LETTER: CONFESSIONS TO MY EX (part 3)

I heard your sister, Dee, stumbled on yesterday’s letter? No wonder she gave me a buzz and talked in that seductive tone.

I knew she’d be a distraction from the first day I met her. You had invited me for a sleep over at your crib in Kasarani. In my head, I knew this was a coitus appointment. I was so sure. A girl can’t invite you to her crib to help her do the dishes, that is common sense right there. So, I passed by the supermarket bought a few things here and there then topped up with a scented durex.

You had never mentioned you have a sister circa the same age as you. You had only mentioned about Lilly, the one in grade 7 who drills money out of your male friend’s pocket. She’d already mastered the art of receiving dowry. Though, I never understood why you had never mentioned Dee in our conversations. She was either too cute that you took it as a threat, or too ugly that you were so ashamed of it.

Dee opened the door after my incessant knocks at the door you’d directed me to. I was confused for a minute. She was in sports bra, booty short and a suggestive smile on her – the smile that sends the teeth to come bite the corner of the lips. A spout.

“You’re not lost, come in, she’s taking a shower.” I won’t say the voice made me feel like I was listening to Beyonce. No I won’t.

She was exquisite, clean dreads, a bit lighter in complexion, thick the way Drake prefers her girls; BBW – Jason Derulo would have wonderd how she fit all that in them booty shorts.

Dee was talkative. She had the right questions on her tongue, and the wrong body language towards me. In as much as this was a delicious temptation, I summoned my horny side not to make any move, nor utter any word that would be used against me later. But I won’t lie, if she wasn’t your sister, you’d be reading a different story.

Minutes later, you walked out of the bathroom. The pink towel looked good on you – it could have looked better on the floor though.

I didn’t know whether to wake up and hug you, or just sit there and stare at you. You didn’t greet me. Instead, you walked towards the suitcase in the far end, rummaged for a clad, then changed as we watched.

You later signalled (with your index finger) Dee to go sit on the bed as you replaced her position. I didn’t understand what that silence in the crib meant. I knew something wasn’t right.

We talked. A boring talk. This was actually your demeanor – you are not talkative. You explained why you didn’t want to mention Dee in our conversations – you didn’t want her to snatch me from you, like the way she snatched two of your exes before. I understood that, very well.

Dee had, apparently, refused to exile herself. She refused (strongly) to give us our ‘we’ time to explore God’s creation. What a cock blocker!

I had no other choice but to go back. I wish you knew how a boychild felt. Even though I looked okay and pretended to understand the situation, deep down I couldn’t mind a threesome (Dee couldn’t mind neither)- am just saying.

…To be continued