Read Also: Blue Dandelions #3
Water running, warm water running down the length of John’s body, did little to rid him of the shame he felt. His cheeks burned hotter than his loins did, at the memory of how the day had ended. Words said, deeds done, could neither be taken back nor undone. He remembered how Sally’s body had fit over his perfectly, like a glove. Something so sinful shouldn’t smell like cinnamon; the taste of her couldn’t seem to wash out of his mouth. It made him gag. But he wanted more of her, more than he wanted his next breath. His stomach churned at the memory of how her breasts felt in his mouth. She was going to ruin him, John mused, “I hate her” he said with sheer force.
The bath water drawn has since turned cold, but Sally didn’t seem to notice, she was floating tonight, she looked almost ghostlike with pale skin a few shades paler and the flickering candles around casting shadows of her silky blonde hair added to the ethereal feel floating with her. She had never felt this beautiful. She had been with a handful of me…, no, boys she corrected her thoughts. She had been with a handful of boys but this man had broken the scale and topped the chart with a single thrust. She had initiated intimacy but the lines of who had control seemed to blur when his lips touched her skin. She remembered the look he had cast her—and it still sent shivers down her spine—he had looked at her like an object of worship. Sally had never seen herself as overly beautiful, but never as Plain Jane. But in John’s eyes, she saw a perfect version of herself, “I love him” Sally declared with glee.
A few weeks had gone by with a flurry of activities; John and Sally hadn’t had time to go on dates or spend time in each other’s company. The church picnic and fundraising was coming up, and with Sally as head of the committee, things were going a lot faster than they had the earlier year—people tend to pay attention when the richest woman in Sugarplum was talking to them about a fundraising; the ingenuity of the church leaders’ decision. John had his hands full as his mother had roped him into the planning of his father’s 51st birthday, and to think they had thrown him a big ball for his 50th. John mimics his mother in front of the mirror as he has to hurriedly get dressed, to go do some more dressing at the tailor’s. “But it’s the 51st; it has to be bigger than the 50th”. He hadn’t mentioned Sally to his mother, but she had known, she always knows. Mothers! Now, she won’t let him hear the last of Ms Stone’s itinerary. “did you know Ms stone played a fine hostess to the children from church?”, as a subtle hint that she would make a fine mother. Oh John knew she was a fine hostess alright, but there were no children in the mental picture he now just formed.
The mayor’s ball was slated for the same weekend as the church fundraising and picnic. So sally wasn’t too surprised when the same lot who had given and pledged their funds for the service of the Lord and advancement of work in his vineyard on Friday afternoon were seen eating caviar and chugging down expensive liquor. She arrived at the birthday ball a little late, one of her staff, heartbroken and drunk had threatened to jump off the railings if her circus love didn’t return to her. He had travelled as the circus must go on, but he had taken her friend with him—to serve as warmth for the road. It took a lot of pleading to convince her, she was better off without him. Sally had missed the opening part of the governor’s speech and was confused about everything else that was said, she had muttered something to that effect, hence the jet black-haired, a dark shade of blue-eyed stud, built to perfection, took it upon himself to explain to her. Sally was backing the fire place where John stood with his sisters and had thus missed the look of utter disgust he had cast her. The blue dress she wore to compliment the shade of sapphire that adorned her neck looked to John as rags, she was nothing more than a hag to John in those few seconds. Damn her. Damn her for shaming him so, she was his. But she was smiling with that ‘thing’ named Peter.
With the hours that had gone by, John had guzzled more drink than he had had to in a long while. The demons had been quiet, but Sally had aroused and doused their flames with a single kiss. He had to be rid of her permanently. With his thoughts foggy he set out to find her, with his fist set to snuff life out of her whilst making love to her one last time.
Sally sees John coming towards her with raw desire burning in his eyes making them turn 50 shades darker. She turns away from the preacher’s wife who had harassed her with talk of babies. She takes John’s outstretched hand and goes where he leads, only slightly detecting the whiff of alcohol laden breath he was blowing her way. The desire burning through her core dulled her senses as she gave in to the devil with the proverbial pitch fork sitting on her shoulder. A turn here, a bend there and they were in his bedroom in the east wing just beside the library, no one was going to come this way. The band downstairs had struck a waltz-like tune, all too perfect for the moment. John had an air of aggression but Sally shrugged it off with her dress as eager passion. Few minutes of digging into each other’s flesh had them both panting. John’s hands wrapped Sally’s neck, she smiled thinking he wanted more. Her eyes dart nervously as she frantically tries to stop John, he was beginning to hurt her with the more pressure he applied. Realization dawned on her, he doesn’t want more, he wants none.
Monaleesaah is a black skinny writer and singer, who can be a substitute therapist, and can be baited and thus kidnapped with pounded yam.
P.s she loves, white, black and grey
Words of a writer
Splendid work Monalisa