<!-- wp:paragraph -->Dele winks when his eyes catch hers. She looks away again, this time a little more embarrassed from knowing he has noticed her. There is a half-empty bottle of Fayrouz on the table in front her, its skin wet from chillness. A glass sits beside it, and beside this glass, there is a plate of food. She raises the glass to her mouth, and sips, careful to not look the other way. Her heart skips a beat when she hears the shuffling of a chair. She knows it is Dele. He walks over to her and asks if he can sit in the empty seat to her left side. She nods, and so he lowers to sit there. The scent of his perfume wafts past her face. She pulls a deep breath, and holds it in, then pretends to be to focused on her wine to say more words. Something moves along her pelvic area; she can tell she is wet. She has been wet since she sat here. Ovulation and the things it does: how it makes you stare at muscles all day, wishing you are being pinned to a wall and taught how to be a good girl. <br /><br />“So, how are you?” Dele says. His smile exposes a row of very white teeth. <br /><br />“I am fine.” <br /><br />Her reply is curt and clear, as though she wants to bring the conversation to its end before it even begins. But Dele can tell it is all a front. He has dealt with girls like this before, who pretend to want one thing, but intensely desire its opposite. Bolu, coworker he fucked a couple of days ago, used to be that way. But the day he fucked her, she screamed so much the neighbors taught he had been raping her. When he told them that he was only having sex, they hailed him; “Chairman wey sabi fuck die.”<br /><br />“Are you really cold or are you just acting up because you cannot bring yourself to accept that you already like me?” Dele jeers. He leans forward to make sure his eyes are right in the line of hers.<br /><br />She smiles, and looks the other way. “Maybe I am acting up.”<br /><br />It takes four more sentences for her to open up to a conversation. And by the end of this conversation, she agrees to follow Dele home. The walk to Dele’s car is quite silent. She clutches at her bag as though there is so much in there—there is only some rumpled Naira notes, a pack of condoms, and a comb. <br /><br />She heaves into the car and sits silently, AC blasting on her face. The music is soft and sensual, and she can hear her vagina scream: “Fuck this dude just right.”<br /><br />She knows Dele thinks her to be a shy girl who knows little to nothing in bed: who submits to every command from a dick. But she is far from it, and she shows it to when the bedroom door whines open and clothes begin to fall.<br /> <br />The girl becomes fire. She drops to her knees and strokes his dick so that it grows into its full length in her hands.  Then she spits on it. The spit is warm and thick and makes the dick look as though it is covered in cooking cream. She continues to stroke, until the thing in her head decides it time to get into the blowjob proper. <br /><br />She licks the sides of her dick just before sticking it in her mouth. A moan rises into the air. Dele lowers a hand and grabs a fistful of her hair. <br /><br />She does not resent to it. He pushes her closer to his body, so that the dick dives into her throat.<br /><br />There is a grunt as her gag reflexes become awake. When the dick is out of her mouth, it is so completely covered in spit one would thick it was dipped into milk. <br /><br />She wants to keep going, but her vagina is throbbing. She wants to feel his tongue on it. <br /><br />So, she walks over to the bed and lays on it, her legs spread out. He nears her, and lowers to his knees, then his tongue begins to do its thing on her body. First, his tongue throbs the knob of her clitoris, and then it begins to play around the vulva. It flaps across the labia minora and majora. She is clenching the beddings, pulling herself up as though that is going to make her feel less these whips of pleasure. But it does not help. The pleasure gets the better of her. Loud moans burst into the air. This spreads a smile on Dele’s face. He whips out his dick and strokes it once before sticking it in. <br /><br />The warmth of her vagina spreads over him and he shudders. She shudders too, and pulls him closer to herself, so that her breasts are against his chest directly. Then, she kisses him. <br /><br />At first, his strokes are slow. But they soon become faster, and deeper. And then they become faster. So that she can swear she feels a burning down there. But it isn’t a burning. It is her bladder filling up, telling her: “Hey, you are nearing orgasm now.” <br /><br />Dele does not expect the push. It is gentle yet hard at the same time. He falls to the other side of the bed, on her back. His eyes meet the ceiling for the first time since they walked in here. She hops on him, and the rocking begins. <br /><br />She rocks his groin against his, first, in circular patterns, and then back and forth. He tilts his neck back as the pleasure cuts into his jugular vein. A pulse throbs in his head, and then, just then, he knows that an orgasm is close. He shuts his eyes and prepares to welcome this orgasm.<br /> <br />It comes like water rushing out of a just opened tap. It rocks his body. He cannot pull out. She sits there, and stares down at him. There is a smile on her face. Fire has won. <br /><!-- /wp:paragraph -->