So, that second Saturday, Cynthia called to say she wouldn’t be back from Dubai for another one week.
“That’s two weeks without action,” I said, meaning her and not me. The quickie in the loo was already banked.
“I know, my darling. Will make it up to you when I get back,” she said.
“Don’t elope with some Dubai Sheik,” I told her as we said our goodbyes.
“Except he is hot as you” she said before she cut off.
As I set the phone down, I heard a car pull up beside my window.
I live in a compound with two three-bedroom bungalows. You come through the gate, drive down a fairly long drive way then voila, two cute things sitting side by side.
The other bungalow has been vacant for about four months since the family that used to live there moved out. The agent had called to say someone was moving in. It seemed that “someone” had just pulled into the compound or else the guard would have called me.
I parted the blinds and looked out and behold, some pretty little thing in bum shorts and a body hugging pink tee shirt had just stepped out of a blue Ford Edge. She had short braids and big bangle earrings.
I stood up, went outside and said hello.
“Oshoko,” I said as we shook hands. “I am the Lord of the manor.”
“Gloria,” she said looking me in the eyes. “I didn’t know the landlord lived here.”
“Landlord ke. That was a joke,” I said laughing. “I live here.” I told her pointing to my bungalow.
“I thought so. How long have you been here?”
“Three years.”
“Good place?”
“Excellent,” I said.
“Come, let me show you around.” I took her round back to the garden where my table tennis table sat and then to the other side where we had the generator house. The compound hasn’t got a lot to see but I made great show giving her the grand tour.
Then when we were done she said, “See, I actually came around to take measurements for blinds and stuff but I forgot my tape rule at home. Have you got one I could borrow?”
I said sure then went inside and got her the tape as well as a notebook and pen.
“You need a hand?” I asked after she said thanks.
She was standing there, in her bum shorts, left pocket sticking out from under the sawn of bit, her small but firm breasts straining against her tee shirt. It was clear she had no bra on.
“Are you always this nice?” she asked
“Only when my new neighbour is hot,” I said looking her straight in the eyes.
“And what will the Missus say about this hot neighbour?” she asked and I knew I had her attention. She was asking, I-don’t-see-a-ring-but-are-you-married?
“She would say, take a bite but that would be if she existed.”
“And if she said take a bite where would you start from?” she asked smiling, the dare so evident in her eyes.
“Your lips,” I said then bent and kissed her lightly on the lips.
“You are a bad man,” she said with a shy laugh and turned to unlock her door.
I followed her inside.
The house had been cleaned and painted. It must have been done while I was at work. We took measurements for blinds and dressers and stuff then when we were done and outside my door I asked “So, when are you moving in?”
“In a week or two. Once I get my furniture ready. Why do you ask?”
“So, I can plan a proper welcome party.”
“In two weeks?” she asked and when I said yes, she said “You are going to wait for two weeks?”
That was when I reached out and pulled her towards me, her breasts flat against my chest.
“You are a trouble maker, you know” I said and kissed her.
She didn’t pull back. She kissed me back, standing on tiptoe to reach me.
I kissed her some more, my hands running all over her chest then when I remembered the guard, I picked her up and carried her inside.
The bedroom door was ajar but the corridor that led to it was too small to carry her through, so I set her down but the moment I put her down, Gloria took off her top and stood there with her twin peaks staring me in the face.
Damn!
By Oshoko Bushushu