Chapter 5
The following day was a normal one, and a normal day for Ana meant too busy in the morning to cook, two or three meetings in the course of the day plus one or two impromptu ones, lunch, call interior decor about the dinner, and a few other routines. She found herself picturing what she saw the previous night a few times. On all occasions she would realize she had this lustful smile on when she came back to her senses. She would quickly go back to business and Kwame's silhouette was subconsciously scheduled for after an hour or two later.
Ana, concentrate, she advised herself, after emerging from one of her trances.
She nearly brought Kwame's manuscript to work as a source of stress release, but did not intend on making his business her business. She knew she was a freak. That was why she did not want to relapsed into reading novels again.
When habits became uncontrollable, novels replaced work.
Ana knew all her source of obstructions and would quickly cut them off when they began rearing their ugly heads. Like TV Series for instance, Prison Break spent a lot of her time, to the extent that that would be the last activity she performed in the evening and the first chore she performed in the morning. During those times, she had a companion by her side throughout the night, at least she needed some time away from the laptop that was full of reminders. So Prison Break was her best resort. Brenda Jackson was also the last writer she read. After these two came a hectic and demanding work life that almost always ate into her weekends.
She returned tired, kissed the joy of her life on the cheek when she went to his room, and went up to hers. After her nap, she resumed Kwame's manuscript. Now, every romantic scene in the manuscript had become a clear picture. She could not help it. Why was her mind playing Kwame in every romantic scene? For some instances her stubborn mind replaced the female character with herself, which brought her close to creatures she had hated for years, men.
After some time, she knew she needed to sleep, but the suspense that dripped off each page was not allowing her. A glance at the wall clock said it was the same time that naked silhouette happened the previous night. Upon the intrusive thought, her body went into a reflexive clench. It made stomach muscles constrict to the cold of the night. She was tempted to pry at Kwame's again but she decided she would not invade privacy. Why should she be stealing in on one's nakedness? The idea was quite absurd. She stood up, stretched, and began towards her room. The urge to steal a glance became strong as she neared the window.
The irresistible stimulant swivelled her neck towards Kwame's window, this time round, she saw something different. Something that she could not understand and explain. What she saw made her swallow some of the glee that she had gathered with regard to Kwame.
Her eyes met two people leaning on the window from inside the room. It appeared to be a night talk. The male figure, the easily identifiable Kwame, but the female figure, she wondered who she was. Ana zoomed in on her. She had never set eyes on her before. After some seconds, Ana moved to the other end of her window so that she would not be seen prying or probably alleged of trying to eavesdrop on them. Watching with the corner of her eyes, she watched for a while as they giggled and chewed on the pop corn the female figure had in hand. She brought her head back and left the window. Taking her stairs, confusion was written all over her face.
Either he is seeing her or she might be visiting, she countered her conclusion after a while. Her subliminal self had begun speaking out a jealousy she would deny having.
Ana would deny, but she slept uneasy and wary.
Few days passed. One night, in her aloneness, a mouth caress on the soft mounds on her chest flowered them to hardness and itch. They were picked with a downpour of merciless foreplay finesse. In her appreciative squirms, she flew high up the clouds of lovemaking. Her squirms were manic. It was when she wanted to say and kiss his name that she knew they had evaded the bureaucracy of back breaking thrusts. In her peak, disappointingly, she startled awake with her breasts cupped in her hands and her thighs wide apart.
This time, the dream was clearer.
She closed up and let go of them in a grudge against the level of her stimulation.
Another dream, she fumed.
Why did she have to wake up when she was climaxing? She turned on her side and began contemplating about her bodily reactions of late. She knew hormonal fluctuations in her groin plus years of celibacy were all coming at her with full vigour. However, a smile disturbed her lips due to the fact that it was him.
Why should he be the one to make love to her in her dream? It has been days since last he came around.
She lay there playing back the dream to herself. Ana placed a finger in her mouth and took a weak bite on it. The other hand took one of the numerous pillows and placed it in between her legs. She needed to wane down the whirl of lust that was still circulating in between her legs. She fought the strong feeling for close to half an hour before sleep came to her rescue.
That same morning, she woke up to a door bell. It rang a few times but Joe seemed to be far away in his sleep so Ana came down. She opened the door and upon registering the person behind the door, she nearly shouted OH MY GOSH! She did well to hold back the shock. She had not come up against any problems these years, but she was not firewood, blood was flowing in her veins.
It was obvious why Kwame was standing behind her door.
They exchanged pleasantries. Kwame expected her to wake Joe, he was in his outfit to the gym so his mission was easy to read. Ana for some reasons she alone knew, stood at the door with her hands clasped in front of her and was surveying his body.
He sure had an imposing structure. It was the first time Ana had watched him with such surveillance. Those pair of hand-sculpted flesh beneath his tipped nose that he called lips, Oh my.
A lustful urge to pass her fingers over her lips moved to her mouth. She clenched her hands around her chest and swallowed the lust.
'Hello!'
Her silly train of thought were truncated. She came back to reality and covered a part of her boob that the weak morning breeze had exposed.
'Hi. Hi,' she stuttered.
Kwame widened his eyes at her in an unutterable attempt to tell her that he was waiting for her to call her son so that they leave. His eye-widening effect on her was panty-dropping. When he widened his eyes at her, she thought she heard a voice similar to Poseidon's drawl; 'Take! Your! Cloths! Off!'
'Ok, just a minute,' she gestured with her thumb to inside her building and left. After she finished what was expected of her, she went up to dress for work. She sighed again when she reached her room.
'The person who was making love to me in my dream is the first person I see upon waking up, wow!' she muttered and shook her head. Her body felt like it had been injected with a slight dose of high. She felt like a Catholic meeting the Pope face to face on a first trip to Italy. She needed to have her bath. Taking off her nightie, she realized what might have just happened.
Did I go downstairs braless? Oh!
Her countenance was left to regret and some degree of embarrassment. Ana imagined how she appeared in front of him. The picture she imagined was bad; the tiny protrusions at the centre of the two rounded heaps on her chest, whose excitement would not simmer down after her romantic dawn vision.
Oh! No!
She stood in front of her dressing mirror and watched herself braless in her nightie.
'Oh, come on, really?' she drawled in a soft voice she could barely hear. She brushed the scene away, besides, he did not appear to be zooming in at her. He saw nothing, Ana concluded. She knew she had been taken away by his presence.
On her way to work, Joe and Kwame had arrived from the gym and were standing in front of her gate. She drove her car slowly out of her gate, turned to her right, and saw the eight wonder of the world. She had always heard of seven, she did not know the eighth was right beneath her nose.
There and then she reduced her speed. Her speed had to reduce because not just her legs had become weak to hit the accelerator, her whole body had already bowed down to his imposing masculinity.
On her right side stood a bare-chested Kwame, sweating profusely to a spell-binding effect on her.
He was gulping down some water from a bottle.
Those abs, she swallowed to contain the heat that was unfurling in her. Her breath seized.
The way his sweats were revealing the tautness of the contours of his stomach, Ana also felt thirsty. Sweat dripped under the hairs on his chest, joined other standing droplets on their way down his rolling packs, and eventually entered his navel like a golf hole. Sweat had pooled in his navel, with some drips leaking down onto the waist line of his shorts. If she had the ability to stretch her hands and touch them, she would. Ana had just drunk some water before coming out, but the way and manner Kwame's Adams apple rocked to his drinking made her thirstier.
Joe waved her goodbye but her blinded eyes did not see a hand.
Without noticing, her vehicle began moving to the other lane. She had almost by-passed them when a car startled her with a horn, forcing Ana to manoeuvre a swift swerve away from the approaching vehicle. Both her son and Kwame cringed at the fatal scene. Left to Ana alone the vehicles would have crushed, but the approaching vehicle saw Ana drift off early, thereby managing to swerve from his end. A look at her rear view mirror saw the two talking. She could tell that Kwame was asking Joe if everything was ok with his mother. She reorganized her over- captivated thoughts and drove on slowly.
That day, she nearly fired an employee at work when he was caught napping.
'Hey! Mr man, if you miss your matrimonial bed, let's get you packing so that you go and sleep by your wife's side at home,' she hollered when she slapped the sleeping worker's desk with a file much to the surprise of the rest of the workers. He was lucky he had been a long serving worker. If he were to be a new employee, oh, that would have been it. Despite all these harshness, people still worked for her because she paid good when it came to salaries.
Ana occasionally emerged from touching Kwame's abs before she realized she was fantasizing about him. She would jerk and as if to check if some inquisitive workers were prying on her, straighten up and resume work. That day, her schedule was not that tight so she brought his manuscript to work and did some reading in her free times. Reading, Ana was all smiles. In her day dreams, Ana's hands would periodically land on Kwame's chest when she felt for any of Kwame's well crafted characters. She found herself doing the unusual in her office, lying on her office table to read. She called it the lazy man's posture.
Work had almost ended when Joe called to inform her of some good news, which was a displeasure to Ana. Joe was elated, but Ana was seething over the same issue.
'I will be home soon' Ana spoke with some decisiveness in her voice and began parking. She had always been against the bond.
Her late husband's twin-brother had arrived from London. He was on holidays, and wanted to spend sometime with her son, who was his nephew. Anytime he was around, Joe had to leave for some couple of days. This bond between her son and his uncle was getting on her nerves as the years went by. It made her feel that that wicked family she married into was slowly winning her son back. She slammed her hand on her wheel at the thought of this.
'Wicked people,' she muttered.
Anytime she came across any of her late husband's family members in town, an uncontrollable urge to exchange blows with them was what she had to fight.
I was being married as a second wife and none of them tipped me off. You'd all rot in hell.
She blew her horn at the drivers in front of her at the last traffic light she had to pass before getting home when the light turned green.
Upon parking her car at her carport, she came down without locking it and went straight to her son.
'Joe, this bond between you and your uncle, I have told you countless times that-'
'You hate it.' Joe completed her sentence before she could. Ana was seething, squinted-eyed. Joe wore a face directly opposite his mother's. A long silence transpired as they both stared at each other. He watched her countenance improve to a normal one before he continued. 'As you said, he is my Uncle.'
'Well, they are untrustworthy people. They don't deserve any pity or love.' Ana retorted and stormed out of his room. Seconds later, he heard her bang her door shut from upstairs. Such bangs suggested his lioness of a mother was in some different element. She was going to call his Uncle and throw the usual volley of interrogation at him.
'What do you want with my son this time round, is he the reason why you decided to holiday here, how safe is he around you, are you sure you won't lie to him just like you people did to me some years ago,' and a host of other annoying motherly probes. Joe could hear his mother's raging voice from downstairs as she spoke on the phone. It went on for sometime before her voice receded to calm. Then Joe heard his mother calling. That was the routine, he knew. She would roar like a lion, but in the end, as calm as a cat, she would give him the permission. As he was taking the stairs to his mother's room a smile was betraying his straight face.
Joe loved moments with his Uncle. The man made him feel like he was already an adult. He would travel to any place of his choice: Nzulezu, the Aburi Gardens, Paga, Kakum National Park, just name them. He would frequently give Joe the privilege behind the wheel, though he was under age. It was one activity he would die for, to drive like all men did. The driver who drove him to school everyday never allowed him the chance. He was under strict orders not to try the foolish idea. With his father's twin brother, he felt the most alive.
He went to his mother's room and as he anticipated, she gave him the permission to go. These moments were one of those few when he hugged his mother and did not want to let go.
'You know I will go to any limit to make you happy,' she declared whiles in his arms. She informed him that he would come over tomorrow to pick him up. It was about two weeks until school reopened so Joe could use only a week.
Elated, an idea came to mind. He thought of letting Kwame know he was leaving for a week, so that he passes by to check up on his workaholic mother. Maybe she might need some company one of these days that he was going to be absent. Without telling his mother, he dashed out to Kwame's.
Kwame was always home. Apart from the fact that he was writing, all the CEOs who lorded over his father's companies reported to him on weekly bases, after which he would email the report abroad.
He was a home CEO sort of.
The only time he was not home was when he had a call from a publisher or an agency.
The happy Joe beseeched him the favour and without a dot of protest, accepted to check up on his mother as often as possible.
Early the next morning, Ana was up. It was the only time within the week that she could spend time with her flowers.
She had green hands.
Let Ana touch a dying flower and it would miraculously gain life. She had gloves on and was doing some pruning. Ana would let no one touch her flowers. She had an unusual connection with them. It was only when she was on a business trip or for some reason far away from home that she made a florist come around. The last time she entrusted them in Joe's care, she came back to a mess. After that it has been her or no one else. Cracked pots were one of her dislikes, she would not sleep until she replaced them. She had almost finished when a car arrived at her gate.
The Security opened the expected visitor and he drove in. Ana stood there watching as he killed his engine. She did not need to be angry before the man knew of her dislike, it was clear to the blind. Joe had already finished parking. The visitor exited his car. When Ana landed eyes on him, she felt like bursting out in tears. Twin brother indeed.
She could bet on her life that that was her late husband standing right there. They were identical: small headed, thick brows, little moustache, brown eyes, humble demeanour, five foot six... They exchanged pleasantries but Ana did not shake the hand he extended.
With a pruner in hand, she watched her son load his bags with some unusual energy. When he was ready, he pecked his mother and they were off. The angry Ana cut short what she was doing and walked back into her building. She could hardly be herself when her son was in another person's care. She put the gloves somewhere and threw herself headlong on the sofa. She gasped and began thinking about possible ramifications of his son's time away. Fortunately, nothing came to mind.
Listening to the radio, she lay there for sometime before moving to the kitchen to cook herself some food. Another habit she disliked was employing the services of a cook. The last time she did, the cook almost burnt down the house.
Why would you send a five-year-old to the gas cooker? Five-year-old Joe turned on the gas and held on to it for a long-time without lighting fire. The whole building was smelling of gas before the kid saw a match box on the kitchen marble. Coincidentally, both Ana and the cook reached there just in the nick of time before Joe could light a stick. That was the cook's story.
With Joe now away, her day went quite slow because she had little to do. Time seemed to have paused. She finished working on a few documents early in the morning and made some calls pertaining the annual dinner. The rest of the day was left to her use. She tried her hands on a recipe she had heard of, which made her spend few hours in the kitchen. After eating, she went out for a walk with her dog in a bid to clear her head off work and issues at home.
That evening, Ana was reading when her door bell rang.
Who could be knocking on my door as of this time?
She did not hear any car come in so the person was most likely to be on foot.
A peep through her peephole and she knew she was not herself anymore.
She cleared her throat lightly, wore a new smiling face, and opened the door. They smiled at each other before Kwame said 'Hi.' Ana responded and informed him that his little friend was away with an Uncle of his, since she thought he did not know about his absence. Kwame explained that that was why he was at her door. Ana did not understand, but since she thought they were talking already, she invited him in.
They sat and began a nice chat. Kwame was a good chat as well as a good listener. That was the first time the two had had some drinks together. A giggle here and a laughter there was all it took to make Ana's day. It was half way into their conversation that he disclosed that Joe had told him to keep an eye on her because she overworked herself at times, so his presence there was to check up on her.
'Oh, ok' she responded after the disclosure. 'that is so chivalrous of you.' He responded with a nod and a nice smile. Ana needed a rescue team at this point, she was drowning in his smile. After that, Joe became the topic of discussion.
The kid had a kind heart and many prospects, they agreed. He complimented her on a good job done in bringing such a kid up as a single parent. Ana's head was like that of her building when these remarks fell off his lips. Looking into his eye was one act that made her want to go to the loo so she did her best to keep her eyes away. She found out that Kwame looking at her was like sun rays were falling on no one but her. His smiles made him look like the sun rose and fell on him. The gentleman's gaze was making her grovel inside.
As a romance novelist, Kwame could make a lady feel like heaven with just his compliments, and Ana was no exception. She swallowed in her blush for the third time when his smile at her sounded like 'you are the prettiest creation I have set my eyes on in a while.'
She tried returning some of his compliments but found herself struggling to say something that sounded like a compliment.
Ana was not that good at the game.
For instance, when he told her how he admired her zeal for work as a woman, after a while, she wanted to tell him she also admired the originality in his words when she paused. After the word 'admire' left her lips she could not take her eyes of his. Ana drifted into a daydream. She stared at his mouth and thought of how it would feel on her skin. She quickly emerged from the dream she last had and completed her sentence. Ana was mostly worlds away as they chatted. As though she was not watching, she needed to take his features in slowly before her brain told her that her memory was full. The influx was well beyond her faculty.
We have been neighbours for some months now, how come you are suddenly looking this irresistible? she was debating while he did some talking. In her eyes, Kwame was glowing with male hotness.
Holy Mary!
It went without saying that he was a hot cake in high school. She was flapping her legs as if to cool down the heat that was brewing from in between them. A few times Ana would ask him to repeat himself because she was fantasizing about him at some beach resort where he was tossing her up and down in his arms.
Around eleven o'clock that evening, as their conversation appeared to be losing its pace, a few yawns here and there suggested that he needed to leave. However, they both appeared interested in where the chat was headed to. Now that they were talking about his writing prowess, he appeared in his elements. He explained and digested certain terminologies and jargons to her in the writing profession. After a while, Ana's eyes became so heavy they would literally not open. He watched her struggle to stay awake. Surprisingly, he offered to read her something to sleep, which Ana did not hesitate to say yes to.
He began reading. It was a piece he had written. His voice sounded like a lullaby in her ears. It tickled her brain to sleep before she knew.
