Femme Fatale.

17

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"Nahar, where have you been all this time?" She calls out as she races from the bedroom and on to the landing. "I've been moping about for months not knowing what on earth do with myself." She is at the head of the stairs now, her sheer night robe flowing back from her slim, bare legs and feet.The peaks of her nipples and the crest of hair between her thighs deliciously exposed.

"I really missed you, my love."Carla says,eyes snapping with pleasure,her arms lifting to him.
"Well," Nahar sighs, his eyes running over her scantily clad body,holding her from him so that he might see her better. "What a splendid welcome and what a perfectly delightful outfit,my pet."

They are both surprised by the warmth of their greeting. His arms crush her to him, his own eyes bright with admiring pleasure. Their lips meet and cling, tongues touching, warm and unhurried. He swings her up in his arms, holding her firmly, possessively.
*_*

Songs for the Chapter:
Don't Lose Your Love-  Ivan & Alyosha
Sad - Bebe Rexha

CARLA:
The wind blows violently as the bus' engine keeps roaring like a dying lion. It shakes back and forth on the uneven ground and with it,my world trembles. I cradle my head in my arms, embarrassed that merely a senseless dream about Nahar still stings so deep. I feel small,hurt, broken, angered, hateful, desperate and used all over again!

I shift as the armrest of my crooked seat digs too deep into my skin. The crown of my head barely reaches the top of the seat I sit upon. I realize how pitiful I must look weeping here. Luckily my sobbing is quiet and discreet. From a far it may seem as if I am laughing as I gasp for breath between each mournful weep.

The darkness that had encompassed me when he left crushes on me again and regret washes over me, sinking to the pit of my stomach like a rock stumbling to the bottom of a stream.The sadness that had engulfed me like a mantle as everyday had continually lapsed into the next like a recurring nightmare, freshens inside me and I feel completely helpless. I shall never be free of him,Nahar. Nahar,the man who, like a cautious thief in the night,had stolen my heart almost without me being aware of it. Leaving me in return a winging, soaring delight before flying away with his fiancée leaving me with my life frayed and worn and with the certainty that it may never be mended.

"Push yer butt to yer side, lass. Me supposed to sit beside you. Come on now move, I don't have a whole damn night to repeat the same words to yer dumb head. Are you deaf,for hell's sake I am saying this for the fourth time!" Someone's voice irritates me,interrupting my preoccupation, my relieving of memories myself and Nahar had shared before he flew away. I hastily wipe my tears and turn to face the direction the voice comes from.

"Must I move?" I ask,not quite sure I heard what the woman wants.

"I reckon so." She croaks.

"Oh, and why is that?"

"Cause yer not sittin' about dwelling on yer miserable life till you cry, my lass. At least not on my seat."

"I beg your pardon? What is that supposed to mean?" My hands clench tightly in a most painful way since I want to do no more than...than...wait to reach home and...and what? Weep some more?

"You can't do it,lass." The woman's voice is sharp, just as though she has read my mind.

A spark of anger crackles inside my head and I glare at her.
"Can't do what, for God's sake?"

"Sit about moping... before yer accuse me of interfering, just move so I can seat. We are at Machakos, lass. More passengers board here and I'm yer seatmate."

"Oh, I hardly noticed I would have another person sitting..."

"You would've if you weren't so set on sitting in the dark and brooding like a grieving widow." She laughs hysterically.

"Brooding! In the dark! I would hardly call this..."

"You know what I mean now move to the window. Me clothes too light for the harsh winds,lass."

My eyes widen and I put my hand to my mouth. Blood rushes madly towards my unfocused brain, dragging with it thought, sense and reason and I realize she has been insulting me this whole time and I slowly notice she is rough and dirt coated.

A handsome man wearing a fitted jacket with the words "Modern Coast" on them walks to our seat and offers us bottles of water. I nod a thank you and his face breaks into a beautiful dimpled smile. He walks away with grace,his steps calculated, his feet light,almost floating away. He whistles and all over again there is a feeling of cheerfulness, of coming warmth as we approach the coast, of sunny days ahead, of hope and optimism which I have not known for many months since Nahar's departure.

"Hand me me bottle,lass and quit yer staring. He's too thoroughbred for a weakling like yerself." The woman speaks,her mouth too close to mine and a stinking rush of wind fills my nostrils.

"Here,use that to brush your teeth. It stinks and I'm afraid if you bite your tongue you might die of the venomous dirt on your teeth. And hush, not another word for your foul breath might suffocate me!" I growl, overly irritated by her constant reminder that she found me crying. I am strong, God knows I am.

The woman doesn't seem phased by my sudden outburst as she grabs the bottle from my hands. She is a tall and slightly thin woman with worry creases hugging her forehead and eyes. She could have been considered homely in her youth - if it weren't for her sharp tongue and consistency to stick her nose in other people's business.

The storm gets more fierce,the road even more slippery as I drift off to sleep. I am awoken by cries. Screams rip apart the quiet night air. There is a dreadful crash. The bus goes down and above the cries ,the cries of men, women and children, the shout of the driver; I hear another voice I cannot quite recognize. The haunting sound of an animal in pain.

I am roughly, ruthlessly flung out of the car into the stormy,icily cold night landing on a grassbed and I am grateful all my limbs can move. Around me, it looks as though a giant hand had reached out and gathered a dozen or so of humans in its grasp before flinging them heedlessly into a tangled heap. Children sob in ditches and women, my seat mate among them, lie with their skirts about their waists or over their heads, stunned and ready to break into indignant weeping when they recover their composure and their voices.

The driver,who had been at the head of this slow-moving bus is shouting his outrage at the damage done to the bus and his passengers and in the midst of it lies a cow, quivering, and even to my inexperienced eyes, dying on the middle of the highway. There is a nomad kneeling at the animal's side, his head bent, his face hidden from my view,his hand on the neck of the trembling animal which makes no attempt to rise; indeed,in my opinion,by the look of its legs it will never rise again. A dog lies panting by the man's side.

"You bloody fool," the driver shouts savagely. "What the hell were you doing crossing that bloody animal on a highway and in a storm? Have you no sense? Didn't yer think ter look before yer appear out of nowhere to an oncoming bus? That looks damn near wild ter me! Yer could have killed someone and by God..."

"Be quiet, you ignorant bastard. Shut your foul mouth before I shut it for you." The voice is muffled. "You'll pay for this,you swine.." Still,the man does not look up.

"Nay, t'weren't my fault yer took me by surprise!"

The arguing goes back and forth as the guy who had shared water bottles makes a call for another bus and we all have to wait in the lashing winds and harsh rain for another bus.

Curse the day this nomad was born!