Abuja To Lagos
Episode 3 ?
He reached out and pulled her to him. Their lips met and their kiss broke only when his shirt came off.
Soon, the rest of his clothes were in a heap. Adaora pushed his naked body down on the couch and she straddled him. His Ç0çƙ was already hard and she came down on it with one swift motion.
Her p@zzy was still slick from the 0rg@zm he had left in her earlier. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled Clifford forward, burying his face between her Břě@šťs. Clifford nibbled at her, gently at first. His lips brushed across her Břě@šťs. His hands were around her back, gripping the cheeks of her @zz as she rode him.
Throwing her head back, Adaora th-ru_st her chest forward. Her hips gyrated slowly, taking all of Clifford’s Ç0çƙ inside her. She felt lips around one of her rock-hard Ɲīpplës and she pulled Clifford closer to her Břě@šť. The familiar tingle started once again in her fingers and toes.
This time, she was using him. His Ç0çƙ was her toy. She bounced up and down on him, grinding her ćƖĩť against him. Firmly in control, she maneuvered his Ç0çƙ so it brushed all the right places on her insides. And it fits so well. She pulled his head back by the hair and looked him in the eyes. Eyes that seethed with passion.
“Do you like that?” she whispered, bringing herself down hard on him.
“Yes,” he gasped.
“Good,” she smiled at him, trying to stay in control of the situation.
Adaora lifted herself so that his Ç0çƙ was almost out of her. She held him there for a long moment before taking it all back inside her with a single swift stroke.
They both Mõ@ɲed with undisguised bliss.
She never took her eyes from his. Her hips moved faster. Their grunts came harder.
Taking one of her Břě@šťs in her hand, she pushed it into Clifford’s mouth, but they never broke eye contact. Even as he suckled on her, their intensity did not waver. Adaora felt like her Pů$$¥ was about to explode, but still, she fixed her gaze on his eyes.
Up and down. Harder. Faster. In and out.
Her body moved with abandon. Her pulse raced.
She had never lost control with a client, yet there she was, riding Clifford’s Ç0çƙ like a woman possessed. Finally, she could contain it no longer. She arched her back and came down on him one more time.
Her reward came in the form of stars $h00ting out of the corners of her eyes. A lustful gasp escaped her lips.
Adaora’s p@zzy was filled with hot jims. Clifford’s eyes were shut, his face rapturous. His head was thrown back on the couch. His hands grasped her hips, his knuckles white. The 0rg@zm kept going, even though neither of them had moved. Clifford’s Ç0çƙ was still buried inside her.
There was ringing in her ears. She moved her hips slightly as the sensation receded. It took her several minutes to catch her breath and for Clifford to recover.
Adaora leaned forward and kissed Clifford gently. He didn’t respond at first, but slowly, his lips met hers. He lifted his head and brushed the hair out of her face.
“What’s gotten into you?” he asked quietly.
“You,” she giggled and pulled him close. Some of her clients needed to have their egos stroked, so she would lie to them and pretend to be turned on when she was really formulating a shopping list in her head. She was very good at it.
With Clifford, though, she didn’t feel the need to patronize him with meaningless platitudes. She found that he genuinely turned her on. He nuzzled up against her neck and kissed her collarbone, causing a tingle to run down her spine.
“God d@mn, that was good,” Clifford finally managed to say. His breathing was still labored, but it was now under control.
“I just want you to feel like you’re getting your money’s worth,” Adaora replied, although this time it was more about her than anything else.
“Oh, I am,” he said. His hand guided her mouth to his and they kissed again.
His lips were gentle. His touch was tender. She felt like his lover, not his call girl.
“I probably should have asked you this earlier,” Adaora started. “What else do you like?”
“You can meet me naked at the end of every day,” Clifford chuckled. He leaned back on the couch and she saw his eyes take her in, from her piercing eyes to her neatly trimmed p@zzy.
“What else?”
“It’s been so long, I had almost forgotten how wonderful segz was,” he said. Adaora wanted to ask him more but decided against it. Not yet.
“I like everything you’ve done so far.”
“That’s what I like to hear. I guess that makes you one satisfied customer.”
“Very satisfied,” he replied.
“Do you like to be on top? Doggie style?” she asked, hoping to draw him out.
Clifford thought for a minute. “I don’t think I’ve found any kind of segz I didn’t like.”
They shared a nervous laugh.
“What can I do for you?” she asked, and it wasn’t just because she was concerned for him as a paying customer.
Clifford didn’t say anything. His gaze became distant. Adaora realized he was seeing her again.
“Do you like it when I talk dirty?” she asked softly, trying to draw his attention back to her.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to hear me scream for you?”
“Mmmmm … yes.”
“Do you like to be in control, or do you want me to be in control?”
Clifford’s fingertips ran the length of her arms and down her chest. Her Ɲīpplës hardened once again at his touch.
“I like to be in control,” he whispered.
“Do you like it when I tease you?”
He let out a deep sigh. “Yes.”
“What else do you want me to do?”
Clifford paused. The look on his face was a cross between tortured desire and hesitant indecision.
***
Adaora jerked awake. She felt around in the darkness. She was alone in the bed.
Blinking back the haze, she looked for the clock. 3:15. The curtains were drawn, but there was a soft light coming from the outer room. She slipped out of the bed and silently peeked around the corner of the door.
Clifford was sitting at the desk, facing away from her and wearing only a bathrobe. His laptop was open in front of him. He was flipping through pictures on the screen.
Adaora could see the side of his face and the laptop’s LCD. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He still hadn’t heard her.
She looked over his shoulder and her heart jumped into her throat. Clifford paused on a picture that must have been taken at his wedding.
He’s married? she thought He doesn’t wear a ring.
The picture was taken outdoors, in a garden somewhere. He was standing there, looking very handsome. Next to him was a woman who would have been radiant even if she hadn’t been in her wedding dress. The woman’s appearance was what startled Adaora
The two were built the same; their hair was the same length and color, and they had the same eyes and even some of the same features. The resemblance was close enough that they might have been sisters.
Adaora was in the business of fulfilling fantasies. Some clients asked her to dress up as a nurse or as a dominatrix, but this was the first time she realized that she had been hired based on her resemblance to someone else.
Whoever she was, the woman in the picture had Clifford’s heart. With a click of the mouse, he flipped to another picture, again of the two of them. The woman was very pregnant. Clifford choked back tears.
Thoughts raced through her mind. Who was she? Why isn’t she here with him? Does he want me to be her?
Why do I care?
The maternal part of her wanted to go over and take Clifford in her arms. But she dared not interrupt his reverie, even as painful as it was for him. She decided he needed this private moment.
She needed one, too.
Clifford was different. He was the first client who seemed to like her, and not just because she was going to be an easy lay for him. He stirred feelings in her that she had not allowed surfacing for some time.
Adaora found that she was jealous of the woman. What was her name, again?
Silently, she slipped back into the bed and under the covers, not liking the feelings that she could seemingly no longer control. She pulled the sheets and comforter close around her. A part of her wanted to put the wall back up between her and Clifford. That was the businesswoman in her. This was going to be a very lucrative week for her and all she had to do was hit the sack when he wanted to.
The other part of her wanted Clifford, and not just for the week. She tried to forget all the nice things he did for her that he didn’t have to; opening doors, holding her hand, dancing. Tender, gentle kisses. But she couldn’t shake from her mind that he seemed like a really good person who treated her kindly. Like a lady.
Sometime later, as the thoughts raced through her head, Clifford came to bed. He spooned up next to her and had his arm around her, thinking she was asleep. His body shuddered and his breathing was sporadic. He was crying.
Adaora pretended she was still sleeping. Clifford clung to her as the sobs came. She could no longer take it.
Rolling over, she took Clifford in her arms. She cradled his head against her chest, the tears now flowing freely. She rocked him back and forth and stroked his hair.
Soon, she was crying, too.
Sleep claimed both of them not long later. They were restless all through the night.
Adaora didn’t sleep in again. She heard Clifford in the shower. The water shut off and a few minutes later he came out. The curtains were drawn and the room was still dark. Clifford dug through the armoire for some clothes. He hadn’t noticed that she was awake and was trying his best not to make any noise.
She watched him dress in silence and admired his body. He had his shoes in his hands when he looked over and saw her watching.
Their eyes locked. Neither said a word.
Clifford came over next to her and sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked away, and sadness flashed across his face. He started to say something but stopped and took a deep breath.
“Listen,” he said quietly. “About this morning … I—”
“Shhhh.” Adaora sat up and put a finger over his lips. She put her arms around his shoulders and gave him a warm embrace. “Not now.”
She turned his face towards her and kissed him tenderly.
“You’re going to be late,” she said finally. “Why don’t you meet me for lunch? Same place.”
He smiled slightly. “Sure thing.”
Clifford put his shoes on and went to find his bag. He stopped one more time by the bed and kissed Adaora softly on the cheek.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Then he turned and was gone.
To be continued…
Frank The Writer