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BEYOND

Author  Zola
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I know where I should be right now. But life happens.

On Tuesday last week, I had the best wine ever, courtesy of Ify. He offered to take me home from work, and we had stopped at the supermarket to get groceries. 

“You know you deserve the best, Toye.” He said with a smile. I mean, of course, I do. I have been working my ass off and getting underpaid. He dropped me off and got back into his car to go home. That was the beginning of the end. 

His car had failed to start, and the cloud was threatening to burst with rain. Plus, Uber didn’t operate well in this part of town. 

“You can stay in the spare room,” I offered. He appeared to consider the offer before agreeing. 

My kitchen and refrigerator was empty, except for the leftover jollof rice from my neighbour’s birthday party yesterday.  After re-warming the rice, I set the plates and wine glasses on the living room floor. If anything, I’d want to get back at my mom, who always complains that I’m a terrible host. He already took off his suit jacket and had about three of his shirt buttons down. Nope, I’m not having sex with another colleague; I cautioned myself and took my eyes off immediately. Two glasses of wine after, I found myself giggling at his rather dry jokes and flirting shamelessly. That’s wine for you.
 
“You’re cute.” He tells me, working his fingers through my braids and massaging my scalp. God, this is heavenly madness. 

“And you smell nice.” That was the wine talking and not me because I really hated his cologne. 

He draws closer to me, lowers my back to the floor, and positions himself between my legs. “Give me your hands.” I knew it; these quiet guys are always the kinky ones. He puts my hands, which are tied with his tie, over my head. “How do you imagine dying?”  Boy, I don’t know. Can you just f*ck me now?

“Impatience. That’s your problem, Toye.” He trails kisses from my neck to my belly button. He comes back up, this time with his fingers wrapped around my neck.  I can feel his erection against my thighs, and god, he is huge. “Ify, Ify, um… your hold…is …ti…ght.” I can’t breathe. I ask again: "how do you imagine dying?” 

He tightens his choke now: two hands choking me and his legs pressing me down. I can’t fight, not with my hands tied up and the influence of the wine. When Steph had asked me how I imagined dying, I had dismissed her. Why would I want to die or even think of dying but here I am now at the mercy of another human. I can see the darkness now. They tell you there’s a light at the end of the other world, but all that welcomes me is darkness, utter darkness.


BEYOND

© 2021 Zola. All Rights Reserved

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