She was standing at the bus-stop when I saw her.
She was wearing a pink fitted long-sleeve shirt, neatly tucked in her black pants. Her feet were perfectly graced in a black stiletto shoes. My legs froze under the spell of her beauty.
The colour of her satin skin matched with the radiance of sunlight. Her black, long and tender hair billowed under the afternoon breeze. Her dark-brown eyes glittered like a clove of moonlight. Hmm...her lips...her lips were certainly made of peaches. My mouth salivated.
Her figured was silhouetted on the tarred road by the sunlight. I could easily tell her height was 5ft 4". Her body statistics was a stunning 36-24-36. Perfect! I longed to hold her in a warm embrace, look at her straight in the eye, part her eyebrows with my artistic fingers, kiss her lightly on her lips, and watch her dimples appear under a long laughter.
If she would be mine, making her happy would be the summary of my 7 point agenda. Like a gardener, I would mould her dreams, tend it and watch it grow. For her, I would fling out lewd songs like "Bo Kini Yen" out of my window, but instead, we would rock to evergreen songs like "Endless love"
After the week's hard work, I would devote my Saturday's for her: I would wake her up with a light breakfast on the bed. Then I would place her head gently between my laps and plait her hair. We would spend the whole afternoon in the bath-tub, bathing each other and forgiving each other of the hurting we had caused each other over the week. Our dinner would be served on the rug, with a tall, red candlelight for illumination. If truly communication is the soul of relationships; our romantic moments would be spurred by sweet and tender words, whilst I still pay detailed attention to every part of her body...
Suddenly she flags down an on-coming cab. And I couldn't help but wonder if her fingers were carved by Michelangelo, or probably Juno; the goddess of love, was her mother. The cab waits. My eyes trailed the whole her back as she sashayed towards the cab, with a feline grace. A natural model, she is, with class and style.
An Italian painter once defined beauty as "the summation of the body parts working together in such a way that nothing needed to be added to it, taken away, or altered." That's who she is, and I had to get her!
She had entered the cab, and it was already crawling back into the main road. Swiftly, I ran towards the cab, waving my two hands. The cab halts, and I quickly hurry in. Sitting safely at the back seat alone with her, I jittered over what to say first. Opportunity, they say, comes but once. I had better win her audience or get flung out of the taxi. I could hear my heart pounding against my chest.
I turned to her and say "hi"
I was hoping to hear something like "Please why are you sweating like Christmas goat?"
But instead she turns her head, takes a clear view of me, from head to toe, and says..., "hi, handsome."
Ayo Oyeku, is a young Nigerian author with various published works across the web. You can read more of his works in the Writers Lounge on http://www.onegist.com/
No comments:
Post a Comment