From his throat a moan escaped, her lower limb stretched to the limit, stopping mere inches from his engorged crown. His desire built to a crescendo; thoughts of reaching across the desk and having her right on this table having free reign. Her hand still lay on his, pressing down on the picture frame. In Bisi's soft brown eyes, he could see a desire outshining his own. With a flick of his wrist, Namdi held her hand in his, muscles tensing as he rose to pull her across the table. At this moment all he wanted from the world was her, here, now! Bisi's lips quivered in anticipation, a fierce heat rising up her thighs, gathering below her navel.
"I have your pot of tea here sir."
Namdi froze, his neck swiveling to the turning door knob. A chill went down his spine, paralyzing him. On his tenth birthday, malaria had ravaged his body. In a desperate attempt to keep his temperature down, his mum had plunged him into a bath of ice water. Through his weak screams and struggles, she held him down. He had never felt such a sharp change in temperature again till now. What a cruel joke, to think he had signed his end with his own tongue. Had it already been 20 minutes?! Namdi watched the door open, frozen as the receptionist’s back pressed against the wood. Time, if he could only have more time...
Bisi had no such constraints, recovering first. In one fluid motion she extricated her hand from Namdi's, slamming it against the table. The impact woke Namdi out of his stupor. Without a second thought he let gravity pull him down to his chair, hiding the bulge in his trousers behind the desk. The receptionist jumped at the sound, nearly dropping the tray of tea items she held with both hands.
"Maybe now you'll take me seriously."
Bisi sat there calm, like a palm strike to the table never happened. Her words were even, carrying none of the passion that had burnt in her eyes moments before. She only looked at Namdi, patiently waiting, disregarding the receptionist walking and placing the tray on the table between them.
Unsure of what to do, how to answer, Namdi opened his mouth without a plan, hoping he would somehow muddle through.
"I'm sorry miss, let's start from the beginning."
Turning to the receptionist, he couldn't help but watch her as she prepared the tea set. How much had she seen? Could she tell? He searched for clues in her demeanor but found nothing.
"Sir, will it be your usual?"
"Yes, and for the miss, she'll be having the Earl grey, two packets of sweetener and a dab of cream."
With practiced finesse, the receptionist made the teas in quick succession, placing them in front of Bisi and Namdi. Gathering the tea set back on the tray, she paused for a moment. Still watching her, Namdi unknowingly held his breath. Reaching out, the receptionist lifted the face down picture frame; setting it on its stand. It faced Namdi and Bisi equally. She took a step back, turning to face Namdi.
"Will that be all, sir?"
He looked at her quizzically, having forgotten about the lunch order.
"You may leave, the teas will do nicely."
Surprised, the receptionist turned to Bisi, wondering who she was to be able to speak in such a confident tone here. Hearing nothing from Namdi contradicting Bisi's statement, she picked up the tray, walking briskly to the door. Namdi briefly watched as the receptionist left the table heading out. His brain howled at him, he couldn't be in the same room with this woman alone. Over and over, his common sense pounded, fighting his desire, fighting his want, fighting his lust. In front of him, Bisi's tongue slowly ran against her lips. An act so simple, so delicate, so basic and yet it lit a fuse in him. It was only a matter of time and he would fall, this he was sure. Tearing his eyes away from her lips he focused all he had left on the picture sitting on his desk, shouting from his heart.
Continued on next page...
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