He sat on the bar stool. His back to the door. He kept glancing at TV above the bar, but not quite watching it. News of politicians declaring this but hiding that was not his fancy.
His phone rang again, same caller. He stared at the screen displaying an image that reminded him of simpler times. Blue skies and white sands. His son’s head pointing down from when he’d swung him above his shoulder, squealing with glee. His daughter’s outstretched arms wanting to share in the joy but held back by her laughing mother.
A moment captured for posterity, one that popped on his screen whenever she called. It was to remind him of what he has. Had. Problems, not laughter is what he now has. If he picked, he’d be read through his failures and reprimanded for not being where he was supposed to be. So he chose to ignore, he was already in trouble, there was no making it worse.
“I’ll have a gin and tonic.” Said a voice beside him as it pulled him from the depths of his mind. It was soft, this voice. Almost a whisper but assertive.
He took a swig of his beer and turned to where the voice was coming from. She was standing next to him. Close enough that he could breath in her dark forest scent. Close enough that he could touch her bangled arm. But he wouldn’t, of course. This was sighting of a bird, and he wanted the pleasure of watching her elegance.
He couldn’t see her face, part of it was hidden behind a wave of long braids that swept over her naked back and sat on her curved hips, big enough to fill a seat. There was a seat on the other side of her but she wasn’t in a hurry to use it. She instead lifted her heeled feet higher and leaned towards the bar to grab her drink. Wiggling the rounded behind like a peacock in his direction, grazing his knee. It was soft, like her voice. He imagined clawing his way inside her jeans, seams held together by the mercy of her bulge.
“Oh, i’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you.”
Push? He thought, sly images floating to his mind. He stared at her manicured fingers, comfortably resting on the knee that she’d ‘pushed’.
She now faced him. Full lips punctuated her round face. Pretty. Her bespectacled eyes, were on his, and he for a moment kept hers but, he was weak so he drifted to her chest. Two mounds thrust towards him. It felt intentional. It felt like a tease, a game of wit. He knew that she knew.
“Would you care to join me?” He asked.
The bird perched.
Samburu Girl 