Fortuity

Chapter 3

"𝚂𝙷𝙸𝚃," I mutter. Sjava's Intombi-Yami serenades, filling the entire home gym. Ayize... her alluring, sumptuous, yet gorgeous face, comes into full view as my busy mind drifts to a faraway place.

I instantly drop the weights when I sense another presence in the room. I swiftly turn around, my eyes falling on my father.

"Donda." I utter, grabbing the electrolyte drink before guzzling it down.

"Ndodana, I'm leaving now, I'm going back to my wife and children. I hope you have thoroughly thought about last night's conversation. The clock is ticking Qaphela, if you don't prove that you are man enough I'll be forced to sign the farm over to Sakhile since it seems like he's more of a man than you are!" My father peeves. I blow out a sigh, looking at him straight in the eye.

"Oh." I express, my nonchalance clearly evident in my tone. The man I call a father scoffs before prancing out with his pompous march.

"Fuck!" I exclaim shortly. This man aggravates me so fucking much! Nothing I fucking do is ever enough for this man. To him I am and always will be second best. And then there's Sakhile, his favourite son, his wife's son. Sakhile is younger than me yet one would swear he's the heir. My father loathes me, that's just the simple truth. It's as if I'm the one who sent him to cheat on his wife with my mother.

I flounce out of the home gym, heading upstairs to my bedroom. I need to be in Cape Town by 5pm today. I'm planning on spending the rest of my Joburg trip with uMaGxarha, but that could be wishful thinking, considering how she dismissed me earlier on this morning.

Chime; my cellphone emits. I retrieve it from the black Under Armour shorts. It's a message from Cyrus, the best techie at my security company. This nigga could find anything on anyone; even the last dump they took.

Cyrus
check your email boss man. document password:2212

The message simply states, lacing my movements with urgency. I exhale sharply before heading over to the mini working station in my lounge. I power on my iMac and agitatedly unlock it before finally clicking on my emails. The first email on the unread list has her name as the subject.
Ayize Nofoto Gxarha. Hmm, Ayize Makhathini sounds better in my head. It's more fitting for a goddess like her; well that's unless she keeps her surname when we get married. I can just imagine, Dr Ayize Gxarha-Makhathini. Not bad, not bad at all...

•••

"Ah shit!" I groan deeply, massaging my rigidness to rid myself of the semen that rests in my nut sack. I shut my eyes, toss my head back, allowing the pleasure to consume me, just like the thoughts of Ayize.

"Y-Yes" my mind drifts off to her meek response. The way she profusely batted her eyelashes, capturing me with those dark brown, big orbs.

"Fuck!" I mutter, quickening my pace, making sure that my palm brushes over the head of my dick with each stroke. Nut oozes from my tip slowly at first but shifts gears as I continue to stroke myself. With a climactic ending, my semen splatters all over the shower wall
"Uhhhh, shit Ayize!" I growl, leaning up against the shower wall for support. I open the faucet, allowing it to rinse the mess.

The standard iPhone ringtone graces my buzzing ears, forcing me to open my eyes.
"Fuck!" I exclaim, shutting the faucet before stepping out of the shower.

•••

•••

"Qaphela Makhathini"
I punch in on my MacBook keyboard via the Safari browser. The first result I gather is an article by News24.

"Qaphela Makhathini, SANDF mem..." The article trailed off. Jesus Christ! SANDF??? A whole soldier, or whatever they're called? No thank you! Yhu bawo! I shut my MacBook and scoff shortly. This explains why's he's so persistent about me fixing his car. He earns peanuts! He sure is living above his means if he drives that kind of car.

"We're leaving!" Nangamso coolly shouts from my scullery door. I exhale sharply and thrill my lips. My little sister worries me, honestly. I stand up from the dining table, removing my reading glasses. My helper is not coming in today which means I have to get started on with the tidying up. I'm currently surviving on two hours worth of sleep. Sigh! I think I love this little life...

My cup of matcha latte, my loungewear and my patients' files which I'm reviewing. Peanut is somewhere around the house, doing God knows what. Well, that's my Saturday. I just got off the phone with my mother, who's been whining about me not giving her space. Her exact words were:

"How do you expect me to find you uTat'omncinci when you're smothering me?" Quite hilarious I must say.

As I'm humming along to some slow jams, my concentration is cut off by my gate intercom. I don't even bother checking it out so I stand up from the carpet, heading out. I'm completely thrown in a room of perplexity when I spot the all too familiar BMW vehicle parked infront of my gate. I frown as I scramble towards the gate, sliding it open with the remote.

I am completely frozen, totally glacial the moment he appears from the drivers side, making his way towards the gate. He's carrying a bouquet of clove pink carnation stems in his hand and swathed in blue denim trousers and a white polo shirt. My eyes catch on his wrist that is accessorised with a band of goat skin and what looks like a greyish-charcoal AP watch. Woah! An AP? A fucking Audemars Piguet?! Bet it's a counterfeit one...

"What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?" I grit out. Mr President in front of me emits a deep chuckle. Fuck me! This man exudes an undeniable sex appeal and is so freaking attractive. An epitome of a sex symbol.

"About yesterday; I knew right there and then that I had to have you in my life and then hopefully send cows kwaGxarha. Oh, you also need to fix my car beautiful." Never mind what he just said; how the heck did he know where I live? "I know everything I need to know about you dokotela." The baritone voice utters once again, clouding my psyche.

•••