Verses By Beordoon

Musings of a Maskuraid…

SLEEPING TABLET

Photo Credits – Google

By the time I got back to the bathroom he was already seated in the tub and chest deep in soap suds. His pile of wet clothing lay in the corner, so I slipped the yellow towel robe off my shoulders, dumped it on the floor, walked awkwardly across the linoleum and joined him in the warm bath. For once I was grateful for the size of the damn thing, never mind that I’d always complained about the space it took.

This is clearly not me.

I am a rational being, maybe a bit of a control freak, ultra conservative and a slave to routine. I hate surprises, something my ex found out the wrong way. Every move of mine is always calculated, and every thought evaluated over and over again before I act on it. I have never been spontaneous or impulsive in any way.

This person sitting naked in a hot tub with a total stranger she met on the train just less than an hour ago is not me.

Today was rough at the hospital, and I was completely knackered by the time I handed over to the girls working the night shift. After being on my feet for all of twelve hours I could barely walk, and every bone in my body ached as if I’d been in a fight with a bull. My head ached like mad too. As if that wasn’t enough the heavens opened up as soon as I stepped outside the giant metal gates. I had no umbrella, and in a few minutes I was soaked to the skin. All through the ten minutes of sloshing it took to get to the train station, all I wanted to do was just lie down and cry my heart out from frustration.

When the train finally came it was full, but I found a corner where I could hang from the overhead rail like a scarecrow and drip in peace, while thanking God I had chosen a padded bra this morning. My cold-stiffened nipples would have bored holes in the lacy option I left on the bed.

I was standing there, feeling wretched and questioning why I’d chosen to leave sunny Lagos for this miserable English weather when our eyes met and he smiled at me.

Thirty minutes later we got off the train together. In that time I’d learnt his name was Sunkanmi, that he was a student at Brunel and that he lived with his brother in a small flat on the other side of London. I shut him up when he wanted to tell me more. I didn’t want to know, all I wanted was the company of that smile for one night.

Nothing else can explain me taking a stranger home, except maybe that I’d been possessed by a demon, or my body had been taken over by an alien. I never even kissed on the first date.

His hand on my foot brought me back to the bathroom.

“May I?” he asked.

“Sure.” I responded.

He sponged me from head to toe, patiently scrubbing away all the grime of the hospital. He didn’t dwell on my parts, just bathed me tenderly like a professional would do a new born with a serious expression on his beardless face. When he was done he stepped out and lifted me to the floor, then picked a towel from the rack and rubbed my body dry. I saw then he still had his boxers on, and I smiled at the absurdity of it all.

“Wait for me in the bedroom,” he commanded. I obeyed without a word.

He joined me in another five minutes, water dripping from his now totally naked body. His well-muscled ebony torso gleamed in the light, and my shy eyes stole below his waist. Channing Tatum was still asleep, nestled in a bed of shiny dark hair.

My nipples doubled in size as I took in all six feet plus of lean meat. God! All my hormones immediately went into overdrive. Having stayed celibate since I sacked clueless Bayo six months ago, when he knelt by the bed and touched my leg an electric bolt raced from my brain to my loins.

My thighs parted of their own volition.

****

I woke up late the next morning.

A tendril of steam swirled from the jug of coffee placed on a table beside the bed and the smell of bacon and toast was heavy in the air. The ache in my head had been replaced by another one between my legs. It felt wonderful, and I felt wonderfully refreshed.

Last night had been a rodeo.

My sleeping tablet had left, but not without leaving me a little note. I picked up the small piece of paper tucked under the sugar bowl and read his scrawl with a smile.

‘Thank you, for letting me.’

‘Sunkanmi.

 

 

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2 Comments

  1. Amity

    This is a very beautiful piece of writing.Very captivating from the being to the end. Shoki lobe oge.
    Thumbs up.

  2. You have such a power of giving details through the simplest words. Your stories are so earthy, so real… and so touching.

    I love this and would read it again.

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