As she generously slapped me with seductive smiles, while nonchalantly exposing her cleavage, I had absent-mindedly begun budgeting on renting a Servant Quarter for her in the leafy Kileleshwa suburb. And occasionally exporting her cute ass to one of those steamy sexual escapade trips in some virgin Island in Nungwi, Zanzibar. For the love of the holy one, Rukia was wearing a short-rucked dress with ruffle detail on the collar that gave her an appearance of a 23-year-old Princess Diana. She looked elegant without trying too much. She was considerably of medium height, stunningly beautiful and appeared curiously intelligent. Her smile was genuine. Her eyes were sinfully sexy, and her demeanour invitingly absorbing.
Unlike her friends who seemed wired to live at the edge of destructive spontaneity, Rukia was reserved, laid-back and in political terms, moribund. Her smile seductively complimented by her angelic laughter attracted me to her. She had an exotic look and was appetizingly sexy. Her sassy and cute curvilinear dress exposed her juicy figure while allowing her to exhibit just enough skin to fuel my curiosity, inspire my imagination and appeal to my raging hormones.
As the clock hit midnight, Eva’s party was gradually turning into some illegal Brazilian carnival of sort. It seemed as if the devil had just reported to work. Thanks to the unending overflow of alcohol, the ladies had begun to carelessly exhibit interest for affection, while the chaps began hovering around them like caged horny bulls from Ikolomani. Taking advantage of Rukia’s reluctance to ignore my intrusion, I had intelligently sandwiched her between a corner and my chest. Not forgetting to whisper sweet nothings into her ears of how she was my 2,000cc, power-steering, central-lock, 3 CD changer Vision 2030-model of the yet to be released Mercedes-Benz S-Class sedan.
And just as I was about to plant a large, passionate bwana migingo-island-ni-yetu kiss on her moistly minted vanilla-coated lips. Without warning the obnoxious Jackie, who was wearing some annoying weave evidently invented for broke hookers had tapped my shoulder. As I turned to smack her with a disgusted Orie Rogo Manduli look, she slapped me with eleven paragraphs of rusungu back to back.
Apparently all she wanted was to know whether I was on Facebook so that she could friend’s request me. Dumbass! I had spit a curse under my breath as I ignored her. In the meantime, soft groans and heavy breathing could be heard from across the room as campus students in their two’s were busy undertaking practical lessons of acquainting themselves with each other in the dark. Being careful not to come across as a hungry Caribbean hyena, after fooling around with Rukia’s oily thighs besides taking her phone number, I had melted into darkness.
Interestingly, Jackie, carrying her microwaved face had come after me just as I was about to reverse my jalopy out of the parking lot. Guess what – she wanted to know why I was leaving so soon. Well, I got to go. There’s a lot of porn piling up on the Internet, and as you know, it doesn’t download itself, came my sharp arrogant reply before I zoomed off. I have a strong feeling I will be seeing more of Rukia Mapenzi in the coming days. A man who hangs around a beautiful girl without speaking his intention, ends up fetching water for guests at her wedding, goes an African proverb.
