It is in his gaze…
Piercing like that of a seer. Who imbued with the power to charm, could frighten rudimentary souls into an aggravated dance of the spirits in his honor. But it is also a look that feels like a mother’s touch and could assuage the pulse of apprehension that drummed in you with verve, especially when he accentuated it with his deep smile.
He rises to his feet as you edge closer to the table. You extend a hand. But he reaches out for a hug. It is firm. Warm and lingering as his chest feels the intimacies of your bosom and his cologne wafts into your senses. It’s an arresting scent that clings to the hairs of the nostrils, hovering for hours after its source has been left far behind.
“You look stunning,” he breaths.
“Thank you. You clean up pretty well too,” you coo
The restaurant he has chosen speaks of elegance. Atrium café is known for its jazz. And of course the wizened and impassive pianist famed for his lugubrious renditions is now playing “Lady in Red,” and you are serenaded.
He wears confidence like a personal insignia. His sartorial taste, a curious juxtaposition of machismo and urban refinement.
The quiet thud of shyness engulfs you from the way he bathes you with his eyes across the table. Nerves, excitement and adrenaline jockey for position in your mind. Until he coyly rubs his fingers over your hand. He seems to eat every word that drops from your lips like the proverbial beggar who ate crumbs from the rich merchant’s table of feast. He makes you giggle and guffaw at his jokes- depending on their intensity.
You met on Facebook. On Aoko’s timeline. He made an audacious comment on one of her erotic posts and your reply got everyone reacting with the laughing emoji. He slid into your inbox with, “Damn, could have sworn you are Tiffany Haddish. Until I checked your profile and saw that you look a lot like my next girlfriend!”
His absence haunts you just like his presence enchants you. The Charmer. What constitutes charm? It is his presence. Capacity to command attention, an innate conviction of his own uniqueness, combined often as not with the manipulative ability of making you feel you have his undivided attention
And here you are, on a date, three weeks later. After 22 days of chats and late night calls. Few drinks later, you ask, “why me?”
He smiles. His teeth shine against the dark backdrop of his beard. This act he does that can either be charming or chilling, depending on his motive.
“Because you rivet the eyes. The grace in your speech and the fluidity and composure in your thought process. The poise in your countenance… Mind if we finish this at my place?”, he delivers with the panache of a born actor
You hesitate just for a jiffy. Just enough time to wallow in this grudging admiration for his impeccable politeness, his innocence, his ironic demeanor…
“Come on, you know it feels right. Let’s embark on this journey of making you mine by right,” he leans over and murmurs. You nod.
He puts his arm around you as you ride in an Uber to his place. You can feel his heat, the air in the car is palpably sensual. Lord, you so want him.
Minutes later, you are lost in his overwhelmingly sensational arms. His touch is the anesthesia that has driven you to a haven where there is no sound, sight or reality. His kisses- at first tasting, then probing, plundering and then ravishing light a fire of need, yearning and longing in you that is so intense, it could roast a yam.
Your flesh demands to be savored. He answers to that call. His fingers explore. Fondles. Circles. Grazes. Nipples harden under his foraging thumbs.
Then he does it again. Gives that stare. He buries his eyes into yours now dilated with passion. Your ebony body against his starched sheets make you look like a goddess and he your willing subject- bowing at your feet in supplication. He caresses you without inhibition, rather, with a delicious, unwavering, passionate abandon.
Finally, his shaft fills you. This he does with compelling domination. Cries of ecstasy tear from your throat. You writhe under his strokes, his hands hold your hips and guide you to his rhythm. The air is pregnant with the aroma of coitus. He balances your needs with his and then…The gasps quicken, your grip on his tightens …the shattering and quivering that follows.
Later, he holds you on his chest. You are naked. Satiated. Inebriated with passion and vulnerable. And you whisper, “I love you,”
You think he will stiffen. But he does not. He smiles. He says you are an amazing woman. You fall asleep and dream about your wedding dress. You dream about having babies that will have his charm and stare. But with your complexion and temperament.
The following morning, he wakes you with a light kiss on the cheeks. He is still naked but with a tall glass of cold Yoghurt. Vanilla, how did he know! “Something to revitalize the queen.” he smiles, handing over the glass. And stares, oh, that stare!!! That stare!! – “You are beautiful; you know?” he says.
He is so deeply thoughtful in both senses of the term- exceptionally smart and uncommonly generous. You start toying with the idea of moving in with him. As you are leaving, you lock lips with him at the door. His lips are warm and sweet. The kiss embraced you like a warm blanket.
Five minutes after you leave, he blocks you on every platform and deletes your number.
As you are all smiling on your way home, playing the events of last night in your head, he is chatting the next girl. Soon, she will be on his bed, moaning to the tune of his mind-blowing CHARM.