The Affair: Part Four

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I was now standing behind her, my left hand on her exposed shoulder fondling with the strap of her bra. She looked up, her lips a little parted and welcoming at that and her eyes wanting; like an Israelite in the Arabian desert praying for manna from heaven. I decided to let the manna rain, play god for a moment. I leaned forward and planted my lips on hers, supporting my upper body by placing my hand on the backrest of the seat. Our lips locked, our faces at a Yin-Yang position.

She smelled and tasted strawberries; a rich and evocative scent. With eyes closed, lips still locked, I went round the seat and pulled her up. I was in a trance-like state, like I was high on ecstasy afraid that if I opened my eyes I would sober up. I pulled her closer, her arms across my neck and mine resting on her back just a little over the waistline. She was short, perhaps five feet and I was (still am) five foot seven and the seven inches made all the difference, both in height and in bed. I loved to watch her face look up at me when we kissed. I pulled back slightly to do just that. She looked helplessly sweet and that only made my desire even more wild.

I wanted to rip her and her clothes apart and swallowed tightly at the thought but I also wanted it to last longer. Why was I so conflicted? So we lingered there dancing to the slow music, kissing cuddling until we could hold it no more. I started unbuttoning my shirt slowly while still trying to control my breathing and at the same time maintaining the rhythmic movement towards the bed. It wasn’t calculated but my shirt dropped to the floor precisely when we were at the edge of the bed. I turned her around kissing her neck and unzipped her dress all the way down. She pulled her arms off it and I escorted the rest of it to the floor. Her bra and pants matched but I couldn’t tell what color they were, not in that condition.

On the bed, we lay side by side facing each other my hand hooking over her waist pulling her closer and one of my legs between hers. I was mesmerized by her scent, becoming intoxicated by the sweetness of it with every passing second until I couldn’t resist the urge to mount her

We danced to the beat of each other’s heart and walked with rhythm in each other’s desires. Her dark lazy eyes staring up at me dazed with pleasure as I looked down at her breasts rising and falling in a hard fast rhythm. She looked at me barely able to keep her eyes open, fighting for breath as she marveled at the sensuality shaping my face. In this we found satisfaction but not love. Somehow we had found enough in each other but not enough for me to stay. This is why I wondered how much was really enough. I wanted her, I wanted to stop, I wanted to bring all this to an end but I also wanted to keep going. I was lost.

When I walked into that hotel room I had intended to end this charade for the burden was too heavy to bear. My conscious weighed heavily on me like the ring weighed on Frodo Baggins in The Lord of the Rings. The guilt was eating me up and I knew deep down that it had to be done despite the temptation not to. I had however got corrupted by her charm and ended up here. Now naked in bed watching her sleep, I wondered how I would even start the conversation. I watched her sleep, thinking that this might be last time I ever saw her like this. I didn’t want to wake her.

She had once accused me of being excessive and unwilling to stop at just one; of anything. Yet this also meant that I wasn’t short on company for most days, as if I ever really was. My personal energy was already as hypnotic as a fireworks display. Add new vibrations to that and I would be nearly impossible to refuse even to someone who had recently distanced themselves from me. It was a moment of brilliance for me, I felt light all of a sudden. My energy rejuvenated; I slowly crawled out of bed, still naked and strolled the room. I took deep breaths, put on my clothes and took one long last look at her beautiful face. I had made up my mind. This was the last time I would see her.

I took out my pen and tore a piece of paper from the notebook on the bedside drawer.


I wrote and walked out of the room making a decision to never see her again. But would I uphold that decision?

© Cooper Jose Njoroge

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About The Philosopher King

Writer, philosopher, painter and a student of life and politics. Follow on Twitter @cj_njoroge. Instagram @cj_njoroge

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