I believe life partners never stop getting to know each other. I’ve known Gabby for over a decade now and Insha Allah I will continue to know him for many more decades to come. I don’t just love him, I like him, A LOT. I have liked him since the day we first met. The typical girl really likes boy scenario and it has never changed. And the more I get to know him day by day and through the different experiences we share as friends and as a couple, the more of him I like. 

As an individual, he’s a terrific human being. He is compassionate and kind. He has a refreshing outlook on life. I’m not just talking about seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses but he is not one to see a difficult situation without instantly looking at possible solutions or fixes. Usually, he is the optimist to my pessimist, and believe me this has done wonders for my blood pressure. He makes me strive to be a better person just by the sheer force of love and light that emanates from his personality. The way he treats EVERYONE… That feeling you get when you know you’re with someone much too good for you so you want to be better and do better even though all they really want is you just the way you are… Aren’t I freaking lucky!

As a best bud, he is AWESOME!! The jokes are priceless and the laughs are endless. I think the goal is to see who can make the other laugh the most. I once came home from work spotting a blond almost buzz cut. His reaction was “Niiiice”, then he proceeded to rub my head. I sometimes pretend not to care for those head rubs cos I instantly picture a little kid or a dog getting a head rub but the truth is those head rubs make me feel the way the kid or the dog would feel, silly pleased! Long car rides by his side are the best! Never a dull moment. Or Friday nights spent watching TRACE or some other music channel, loudly singing along or dancing like drunk idiots, usually while or after knocking back a few shots. {So that phase is on hold till baby boy is old enough to participate ;-)} Conversations with him are never just bleh. They’re as enlightening as they are entertaining. We are polar opposites in a lot of things, but with what truly matters, we play for the same team.

As a dad, he is everything. He has made it so baby boy doesn’t feel he needs one parent for one thing and the other for something else. He is literally spoilt for choice. I am amazed at how present and completely in tune he is with Jammal’s wants and needs. He’s usually the first to spot a difference in his general disposition, whether health wise, moods or a developmental mile stone no matter how minute. He is unarguably THE BEST DAD and I couldn’t be more grateful for him and beyond glad he is the one I’m on this journey of a lifetime with.

As a husband, I’ll just sum this up by saying he is the florist to my garden. All I do is bloom and grow in every aspect of my life. He has loved me through it all, my best and my worst. He is my partner and it has never been on paper alone. No one seeks or values my opinion or advice or input more. No one expects me to excel and be my best more. No one pushes me more or encourages me more. And no one roots for me harder and louder than he does, in words and in actions. My triumphs are his triumphs. Ours has never been a conventional union but it has been a kick ass one where we have both blossomed wonderfully. He is always there as a sounding board, as a gist/gossip buddy, as a series marathon-watching partner {be it The Voice or The Big Bang Theory}, just to listen to me rant and vent, to bring me a cup of freshly prepared ginger with honey & lemon tea when I start to develop a cough, to have popcorn delivered to my office when I get a craving, to rock me to sleep when I get nightmares, to make me pepper-soup when I get a sore throat, to wake me up with a glass of water when the weather gets too warm and I start to cough in my sleep, to cook for me just because, as a counselor when I need advice, my guide when I’m in doubt about any situation, as a friend when I just need him to be, as my shopping partner, my mirror before leaving the house, as my rock when I feel like I’m falling apart, as my moral compass when I’m towing a grey line…I could go on. He never fails, in words and actions, to let me know that I am the center of his world. He is not afraid to share all of him with me; his strengths and weaknesses, his highs and lows, “his” kitchen and clothes {#PregnancyTales}. I will admit I was reluctant to marry him. Not because I was afraid he would change, but because I could not bear the thought of life without him if he were to leave it before me. Like those overly dramatic Telenovelas, I was afraid of being happy with him for a possibly short period of time and then losing him so I chose not to be with him at all. I realize now that my life has been made all the more beautiful and meaningful by sharing it with him and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. I cherish every moment of everyday with him. He’s not perfect but he is all of this and so much more AND he was made to love me. Really, aren’t I just freaking lucky!

Happy Birthday Rarest Gem(ini)! If I were to pen down everything I want to say, it would be a never ending story. Ultimately, all you need to know is there’s no me without you. Thank you for loving me the way you do, it has made loving you as easy as breathing. Here’s to many more awesome years ahead in life and in love.

All My Love, Today & Always…

Happy 45th!!

Pic Credit/Cake: Food Fahion Fusion



Maima looked up from her notepad and stared into space. Try as she may she couldn’t find the words. A year had passed since that Tuesday morning in September but she could still see it clearly in her mind like it was just yesterday. It was the day she came to accept that her life had been irreversibly changed for good…

Nothing prepared her for this. Maima lay immobile in the hospital bed. She had just started to regain some sensation back in the lower half of her body after a complete loss of feeling due to the spinal anaesthetic she was given for the surgery. While her post-surgery pain was under control, her level of discomfort was almost off the chart. The strain on her back from being stationary for so long was getting so bad she was almost crying. The anaesthesiologist had talked her through her pain management procedure the night before in a bid to prepare her for what to expect but Maima was certain the doctor had left out this bit. She had been advised to stay off her feet to avoid the risk of having a post dural puncture headache [usually associated with regional anaesthetic], especially given her unique condition. She had to lay in bed with as little movement as possible for at least 24hrs after the surgery.

As she lay in bed gingerly inching her body this way and that in an attempt to get comfortable, Maima couldn’t help remembering how terrified she felt just a couple of hours earlier as she stood in the doorway of the operating room. Every cell in her body screamed at her to walk away and request for another option. She had never been so scared in her life as she was when she walked into the OR that morning. When asked if she was ready, she could only manage a nervous laughter in response as she was led into the room and told to lay down on the operating table. For some reason she had chosen to walk in rather than be wheeled into the room. The room was cold and smelled faintly of disinfectant. The surgeon was quite chatty and a little boisterous, but his cheerful demeanour managed to calm her nerves just a bit and she was able to relax on the table. An IV line was placed in her arm. She had been shaved and a catheter placed in her bladder an hour before. The anaesthesiologist smiled down at her from her place at the head of the table as she told Maima to sit up for a minute so she could administer the spinal block. Maima hunched over as she had been shown the night before and braced herself as the cold tip of the needle entered her back.

Not long after she was having difficulty moving her legs as she had started to lose sensation in them. It was time.

Maima closed her eyes briefly and said a silent prayer under her breath. It was a prayer she would repeat over and over throughout the length of the surgery. She tried to gather her thoughts and steady her nerves. Then out of nowhere, her teeth started chattering uncontrollably. She was so cold she was visibly trembling. The anaesthesiologist had warned her that body temperature tends to fall due to the effect of the drugs but still, she had not expected it to be this bad. A nurse noticed the trembling and covered up her torso with a light blanket.

About 10 minutes later, Maima felt a dull pressure and some tugging down below, behind the sterile drapes. That was when she heard it, a sound like no other, and she knew her life would never be the same.

Maima held her breath, the prayer she had been repeating caught in her throat. At first she thought she had imagined the sound. Then she heard it again and this time she felt it too, and the indescribable force of the indescribable feeling felt like a packed punch knocking the wind right out of her. It was as if she had just popped a Limitless Pill and she was seeing clearly for the first time in her life. And yet, quite inexplicably at the same time, she felt like a fine tapestry whose thread had been pulled and she was unravelling, slowly coming undone, slowly falling to pieces. The effect was as unique to her as if it was her very own Kryptonite. It was THE most beautiful sound she would ever hear. It was her baby’s first cry. It was the sound of her child being born.

So each time she heard the cry again and again she died inside and was reborn again and again like the phoenix. But with each rebirth she was made stronger as her heart swelled, and I mean quadrupled in size, with so much love.

Maima wept, overcome with emotions. She couldn’t exactly call it joy. The three letter word just seemed too small to describe how she was feeling. She felt like she was lost at sea and that cry was her compass, guiding her home. So she clung to it like her very existence depended on it.

As the surgeon brought the baby to her side for her to see, Maima was introduced to the one who would now and forever be her reason for being – her new born son.

Back in her room in the hospital, having finally given up on trying to get comfortable, Maima sighed as she looked towards the foot of her bed where her son lay in a crib sound asleep and sucking on his fingers. After what had seemed like an eternity he was finally here. It had been a long nine months of all manner of aches and pains and complications but it had all been worth it. He was here and he was real and he was hers.

Maima’s decision to have a planned c-section had been met with stubborn resistance by her first doctor. Even after she had provided him with medical records to show that a vaginal birth could possibly put her and her baby at risk. He would rather wait for an emergency to occur that would require the c-section. Fortunately, her husband found another doctor at a different hospital who agreed to do the procedure and this had ultimately not only saved her son’s life but possibly hers as well.

The night before the surgery, after the anaesthesiologist had been to see her and she was finally alone in the room, Maima had brought out her old journal. It held her most treasured memories, including the story of how she came to start the adventure of a lifetime that had led to this very moment. She spent the rest of the night reading, reminiscing and reflecting on different significant events from her past. In a way, this was her own way of mentally sorting unfinished businesses and letting herself come to terms with things she could never change, all in preparation for this new adventure she was about to embark on. She didn’t know what to expect from her new life but she was as eager as she was anxious to begin…

Maima brought her attention back to her notepad, then to the sleeping form beside her. A year had passed since that Tuesday morning in September and what a year it had been. Hussein had been the missing piece in their lives, and on top of the immeasurable joy and laughter he had brought into their lives, he had managed to bring them even closer than they had thought possible. It constantly blew her mind how something so small could be so extraordinary, and it had come out of her! By being born he had saved them, given their life new meaning and purpose, and made them better human beings. Maima was in awe of him. Her undying love and appreciation knew no bounds. Mothering him was an honour and a privilege she cherished every single day, and she was grateful for every second she got to spend with him.

raison deter

To my son, Abdul Jammal Hussein Missa, you were made with love, you were born out of love, you are a physical manifestation of love itself, and you are unconditionally, undeniably, and irrevocably loved. Happy Birthday!

Full Circle

Posted: March 8, 2015 in Love & Life
Tags: , , , , , ,


The pain was sharp and intense, as if something was trying to rip her stomach apart from the inside. It had not been this bad the day before. But then the day before, she didn’t know that the life that had started to grow inside of her was no more. Zia cried out and clutched her belly as another wave of cramps gripped her and would not let up. She was inconsolable, not because of the pain but because of the realization that came with knowing what was happening. She had lost it. Her baby was gone and her body was trying to expel any evidence that it was ever there. Her grief was so shattering and selfish in its totality that she couldn’t muster up the strength to console Malik. She cried because she believed her body had failed her in the worst way possible. She cried because she couldn’t think of any other way to mourn what could have been. She cried because that was the only emotion she could manage…

It’s too small to kick. Zia laid a hand on her slightly swollen belly and smiled to herself. Even after several uneventful weeks and the last scan that had banished any last trace of doubt concerning the status of her pregnancy, she still didn’t know how to be, or how to feel, or what to expect.

After the first miscarriage and how it had left her all broken up inside, when she found out she was pregnant again, what she felt was a wave of bitter sweet emotions. Her joy was dampened by the fear of another loss. The pain of her first loss had been more psychological than physical. It had consumed her completely; a short but very intense heartbreaking pain and disappointment that her body had failed to do what should have been the most natural thing. Finding out she was again pregnant, she almost couldn’t accept it. She felt like she needed to be convinced that this one was here to stay before she could let herself be happy about it.

Contrary to what Malik thought, her first loss had not in any way weakened her resolve to keep trying. The first one had not come effortlessly. She had needed a bit of help medically to make it happen. But she wasn’t scared to try again. She was even more determined. There was no mad pressure to have children, but she realized it was time when she couldn’t stop thinking or dreaming about babies. She chose to believe the fact that she had lost it only meant that she could have one and her plumbing works just fine. She chose to believe that her loss was only preparing her for something even more special that she had to appreciate more. Her very own rainbow after the storm.

Hearing it’s little frantic heartbeat for the first time almost brought tears to her eyes. It was real. It was alive and it was ridiculously tiny. But it was growing inside of her. Her body was changing dramatically too and it was driving her insane. She could not deal with not having control over her body anymore. She missed the days her nose and taste buds worked in sync. When her clothes used to fit effortlessly. Even the baggy ones. Now, her body was barely recognizable to her. She had gone up almost three dress sizes in a matter of months. In all fairness, the weight gain had actually begun with the first pregnancy, which was only a couple of months ago. All the same, she was not accustomed to having so much flesh on her bones. She was 5’3” and round wasn’t particularly the most flattering shape on her. She wasn’t proportioned to carry so much weight elegantly. Like a ballerina the size of Dumbo the flying baby elephant. Her appetite had gone haywire. For the most part, she couldn’t stand some of the things she used to love, like chocolates and chicken. Up was down and down was sideways as far was her mouth was concerned.

She could barely get her jeans over her ever-expanding hips. Her breasts had gone up a cup size in less than a month and her nipples were almost as big as the ripe juicy grapes she could not stop eating. The constant burping, barfing and gassiness were not making her life any easier. She couldn’t stick to any particular meal plan because her cravings never quite stayed put on any one thing for long. If she was craving it one minute she couldn’t stand it the next. As for water, if she wasn’t crunching on ice cubes, she had to have near scalding hot water. The last time her tongue was that assaulted was when she shoved a spoonful of piping hot beans into her mouth back in school.

All of these put together, however, were not as bad as the acute migraines she had started to get on a regular. The saying ‘laughter is the best medicine’ was definitely off the bat in this case. Laughing made the jack hammer in her head pound even that much harder. It was ironic how something that made her feel so good could cause her so much pain. Watching Chris Rock do a skit would definitely knock her lights out for real. All in all, it was a trying first trimester but Malik’s constant almost hawk-like attention and care was getting her through it and she was grateful to have him.

For the sake of playing it safe, any and every activity that might be deemed remotely strenuous had been crossed out. No more tennis, working out or going to the gym. No more jogging or long walks in the morning or any other form of exercise till further notice. Hopefully, she could start using the elliptical machine she got once she was way past the first trimester. It was low impact enough to be safe No more sex either. An even bigger bummer. Her see-sawing hormones kept her properly distracted for the time being but she couldn’t go cold turkey for 9 whole months. What about poor Malik, banished to the guest bedroom so “accidents” don’t happen. Zia wasn’t sure how she would manage but she was not about to do anything stupid that would jeopardize things. The only way this one was coming out of her is kicking and screaming after 9 months and an adequate amount of time in the labour room.

She had been told it would get easier with time but she could not imagine how gradually weighing up to a ton with another human being developing at an exponential rate inside of you could possibly get any easier. She tried not to think too much about what’s to come but to instead focus on getting through the day, one day at a time, to focus instead on how her life was changing. She would be a year older by the time her mini-me was born. Steadily inching closer to her 30s. If there was ever a time to take a step back and properly review and appreciate how far she had come, this was it. She had come quite a long way from that little tomboy who used to play video games and rough house and wrestle with the boys. Her mother’s only girl. She had come full circle. In a matter of months, she would be a new mum. She had to start making practical plans and tough choices. Her family was about to get that much bigger and for the first few years after that her little babe would be the centre of her world, demanding her attention constantly, changing every aspect of her life, upstaging almost everything and everyone else in it. She had to prepare for that, psychologically, financially and every other way necessary. She had to find a way to ensure there was a balance, to make sure that other important things in her life don’t get left behind or neglected, like herself and Malik.

Most importantly, she had to make sure not to lose herself. Her baby was not going to be little forever. He/she would want to know her, to know her likes, dislikes, hobbies, flaws and achievements and all. She owed it to her little one to be the best that she can be, to do the best that she can, live her life with no regrets and hopefully be the kind of woman her precious little rockstar one can be proud to call mother.

A friend of mine sent this in after reading Gin & Coke. I find that people’s need for a happy ending in passion themed stories makes it easy to blur the line between reality and fantasy. I know a lot of you are not too pleased with the way Gin & Coke ended, but it was never meant to be a love story. I apologize for the abrupt ending but I will try to do an alternate ending piece with a more robust plot. Thank you so much for reading, commenting and sharing. Please enjoy The 13th Floor.


She got up from the table and walked over to the girl who just finished dancing. She whispered something in her ear and they both turned around and looked at me. The look on her face gave it away; she was up to no good. The stripper smiled and walked right toward me, already dancing. She began to give me a lap dance while Angela sat back down next to me, laughing her head off. I sat on my hands to comply with the “no touch” policy while Angela made it rain, chuckling the whole time. The stripper had an amazing body but couldn’t hold my attention for long. She had an “over-experienced” aura about her I found rather unsexy. After about 10 minutes, it was over and she left to find her next victim. “Did that turn you on?” asked Angela, as if the bulge in my pants was a banana I happened to carry around. “What the fuck do you think?” I replied. She laughed and said I looked like I would rather sink into the chair. “You look cute when you blush,” she giggled. “Black people don’t blush,” I responded, knowing fully what her next response would be as she had said so several times. “You do.”

The visit to the strip club wasn’t planned. I had picked her up from the airport that morning. She was in town for work, the only was her possessive husband would let her out of his sight. I had timed a visit to my brother to make sure i could spend time with her. The office flirting was fun and we had never said anything serious to each other. But we could both tell the attraction was real and strong. We had had several “I’ve never told anyone but you……” conversations.  Also had the “I remember the first time I saw you…..” talk. It was never too emotional, at least not for me. She was someone I connected with and would love to spend time with if we didn’t work in the same building with both our spouses!

From the Airport, I took her on the predictable errands; SIM card, bank visit, breakfast, hotel check-in and FedEx. I don’t know if it was the change of scenery or the fact that we were finally alone but she seemed to have boundless energy. Some light shopping and dinner followed. I figured she’d be tired. I offered to drop her off at her hotel. “I want to go dancing,” was her response. “How can you not be tired?” I asked. “Is that the old man talking” she responded with a teasing smile, a thinly-veiled reference to the 15-year age gap between us. She sure knew how to goad me. “You’re on,” I responded.

I took her back to her hotel and carried some of her shopping bags to her room. She asked me to sit down while she picked out something to wear. She tried on a couple of dresses she brought with her and a couple she bought earlier that day. She looked sexy in everything she tried. I didn’t feel like much help. I told her if she wore jeans and a t-shirt, I still wouldn’t be able to look at anyone else. She settled on a red dress and heels. “Can you dance in those?” I asked, staring at her feet. “When was the last time you were out?” was her laughing response.

I had googled “urban clubs” and picked the one with the highest ratings. The reviews even said they played the occasional Nigerian song. A $10 cover charge and metal detector search got us into the club. Being a fan of rock and Nigerian music, most of what was being played was unknown to me. Plus all the dance steps seemed strange as well. It had been a while since I was in a club outside Lagos. She, however, seemed to be in heaven. She was singing along to most of the songs while dancing suggestively. After about 30 minutes, I suggested we get some drinks. We sat at the bar and ordered a Long Island for me and a margarita for her. The music was so loud we had to lean very close to hear each other. As she was telling me she hadn’t had this much fun in a while, I couldn’t but take in the smell of her perfume and the sight of her cleavage.

A group of 4 guys walked past our spot by the bar and her brow furrowed like she remembered or recognized something or someone. “I think that guy went to my secondary school,” she said.

“You want to go say hi,” I asked.

“Yeah, why not,” she responded, “it would be fun to catch up.”

“Have fun and take your time,” I said, “the old man will be here watching the game”

The guy she walked up to was about my height, 6ft 2ins, but about 10 kg heavier with the build of an athlete. Plus, he was about the same age as her. I didn’t feel like I had a right to be jealous so I turned back to the game. I noticed the lady sitting next to me was alone and seemed to be excited every time the home team scored. It turns out she went to my college’s rival school. We exchanged some friendly banter but had to get really close to hear each other over the loud music. I turned around to see what Angela was up to. She had her arms around the new guy and he had his hands around her waist. They were dancing rather suggestively, in my opinion, even more so than when she danced with me. As much as I had promised myself not to get jealous, I found myself getting angry. I resisted the urge to drag her away and waited another 30 mins till she came back. She leaned into my ear and said “if you aren’t having fun, let’s go”. I asked her about her “new friend”. She said something about him asking for her number and her responding that she was married, only in town for a week and so on.

We left the club and got in the car. Before driving off, I couldn’t help myself and asked “did you have to dance like that with him?” She looked at me with part-irritation and part-surprise and asked “like what?”

“You know like what. I can see why he’d put his arms around your waist but you held him back like you were enjoying it”.

She looked away from me and out the window and said. “I’ve had enough of this shit. If I wanted to go out with my husband, I would go out with my husband. I wouldn’t be here with you. And I didn’t leave with the guy in there, I left with you”.

I knew I’d stuck my foot in it and had no right to be jealous. Who gets jealous over their friend’s wife? I told her I was sorry but she didn’t respond. I asked her what she wanted to do. “Take me home” was her response. Her voice sounded like she was holding back tears and I felt even worse. She’d confided in me about how her husband was trying to curb her free spirit and how everything she did was a problem. She was considering walking out less than 2 years in. And here I was, acting like the Svengali she was trying to escape from, even if only for a week. I started driving toward her hotel. But I wasn’t ready for the night to end on this note. I stopped at a gas station and started pumping. She still wouldn’t look at or talk to me. I went into the store and walked out with my hand behind my back. I tapped on her window. She wound down.

“You look like someone stole your lollipop” I said with the best over-exaggerated puppy dog face I could muster. “Can I make it up to you?” And then I pulled out a lollipop and handed it to her. She couldn’t help herself and cracked a smile albeit reluctantly and took the lollipop from me. It was an inside joke. “I’m an idiot and I’m sorry” I apologized again.

“Will you please get in the car?” She asked.

“Only if you’ve forgiven me” I responded.

“Just get in jor” she said with a smile on her face. The Angela I knew was back! I got in the car and she unwrapped the lollipop and stuck it in her mouth. “This isn’t the lollipop I wanted” she said with a naughty smile.

“Are we still talking about lollipops?” I asked looking right at her instead of the road in front of me.

“What do you think?” was her even naughtier retort. The Angela I loved talking to was back.

“Still going to your hotel?” I asked. She thought for a second and yelled “strip club!”

She picked the one to go to. She had gone with some friends on a previous trip earlier that year. Didn’t tell her husband, of course, but she’d told me.

After the stripper left our table, we began to do tequila shots. “We can blame the tequila for anything that happens tonight” she whispered in my ear at some point. We also got a couple stacks of $1 bills and made it rain with the girls on stage. Angela had a way of making me try things I’d never think to do on my own. I could see why her husband seemed determined to tame her but I was certainly having fun. By the time we were done spraying, I could tell she was tipsy. “It’s 4 AM” I told her. “Time to end your YOLO” day.  And she seemed to agree.

Back in the car, she thanked me for a wonderful day. She was gracious enough to overlook my jealous fit at the nightclub. We got to her hotel’s parking lot and I couldn’t find the words to be suave, so I blurted out “We’re here, or would you rather come over to my hotel?”

“Why would I do that?” she responded.

“I got you something and was hoping you’d want to see it”

“At 4 in the morning?” she asked sarcastically.

“Are you upset I asked?” was the best I could come up with.

“No, I could never stay mad at you, even when you say silly things.” And there it was, rejection and endearment in one breath.

“Should I walk you to your room” I asked, already knowing the answer.

She responded “no thanks, I’ll be fine”. She said goodnight and leaned in to hug me. I hugged her back and it lasted a little longer than usual. We pulled away but our foreheads and noses were touching. We were breathing in the same air and it was thick with suspense.  Neither of us could make the next move. I didn’t want to risk further rejection. I raised my head up and kissed her forehead. “Will you call me when you get to your room?”  I promised I would. I watched her walk away. As pretty as she was, her back view was always my favorite. But this time, it filled me with regret and not desire.

It was a 10 minute drive to my hotel. I had a room on the top floor because she had mentioned that making love against a window of a high-rise was on her sex bucket list. I’d hoped to help her cross that one off. Now it seemed my planning and extra spending was for naught. At least I had a good view of the Houston skyline. I took off all my clothes, except for my socks, and got into bed. I didn’t feel like talking so I sent Angela a text message to say I had made it to my room. Not quite 5 seconds after I switched the lights off, my phone starts ringing. It is Angela. I answered.

“Are you tired?”


To be continued….


Vincent spent most of his time day-dreaming about his night with Zahara. He had spent months wondering what being with her would be like and the reality far surpassed his expectations. At first, he had felt a bit guilty given that they both were not exactly free agents. Then he had been a bit worried that things could get complicated if it got too serious. But then he decided they would cross that bridge if or when they got there. Right now they were just two people with enough sexual chemistry between them to light up a Christmas tree. All he could think about was the next time he would get to be with her again.

He had planned on working late but he was finding it more and more difficult to focus on work as his thoughts kept drifting to Zahara and that beautiful body of hers, and the way she looked laying there underneath him. He shut down his system and left the office. He drove straight home to take a shower and catch up on some of his favorite TV shows.

Zahara was out of town and had been unreachable all day. He was itching to talk to her and tell her about his day. She was always curious to hear about his office gossips, especially about the women that were hitting on him or that he thought were dropping hints, like he was one social experiment she was studying. He found her interest in such stories amusing but indulged her anyway. She was a great listener.

After dinner, he tried calling Zahara’s number one more time but still couldn’t get through. He left a message on her voice mail before going to bed. As he closed his eyes, he found his thoughts drifting to that fateful night and the morning after. He was sure that even if he never got to be with Zahara again, those remarkably unforgettable hours of pure ecstasy in her arms were forever seared into his memory….

Vincent woke up to velvety warm thighs and soft breathing. Sometime during the night Zahara had snuggled closer to him to keep warm under the duvet and now her legs were entwined with his. Her head was on his chest, a half smile on her sleepy lips. As he starred at her, memories of the previous night’s activities came flooding back and he could feel his body responding to the sensations the flashing images in his mind’s eye was evoking.

He was tempted to take her immediately but decided to let her sleep. They had been up for the most part of the night. He couldn’t get enough of her. Her beautiful body was like a cool spring and goodness, was he thirsty. The things she did with that body made him near delirious with pleasure. There had been no awkward pauses or moments of uncertainty. They both knew what they wanted. They both wanted the same thing. It was a simple primal need.

Zahara didn’t need to open her eyes to know that Vincent was awake and watching her. She could almost feel his eyes on her face, as if trying to wake her up just by sheer will. Instead, her eyes remained closed as she thought about their night together. She shivered slightly at the memory of his mouth kissing every inch of her body, exploring and pleasing in turn. The aching need in her had been raw and the first time he took her it was almost as if he knew exactly what she needed him to do. And when they came, one after the other, he called out her name over and over while she almost cried from the sheer intensity of the experience.

She was about to open her eyes and reach for him when she heard a phone ring. The tone didn’t sound like hers so it had to be Vincent’s. She opened her eyes and moved her head off to chest to allow him get out of bed to go get the phone out of his jeans on the floor. She noticed their unceremoniously scattered clothes all over the room for the first time and held back a chuckle. Her room had never been this messy before. She got out of bed to pick up the clothes and arranged them on the sofa in her room, then went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and take a shower while Vincent finished his phone call.

He watched her leave the room, not bothering to cover up. He got the feeling that she was at her most comfortable with nothing on, which was fine except for the fact that he was now completely distracted from his call. He wanted her bad. He quickly ended the call and followed her into the bathroom.

“I have to go. I just got called into the office”. Vincent said as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. They stood like that under the cascading water of the shower head for a minute before Zahara turned round to face him. All she said was “Alright”, before she put her arms around his neck to pull him close and kiss him. It happened so fast she didn’t have time to react. Vincent had her back up against the wall; he hiked one of her legs up and around his waist and slipped into her, making her gasp and then moan in surprise pleasure.

As he started moving inside her, filling her up and taking her to the brink yet again, Zahara couldn’t help but realize that the explosive force of their chemistry was the only thing binding them together. The magnetic attraction they both couldn’t pull away from. They barely knew each other well enough to be best of friends, but for now none of that mattered. For now, they were exactly what the other needed and they were right where they needed to be….

The End.

Gin & Coke II

Posted: September 26, 2014 in Passion
Tags: , , , ,


Zahara lay in bed looking up at the rotating hands of the ceiling fan in her room. She kept going over the events of the previous night in her head. The laughing and the dancing, then her unexpectedly passionate response to Vincent’s kiss. Her memory wasn’t as sharp as it should be courtesy of all the drinking, so she was having a hard time recalling specific details but the jolt of electricity she felt flow down her spine whenever she remembered the kiss more than assured her that it did happen and it was not just a figment of her tipsy imagination.

She reached for her beeping phone on her bedside table. She couldn’t help the smile that crept to her lips when she saw who the text was from. Vincent was checking in to find out if she got home safe and to let her know he was home. The party wasn’t as much fun after she left so he had also taken off not long after. Zahara knew what she was feeling was nothing more than an endorphin rush that is coming with meeting someone new, someone who finds you just as attractive and is as curious as you are to know more, to share more.

As she walked away from Vincent on unsteady legs after the kiss, she felt a little disoriented emotionally. She was dazed from the explosive chemistry the kiss had unleashed and she couldn’t wait to get away and be alone to fully process what had happened. She could hear his footsteps behind her. He didn’t say a word till she was sitting inside the cab. He appeared to want to say something but sighed instead. He bent down till his face was parallel to hers and gave her a peck on the cheek through the window before the cab drove away.

Four weeks flew by in a sea of phone calls and text messages. Vincent and Zahara’s friendship was in full honeymoon mode. Zahara had managed to pass the kiss off as a moment of drunken weakness that could not and would not happen again. She loved Femi very much and that meant she couldn’t make room for any distractions. He had been away for two years now and the long distance had started to put a strain on things but she had faith in them. Just two more years to go and his program overseas would be over.

Vincent could not get Zahara and the kiss off his mind. It felt like a dam had been burst and he couldn’t control the emotions that were pouring out. He noticed how she had laughed off the kiss when he brought it up during one of their chats. He sensed she didn’t want him to probe her too much about it. But he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had felt it too. He knew she was drawn to him just as badly as he was to her. He had looked forward to seeing her on the tracks again the following weekend but she had been a no show. Later during the day when he called to ask her why she didn’t come, she told him the swimming lessons were on hold because Sola, her instructor, was out of town. When he offered to teach her, she said she was busy studying for her final exams. At first he wasn’t sure if she was trying to shake him off or if her excuses were actually genuine. They had managed to talk about everything but the elephant in the room. He decided not to push and just let things flow naturally. He didn’t want to do or say anything to make her pull away. She was the most interesting thing to have happened to him in a long while.

Zahara finished writing her last paper with a huge sigh of relief. After two months of steady studying and exams she felt like she could finally breathe. She went straight home to take a shower and plumped down on the couch to watch TV. Her parents were out of town and she was home alone. She wondered what Vincent was up to and decided to give him a call.

“I just left the office. I’m on my way to grab dinner before heading home. Care to join me?” was the first thing Vincent said as soon as he answered her call. Zahara had to smile. He had been trying to get her to have lunch or dinner with him for the past 2 and half months. Now that her exams were over, she had no more excuses to give and he knew that. There was nothing good showing on TV anyway and she was bored. She had not seen him since the night of the party and she couldn’t deny the fact that she really really wanted to see him again. They had grown quite close over the past couple of weeks.

“Sure, why not. Come get me.” She ended the call and went to her room to get dressed. She had described where she lived to him during one of their endless chats. She put on her favorite Ankara dress and slipped into a pair of flat sandals. She brushed out her hair but didn’t bother with makeup. It was a little after 6 pm and she just couldn’t be bothered. It wasn’t an occasion, just dinner and drinks with a friend.

“I’m outside,” Vincent’s text on her phone read. She picked up her purse and left the house. He was standing next to his car in front the house; he was on the phone and didn’t notice her come out at first. When he did, a big smile spread across his face and he ended the call. She walked up to him, determined not to let the immediate rapid beating of her heart slow down her pace. She smiled and gave him a hug.

“It’s good to see you again. You look good.” Zahara said. Vincent squeezed her a bit before letting go. He was as overjoyed as school boy on Christmas morning. He had been a little surprised when she had agreed to join him for dinner. She usually turned him down for one reason or the other. He planned on entertaining her to the fullest. He opened the passenger door for her to get in.

Three hours later they were seated in a jazz bar, listening to the band play and laughing at how stuffed they were. Their initial awkwardness in the car had melted away as the conversation had picked up during dinner. Afterwards, Vincent had told her about a little place he knew where the live band played really good music. Zahara was feeling quite relaxed in Vincent’s company and wasn’t quite ready for the night to end. After a while he asked if she wanted to dance and she said yes. He led her to the dance floor and pulled her close. Being so close to him made her a little uncomfortable because she was afraid her body would betray her and he would feel her trembling. It was almost like each time their bodies touched there was an invisible spark. It was almost magnetic.

Vincent held one of Zahara’s hands in his as he drove her home later that night. Ever since they got off the dance floor, he had been unwilling and unable to let her go. She didn’t seem to mind although she had an amused look on her face. As soon as he put her in the car he practically hopped to the driver’s side to get in. Immediately after putting the car in drive, he took her hand in one of his and drove with his other hand, only letting go when he needed to. They said little to each other on the ride back to her place. The atmosphere in the car was too charged for words. Vincent kept stealing glances at her face to try to get a read of what was going on in her head but Zahara just stared blankly ahead.

Zahara took off her seat belt as soon as Vincent stopped the car in front of her house. She reached across and pulled Vincent’s face down to hers as she finally gave in to the blazing need he had awoken deep inside her. She kissed him like her life depended on it. She could feel his hands on her face, on her neck, in her hair.

She had been taken him completely by surprise with the kiss. The first time he kissed her at the party he had sensed that she was not the type to hold back, but this was something else. He lit up like a switch. Now he was kissing her back just as passionately. He grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged to pull her head back so he could nuzzle her neck and gently nibble on her collarbone. Her sharp intake of breath turned him on even more. His own need was almost making it impossible for him to see clearly. He wanted her like he had wanted nothing in a very long time. He kissed her till they both had to come up for air.

Zahara stood in front of Vincent in her bedroom. They had finally managed to make it into the house and it was a miracle they hadn’t torn each other’s clothes off. One by one she started taking off her clothes as he did the same. When she had stripped down to her bra and panties, she walked to the bed and sat down facing him. The yearning in her eyes burning brightly.
Vincent did not take his eyes off of her as he took off his own clothes. His eyes followed her as she walked towards the bed, lingering on her full breasts as she sat down. He heard himself exhale and say “Gosh you’re beautiful!” He found the light switch on the wall and turned it off before walking purposefully to the bed and into her open arms to claim her lips once more.

To be continued…

Gin & Coke

Posted: September 4, 2014 in Passion
Tags: , , , , , , ,


She eyed Vincent as he walked up to her, two bright red plastic cups in his hands. She had only ever said hello to him once or twice before on the tracks whenever she was passing by on her way to the swimming pool. She had finally decided to do something about her irrational fear of water and had been taking swimming lessons at the university campus on the weekends. Her parents’ place wasn’t too far from the campus. She couldn’t fit in any time for leisurely activities during the week, what with back to back classes and her final exams in a couple of weeks. She wanted very much to tick “Learn how to swim” off her bucket list before her graduation.

The task was proving to be a lot harder than she had anticipated. She just could not control the panic attack that always creeps in as soon as the instructor let go of her hands in the pool. She wasn’t giving up yet though. She was determined to conquer her aqua phobia.

Zariah’s first impression of Vincent was that he looked unassuming and he definitely had a thing for her. He wasn’t bad to look at either. She could always feel his eyes on her whenever he thought she wasn’t looking. Sometimes, she could see that he wanted to say something to her but would change his mind and continue jogging. She could have made things easier for him and stopped to chat but she wasn’t ready for any unnecessary distractions in her life at the moment. Those final exams needed to be aced and that required undivided attention to her books. Besides, she already had a boyfriend and Femi was just her kind of perfect.

Vincent handed one of the plastic cups to Zariah. There was loud music blaring from one of the speakers nearby so he had to lean in close to tell her gin and coke was all he could find. As he did, he couldn’t help but notice how sweet and soft she smelled, and it wasn’t just the perfume.

Vincent couldn’t believe his luck when Zariah walked into the room. He was getting bored and was just about bailing when he saw her. He had first noticed Zariah a couple of weeks ago on her way to the pool. He had discovered how peaceful the campus tracks were early in the morning on the weekends and had started taking advantage of those periods, between 6 and 8am, to go for his morning jogs. She always came alone, her stride always steady. Her face a blank canvass that made him itch to know what was going on behind those eyes.

Sometimes, when they were within ear shots of one other, she would give him a slight smile and mumble a greeting. But she never stopped walking. Vincent was used to girls being openly flirtatious with him and trying to chat him up. He knew he was in great shape and definitely a knockout in the looks department. But despite the fact that he was running shirtless looking like something out of a GQ magazine, she looked right at him then past him like he was just another lamp post on the side of the road.

Because her expression was always so unreadable he couldn’t tell how she would react if he tried to strike up a conversation. He couldn’t take being rejected, especially by her. She wasn’t the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen but there was just something about her. She always appeared so cool and calm, like nothing could ruffle her feathers. She had intelligent eyes that beckoned to be challenged, and he could tell just by looking at her that she was definitely a lot more than she appeared. He had this urge to peel away her cool exterior, layer by beautiful layer and discover what lay underneath.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, I was just about to head out when you came in”, Vincent said as Zariah took a sip of her drink.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here either. Sola told me it was just a small drinks and barbeque thingy. Didn’t think there would be so many people here, and the music is almost deafening”. Zariah replied. She had to really raise her voice to make herself heard.

Sola was Zariah’s swimming instructor, and apparently a good friend of Vincent’s. He had invited them both to the party and had introduced her to Vincent when she told him he looked familiar.

Two cups of gin and coke later, Zariah began to loosen up a bit and the conversation between her and Vincent started to flow more effortlessly. He was charming and funny and had her giggling for the most part of the night. He was a bit older than he looked and was in a long-distance relationship with his high school sweetheart. He hoped to have twins when he eventually settled down. He spoke intelligently without being off putting, which she found very sexy. Zariah had a thing for intelligent minds. It was a big turn on for her.

Vincent didn’t expect to find Zariah’s company so refreshing. She wasn’t as immature or naïve as one would expect most university girls her age would be. She was intelligent and smart and could hold her own. They talked and laughed and danced all night till she decided it was time for her to leave. He didn’t want her to leave but she had stayed a lot longer than she had intended and thanked him for a very entertaining evening.

Her cab was waiting outside. She had drunk enough to make her quite unsteady on her feet, so Zariah held on to Vincent as he walked her out of the compound. She was still laughing at something he said when she felt him turn her into his arms for what she was expecting to be good nights hug. Instead she found her arms going round his neck as if being pulled by gravity as Vincent lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her like it was the most natural thing.

Vincent had acted on pure impulse when he pulled Zariah into his arms. He just could not imagine ending the night without holding her close, feeling her soft, supple body against his and kissing her breath away. He had half expected her to push him away, not respond like they had done it before. He was elated. The unexpected spark of chemistry the touch of their lips together ignited was shockingly intense. He pulled her closer and kissed her harder still.

The night wasn’t going quite as planned for Zariah. The last thing she had wanted to do was kiss Vincent, but the alcohol and their cheerful drunken banter at the party had dulled her inhibitions, and that zing she felt when his lips touched hers was her undoing. She found herself returning his kiss just as hard, digging her fingers into his neck and pulling him closer till they broke apart gasping for air. As the cold night breeze washed over her Zariah blinked and turned away abruptly, her knees shaking as she walked towards the cab. What the hell just happened!!


To be continued…..