She walks in the room Johnny Walker in her hand she may be a little tipsy cause she can’t see her left from her right but, “I am not drunk,” she tells herself. She is all alone in a one hundred million dollar mansion custom made to her own taste but all this money yet she feels lonely and sad; the one thing she longed for and may have probably got loose from her reach. She feels all lonely but her mind is still fresh of the events like it was a few hours ago yet it has been months and the window of opportunity is almost shutting on her now. She takes another sour gulp as if reminding herself of the pain and sorrow the memories have come bearing. And the pain is only stronger by the day as if reminding her that it will still be a while. It’s all new to her all this antique love she couldn’t bare but she needs it either way. Nothing she can do but own the sweet sourness that whisky offers her and blends into her own DNA synchronization. The only thing her body feels is the bitterness in her throat but not from the alcohol she has no problem drowning herself in but it is from the pain that she will never get to know whether by dismissing him and not giving him a chance or his explanation a real thought she did the right or the wrong thing cause deep down she felt like he was her last shot at love and she might have screwed it up. The pain that her ego wouldn’t let her confront him first; she doesn’t want to seem like she needs him as much but she does.

He is in the club after all it is Friday night and it has become part of his exclusive routine to be the fiercest man whore the world deserves. From city to city, club to club there is nothing in the streets he doesn’t know yet and tonight he has his eyes on a Tasmanian red devil well dressed from top to bottom in the most classy professional devilish way possible just the way he likes it; hot sweet and cold in one mix. Truly the devil wears Prada. His charm already evident that he is a unique fellow from his own corky unique fashion like his own utopia is nothing new. Confident and corky he lets his tongue do the talking and his eyes the walking. A so easy trick u may think but it only comes naturally like he was born from a certain order of men not from around town. The ‘hit the road jack’ but always come back for more oh more oh moooore! All the women in the club know that the alpha male is in the house tonight and they can feel the mating call but it is not for them. He only wants something he is familiar with…a particular taste, fetish of his own choosing but if u ask me I think he only picks women he can recreate with a spectacular sensation he  felt once but now has to searchch for it like an adrenaline junkie that only applys in that specific world. Prey they are to him and some may think of themselves as something more than what he already terms them all but it is only efficient he does cause whether they think of him as the perfect man he already has that perfect woman in his mind. The trophy wife he labels her. Fictional maybe but he has been there and back. Masking the aura of pain with some feisty vodka that only seems to make him feel some typa way.

Drip drip drip; sounds of droplets of water from the tap hitting the water surface in the bath tub slightly grazing her right ankle reverberate through the room. Drenched herself in the bath tub; her body somehow immune to the tender touch of la deadly hypothermia because she is no longer warm. She is a cold blooded alien housing demons of Hades and that has made her numb in the long run. Her only friend is the gin they bought for a special occasion, I guess this was special. So drunk she is you would think she is almost out of it but as she concentrates on not dying the deepest parts of her virtual cortex are recreating images of her happy times with him everywhere and like a 3d image she relives them but in glimpses better yet scenes. In that state she feels that tender touch that always turned her on. But that soon fades away and as the love vanishes under the new emptiness she never knew was possible. Encroached by edifices frozen in love. She can’t stop drinking but her gin is done and she has already ingested enough volumes of alcohol to tranquilize a horny elephant. She stands up but not because she finally decides to forget about him after all how could she but she walks up to the medicine cabinet but before she can open it she glares at the big huge cute soaked puppy dog eyes that were staring right back at her. And again her mind leads her to her utopia and he is there behind her all bare chested hands on her belly as his right index finger traces small ripples on her belly button; and he rests his chin so slightly on her shoulder his upper lip just grazing her ear lobe and he snuggles her more warmly than a bear (She always thought to herself.).  NOOOOOOOOOOOO! Glass shatters as she throws the bottle towards the mirror and quickly opens the cabinet. Like some unjustified meth junkie she scrimmages through quickly tracing their special case. She opens it and finds them still there, two valium pills and two ecstasy pills. She looks at them and then at her broken image and she sees her alter ego nodding no but she would rather numb the pain of knowing she lost the best she ever had thus with one swift movement she takes the pills and goes back to her habitat – the  bath tub. And she tilts her head back and slowly closes her eyes and lets the enticing feeling to rob her of her senses and maybe then she will have the guts to go look for him and apologize.

She slams the door behind her and he quickly pounces on her; he doesn’t mean to rush her but they should be body to body before he changes his mind but he never has and neither will this time be different than the past 8 girls. He is not his normal self, he is a ravaging animal and he sinks his teeth into her neck and she almost screams out of ecstasy and then she knew she had it coming. He is not gentle with her on the contrary he is hard and rough as he holds her by the neck and presses her forehead onto the door and with his free hand he sends he goes up her thigh into her skirt and as his hand goes up so does the skirt. Like a surgeon who has done this so many times before. He drops down her undies and even before she can adjust herself he is so deep in her she can barely see as the white light dims her vision. She wants to scream but she can’t because she is trying but all that come out are sorry gasps from a dying female dog (Yeah I said it, a BITCH!). Back and forth like a cyborg sent back in time to kill John Connor he drills her and every stroke only seems to bring the beast out of him. She almost wants to run away from him but would you give up what seems to be the best sex you ever had from a stranger in the bar? She turns and tries to look at him but his hand slams her back on the door but it is not painful. Suddenly as if this was some rhetrophobic dream she is inventing he flips her and shoves her towards the bed. Barely before she hits the sheets he is already behind her; she is so confused she assumes she is dreaming her own chick flick drama series where they are vampires. Diaries will be filled with this all and she is very sure of it be this a dream, a folk tale, voodoo magic or the reality. All of a sudden as if they were two different men with her that night he turns her around and slowly kisses his way  up from her toes to her lips and with every inch he undresses her where necessary. CJ of her life, need I say more. He does everything she is ever wanted, a master of his own craft. He then comes up and kisses her lips so tenderly and then whispers in her ears right after licking it perfectly, “Are you ready?” She swallows hard and waits for the blissful night that seems to last a millennium.



Mboga strikes again from tablet with love


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