Continued from last week…
Natasha wakes to find Mr. Dickson is not in bed with her. Where is he? She wonders. Then she notices his shoes quietly lying down on the floor beside the bed. She sighs and picks her phone. There are Blackberry pings from Cynthia. She reads, smiling. She then shifts her naked body to allow her two hands reply her friend:
“I am still there o, babe. The guy is really hot. I will get one more before I hit the road. Cook ready for me o.”
Then Cynthia pings back:
“No kill yourself o. I no dey cook, when you come…I am tired, but I still wish…”
The bathroom door opens and Dickson emerges, dressed.
“So fast?” said Natasha, softly.
“Yeah,” he replied, smiling. “I need to rush home, change and go to work.”
“Work? Today is Sunday, common.”
“Sorry, I mean church.”
He goes closer, sits on the bed and tries to put on his shoes. He says, “You see, you are so wonderful, you have blown my brain off last night, I can’t even recognize days anymore.”
“Yeah, baby.” He affirms. His back and shoulders are now being massaged by some soft hands he doesn’t think belong to Natasha. Despite his tiredness, his body is reacting.
“You need one more for the road, then,” said Natasha, her hands crossing over to his chest.
“No, please, I am going to church. Today is …”
“Sunday, holy day, right?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Don’t worry; later you can go for confession before your priest.”
“I am not a catholic, we don’t have a Prie…”
Natasha cuts him short and said: “…before your Bishop then.”
He shakes his head and stares at her body. She smiles to him. “Come here, thou son of Dick, today, thou shall be confessing to me,” she presses her breasts against his shirt. His flesh couldn’t wait to be unveiled one more time.
“So, tell me, did you enjoy me last night or not?”
“I did, but I said today is….Sunday.”
“Hmmm, you were sucking from my juice around 2 A.M. baby. Was that a Sabbath communion? It was already Sunday, Mr. Dick—son.” She says while unbuttoning his shirt. Dickson is angry but can’t help laughing. He is looking up at the ceiling when he helplessly allows his shirt to fall off.
“Is He looking?” she mocks and goes round him, holding him from the back and rubbing his chest.
“Never mind. His mercies endureth forever….For now… ”
“I need to be in church. It’s Sunday…common…”
“Are you the pastor?”
“OK, you have the church key?”
“Nooooo!” He says angrily and frees himself from her. “I don’t like the way you talk about…”
“But you started it all. How can you glorify Sunday above the Sabbath and leave the Samarian woman thirsting for the living waters? Moses would never forgive you. ” Natasha says as she seductively massages her two breasts in front of him.
“You are perverse. ”Dickson makes a hiss, stands up in anger and went to the table where the intercom sits. He is dialing.
“Then, come and baptize me with your sperm, isn’t it holy enough to clean me from all my un-satisfaction?”
“Come up with it. Room 305.” He says into the device, hangs it and looks back at Natasha.
“Oh my Lord!” he sighs.
“Yes, oh your lord…,” She moves to where he is sitting. “He rode on an ass, a young ass, on Palm Sunday. My love, come ride on my young ass, it’s another sperm Sunday.”
There is a knock at the door. Dickson tells her to cover her body, but before he knows it, Natasha rushes to the door and opens it. A room service attendant is standing with a tray of glasses and a bottle of Alomo bitters. In shock, the attendant closes his eyes as Natasha collects the tray. She locks the door.
“Aren’t you ashamed?” he shouts at her.
“Today is Sunday,” She hands him the bottle. “You need this to suppress the guilt, right?”
“No, to get my dick to thrust and obey,” Dickson says and pours himself a glass. “For there is no other way.”
Natasha can’t help laughing. Perverse!
“So you were not angry?”
“Angry? At an angel like you? Am I mad?” They both laugh. Natasha rubs his chest again and nibbles his ears. She watches as Dickson reacts. He quickly gulps down his drink and stands up. They are now face to face. While she kisses him, her hand fumbles with his waist until both the belt and the trousers begin to fall off. She thrusts her hand into his boxers and pulls out his manhood. She bends and mouths the entire head, and Dickson moans.
“This’ just for the road, right?” he asks.
“Yes, for the road to Damascus. Hope you retain your sight all the way,” she says.
In two minutes, he is fully charged up, and wants to thrust into her. But she restrains him. She pulls away, takes a little of the Alomo bitters as they chat for another 15 minutes. They talk about the supply of computers and the Applications to install on it. That was the deal Dickson got her the day before.
“I like Windows 7. It’s not like Windows 8; you can hardly see where the Start button is,” says Dickson.
“I will show you the START button.” She stands and reclines on the edge of the bed. He is at her back, watching. She stretches her hand and pulls his manhood towards her butt.
“It’s a matter of a click, and the Operating System will load.” She raises her butt higher for him and he thrusts into her from behind, rubbing her back with his hands. They make hot love until Dickson collapses on her with his entire body.
They lay in each other’s arms for a while and then Dickson sleeps off while Natasha pings from her Blackberry. After a while she leaves the hotel, dropping him a note in his numb fingers:
“You can now go to church… It’s Sunday, Saint Dickson”.
…the story continues next week, Keep a date!