Swirl

6. Pillowtalk.

A/N:
This is the song I played on a loop as I wrote this.
Code name: operation steam.
Rated 16. Loooooool.
Happy reading!
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Lerato was finding it hard to sleep for several reasons. One being the wellbeing of the handsome yet battered dark chocolate stranger in her own bed, and the more prominent being her presence in the bed of her other handsome piece of milk chocolate.

She tried everything she could to make the sandman come and put her to sleep. First, she tried merely closing her eyes and trying to slow her breaths.

When that didn't work, she decided to dull her mind of any and all conscience thoughts.

When that didn't work either, she decided to try a more comical approach. She started counting imaginary sheep.

When that failed too, she concluded that sleep would come to her whenever it decided to, therefore, she chose to entertain her thoughts.

Her night hadn't panned out to be anything like she had planned. When she got dressed earlier that evening, she was looking forward to a night of mischief and mayhem with her close friends, as any bunch of young twenty something year olds would too, today.

She hadn't expected to rekindle burned out friendships, unearth a past she had no intentions of revisiting nor face her demons. And yet, she did all that, and still managed to end up in someone else's bed.

Not quite what she expected but it's not like she was complaining. Achim had a body that might as well have been sculpted by supernatural deities. He just hid it really well under his baggy button downs and boots.

She could feel the heat emanating off of his body in waves. He wasn't so close to her but she could still feel it, and she wondered, for a moment, whether that was his body heat she was feeling or something more, - something that she, deep down, knew that she felt, too.

Carnal desire.

She wouldn't push for anything more to happen between them than this, but if it did, she wouldn't be complaining. When it came to fulfilling her needs, as a woman, her body and mind became two very separate departments.

Before you ask, no she wasn't promiscuous. She had never been in a serious relationship but she had an arrangement with a boy who was the gardener's son a few blocks down. Michael was his name and he was only a year older than she.

She met him one fine day, in the previous year, as she was walking towards the bus stop to catch the next bus into town so that she could go and look for piecework. She had been trying to save to go to a community college in the area so that she could study nursing. She had always aspired to be in the medical field, but being a humble maid's daughter meant that she didn't have a silver spoon in her mouth, and would have to work even harder to put herself through school.

She didn't want to depend on her mum or even trouble her with the question of whether she could set aside some money for her from her wages because she knew her mother had too many financial obligations already.

In addition to putting clothes on her back, she also sent money to Sharpeville monthly to Lerry's paternal grandmother whom she viewed as her own mother. After Mr. Paki's cruel demise, Patience and his mother maintained contact via letter writing and had gotten quite close.

But I digress.

When she met Michael, the first thing that she noticed about him were his arms. He'd actually been out in the front garden of his father's employer's house. He was helping him plant tulips and sunflowers. He had on a loose vest that showed every curve and bulge in his big yummy biceps and triceps, and a pair of gardening gloves that had her mind wondering what types of manly hands were being hidden within them.

He was knee deep in mud working diligently with gardening tools.

As he looked up and wiped sweat from his forehead, shielding himself from the sun, his eyes came across Lerato. She was too busy fantasizing about his arms and admiring the way in which the sun had made his skin look darker and richer to notice how he had been checking her out, too.

With a slow Colgate smile, he said, "Damn, ma. You good?"

And that's how it all started. He wasn't the most sophisticated potato in the pouch, but she liked his ruggedness and the fact that he could be tender with her. Their relationship had been purely sexual but had to come to an end when he admitted that he had feelings for her and wanted to progress with a view to marriage.

She freaked out and declined because for starters, she had too many ambitions to let herself be tied down with the responsibilities of a wife and, some day, a mother. Further still, nothing about Michael stimulated her mentally. The fact that he couldn't initiate and hold intelligent conversation with her was a big no, especially considering the types of circumstances that people like them had been facing during that time.

So, it really wasn't that difficult to let go of him. His dick was good, but not good enough for her to give up her life.

Anyway, as she lay there, wide awake, she felt her inner muscles clench at the thought of how long it had been since they, themselves had been stimulated. A little over a few months may have been nothing to worry about for other people, but as a sexually awakened female, she might as well have had cob webs down there and tumble weeds rolling around, together with a sign written, 'Help Wanted.'

Deciding that the edge of the bed was no longer comfortable or sensible, she flopped onto her side and lay on her back, unleashing a deep suspire.

For some reason, she thought sleep had come easily to Achim already, so you can imagine how giddy she felt when she heard a deep groggy voice say, "Can't sleep either, huh?"

She gasped and whispered into the darkness, "Chim? You're still awake?"

"Yeah. A lot on my mind."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"No, it's rather personal."

Affronted, she decided that the night had been long and emotional enough, so she thought it better not to pry.

"Okay," she whispered.

He could sense the disappointment in her voice but he couldn't help it. He couldn't tell her what he was thinking about, because he was thinking about her.