African beauty

Chapter 22 - In my own country?

When me and Oliver woke up, it was about 7pm, and we had fallen into a deep sleep. "Olly, Wake the fuck up" I said, as I tapped him continuously. He stood up in shock. "Fuck. 7:pm? I was not expecting to sleep that long" he said, slightly confused. "Well, you did. Let's go freshen up. I have places to take you" I said to him. He wasted no time in going to take a swift, speedy shower. "What should I put on?" He asked. "Put on anything, you're white so nobody judges you here" I said, and he let out a slight, hostile chuckle. I knew he did not like that comment. Oliver was never the type to address racial issues; though he would fight for me if I was in trouble of the sort, he disliked the whole idea of race and its connotation to hierarchy. Nevertheless, he needed to take it as it was; he was white so he got more privileges, and I was black so I got less. Simple. He came out of the shower, and I jumped in. When I got out, Oliver put on a green Lacoste Tshirt, with his Levi's black trousers and Gucci trainers. His Rolex wrist-watch was exquisite. He looked  like that rich man who did not try too hard with his looks, but still managed to look and smell amazing. "Looking good Olly" I said, admiring him from head to toe. "I try, I try" he said, shrugging. His brown, slicked back hair, bounced with glory. His blue eyes reminded me of Alex's, only that it was a darker blue with a greenish tint, and not ocean blue, like Alex's. Something immediately came to my mind that had never come before; Oliver was posh. It had never shown this much, in its full form, or ever crossed my train of thought. They were posh, but lived on dirty money. I quickly remembered that I needed to call Alex so he could make sure I was okay, as that was rang into my head before we got dropped off. I went over to my suitcase to unzip it, and when I opened it, I was shocked. There were black Louis Vuitton heels; the signature ones, black with red bottoms. Oliver did not understand how Nigeria worked. "Oliver, I can't accept this! If I wear this outside, they will think two things. One, that I am a prostitute and you are my customer, because where will I find that kind of money, and two, that I am rich, so they will try to rob me!" I said, screaming. At this point, the malicious, nasty Nigerian had shown in me, and for the first time, I was ashamed; ashamed of the way Oliver's face had changed; the way his face curled up, turning red at every crease. "Erica..." he said, under his breath, and I interrupted him. "I'm sorry. I lost it for a bit" I said, backtracking. "It's okay, I've just never seen you lose your temper like that. It scared me, Erica. Not going to lie" he said, as he sat down on the bed. "Anyway you don't have to wear the shoes. Wear anything you want baby" he said, looking down. Of course I was going to wear the shoes. The look of disappointment in his face as his hair fell forward, pierced, and damn near killed me. "Olly" I said, bending down and kissing his cheek, "I love them. Thank you". I was still wearing a towel at that point. "With that towel on, I'd fuck you right now, but I'm fully dressed" he said, smirking. I liked when Oliver used the word "fuck" with sexual connotations. It was assertive and sexy. I quickly discarded myself from him and took the dress I brought, an A line dress, when I saw a red, body con dress next to it. I glared at Oliver with a tight smile. "What? I think you should show off your figure more" he said, as he looked down again. "I've gained weight Olly" I said, sulking. I had gained weight. It was around 10 pounds, but it was barely noticeable, and could only be spotted around my hips. Still, it was there, glaring at me. I had not worn a dress that tight in ages. "Put it on in front of me, I'll zip you up" he said, already freeing me from my towel. I was about to wear my underwear, when he shook his head at me. "You don't wear these type of dresses with underwear" he said, looking at me. I looked at him, confused, and borderline squinting. "How will you wear clothing without underwear? Oliver, you too think a little bit. We are not in England, we are in..." and before I could finish my sentence, he interrupted me. "Don't you want to have some fun, at least? I get that this is your way from escaping from things back home, but this is also a holiday" he said, rolling his eyes. "This is why I prefer Erica when I'm fucking her. She's way more interesting" he said. She's way more interesting. That statement injured my soul like a sharpened dagger. He was implying that I was only fun when I was pleasuring him. Immediately he said that, I quickly urged him to zip up the dress. As he zipped it up, something came over me that I did not enjoy. It was that feeling of pressure; that I was doing something to satisfy him, or to make him think what was not of me. Though, in all seriousness, the dress looked beautiful; more beautiful than it would have ever looked if I had underwear on. It looked painted on me. It was a latex dress. "You look absolutely sexy" he said, as he whispered it into my eye, like a sweet symphony. He had his hands around my waist, and started kissing my neck. I pushed him abruptly, yet playfully. "Fuck you, Olly" I said, as I applied moisturiser to my ashy body. I put on deodorant and sprayed perfume. As I styled my mini Afro, I looked in the mirror. I looked happy. Not worried that I would step out and be in danger. I glanced at myself and then back at Oliver. E was sitting on the bed, almost as though he had been watching me admire myself in the mirror. For that split second, I wanted nobody but Oliver. He was my world; in that second alone. However, after that came memories of Alex playing his guitar, serenading me with his sweet talent, or when he would drive me home, as we sang along to "fire and desire" by Drake. It was one of his favourite songs, and I liked it too. We were not very similar with our taste in music, but that was our common ground, a song that we both enjoyed, and had aggressive sex to occasionally. I suddenly had a tight feeling in my stomach. It was a feeling of guilt. I had led both of these boys into believing that they could have a future with me, and picking one of them could, and probably would, shatter their already crumbling brotherhood. As I had drifted off, Oliver brought me back to reality. "So, where are you taking me Erica?" He asked, like a curious child. "Let's call an Uber?" He said, looking up at me. "Don't be silly. Omotola and her mother will pick us up" I said, angrily for some reason.