OMOGE 2

The trauma was finally over. Omoge pulled the wad of cash from her bra and threw it on her bed before taking off her dress. She did it hurriedly, blocking her mind from the smells that had clung to it. She stepped over the leopard print dress and took off her white and black shoes last. Omoge walked to the bathroom and turned on the water before going to the mirror to tie up her hair. She looked at herself in the mirror. She had made it out intact, she looked at her underwear and thought of how miraculous it was that it had stayed on her body. A white mark on her belly caught her attention and she was instantly thrown back to the events of her evening.

Wine was the elixir of enjoyment, the accompaniment that made moments a little more merry and memorable. Omoge had been feeling the wine working its magic on her date with Gilbert and she wasn’t even aware of the fact that his shot of whiskey had stayed single. The man just kept adding lemonade to his whiskey and sipping it fast. Omoge kept guzzling her wine to keep up and in no time she was more drunk than merry. Merlot was a bad idea, its sweetness disguised its potency. Omoge wasn’t much of drinker and when she got up to go to the bathroom, she doubted her own steps and her heels felt many inches higher than they were. She managed to pee, and when she freshened up in the mirror she saw that her large eyes were shiny and slightly reddened with drunkenness. She went back and sat down determined not to look drunk.

Gilbert watched her as she tottered back to the table. She was walking a little too carefully and slowly. She was no longer as confident as she was before and he smiled, she was drunk. He was not in the business of taking advantage of drunk girls. The plan was to take her home after, this would earn her trust and respect so that when he actually did reap of her fruits, the harvest would be bountiful. He kept watching her and he instinctually licked his lips. She was gorgeous, even when she was way above the legal alcohol limit. He found it funny that whenever women freshened up while drunk, they tended to go heavier on the make-up than when they started out. Omoge now looked like a really adorable racoon with red lips. She laughed with more ease and told her stories with more mirth. He planned on taking her home immediately he noticed she was drunk but she was too exciting. She taught him some games, did accents and whenever she told a dirty joke she whispered the naughty parts. She was twenty and in a strange way she made him twenty too. Omoge made him wish the twenty year old he was met a woman like her. Now he had baggage and life had aged him, while she had just started living. He ordered another shot of whiskey, a double one this time just to match her great mood. Next he took off his jacket and rolled his sleeves, she took no notice, she was in the moment.

The waiters were fatigued, it had been a busy night. Now the outdoor restaurant had been cleared of its drunk patrons and now they stood at attention, all watching and waiting on the one drunk couple that didn’t look like they were anywhere near leaving. John the waiter at their service was particularly irritated. He had worked a double shift and he thought he’d be asleep by now, instead he was tending to the whims of a girl and her sugar daddy. From being irritated, he found himself being amused. Amused by her loud rhythmic laughter and his freeness around her. He obviously wasn’t married, the married ones never laughed loud and they never came here on a busy night. She was a beauty, probably a gold digger he assumed. She was young and well dressed, the sort that never settled for the broke ones, the sort that would never choose him. Something about her was inexperienced, she was probably young, maybe 23. The older man was going to con her and get the cookie for free, she was drunk and he wasn’t. John smiled to himself as he served the drunk girl more wine, he made sure he filled the glass. He had no mercy for gold diggers, she deserved to be conned by an old man. Some part of his job made him feel like God, watching over people’s lives and occasionally catalysing some events.

“I wanna sleep…” She said in the baby voice that all girls used when drunk. “Pay the bill.” She said with a hiccup.

Gilbert turned and found the waiter right there waiting to give them the bill. He was drunk but that felt a little odd, it was as if the waiter had become a butler, always there whenever either him or Omoge needed him. He removed some notes from his pocket and a little more for a tip for the waiter.

“Boss there is a lodge right next door, you both are in no condition to drive.” The waiter said.

Omoge heard the words lodge and next door and she wanted to say no, I only sleep in my bed. What came out was “My bed….”

Gilbert heard her say my bed and he took it as agreement to the suggestion. He wasn’t a lodge kinda man, they seemed to reaffirm a stereotype he fought everyday but special nights called for exceptions. The move to the lodge was long and laborious, by the time they got there even he wanted to sleep. Omoge stumbled in and instinctively fell onto the bed. Gilbert went in and remembered to close the door. The lodge wasn’t bad, it even smelled new. He went to the bathroom and peed before returning to the bedroom. All along his thoughts remained pure but when he saw her laying there he felt a stirring of lust, he was a living man after all. Her dress had ridden up her thigh. Wasn’t it mystical how a black woman’s thigh always had this innocent supple flesh with the black pores a little bit more evident there than anywhere else. His trousers began to tighten when he thought of spreading her soft thighs. Like any sane man in his position he got onto the bed and lay next to her, the he began to massage her back in the hope of rousing her from her slumber. At least if she woke up now, he would easily say he was giving her a massage because she was tired.

Omoge felt hands on her. She lived alone so immediately she knew something was not the same. Her drunk body refused to obey her as she woke up at turned. Ah, it was Gilbert.

“Hey, where are we?” she said.

“A lodge, you said you wanted to come here.” Gilbert said.

“Oh my… Don’t take any of my drunk requests as gospel truth. I want to go home.” Omoge said.

“Let me at least finish your massage.” Gilbert said, still massaging her body seductively.

His hands were well experienced and she found her body rebelling against her mind. Her body wanted more, so much more that when he raised her dress to touch her bare skin all she could afford was a weak and empty no. He kept massaging, kneading her tired flesh and laying kisses as he went along. She felt good, so good that she ignored his hardness pressing urgently against her leg. It was normal for a man to feel attracted to a woman after all. She heard a rustling sound and got up to look. Gilbert was eagerly unbuckling his belt and stepping out of his trousers.

“Whoa whoa whoa! What is going on? I’m not having sex with you Gilbert.” Omoge said and pulled down her dress.

“I know, these clothes are just too tight, I want to be comfortable. Let’s just massage each other you know.”

She laid back in the bed and the massage proceeded. After a lapse of time she was now just drunk but Gilbert was lost in his zone. She tried to make him stop and take her home but he refused. “Please baby, I am feeling too sexy. Let me at least come out, help me release.” That was the request. Omoge had already brought herself in trouble and she felt guilty and kind of sorry for him. He looked weak and pathetic in his underwear; boxers hanging on him and his dignified suit on the floor while he begged for an orgasm. “I am not going to touch you, or kiss you.”

“It is okay, just be here.” Gilbert said. His erection was defeating everything, everything. In the moment he could have done anything to just have an orgasm.

“No funny business Gilbert. Slip it in and you are in trouble.”

The agreement was set and Gilbert was ready. Omoge just lay on the bed like a log watching Gilbert. He took off his boxers and revealed what looked like a sumo wrestler’s underwear. Who wore two underwear surely? The sumo wrestling underwear rode into his ass but covered and held the front in place. His erection strained against the material and there was a map of pre-cum.  He walked over to the bed and lifted her dress, rolling it up until her bra and panties were exposed. He then began to stroke himself rhythmically while touching her taut belly. Omoge watched him in shock. His eyes were closed and he was lost, he touched her stomach obviously imagining that he was touching something else, all advances he made towards touching her lower were met with a vicious slap and he stuck to her stomach. Soon enough he was moaning in ecstasy as he released on her stomach then collapsed besides her. Omoge was horrified, quickly she wiped the warm, sticky fluid from her stomach using his shirt and covered her body. She looked over at him and he was asleep. She shook him and told she wanted to leave but he didn’t wake up. After bothering him for a while he managed to wake up for a few seconds to hand her some money and tell her to leave if she wanted to.

Omoge got the money and put it in her bra without stopping to count it and off she went, leaving him asleep on the bed in the lodge, still wearing his sumo underwear.