Beautiful Afro by Michael Dunbar

Beautiful Afro by Michael Dunbar

It all began with a hunch. That intuitive feeling that something’s not just right. I still had my arms around her; just like I had placed them the night before at her insistence. Had anyone told me that I would spend the night locked in naked embrace with this attractive woman and done no more than hold her, I would have sworn on the graves of all my ancestors that they were idiotic pranksters. But that I had. I think it was her beauty which worked the magic. The intense youthfulness of her every curve and the deep innocence in those large eyes had compelled me to yield completely to her request to do nothing but cuddle her through the night. Something about the way she had looked at me while we undressed each other assured me that the dawn would bring with it the copulation I so desired.

The night before started out like every other Friday night; I and the boys hooked up at our usual lounge and proceeded to regal ourselves with tales of happenings during the week while we feasted our eyes on the beautiful female forms who dotted the barscape. We hadn’t been at it long when she came in. It was impossible not to notice her, dressed as she was in a dark lemon gown which accentuated the darkness of her ebony black skin. And her complexion wasn’t the only thing it accentuated; it gave force to her perfect curvature. It had the effect of making a man think that every one of those curves was begging to be caressed, as though the hands of man could further mold that which God had so perfectly formed. And perfect she was. That was my conclusion as she walked right past my table with her two female companions, desirably elegant ladies whose beauty paled beside hers.

On our table of four, nobody spoke for a full minute, and then my friend since secondary school, Tunde, asked with incredulity.

“Is it fair?”

“Do you mean, is it fair that some women are so beautiful it almost hurts to look at them or that God should single out only one in a thousand women for such extreme beauty?

That was Gbenga, our philosopher.

“No. I mean, it’s not fair that her friends are so hot that on a good day you and I would have trouble even approaching them. But just now, we didn’t even notice them.”

Everyone bust into uproarious laughter, except me. I laughed alright, not just not as loud.

“What’s eating you, man? Has she already broken your heart?”

When you had alcohol in your system, it was impossible not to laugh at Tunde’s attempts at being funny; as the other guys did now. I couldn’t help smiling.

“I’m just thinking. There’s three of them and there’s four of us. They came here seeking some excitement and so did we. So why don’t we take them on? What’s the worst that could come of it?”

At first they looked at me like I was a little too drunk to be taken seriously, but with a little persuasion they were soon itching for some action. And action we got. The three ladies proved to be very stimulating company; as elegant in their interactions as with their looks. It had shocked me that I wasn’t at all surprised when she agreed to leave with me after I whispered the suggestion in her ear while we danced. And when I noticed the fourth man in my crew, Timi, slipping Gbenga his keys, that didn’t surprise me either. No doubt, Gbenga’s crib was in a mess, as usual; and Timi was his eternal wingman. I couldn’t say for certain which of her friends Gbenga had his eyes on because at the time I was in a hurry to get her completely alone with me.

It was just before dawn that the hunch hit me. Frankly, it was that unsettling feeling which roused me from slumber. I still had my arms around her. Her body still closely snuggled into mine, with the softness of her rump pressed tightly against my loins. As the lights in my head came on I sought to find something to validate this feeling of unease which had so suddenly come upon me. But I could find none save that I didn’t have an erection which I most certainly expected to have accompanied my awakening; especially with this especially beautiful female in my arms. Still, that could be explained away as resulting from my current unease. Fear, be it unfounded or validated, has a way of unmanning a man in matters of sexual zest, no matter how strong his desire.

I do not know how long I lay this way, worrying about an errant hunch and unable to toss and turn for fear of rousing the little pretty still asleep in my arms. And then something began to go wrong. I refused to accept what my body was telling me at first. She was getting increasingly cold. It wasn’t until my muscles were twitching and my entire frame shivering from a mixture of cold – her cold, and trepidation, that I brought my mind to accept reality. And even then I began to persuade myself that it had to be a dream, a very bad dream.

I heard her speak. I do not say ‘she spoke’, because her voice seemed to float to me as if disembodied rather than emanate from her body still in my arms.

“Is there a way you can draw the curtains without having to get up?”

I immediately obeyed without wondering how this stranger would know this. Unwrapping my right arm from around her waist, I reached for the remote control which hung at the head of the bed. The curtains swung apart with a muffled whirl to reveal french windows overlooking the ocean not too far away. She snuggled closer to me as warm sun rays poured into the room.

“Hold me. I’ll get warmer much more quickly that way.”

Again, I obeyed.

I could only marvel at the mystery of time. How was it that the morning was so far gone so soon? Or had I woken up much later than I had assumed? It was the answer to questions as these which I debated. Not for a second did my mind attempt to unravel the mystery which was playing out within my very embrace.

She was indeed getting warmer. Not as quickly as she’d grown cold, but just as perceptibly. I could even feel the blood pulsing through the veins in her hands. And I could once again feel the heavy insistent beat of her heart as I had felt it last night when we kissed.

I inhaled deeply, trying to drown my fear in oxygen. It seemed to help, so I did it again and again. Zeroing my mind on nothing but keeping my lungs filled with air. Her skin began to take on a certain sheen and I couldn’t help but notice. The satin smooth ebony now had such a luxuriant lustre to it that I was compelled to kiss it, and I did; first her shoulder and then the nape of her neck. At this point I noticed that she was just as warm as a woman burning with desire; perchance more than a little warmer. As my hand rode up from her waist to cup one of her breasts, I thought that I should also draw the curtains. At that point one of my fingers brushed against her nipple. An almost animal-like moan escaped her lips. She turned to face me, face flushed and eyes misty. Her kissing was even more aggressive than her moaning was animal. Her thighs squeezed on my tumescence while she thrust her pubis into mine. Only then did I realise I’d grown hard. I smiled into her deep eyes, the softness of her palms caressing my face, my fears almost forgotten, my desire consuming me.

Her hands worked wonders and when we joined as one, I kissed the gates of heaven and only returned because I wanted her again. When we joined the second time her muscles gripped me everywhere our bodies touched, tensing as she climaxed. I came at once.

Hours later, she lay upon me like she sought to shield me from the sun. I marveled at the perfume of her hair. It smelt like flowers and the ocean at the same time. The first thoughts to hit my waking mind was the rhythm of our bodies moving as we had sought to meld into each other a few hours earlier.

Geez! Now that had been worth waiting for.

She seemed to sigh in her sleep and a gust of warm breath fanned out across my chest where her head rested. I immediately remembered that moment when I realized without doubt that her body had gone cold. Fear gripped me again, this time more visceral than it had been earlier. What had possessed me to make love to a woman who only moments earlier had been no warmer than a corpse?

Categories: Lil Pieces of Fiction | Tags: , , , , | 8 Comments

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8 thoughts on “She

  1. amarachi

    Hmmmmm… is she dead?


  2. Kume!! I loved this!! Is there more? I want more!!!! 🙂


  3. Well, Ronke, this dickhead seems to have lived to tell the story; otherwise, you wouldn’t have heard the story, would you? 🙂


    • olaronke

      Err…Zorro u dont use ur dick to tell a story do you? You can live to tell the story,but your libido does not. Go figure. BDW great story,cant wait for the book to be released.


  4. 🙂 I’m glad you love it. And of course there’s more. I’ll keep dishing ’em out in lil bits though, I hope you don’t mind that.


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