After The Storm

As she drove home that evening, her heart swelled with pride. The pride of being loved, of being wanted by a man who was obviously ready to risk it all just to be with her. Driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the window, she stared at the road ahead with dreamy eyes. The wind whipping her face brought with it the reminiscence of Chris’ proclamation of love and she found herself chuckling. For once, she wasn’t scared of what it meant to be with another man. She wasn’t scared of watching her marriage dissolve like morning frost in the face of the rising sun. She felt free. And ready to let herself be embraced by the wild world she had ignored for long.

She missed the turn leading to Clair’s place on purpose. Not long ago, she had decided this was her night of celebrating her newfound freedom. She was going to treat herself and enjoy the men gawking at her the way Clair did. At home, she took a long shower, as if to wash off all the submissiveness she had allowed to stick unto her in the name of being a good wife and a better daughter-in-law, and when she stepped out of the shower, she was humming to a happy tune. Her phone rang as she was brushing her teeth but she let it ring when she saw the caller ID read Clair, and only returned the call when she was dressed up and ready to leave.

She was staring at herself in the mirror—loving how the short black dress she was in curled with her curves—when Clair’s voice came through from the other end of the phone.

“Are you still coming for Damian? It’s running late,” Clair said.

“I hope you won’t mind him spending the night at your place,” Eve said. “I have made plans that don’t involve him being around.”

“When you say plans, you mean sleeping with Chris?”

Eve ran her palm over her breasts as if to determine if they had grown bigger while she was busy worrying about her mother-in-law. “I am not sleeping with anyone.”

Clair chuckled. “As if you would admit it if you were.”

“I feel free, Clair. I feel like I have been caged for long and that I am finally breaking free from my cage. Tonight, my sister, I am celebrating this my new found freedom.”

“I am sure you think you are making sense but you are not. Anyway, be careful out there. Let not this your ‘freedom’ be the end of you.”

“Kiss Sasha and Damian for me, will you?” Eve said before hanging up.

She drove to the same club she bumped into Chris the last time she and Clair’s gang went parting. When she walked into the half-packed club, men craned their necks to look. Her ass bounced on its own volition as if it had missed the attention it was getting. Ed Sheeran, with his raw yet smooth voice, sang his lungs out, Shape Of You Lyrics spilling from the speakers and ringing in the room like the school’s lunchtime bell. She gently shook her head and hummed along to the song as she looked around for the best table to occupy. She spotted one in the middle of the club and made herself comfortable, placing her purse on the table and looking around. A waiter, out of nowhere, leaned over her shoulder.

“Jack Daniels neat,” she whispered in the waiter’s ear.

“Anything else?”

“That will do for now,” she said, reading the name tag on his breast pocket, “And, Richard?”

“Yes?”

“I hope you always tip your barber heavily. He is doing such a wonderful job with your beard.”

Richard laughed. “I will from today.”

As the night progressed, she started having this urge to call Chris and invite him over. Maybe it was the Whiskey, but the feeling refused to go away. She turned to the gentleman seated next to her and asked him to look after her drink as she visited the bathroom.

“Only if you will dance with me,” he said.

She studied him, and she could have been wrong, or maybe it was the Whiskey, again, but the man had some resemblance to Raymond. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and looked at him again. He looked handsome in his black jacket, from how he sat with his left leg on top of the right one, and hands sliding forward to rest on his knee. He held her gaze with his drunken fluttering eyes and she found herself smiling.

“Fine then,” she whispered.

Mr Handsome stretched his hand out to her when she came back. As she was placing her palm on his welcoming hand, her phone beeped with a message. She gestured for him to hold on for a second as she read the message with intense excitement when she saw it was from Chris.

Just had a huge fight with my wife and she has kicked me out. I am heading to the club we met the other day, care for a drink?

You are a smart man, Chris, why do you have to go with this tired excuse every married man is always running around with about having a fight with their wife?

His response was quick and swift.

It wasn’t a justification for anything, beautiful, I knew you would want to know why I am asking you out this time of the night and I thought the truth would do. So, should I pick you or you will meet me there?

I am there already.

Oh!

And an early bird just asked me for a dance.

Tell him to enjoy the moment because it won’t last. I am on my way.

“Your boyfriend?” Mr. Handsome quipped as soon as she looked up from her phone.

“He’s coming over.”

“Not to worry, we will dance another day. If there will be another day.”

Charmed by his calmness, she stood and held out her hand to him. “I promised you a dance and I am going to keep my promise.”

They danced not far from their table so they could keep an eye on their drinks and personal items. She loved how firm his hold felt around her waist and he loved the feel of her touch on her shoulder. Her beloved song, Heart’s on Fire by Passenger, came on and she leaned over the guy’s shoulder and swayed along to the rhythm. When the music faded and they withdrew from each other, she whispered, “Eve. My name is Eve.”

“And I am Larry.”

They were making small talk when Chris showed up. Larry excused himself not long after and Chris followed him with his eyes before turning to Eve, “Seems like a nice guy.”

“I would have married him if you hadn’t shown up.”

“I apologize,” he said.

She looked down at his hand, which was lingering on her thigh. His touch, as innocent as it was, sent shivers down her spine. She placed her hand on top of his as if to discourage him from withdrawing his hand, and looked him in the eye. His eyes flashed with the same desire they had earlier that day. When he spoke, she barely heard a word because her focus was on his lips, wondering what else they were capable of doing other than arguing in court and, well, his wife.

“You dressed like this to come drink alone?” he asked.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

He chuckled.

“What was the fight about?”

“Something selfish.”

“Which is?”

“Look, let’s not talk about it now. If you don’t mind, that is.”

She agreed to let it go. They drank. Ate nyama choma. Drank some more. Danced. Drank some more. At some point, they both felt as if they were nothing but floating heads. When they walked out of the Club into the chilling night, Eve said, “I can’t drive. I am too drunk.”

“Fortunately for you, I can drive.”

“I am not leaving my car here.”

“Fine. We will take yours.”

“What about yours?”

“I will come for it in the morning. This place is safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Let’s go to my place,” she said, walking towards the car.

As he reversed the car, she looked at him and wondered whether she would later regret this night. But that feeling didn’t linger for long. The beautiful night, coloured by the streetlights and neon lights brought her excitement back. She loved how the road narrowed and widened ahead of them and how the road marks disappeared under the car so quickly like they were ushering them into a different world. Chris, ironically, drove soberly despite his drunk state. He would grin whenever she placed her hand on his thigh but said nothing. When they reached her place, they lingered in the car for a while. She was the first one to get out and later guided him upstairs, with their hands intertwined.

As soon as they stepped foot in her house, she descended into a frenzy. She placed her hand on his shoulders and kissed him. He kissed her back, his hands wrapped around her waist. They kissed for ages because she loved how he worked her mouth with his tongue. She loved how he sucked her lower lip, slowly, and then without warning increased his speed, devouring her mouth in a way that made her weak at the knees. She parted his legs with her knee and he took it as an invitation to lower his hand, running her palm over her ass, grabbing the hem of her dress and pulling it upwards. She let out a soft moan when his fingers touched her thighs retreating from the kiss, grabbing his other hand and guiding it to her breasts. This time, a louder moan escaped her mouth when he squeezed her left breast.

She unbuttoned his shorts and when she lowered them, she did so together with his boxers before holding his manhood in her hand. The next thing she knew they were on the floor with her on top of him. She lowered herself into him, moaning loudly as she did so. When she rode him, he held her waist and groaned because she was doing it so fast, like someone possessed. And yes, the spirit of a scorned woman possessed her. As strange as it was, in her mind she saw Tony’s mother watching her make love to a man that wasn’t her son. She saw her frothing at the mouth, threatening to strangle her to death with her own hands.

She looked down at Chris and his eyes were closed. She hadn’t cum yet, but she had herself to blame because by riding him that fast, poor Chris had no chance of lasting. And so she leaned down further, aiming her right nipple to his mouth and before he could nibble on it, she felt his seeds busting into her and she slowed down, giggling, completely heedless of the fact that they just had unprotected sex.

Credits To:

Editor: Nyarinda Moraa

Model: Rael Tomboy 

Photographer: Otieno Nyadimo 

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2 thoughts on “After The Storm

  1. That was a fucking (pun Intended) stupid mistake. Screwing Chris in her house. Scorned or not, get a room. A hotel room.

    We have P2 for a reason. Unprotected sex.

  2. Walter

    The faster she get the P2 pills the better lest Chris’s seed germinates breaking both marriages and moreso leading to death of someone. What a dryspell…

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