Chapter 4
Home, she went straight to her room, which was so unusual of her. The routine was to check up on her blue-eyed boy, Joe, before she did anything.
Joe heard her car come to a halt in the compound and expected his mother through his door any minute, but she was not coming. He paused the Mario carts and went up to her room.
He found her sprawled on her bed, gasping hugely yet gently. He knew something was off with her. A son's instinct was at play. He enquired but from the look of things, she was not in the talking mood. Her eyelids were soaked, making them appear like spikes. He pressed further before she finally disclosed her source of pain that day. Joe was caught between saying do not bother about him too much and the guilt that came with the remark.
No matter how satanic he was, he was the person who instigated his coming into this world. If not for anything, at least, his late father deserved credit for the love-making that fateful night that led to his conception.
Like husband and wife, he lay by his mother's side and held her hands. A gesture that said 'don't worry mother, I'm here for you.' For the past eight years, that was the first time a male had plonked a body onto that huge bed. The inanimate bed knew it craved for a male user.
The last time Joe slept by his mother's side was when he was eight. A nightmare brought him screaming to her side so she let him stay by her side.
After a while, he left. She was sleeping, though he knew it was a nap. The workaholic in her would wake her up in no time to resume work.
As predicted, it happened.
She woke up before Joe slept that night, not to work, but read. Another far-out for the day.
Ana would usually work on some few files that needed finishing early the next day during her evenings. She hated procrastination.
A few weeks ago, when Kwame, the guy next door, was with her son, he disclosed he was an aspiring writer, and coaxed her into reading one of his manuscripts. In the presence of her son, she could not turn down the offer, she nodded and told him anytime he was ready he should bring the manuscript, or better still give it to Joe to be given to her.
Ana loved reading as a student. During her school days she would finish tomes within days and move on to the next. It was one quirk her late husband teased her about. Ana had read a lot of romance novels that she was beginning to act like one Harlequin female character; extremely beautiful but coy and easily manipulated when in his presence. All of that was lost. That beauty, coyness, and submissiveness died with him, not physically but character-wise. People change for many reasons: new found love, marriage, having a child, just to mention a few. Hers was too hard to take, which instigated her current bossiness.
She sat by the window and began reading Kwame's manuscript.
The gentleman had the flare, she admitted. The creativity was also not too bad for a beginner. He would become a good writer if he kept on with the style. After a few pages, Ana wondered why he was finding it cumbersome getting an agent to represent the novel.
She loved the story line already.
Kwame's face came to memory.
Wonders shall never end indeed.
Nobody would predict such an innocent face to be writing such creative romantic scenes. She squinted and nibbled on her lower lip after one line that made her go wow! She was tempted to look at the direction where Kwame's story building stood but gave up the idea. He would be sleeping by now. She checked the time. It was late. She rocked slowly the chair as she read on.
Tired after a long while, she decided to retire to bed. She put a pen between the leaves she had reached and placed the manuscript on the side table. She stood up, took a step, and just as she was about passing the slightly open curtain, her peripheral view caught a glow. Naturally, she decided to look.
A gentle spin of her neck brought a figure to her sight. She halted in her step.
'Holy creation,' she muttered. The words puked out of her in a reflex. The jumpiness that the silhouette brought parted her lips. She brought her fingers to her lips. The golden lights in the nearest room of the adjacent building had casted the figure of a naked gentleman with a hard on. It appeared he had just finished having a bath. The projection was quite sharp though, making the owner of the body a no brainer.
It was Kwame, the person she just read.
Doesn't he know he is naked, and that his figure is on his curtain? The dark shadow appeared to be moving slightly but it was still facing away somewhere inside the room it stood. From the angle she stood, or let's say from where she was unintentionally admiring, if Kwame turned abruptly, she would be caught prying. She did not want such an embarrassment. It might ruin her reputation forever.
Ana needed to leave her window pane.
Ana had grown pig-headed all of a sudden. She knew she was leaving but her legs would not heed to her unuttered command. Her body apparently wanted more and it had taken the better of her. This was the closest she had come to the nudity of a male after her husband, and heavens have mercy he was quite huge. She was sucking on her lips before she knew what she was doing meant something. She knew if her son walked in on her too, she would be forced to accept his claim that every woman needs a man.
After a minute, her stubborn legs moved away from their transfixed spot. With one hand to her chest and the other holding up the nylon nightie just in front of her groin, she walked silently to her bed. She could not help but burst out in controllable laughs and giggles in responds to what she just saw.
He is... so sexy though.
A wide grin plastered on her lips as she continued her recollection of all the angles and views of the silhouette that made the hard on extremely long at one time and short the next second. When she was sleeping, she slept with a smile on.
Hearing from you would mean the world to me. kisses.
