on Monday. 

I packed up the necessary papers, put everything in its place and ignored the gorgeous creature sitting there. Every part of my body wanted him but I refused to act on it. Work and pleasure? Terrible, terrible idea. 

When I was done, I spun around to give him what I intended to be a pointed look, but he had come up behind me. How did I not hear him move?

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