He was contemplating, whether to tell her or just keep it to himself like he had been doing for the past two months. He was quickly taken by her smile, smoky and mildly soft voice that sent shock waves to his spine each time she greeted him in the morning as she carried out her duties. The smell of her skin was a breath of fresh air each morning, he yearned to touch it, feel it, smell the red rose fragrance of her body oil and kiss her shoulders.
No woman had ever made him this insanely in love. Yes, he was in love with her, his housekeeper. The simple woman who did not make mistakes in his eyes, how she walked, talked, cooked, cleaned, laughed at his silly jokes when he used a glass of water just to be in the kitchen with her as she made dinner. He loved to be around her. The world around him seemed easier whenever she was around him.
He was perhaps crazy, way over his head. Each time she left his sight, he was slapped with reality, a woman he had not the slightest interest in was pregnant for him because of a silly one night stand. A result of one too many drinks. He hadn’t touched a drink since Sandra came claiming she was pregnant for him. He hoped she was lying, but a couple of months after she dropped the bomb on him, a paternity test was taken. She was indeed carrying his child and he had to marry her.
His life had taken a turn ever since his father demanded he marries Sandra for the respect the two families had for each other. How absurd. People impregnate each other all the time, they don’t have to get married. He hated the day he bed her. Of all the women at the cocktail party, why Sandra? She set him up, and he loathed her for that. How can he marry a woman he can’t even look at for five seconds without getting angry? The only thing keeping him from strangling Sandra was the fact that she was carrying his child. He would have rather spent his life behind bars than a life as that snake’s husband.
The wedding was set to happen soon after the baby could firlmy hold its neck up on its own. Time was rushing, she was now five months down the line, in four months she’d deliver the baby, speeding up the wedding process. If only he could escape, bring Duwa with him and go somewhere no one will find them. Live a simple life with her, even without all these riches around him, as long as she was there he was going to be alright. It was better than having Sandra as his wife. He felt like he was being over punished for a sin that required lesser punishment.
He stood on the door, watching Duwa harmonise to the song she was listening to on the music player in the living room that could be heard all the way in the kitchen. He sighed, silently watching his love chop green beans, singing softly to the mellow music. He wanted to tell her, she was his very first thought in the morning and his last at nightfall. He hated to love her silently, he wanted her with every living cell in him.
She turned around. Startled, she almost cut herself. She dropped the knife.
“Oh my, Duwa are you alright?” He ran to her, took her left hand and examined her fingers.
“I am fine Mr Bongani.” Her soft voice was assuring.
He dropped her hand, “I didn’t mean to startle you. Just that you seemed so calm, you were singing along to the music, I was enjoying it really. I’m sorry.” He apologized, looking firmly at her.
“It’s alright, I didn’t mean to be so dramatic as well.” She smiled warmly at him, looking away avoiding his gaze.
“You still haven’t told me why you are so well trained, you speak English fluently, yet you work as a maid. You just keep saying circumstances and stop there. I’d like to know, I thought we are friends now.” He tried to touch her shoulder but she avoided his hand.
She had slowly picked up strange emotions and treatment from her boss’ son. It was inappropriate to encourage it even though each time he made her laugh she’d go to sleep smiling till she fell asleep. She liked having him around, but no way was she going to ruin her only chance of saving money to finish college by getting intimate with her employers. They paid well, and treated her like part of the family, encouraging Bongani would have jeopardized everything. She needed to focus on her job, take care of her mother.
Her poor mother had been fighting cervical cancer, she was doing so well. All their money had been spent on medical bills, chemotherapy. She dropped out of college to work for a whole year at least, save money and go finish her studies once she had enough. By then her mother would be out of hospital and back on her feet, life would get back to normal.
“Duwa,” his deep voice brought her back to reality.
“I’ll tell you, when I’m ready Mr Bongani.” She ignored his gaze, again.
“For the last time, I am not that old. Call my father Mr Moyo, it suits him. He is old and beat. I am young and just a few years older than you, just call me Bongani.” He advised.
“I’ll keep that in mind sir.” She said. That would take a lot of nerves, she had to respect him. He was her boss though it did annoyed him when she addressed him as Mr.
He was not doing much of chopping than staring at Duwa as she mixed the ingredients in a pot on the stove. He imagined himself behind her, his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulders as she stirred. She would gasp as he ran his fingers around her waist and grip softly. Then he’d whisper “switch off the stove” and move her to the counter, lift her and put her on the counter. Make his way between her legs and she would wrap them around his waist bringing him closer, and he’d kiss her deeply. Kiss her like never before, take her breath away making her surrender to him.
“Mr Bongani?” Duwa called, he did not respond, “Bongi!” She patted his shoulders.
“Huh?” He was brought back to reality. “Did you just call me Bongi?”
“You were not here at all, what was going through that head?” She asked.
“You want me to show you?” He smiled and grabbed her hand, pulled her into his arms and plunged his lips onto hers. He kissed her and did it like it was his last time, she didn’t fight it to his advantage.
She was confused, shocked but his lips were too soft to fight the kiss. She closed her eyes and gave in like a baby trading her candy for a cuddle. She kissed him back, vigorously, but she allowed him to take the lead. His broad shoulders a sign of a strong man, his thick muscles locked her in his arms, his tight grip around her waist increased her pulse. It felt so good, his tongue, hers, locked in a deep and hungry yearn for one another.
Her job, she remembered. She needed her job more than she needed him.
She pulled away, released herself from his strong arms. She walked to the kitchen door, stood there and showed him out.
“Get out, let me finish cooking.” She said firmly, not looking at him.
“Bongi, now!” She interrupted.
Bongani reluctantly walked out past her but stopped to look at her. She ignored him and walked back to the kitchen counter.
Her breath was betraying her, she was breathing heavily and her pulse going too fast, she felt dizzy. She sat down and knocked her head. What the hell had just happened?
(To be continued next week)