Drowning, his lungs flooded with a fire that burned without mercy. Faster and faster his heart beat, fighting for air, rapidly disappearing from the room. On all sides, he felt a pressure weighing down, crushing him. In his head, the four letter word resonated over and over, growing in intensity, invading, dominating, driving every other thought to a corner to cower in fear. The moment stretched to eternity; it demanded to be said, to be born from his lips.
Namdi fought a silent battle as she sat before him, the same amused smile on her lips. From his soul, a silent scream of defiance went off at the insanity of it all. He was a man, how dare she! The scream died at the realisation that he was powerless to stop his eventual surrender. It would only be a matter of time. The door remained closed.
Namdi said her name. A warmth coming over him, pressure lifting, a seed planted. Everything was once again right with the world.
"I don't think I've ever heard anyone say my name quite like you."
A finger lifted to her lips, tapping them at a steady rhythm as she thought. Namdi no longer needed to imagine the softness of those lips, each gentle tap sinking in. A nagging thought of having heard similar words began to surface in his consciousness. With a firm nod of the head she stopped, hand leaving her lips to rest on the desk between her and Namdi. She leaned forward ever so slightly, chin tilting up, exposing more of her charming neck on which hung a necklace.
Namdi's attention was swept up, his gaze following the trail of the necklace as it disappeared into her top, bearing a weight nestled between her twin peaks. He wondered if she had always been wearing it. Thinking back brought no answers, her other attractions taking center stage on their first encounter. Looking closely, he observed the necklace was not cheap. He had learned the hard way to spot quality jewelry over the past few years. It had a Roman style to it, he recognised. A Buccellati! Namdi sat there, a stunned expression on his face for a fleeting moment. How did she get such a piece. She definitely couldn't afford it on a sales girls salary even if she gathered all her pay cheques for a year; ten years even. Namdi could not hold back his curiosity, an imperceptible change in the way he looked at her.
"How did you get that..."
The rest of his sentence died. On his inner thigh he could feel a tender touch. It started near his knee before slowly working its way in. A small part of him had a sneaky suspicion she knew what he was about to ask but it was overwhelmed by the sensation, blood rushing down from his brain.
"Stop! I'm married."
With a sharp intake of breath, Namdi reached for the picture frame on the desk, turning it so it could fully face Bisi. The touch stopped making its way up his thigh, having reached only half way. She looked at the picture frame of Namdi with this woman. Her hand on the table stretched out, hovering above his fingers, holding the frame. She stroked the top of Namdi's hand. A current coursed through his skin, pleasure hitting every nerve on his hand, replacing his strength. Deftly, she rested her hand on his and together they pushed the picture to the table face down.
Continued on next page...
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