Repetition Compulsion

36.

"What?", Sera remarked, trying desperately to keep her composure.

"Sera, Nala is my bestfriend, and my fiancé. But only just that. I've known her since we were kids, and we have been like siblings since then."

She sat down on the cold, elevator floor, because the longer she kept standing, the dizzier she felt.

"After Tatiana's death, I was an emotional wreck. I lost control of my life, and I didn't care about anything at all. So much so that I neglected my company, sending it into bankruptcy." he ran a hand through his hair. A mysterious glint in his eyes. " Around the same time, Nala's father, Babakar was preparing to marry her off to some old, rich guy, as part of a business arrangement. Nala has always been like a sister to me, and it didn't feel right for me to leave her hanging like that. So, her and I made a business proposition of our own. I would let her father have a share of my company, and make him name partner, and from him, all I wanted was financial security, and Nala's hand in marriage."

He paced up and down the elevator shaft, loosening the tie around his neck. "He wasn't fond of the idea at first, but once he realized that he was getting more out of this deal than I was, he finally gave in. So, here I am. Here we are."

Silence filled the air.

"I apologize for taking so long to tell you." Abimbola continued. "But I've always found that in cases like these, the less people know the better. I wasn't sure I could trust you yet.

More silence filled the air.

"Sera?"

Silence.

"Sera, say something, please", he pleaded with her, sliding down the cold, hard elevator shaft, and sitting next to Sera. He took a long, deep sigh, as though a huge load had just been taken off his shoulder. 

Having been overwhelmed, Sera took a second to process before she answered him. "Well, do you trust me now?"

"Why, of course, I trust you. How dare you ask me such a thing when I've just—"

"So kiss me"

Her voice came out sounding weak, and barely audible.

"Wh-what?"

This was the first time she had ever heard Abimbola stutter.

"Kiss me", she repeated. And this time, he did. He pressed his lips against hers, and kissed her with what can only be described as a slow, hard, deliberate kiss.

His tongue was in her mouth, his kiss hot, searching and so insanely fueled, that she couldn't help but moan in his mouth. She felt that kiss shimmer through her body, and a small gasp escaped her mouth.

The last kiss they had shared had always felt corrupt, because Sera knew that he wasn't hers. Not really. But this one was different. Now that she knew that the door was open, and that Abimbola wanted to be with her just as much as she wanted to be with him, she felt more connected to him. Something deep inside her core was burning and yearning for his touch. Yearning for him. And so she kissed him back, with the same amount of desire, passion and yearning that she was receiving from him.

***

It was just a little after 8 o'clock, when Abimbola came to, awakened by the sound of his cellphone ringing in his blazer jacket pocket, which was now wrapped around the curvy naked body of Sera.

His first thought was to just let her keep the jacket, because it looked so much better on her than it ever did on him. His second thought was to get hold of his phone and get it to stop ringing, because he didn't want to wake her up.

Lying against his chest, with messy hair and his oversized blazer draping over her body, Sera had never looked perfect. And whilst he had been thrilled to be intimate with her, something deep within him told him she needed this sleep. Much more than she was letting on.

So he let her sleep. "This is the beauty of having your own personal and private elevator", he thought out loud to himself. "You can get up to all kinds of mischief."

He placed a kiss on her forehead, reached for the inner pocket of his jacket, pressed the 'accept' button on his phone, and pressed the phone over his ear. 

Jake's voice came from the end of the receiving line. Jake was one of Abimbola's friends from college, as well as his personal Private Investigator. He hadn't used him in ages, but a couple of days he had decided that he wanted to do something nice for Sera, and so he had called him and asked him to do some digging. He had hoped Jake could find Grace's grave. He wanted to surprise Sera by taking her there closer to the anniversary of her death, and teaching her the exercise his therapist had taught him for getting closure. He hoped he could do the same for her, and that she would hopefully find inner peace. But according to what Jake was saying, it didn't look like that was going to happen. 

Jake said a lot of things, and in such a calm, monotone voice, to the point where Abimbola couldn't tell whether or not this was all happening in his head. He was so caught up in the conversation that he didn't see Sera waking up. Nor did he see her get dressed. He didn't see the irreverant, off-beat look in her eyes, and he didn't hear her whisper "Ohmigawsh. I can't do this". He most definitely didn't hear the elevator opening, or Sera walking out on him. 

All he heard was Jake's voice, spinning around in his head, threatening to give him his first heart attack at such a young age. Jake said a lot of things, so much so that by the end of the phone call, Abimbola's head was ringing with thoughts and confusion. But even with all that, he wanted to tell Sera first before he could deal with his confusion. He needed to tell her. 

He turned around to wake her up and give her the news, but all he found was his blazer jacket, laying lifelessly where her soft body had been before he answered the phone call.

Her clothes were gone, and the elevator was now open on the ground floor. His thoughts were still ringing from the message she had gotten from Jake, so even though he was confused by Sera's sudden departure, and nerve wrecked from Jake's message,  he knew he had to find her and give her the news. She deserved to know: 

Jake had not found Grace. But he had found someone else. He had found someone called the Sheriff (who was presumed to be dead) alive on an abandoned cottage.