DAYS AFTER
Days pass, but the thought of the familiar stranger lingers deep in my mind.
"What would she be doing now? " I muse, swirling the red wine in my glass before taking a slow sip. Jide, my store representative, had handed it to me earlier, and though the rich flavor coats my tongue, my mind is elsewhere.
It was a busy day.
Several customers had trooped in at the store for the periodic sales, which I hosted every fourth quarter of the year.
A handful of the outlets I distributed my signature scents to had reached for new shipments.
It was hectic and engaging, just how I liked it.
I lean back in my chair, taking a slow spin before pressing the telephone's receiver.
"Jude," I say over the telephone as I take gentle spins on my office chair
"Sir," he replies
"Come, let's run over how the stores in Abuja and Owerri would get their new shipments this week," I drop the receiver back in its place.
But even as I shift my focus back to work, my mind betrays me.
Ere.
The sound of her name in my head alone sends a strange current through me. She was making me feel things I didn't understand, things I wasn't sure I wanted to understand.
It wasn't just an attraction; it was something deeper, somewhat hypnotic, something unsettling. The way her eyes had lingered, the curve of her lips when she spoke, even the way her silence carried weight, all replayed in my mind like a stubborn song stuck on repeat.
An almost feral desire had been building up in me, fueled by the endless daydreaming of the past few days. Every quiet moment became an invitation for her image to resurface. It was as though she had left an imprint on me that no amount of work or distraction could wash away.
Unable to hold it in any longer, I decided to search her up online. Hours went by, click after click, scroll after scroll, but the more I searched, the more invisible she seemed.
Her business page was plastered all over the internet, her breathtaking artistry displayed for the world to admire. But her personal life? Hidden. Guarded. Almost untouchable.
"Shey this babe no get online presence ni( does this girl not have an online presence) " I mutter in frustration. "Since morning, I just dey—-"
Knock. Knock.
"Who's there?" I snap out of my stalking mode.
"Jude, sir.."
"Come in," I quickly shut down my phone, switching back to business mode.
The hours that follow pass swiftly, with Jude and me assigning and setting roles for different workers in the various states, as my business operates.
"I guess that's all, Jude? " I ask, noticing his tired expression.
"Yes, sir, all necessary areas have been sorted".
He replies.
"Alright, that's all for today. See you tomorrow."
He picks up his notepad and mobile devices and exits the room, careful not to make a sound as he shuts the door.
I stare into the open yet crowded office space I had made my own. Perfume samples lined the shelf to the left, carefully arranged in order of increasing alcohol content. Several humidifier samples sat neatly to my right, with my workspace stationed in the middle. Near the front door was an adjustable sofa that could be folded or unfolded according to my needs.
The interior wasn't shabby either, gold panels and black surfaces repeated throughout, giving the room a polished, luxurious feel.
The moving cars downstairs snap me back to reality as I text Ahmed to meet me at the front of the building with the car ready.
"Welcome, sir. How was work today?" Ahmed says, attempting small talk.
"Fine," I reply as I settle into the back seat. I never found it necessary to get to know my staff personally. To me, it only brought unnecessary conversations and familiarity.
The ride home is slow and silent. Scrolling through my phone, I see messages from Ara, my immediate younger brother, Daddy's puppet.
"Noni. Abeg, you and Dad need to settle this dispute as soon as possible. His terrible mood swings are affecting the entire household. The staff have the worst of it currently." 8:54 a.m.
"Move out of the house if it gets overbearing, but I certainly won't be apologizing or sugarcoating anything." I hit send and toss my phone to the side.
Another message flashes:
"He is threatening to take you out of the will if you don't get involved in the business soon."
I stare at the screen, hot fury enveloping me.
Not only was he challenging me, but now he was threatening me.
"Ahmed, drive back to the boutique shop I got my outfit from."
"Yes, sir," he says, squinting through the upper front mirror of the car.
After all this tension, I suddenly needed to see Ere. I didn't know what I would say, but I knew I needed to see her. In my head, I felt she would make this better.
We arrive at the boutique, and Ahmed parks properly. He hurries to open the door, and I let him. Taking in the familiar view of the boutique, I move to enter.
Knock. Knock.
Seeing as there's no answer, I try not to overdo it this time and step inside, hoping to bump into her again.
I check my watch, 10:15 p.m.
This was later than the last time I was here. I hope I'm not visiting too late, but the boutique is still open, signaling she's around.
"Hello," I call out, not too loudly so as not to disturb the complex's peace. With no response, I walk down into a new space, past the dressing room I'd been in last time, until I find her office.
I gently slide open the door, and the sight that greets me knocks the breath out of me.
Heat, sudden and electric, filled my cock. The office smelled of fabric softener and her slick. Her breath hitched. She's spread wide across her desk, panties twisted uselessly around one ankle, thighs splayed shamelessly and glistening. Her pussy is wrecked, swollen, flushed a raw, angry red, gaping open like it's been begging for hours.
The sound alone could make a man explode. I could already feel the tip of my cock leaking with pre cum.
Her fingers are buried deep, sliding in and out with wet, obscene squelches, her knuckles slick with her own juice. Each thrust pulls another needy sound from her throat, desperate and guttural. The porn playing on her laptop blares in the background, moans, groans, whimpers, but she's louder, filthier, like she's been chasing an orgasm that won't come.
She's slick with her own mess, moving in tight circles as the porn flickers on the screen. Her pussy and clit are swollen and slightly bruised, signally she has been fingering herself for some time now. Her asshole, too pink, twitching, as though her fingers had wandered there, teasing, stretching, greedy for more.
Her tits are halfway out of her top, her dark brown nipples hard, begging for a mouth.
She's ruined herself nicely. Her perfect gape could be seen feet away.
I watch. Shameless.
My cock aches, heavy, straining against my trousers, already leaking. I'd have to wank one off aggressively when I get home to calm my nerves.
"Hmm, hmm." I clear my throat, slow and deliberate.
She jerks, eyes flying open, her hand jerks out of her cunt with a wet snap.
Horror splashed across her face. She scrambles, shoving her tits back into her bra, which didn't fit properly, so she covered it hastily with one hand, and yanked her panties up with the other.
She caught me staring at her thighs and yanked her skirt down.
Damn, those thighs were full
"I—um—hello… hi," she stutters, breathless, flushed.
I lean on the doorframe, lips curving into a slow, filthy smirk.
So the prim little boutique owner wasn't so innocent after all.
She was a bad girl. And now I knew exactly how bad.
I take a step inside, voice dropping low.
"Don't stop on my account."