Bleeding Love By Stephen Toochi

BLEEDING LOVE

A SHORT STORY BY STEPHEN TOOCHI

There's a kind of relationship that  gives a soul to your universe,
wings to your mind, flight to your imaginations,  charms to
your sadness, and life to everything around you.

I found myself in one. And as a goal getter, I pushed, strived to stay in it.

The first time I set  my eyes on her, I was blown away. My thoughts spiralled in rapid succession to those of sexual nature. But did I get what I wanted? That's what you're about to find out.

First off, My name is Jacob Jackson. Peeps called me Jay-Jay. The only son of Mr Jackson. I'm a younger brother to two sisters. And I was spoilt as a kid. I get away with most things —everything as a child and that followed me into adulthood.

Rumor had it that I'm a major player. The men worshipped me as I  checked each woman off my checklist. I don't care of the colour; yellow, caramel, dark or ebony. And since men are hardwired by what they see I tend to tilt towards pear shaped hips and enormous Chi-Chi.

This has been happening as I have the money, the good looks and confidence to back it up. I'd like to mention a few of the flings. Ngozi - the gapped teeth lady that drove me into ecstasy. Chidimma, the ever ready lady. One I could call a trophy girlfriend. She's class and knows how to party. Then there's Shade, whose culinary skills coupled with bed matics prowess meant I won't be forsaking soon. I love Aisha, Oyin and Seyi too—differently.

All these things changed that afternoon I met her. She was leaving the bank just as I was walking in. Hell!  She was different. Absolutely stunning in her gown.

On sighting I ducked and turned. My player instincts kicked in, prompting my tongue to carress my lips. I flung my car keys to make jiggling a sound and scanned her.

Her face was on a beat down with beige color. She looked like a goddess, who had black thicket for lashes, carved rock for cheekbone and gemstones for eyes. Her phone rang and she bent her head to fish it out of her bag.

As a pervert, the open necked gown showcased some irresistible flesh that I swallowed hard. She placed the phone on her ear and I angled my head to admire the hips - they were perfect cocaine toned hips— too perfect.

Fast forward to ten minutes later, I was spitting  the lines. It looked like I was getting somewhere until I asked her number. She stared at me, threw her head backwards and laughed hard. That gesture unsettled me but I stood firm to her bathing eyelids, her curling tongue and warm mysterious smile.

“Do you really want my number?” her question caught me grinning.

“I wouldn't have asked if I didn't.”

She took my phone and punched in her digits. I was excited for another kill but I dialled the number to be sure it was hers. She smiled, “I'm past the level of playing around.”

I made a gesture of hand to my ear which translated to “I'll call you later.”

The first call registered a connection. Then we went to our first date. Her dress spoke for her. It spelled CLASS. The flamboyance of a goddess. The gown held firm her breast but gave room for her hips to wriggle. My eyes strayed many times but the date was a success, especially my kind of success—a goodbye kiss and hug.

I drove her home and we talked. She was different, the aura she possessed was infectious. She made me yearned for her—more. Then We talked till the dawn chased the dark. We talked till the crickets went to rest and the frogs held their peace. And I left her and headed home.

Our next meeting had me proposing a name to our relationship. She refused outrightly to my shock. I took it in as a man and winced.

Consequent conversations and meetings birthed blowing kisses on phone, saying sweet nonsense, hugging and kissing  that I wondered why she kept refusing the proposal. She never allowed me into her pot of ecstasy though but I remained content.

This continued for three months and I never relented—something about her kept tugging at my chest. She completed me. She made me lose tracks of my other ladies and that was some huge impact.

Her birthday approached, she told me_I smiled, we're getting somewhere after all. She wanted me to be her guy for the day. And I gladly agreed little did I know what fate awaited me.

She promised me a surprise, something I'd love.

After rigorous preparation, the day came. Lights flooded the room and scents of different perfumes perched on noses. Liquids swirled in glasses as choruses of "birthday girl" deafened her ears. It was her day and to enjoy it was her priority.

She was draped over me in a salsa dance, our hands each clutching a champagne flute when out of the blues she jerked and hugged me. The tightness of her hug alarmed me and I cupped her face in my hands.

The cold fire in her eyes was startling as she gasped for breath.

“What is it Deb?” my voice came cracked.

“Take me....to my.  Room” she stammered.

I carried her, letting no one—no guest know of her predicament — that was my undoing.

Dragging our feet upstairs, we got into her room, I laid her on the bed and rushed to get water. On getting back with a glass of water. I saw her in a rated 18 position—unclad and smiling seductively at me. I was shocked, relieved all at once.

”Surprise!” she shouted. “ I'm all yours Dan.”

Pouting my mouth I saw my phallus react like an antenna that caught a signal. Her flesh shimmered, her Chichi were balls of pleasure. I   imagined my hands around them and wondered how God felt when he created them. He must have been horny like I was. My brain was on time to snapped out of my blasphemy.

My eyes travelled from her eyes straight to her Chichi, lingered and down to the V-shaped area. My mouth watered and her eyes glowed.

“Love what you see?” she asked in the most arousing way.

“Yes baby!” the intense desire to devour took over my senses. We took ourselves twice. Exhausted and fulfilled, we lay on the bed facing the ceiling.

She heaved a sigh, cocked , stared intently at me and said the most beautiful words ever said,

“I Love you Dan,” she gave a tired smile.
“ I'll now be able to love you because we've become the same .” she added.

My eyes popped at the admonition. She loves me? Then intrigued over the last statement.

Alarmed, “ me and you? The same? How do you mean?"

“Because it's time you know me for who I am.”

“For who you....are? You're Debbie Okonkwo, the daughter of...”

I was yet to finish the sentence when I saw an anaconda sprawled on the bed, tongue wriggling and eyes flaring. My survival instincts called but before I could reach the door she had circled me and licked my face.

The next I felt was  hot liquid zipping down my naked legs. I heard her faint laugh.

“You love me, don't you?”

I shook my head.

Her mouth opened and ...

© Stephen Toochi
#StephStories.