Friday, January 27, 2012


Image from here
The kiss comes like a splash of cold water on a harmattan morning. One moment we are sitting there laughing at Ben Stiller’s antics, the next his tongue is making its way down my throat. My first reaction is shock. Next, disgust so strong I can hardly keep myself from gagging. Then there is anger. What the hell? Just because we spend a few hours a week together, that does not give him the right to invade my privacy and orifices with his tongue. I wonder how he manages to talk with that thing in there anyway. Finally, there is pity; and it is that that makes me endure until he pulls away of his own accord. I look at his face, see the stupid self-satisfied smile it wears, and for a moment the pity evaporates and I want to slap him. Before he opens his eyes I rearrange my facial features to show something milder; less disgust, less pity, more whateverness.

“Wow.” He is breathless.

Idiot. I want to scratch the look of wonder off his face. Thanks to him we would have no more movie watching or hanging out time; things would be too awkward now. And I will definitely die of boredom. My gravestone would read, ‘Somebody Somebody, Sometime to Somewhen, Died of Boredom.’ Thanks a lot, Chuks.

“So did you like it? Was it good for you?” I ask in my driest tone.

“It was awesome!”

“Great. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

I turn and stare at the TV for a moment, pretending I can still follow what’s happening. He reaches for the remote and pauses the movie. I turn to him, my eyebrows raised.

“Babes, you know I like you, right?”

Babes? Babes! One tongue shove and I’m already his babes? That immediately kills whatever pity I have left.

“What’s all this?” I ask, moving away from him.

“What’s all what? I like you…”

“And so you try to choke me with your tongue? Yeah, if I had any doubts that you liked me, they’re gone now.”

He smiles.

“Oh that’s good then.” He moves closer to me. “So, what do you say? You like me too?”

How had I never noticed how dense he is? I stand and start walking to the door.

“So what now, you haven’t answered. Do you like me? You think we might have something going here?”

I turn and smile sweetly at him.

“No, we do not have something going here. There is nothing going on here. We had something good , but you had to go and ruin it with your massive tongue!”

I open the door and start to walk out. But one last parting shot seems in order.

“For your future... endeavours; it’s kissing, not organ swapping.”

Monday, January 9, 2012


Image from here

“Yes,” I’m fiddling with the toaster so I’m barely listening. I wonder what Mona has done again to make another appliance, which had been working perfectly before she touched it, start to malfunction. And when I called her Touch of Death she would complain.

“Are you and mummy getting a divorce?”

My ears perk up and I stop fiddling. I turn to look at Leke. He hitches his glasses up on his nose and blinks back at me, but otherwise he’s perfectly still.

“Ah-ah, Leke. Where did you hear that?”

He swings his leg from the kitchen counter where he is perched, and I remember that Mona hates it when I let him sit there.

“Chuks told me. He said that when you start hearing your parents shouting in their room, then it means they will soon get divorced.”

Leke’s eyes remain on me as he waits for an answer, and I think it tragic that at age eight he doesn’t need me to explain to him what a divorce is. I didn’t know what a divorce was when I was eight. The world has changed, and much of it not for good.

“So when did you hear me and your mummy shouting?”

I know Mona and I have never argued in front of Leke, but still I turn the last few weeks over in my head and cannot come up with one instance when we might have let our guard down enough to raise our voices with him around.

“Yesterday night. I woke up to pee, and I heard mummy…,” I see his eyes narrow behind his glasses. “Daddy, were you beating my mummy?”

Darn. He must have heard us last night. And maybe on other nights before yesterday? Mona had discovered a sex shop a few months back and her excitement had been incredible to watch. Now once a week she would come home with a nondescript grey bag, in which she would tuck the carrier bag from Sex for Sale. She’d found her Nirvana here on earth, and not too far from our house too. Every week there was a different theme, dictated by what she had in her bag.

Mona is very… adventurous. And loud. Last night was the middle of S and M week. She’d turned our bedroom into a dungeon, and we took turns driving each other to the brink of insanity and back. While I’d been able to take my pleasure quietly, Mona has never demonstrated this capacity. Ordinarily I don’t mind; I actually kind of like it, but only when there’s no listening audience. And this time she’d made enough noise to scare our son, whose bedroom was on a different floor! And when I call her Police Siren she will start to vex.

“Leke, relax. Your mummy and I are not getting divorced. We love each other very much. And we love you too,” I ruffle his thick curls as I say this, and he smiles.

“And you did not beat mummy?” his eyes regard me warily.

“Oh no. Your mummy and I were just… playing rough.”

Leke considers this for a moment.

“Me and Chuks play rough sometimes.” He pulls his earlobes in warning, “But Daddy I hope you are not telling a lie o. I’m going to ask Mummy when she comes back.”

I smile to myself, picturing how Mona would keep her face to answer Leke. “You can ask her, Leke. But she’ll probably tell you the same thing.”

“Okay o,” he jumps down from the counter and bounces off in the direction of the living room. I turn back to the toaster just as my phone starts to ring. Siren calling.

“Babes,” her voice is warm, like the honey from two weeks ago. “You won’t believe what just came in at Sex for Sale today.”

“I’m sure I’ll find out.”

“Oh, you will. Next week, I’m going to make you explode. Literally.”

I remember the way she’d licked that warm honey clean off me and sweat breaks out above my upper lip.

“I’ll see you later.”

I rush to speak. “Oh, hey, hey, Mona?”


“Honey, while you’re there, could you get a nice soft piece of fabric. Like a silk scarf maybe?”

There’s a slight pause.

“Ooh, are you getting ideas?” she purrs.

“Um… something just came to me, barely minutes ago.”

“Care to share?”

“No, you’ll see.”

“Okay.” Her voice is excited. Like a little girl’s. “You know how I enjoy planning these things, but it’s good to have you put in your thoughts sometimes. Okay, I’ll see you when I get back.”

“'Kay. Bye.”

The silk scarf might work for S and M week, but I would have to think of an excuse for gagging her after that.