When A Playboy Loves

|| 5.

King

There were two types of ladies - the punctual ones and others. The others group were of three categories: those who were always a few minutes late, the I'm almost there, can't you see me while they were still sitting at home and then the let me just apply my makeup I'll be there in a minute only to end up arriving minutes, if not hours later.

Twenty minutes after calling Tibiebi Bassey for the second time this evening, I realized that she was in the others category, the worst type of all. This was my first encounter with that category as I always went for the punctual ones or the first category and the only reason I was still seated here was because I needed her help.

The first time I called her, she claimed she was about to apply her lipstick, the second time, she was about to leave the house, the third and fourth time, she didn't pick.

Taking a sip from the glass of water in front of me, an image of the caramel skin vixen with eyes the colour of wet ash reared itself, unlocking memories I chose to forget. The way her brown lips had pressed together into a straight line to keep from talking, the manner in which she pulled the corner of her left eye to stop the twitching and the threatening look that crossed her face had me wanting to push her buttons a little bit more.

On a cold Saturday morning, I could imagine those lips on certain parts of my body and her long legs wrapped around my waist while we moved together in a rhythm that was sure to bring both of us to the brink of ecstasy.

Ass instead of assignment?

That was a quick lie that amazed even me.

"What has got you smiling like that?" Turning my head in the direction in which the voice came from, the world around me slowed as my gaze landed on Tibiebi.

She was garbed in a wine ruffle off shoulder jumpsuit that showed a decent amount of cleavage with a silver belt decorating her cinched waist. Black curls framed her madeup face, complementing fair skin that seemed to be glowing. Her whole ensemble was completed by the nude block high heeled sandals on her feet; she was oozing confidence.

Standing up to greet her, my arms automatically went around her waist while my lips aimed for her cheek. She must have had other ideas though because she turned just in time for our lips to meet in a chaste kiss.

"My apologies for coming late," she smiled sultrily, relishing in the stupefied look on my face at her brazen action and the lustful glances of the other men seated at the tables she walked past.

She looked nothing like the woman I met at the golf course; that female was short and sweaty but the lady seated across me, leisurely taking a sip from my half-empty glass of lime water could dominate the world if she chose to.

A foreign emotion took over me, one that added to my unpreparedness of meeting this version of Tibiebi. I crossed and uncrossed my legs under the table, furiously thinking up a better plan that would see both of us leaving this restaurant happy with my proposal.

"You look good," she continued, undeterred by my lack of response.

My eyes trailed from the swell of her breasts to her manicured nails that were placed protectively over her silver purse and back to her face, slightly taken aback by her compliment. Flattery and praises were two of the methods I employed in getting the ladies to loosen up, attributes that they highly appreciated.

"So do you, Tibi," I paused, waiting for her to call me out for using the shortened version of her name but she didn't. "I was beginning to think you would never show up," she raised a perfectly carved eyebrow, blinking cat eyes at me before shaking her head.