PANTY RAID

69| Sick & Twisted

ENIOLA STROLLED BACK and forth on the damp grass, the phone against her ear slick with sweat. "Okay, bye," she said into the phone. After almost twenty minutes on the phone, Angela finally hung up the call.

Angela had been her classmate for a while in high school. They lost contact after her family moved to Port Harcourt three years ago. She had gotten in touch with Joba on Facebook who sent her number to her. Eniola was so happy to talk to her after so long, even though the girl was a chatterbox. But that was her charm. 

Smiling, she turned and walked by the way she came. "Nice dress," a deep voice drawled. Eniola jumped at the sound of the voice and nearly lost her balance. "Jesus," she gasped, clutching her chest.

With a tight smile on her face, she turned to face him. Jamal was leaning against the wall lazily smoking a cigarette. His eyes were hooded as his gaze traveled slowly down her crimson silk dress to her silver strappy heels. 

Self-consciously, she tugged down the silky material that had rode up her thighs. Jamal pushed off the wall, and stalked over to her. "Were you following me?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Now standing directly in front of her, he chuckled around his cigarette. "How cute. I was only out here for a smoke." 

The sharp smell of his cigarette smoke made her sick to her stomach and she fought the urge to pinch her nose. He noticed her irritation and laughed. "Do you mind, sweetheart?"

Eniola scrunched up her nose and shook her head in disgust. "Don't call me that," she said tautly.

He ignored her retort. "You know he smokes too, right?" he asked. Although she knew Dayo smokes, she had never actually seen him smoking.

"Dayo's nothing like you," she replied defensively. His eyes roamed her body again and his lips spread into a nasty curl. "That's where you're wrong, sweet. You don't really know him like I do," he said.

"I know him well enough to know that he doesn't go around spiking people's drinks with God knows what." 

He took a long drag of his cigarette, and dropped the rest on the grass. "Touché," he grinned, smothering the cigarette butt with his white Levi sneakers.

Eniola suppressed the urge to punch him in the face. "You're sick," she said. His grin dropped. "You have no idea the things he'd done, sweet. Trust me you deserve better than him."

Her eyebrow lifted. "And by 'better' you mean yourself? Look, I have no idea what is between you too but don't try to bring me into this," she said, turning to leave.

Jamal grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly against his chest. "You, sweetheart, are already involved," he snarled, his smoky breath fanning her face.

She pushed at his chest, but he didn't bulge. "Jamal, let go of me," she warned. His grip only on her only tightened, as she fought to free herself from him.

"Just a little taste, sweet. That fool can't have your sexy ass all to himself," he snarled roughly in her ear, as she struggled against his grip.

Eniola glanced around frantically, but there was no one was in sight. Why had she walked so far from the party? 

No matter how hard she struggled, she could not escape his grip. Worse, the idiot seemed to be enjoying seeing her squirm in his arms. "Let me go, you bastard!" she screamed.

"I'm dying to know what you taste like," he said with a slow, sinister smile. The next thing she knew, his lips came down on hers, rough and hard. He tried to force her lips open with his tongue, but she clamped her mouth shut.