I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED

We all know men.

Sweet and sour; trash.

We know how bad they are yet we long for them. We long for their lustful gazes, their empty promises, their too good to be true compliments… Their touch. Yes. We all want that masculine touch cupping our faces, assuring us that the world belongs to us and that we are the only ones their eyes see. We want to be kissed, cuddled, embraced and above all else, chosen. We want to be the ones that win! Oh How naïve we are but can you blame us?

Anyways,

There is a story I want to tell about a girl I used to know. You’ll all see that you know her. Trust me.

My name is Lina, and this story, you want to hear…

It was from the passion with which she spoke that I could decipher it all. Every word she said came from her heart. The very bottom of it.

She told me of how she remembered everything about that day. Every single detail; the gentle knock on her door, the rays of light penetrating brightly between her curtain spaces, the ticklish sensation of a beard on her skin and the eventual bliss.

She smiled, … awkwardly. Then she frowned.

She seemed to have remembered something so dark that blood rushed to her cheeks coloring them a deep hue of pink at the sound of his name on her lips. Had she really just mentioned his name? She suddenly felt a compelling and convulsing anger. It was an unspoken feeling yet the unsettled expression that lingered in her eyes, never leaving, said a lot. I couldn’t quite place what it was. It could have been pain, maybe fear or even grief for it was difficult to tell as these feelings usually mimic each other. What I could tell though was that within her past lay wounds that ran deeper than the Earth's core; for while the latter has an end, I was highly doubtful her wounds stopped anywhere.

She was deeply wounded and badly broken.

What she had endured by his hand should never be experienced by anyone. The mere thought of it should make even the most unfazed person shudder… violently. The truth is this; history has issues with letting go. It keeps being written and rewritten, but yet, it still craves to be cherished. It craves to be spoken of every single day. Actually, it not only craves. History, like pain demands, and when ignored, inflicts suffering impossible to ignore.

Sadly, we all have a history and one way or another, it comes for us.

All of us.

Always.

What had caught her attention was the smirk on his face. He had a familiar face, a walking red flag like she had known him from another life. He had dimples when he smiled and it was like he already knew exactly what effect he had on her. How could she forget such a specimen of a man? He had those broad manly shoulders that seemed to already embrace her. How could she forget his sweet cologne? Oh, he smelt so good that her inner goddess yearned for him. Could this be possible?

She did not even hear him. She was lost in thought. Did she know him? There was something dark about him but she was drawn deep into admiring his perfectly shaped white teeth and wondering what they could do to her smooth supple skin. If only he could bite her. Her brain flagged him red but her heart reminded her that red was her favorite color.

“Hi. How are you?”

His voice was deep and musical to her. She felt like a child again. No. She felt like a fairy and this was gold dust right before her eyes, all for her taking. He smelled so good and looked so clean in his white V-neck T-shirt that spelt out the full length of his upper body. His chest suggested well-toned muscle attuned to the exertions that regular visits to the gym entail. Were those abs? Her hands itched as her eyes probed beyond the fine material stretching over a torso she yearned to laze on top of... preferably with little material between and silk sheets beneath them. She wanted him and right in that moment, she knew she was going to have… at any cost.

“Whatever it takes”

She did not realize that she had actually spoken out the words echoing in her head like a mantra. She was deeply engrossed in the breathtaking scene before her; the way he slightly lifted an eyebrow to emphasize certain expressions, or the way his upper lip curved when he smiled. Her imagination was running wild. Would he lift her, swing her around and kiss her while they both laughed and lay breathless in each other’s arms? Would he gently lay feathery kisses all the way down? Or would he bring out her wild side and spank her for being naughty till she called him “daddy”? What would be her safe word? Would she even need one? Would they push each other's limits, exploring depths of ecstasy she never thought could exist and at the height of it, would those muscles handle the length of her nails dug deep in it?

She looked down...still blushing at the thoughts running through her mind and more amazed that one look could create this fantasy within her. Who was this guy? Why did she feel so scared yet so attracted to him? He looked cute, scary and sexy. Her eyes prodded beneath his well buckled brown, leather ‘Dolce and Gabbana’ belt. She allowed herself to go beyond his Blue Levis skinny Jeans. He wore them with a classic masculine fragrance of woodsy, citrusy notes, a spicy heart and a warm dry down. This Top note was composed of basil and palisander tree.

She imagined that beneath all those thousand finely sewn blue strands lay clean white briefs keeping guard to a very bad monster, an evil she longed to be devoured by. Was that a bulge? Could it be? Was he equally attracted to her? She let her mind wonder, down the road that had now become familiar. How would she feel? Would she scream in pain, anguish or pleasure? She felt it necessary to experience all three in equal measure. She wanted someone to punish her for all her wrongs and she knew her punisher was standing right there in front of her. She pronounced herself guilty and was ready to serve her sentence. It was only a matter of time.

“Whatever it takes?” His deep voice woke up from her slumber. She looked confused.

“Whatever it takes to do what?” She genuinely asked, clearing not realizing her loud exclamation.

“Well,” He began, even more so confused. He couldn’t place whether she was pulling his leg or she was being legit. “You said ‘whatever it takes’ after I greeted you”.

She cursed under her breath realizing what made her say those words and prayed to the heavens she hadn’t said more.

“Never mind.” She shyly said with a smile so wide, one would swear her lips touched her ears. “How may I Help you?”

“My name is Stephen but you can call me yours. I am your new lover.” Her heart leaped with excitement as he spoke. She knew he was flirting but she loved it. She was so excited that she was hearing what her mind was telling her and not what he was actually saying. What he said was that he was Stephen; she could call him Steve; and he was her new neighbor but she heard that he was ‘Stephen, hers and her new lover’.

Their first meeting was a sweet memory. She lived in a quiet, high cost Lusaka residence called ‘Salama Park’. Steve was from Ibex Hill, another similar area. Steve had first seen Rosetta on Facebook and had instantly sent her a friend request. She had accepted his request within a few minutes and their relationship was born. They chatted daily. They shared dreams and goals. They shared intimate details and sometimes, they had digital intimacy. It was sweet but torturous. They had a growing tension to meet and consume each other. Their relationship went on for five months till he finally asked to see her. And so, like a fairy, their tale was born.

A hi had led to a hello. A hello turned to a greeting, a greeting to a ‘missing you’ and eventually, like a ball rolling down a steep hill, they fell so deep that it seemed impossible for one to live without the other. Inseparable.

She knew he was too good to be true but she forwent her instincts. This love was not possible but she was going to defy the odds. The purity of it made her every sense tingle. He was protective and that’s that she needed; stability in a heart. She needed someone that was ‘head over heels’ for her. She had suffered enough with her previous relationships where she was often called ‘possessive, toxic, demanding and needy’. She had given up on dating after her ex-boyfriend Matt slept with her best friend. That very act had marked the end of a lifetime friendship. Rosetta had since decided to ride solo in this crooked world of fake friends. She had sworn to only ever open up to someone when her instincts said so. She believed in her instincts as they were never wrong. Never. Ever.

Yet, there she was, riding the waves, braving the tides and ignoring all the warning signs. She was helplessly and hopelessly falling. This was love at first sight and it would last an eternity, or so she thought. He was reserved and not much of a talker which made her wonder if he was the same person she was chatting with online. He was a quiet gem and quite a mystery. He barely spoke but she made up for that. She spoke for two. She loved him and she wanted him to propose to her but he never did. This bothered her. What was on his mind? What was beyond those smiley dimples? More importantly, what was beneath his trousers? She could only wonder.

Over the course of a few months, they had become so close that he would always be at her place till dark. He only ever took her to his place once and she had not entered the house. Rosetta could only wonder what his house was like inside. Steve was such a mystery but weirdly, she loved him more for it. One evening, he finally took her to his place and as usual they were outside his door. They had talked for a bit and had an awkward moment of silence that made her regret seeing him that day. She faked a phone call and told him she had to leave so she hugged him.

While hugging him goodbye, she was surprised that he didn’t let go. He tightly held her, almost crushing her ribs against his. She should have been scared but she loved it. She clung to him. His breaths were deep. Was he crying? Was he sad? She couldn’t place what would make him cry. Her mind was racing. She was taken by further surprise when without warning, she felt a sudden swift movement. Before she could react, she felt something wet and warm forcing her lips ajar. Her blood boiled with fear but more so with excitement as her inner goddess exclaimed ‘Finally’. She let him take charge. His movements were swift and precise. With one movement of his hand, her blouse buttons went flying into the darkness of the night exposing her now taut and firm mounds. A cool breeze graced her, sending chills of excitement down to her very call. Her eyes instantly shut as she let him eat her away. He obliged.

In another swift maneuver, he had her skirt begging to leave her hips and when it did not, his hand went beneath her hem, dragging it up the length of her thighs till he found her wet wanton flesh. She flinched at the touch as her own hands set out to explore his body. This was Rosetta. This was Steve. This was love and finally, she was going to make it with him. She fumbled to unbuckle his belt as his lips ate ever piece of her they could find.

“Yes… Please… Yes… Ahh…” was all she could involuntarily say.

She loved how wild and random they were in that moment. A thought at the back of her mind screamed for her to run and she knew she should have. She knew she had to stop him. He was violating her. His hands forcefully pushed her pink nylon laced underwear to one side, sending a shiver of fear and pleasure through her every fiber. It was instant and electric.

“Steve! Please stop! This isn’t right. We are not even dating. Besides, this is not how I imagined our first time would be.”

If only those words escaped her moaning lips. She was on a quest to reach the much envied, almost mythical planet of ecstasy. His fingers needed no permission as the soft skin involuntarily gave way. Her legs slightly parted and then, with what felt like a pin drop on her very being, he shoved his fingers inside her. Three? Was it his entire hand? She screamed. This was more painful than pleasurable but she was still too far gone.

“Stop!” Her senses screamed but her hands were now beneath his boxers, clumsily and roughly engorging him, almost breaking him. They were now at par, each invading the other’s very intimate privacy. Tears now streamed down her face and she couldn’t tell if they were resulting from the pain, the pleasure or the fear she felt. She was confused but she was in need.

“Please…” She faintly whispered in the middle of soft moans. “Please take me. I am yours” she cried. He bit her shoulder… painfully. She could swear she felt her skin peel off. Was he a cannibal?

He removed her hand from his trousers and let them fall together with the boxers. In the bright blue of the moon, she saw, in his eyes, what could only be hatred. Or was it passion? She couldn’t tell but the former seemed more likely. But why though? She wondered. Why does he look angry? Maybe because …

Her thought was cut short. Her eyes instantly opened. He screams went without a voice. Her feet were no longer on the ground. The pain she felt was excruciating, almost unbearable. She felt her world spin around as she floated. He had suddenly lifted her and plunged himself inside her. Her body shuddered. It took a moment for body to return to her. Her hands were around his back, her nails deeply buried in his skin.

Was this not what she was longing for? Why then was she crying? Steve was like a robot without feeling. He was in full thrust mode and thrust he did. She had hints of pleasure but the rest of it felt like what it was, defilement. She now prayed for it to end but he kept going, thrust after thrust, his climax building. She endured the pain with the hope of making him happy and it wasn’t until he had made his final deep thrust that her senses started returning. She now saw that she knew this face. She knew him too well. She wanted to jump from his hands but he held her tight in the air as he deposited his genes in her. Rosetta, now made one with him. The liquid shot within her like hot lava cascading down her fallopian tube. Her energy was drained. Even as he threw her to the ground and spat on her, she was too weak to react or move.

She saw him pull his trousers up and then flashes of her ex-boyfriend appeared before her. She saw his face and he was laughing at her as he unzipped his pants. She tried to get up but her body wasn’t coordinating. She wasn’t hallucinating. Matt was there before her, about to defile her and when her vision cleared, she realized he wasn’t alone. There were for other guys, all undressed and staring at her with lustful gazes. Behind them was Steve who she thought loved her. It was only then that she realized why his face was familiar. How could she not have known? Steve was her ex-boyfriend’s cousin. Now it made sense why his texting was better than his talking. The entire time they had chatted, she had been chatting with Matt. He was out for revenge and he had her at her weakest, defiled and abused. He spat on her before he instructed his friends to hold her, bending her over and aching her back towards him. She spat saliva on his hands and rubbed it on his hardened member before he thrusted himself in her. Revenge. You bitter thing. She thought before her senses left her body as she convulsed.

That girl died that night, like mist dwindling on the banks of morning fog. I remember the pissing and slaps. I remember how they took turns till she was drenched in their semen. My ex wanted revenge because I left he believes I cheated on him first but we’ll never know. I am now a mother to a child whose father I do not know. Was it Steve or Matt or their friends? I’ll never know but what I do know now is that red is not my favorite color and that men never forgive. Men never forgive. Ever!

We all know men.

Sweet and sour; trash.

My name is no longer Rosetta. My name is Lina and I should have listened to my instincts.