When the house is on heat, the man seeks relief elsewhere. Wrapped in a black overcoat with the rain beating gently on his shoulders, on he walks. He turns into a deserted alley and a few more strides bring him to his destination. The man at the door looks him over and in says in a flat voice, ID please. He wasn’t much out of the ordinary to look at, but he seemed like one who could do a lot of damage. He took off his coat and shook it just inside the door, hangs it up and takes a high seat. The attendant does not ask ‘the usual’? He looked around taking in the scene and orders a scotch. As the spirit hits his lips, he felt a stinging sensation on the cut on it and grimaced. His mind flashed back to the scene before he left the house. If he had not gotten out, he would have hurt her badly and he did not need a dead girl on his hands.
He felt a hand on his back, slight of pressure and he turned and beheld a girl, pretty, no not pretty, in fact, beautiful , the kind that dilates your pupils and jams your senses. His neurons had fired the distance, the circumference of the earth and then the voice brought him back. ‘Hi there handsome’, she purred, her voice soft and it reminded him of silk being drawn across his face. ‘Snap out of it’, he told himself, but he found it impossible and the slight whiff of her fragrance wasn’t helping either. He waved to a seat beside him, ‘please angel’, yea, he would call her angel.
Later that night at her place, he held a can of beer in his hands and thought of this girl he just met. They had ridden in style in one that did 0-60 in 4 seconds and it was thrilling. His gaze followed her across the room. ‘You have a habit of doing this? He asked, as she kicked off her shoes. ‘Only when I see someone I like, which isn’t often’. ‘So what do you see in me’? I don’t know, just a feeling’. She glided towards him, like her feet were not touching the ground. As his hands roamed, exploring, searching and kneading, he drew back and gazed upon the wide expanse punctuated by supple outcrops.
He came to slowly and felt wetness beneath his arm and slowly sitting up ran his hand through his hair. Looking down on the bed, he saw blood, and lots of it. He threw the sheets wide and jumped to his feet. She lay on the bed, sleeping, at least he hoped, but the hope began to wane, not with the trail of blood that carved a path across the water bed. He moved closer to her and put a finger underneath her nostrils to feel for her breath, but that was denied. Next he felt for her pulse, denied as well and he began to feel a tightness around his throat as his masticating fluid began to dry up.
He froze for a moment not knowing what to do. How did this happen? Why was he spared? Were they being waited for, or he, maybe a she or even a them had come in while they were passed out? His thoughts were jolted by a knock on the door. He walked to the living room in time to see the handle being depressed and then all was silent. Think man, think. His neurons that had been on full throttle earlier now dragged and he struggled to come up with a plan. Just then, he heard the distant blaring of siren. He looked towards the door and observed that the key was not in the lock. The window was half open and he hurried to it and peered down, a long way down. He opened the window fully and swung his leg over the sill and onto the ledge, a very narrow ledge. His plan was to make it to the window on the stair well. As he flattened against the wall with his two hands, he slowly drew sideways but it was not for long. The ledge began to crack under his weight. He made to go back but it gave way from underneath him and he began to fall. He fell, and as he fell, he desperately clutched the air but the fall will not be broken, at least not yet. His life flashed before him and looking up, he saw her, he saw her from the window as she looked down at him, her face devoid of expression, as he fell, only in his underpants.
© 2018 omololu dare