Skip to main content

Ben (5)

Ben woke up, grogginess clinging to him  like a overly possessive mother. Stretching out his legs, he uncovered his torso, kicking at the white cotton sheet moving it down exposing his crotch. He scratched, shifting balls and settled back in.
His hand hit flesh.
He glanced over peering at a white shoulder with the word "Hope" tattooed across the edge of it.
"Or maybe Sundae?"
He couldn't remember. Daph would've had a good laugh: "Sounds like a tart," she'd have said back in the day when she still laughed.
"Hey, you!" he prodded the body next to him. He remembered thinking she looked like Penelope Cruz in Vicky Cristina Barcelona when he saw her at HQ last night sucking on a cigarette - 6 drinks in and every girl in the club looked like a film star.
Her black curls swayed as she moved her head and he nodded to himself, "maybe, hey?"
He thought back to his dodgy morning-after in Bangkok shortly after Daph left him and shuddered.
The black curls turned towards him flashing dark smoky eyes from under long lashes:
"Hey handsome!"
He smiled at not quite-Penelope.
"Not too bad," he thought.
She was a hottie and had the mouth of the sailor!
Win win!
"Sheri," she said holding out a hand with a smile, revealing big boobs.
"Ah," he thought,"Sheri with an i." Like the drink, but not.
"Imma get up, make you some scrambled eggs, avo and toast, then call for an uber!" Ben told her as he reached out to shake her warm hand.
"Are you sure about that?" she inquired eyeing his morning wood, licking her lips.
Ben laughed and got up pulling the sheet with him, dropping it on the floor next to the 4 condoms. She wriggled on the bed, gave a throaty laugh and parted her legs.
"Stay! Back in a tick, have some business to do," he threw over his shoulder at her as he headed to the loo naked scratching his ass.

"I do like watching you walk away," Daphne would tease reaching out to slap his bottom.
The memory of her popped into his head without warning.
"Ouch!" he'd played along looking at the red marks streaking his cheeks. He'd turn back to the bed and push her over; Daphne'd lay down as the light filtered in through the curtains marking her skin like tattoos. Biting her neck and the soft curve of her hips left  goosebumps all over her body as he nibbled his way down to her soft inner thigh.
She'd moan and her face would sparkle with pleasure lit up like the Christmas lights in Adderly Street over the festive season...

Ben waivered midway to the bathroom; stopped in his tracks by memories of Daphne:
Daphne on her back cooing.
Daphne on the top talking dirty.
Daphne in the dark reading him like Braille.
He grunted, quickly returning to the bedroom, flipped Candy...Sheri over and mounted her from behind, blinded by fury and the desire not to feel.

Sheri left in a haze of cheap perfume, her skinny jean and tight T clinging to her like a second skin. Everything about her was not Daphne. She waved as she climbed into the cab, blowing him a kiss. "The girl does love to blow," he thought as he made his way to the kitchen, egg shells and avo skins lining the kitchen counter.
He placed the carton of eggs back in the fridge and arranged the 12 avo's in the wooden bowl - girls do love their avo's.
The phone in the hallway rang.
Landline - It would be Daphne!
"Hi," she said.
"Hello, Daph," he said.
"Today at 4?" she asked, "Bacini?"
"You sure? Pizza? Carbs? Calories?" he asked.
"I'll have the mozzarella and tomato pesto salad," she said having thought it through.
"You like their peri-peri prawn pizza!" she responded trying to be amicable.
"Okay, see you then," he said putting the phone down without saying goodbye.

"What's different?" he thought, perplexed by her call.
He could swear that he felt a sign of his old love in that call.
But his old love was gone and in it's place were demons.

Popular posts from this blog

Right here, Right now.

The wind whistles & howls, shaking up Cape Town ; waking her weary chidren.

Dazed I wake up for a second time, opening heavy lids to find that Monday had dawned softly. Ribbons of red are slowly beginning to caress the darkness as I stretch out lazy like a cat, lying in the middle of the kingsize bed, my thick winter frame engulfed by fleecy bedding the colour of candy floss.
"Sweet!" I utter out loud to an already empty house as soft light filters in through aluminium blinds making stripes like tattoos on my pale skin.
I should get up, but I am perplexed by the day which stretches ahead of me demanding nothing!
I'm at odds, not used to so much time on my hands, "busy" being my usual setting.

I'm beginning to like this new reality.
The ticking clock by my bedside sets a steady rhythm, as all around me the world is on the go, moving in circles. It's as if the world's forgotten about this one, tiny space. In my cocoon I groggily sit up, twisting m…


Furrows deep and pronounced line my brow. I contemplate them,  willing them away, stroking them gently, each stroke meant to iron them out. I am their canvas, they are my storylines.

I seize my ironing, and listen to their tales.
I feel the cold to my bones!

Not the usual Cape Town cold I grew up with in the Southern Suburbs, but an iciness matching any day spent in Tewkesbury more than a decade ago in the UK.  The kind of cold that requires down feather jackets and knee-high fake fur boots.  The kind of cold that leaves sleet on windshields, and soup pots full.
Central heating!Pah! Our homes in Cape Town are ill-equipped for this kinda torture!
I hug my hot water bottle to me like a long lost lover, it's squishy, and pot-bellied and jiggles when I squeeze it. Raising the white mug to my lips, I slurp the almost scalding coffee quickly. My fifth cuppa and it's only 10:42am. Two bars glow bright orange at me. Mikey hogs the heater, and Georgie sits on top of the TV cabinet like a …

The Road to Al Dhaid

I wake up from a deep sleep, startled by silence and a bed devoid of him. I lay spread eagled, entangled in white cotton sheet, a sense of solitude overwhelming me as soon as I open my eyes.

The desert heat clings to my body while a pale moon tries it's best to break through thick, brown silky drapes. I drag myself up, feeling a twinge in my lower back and pull the clawing nightdress down thick hips and thighs.
Middle age bringing unwelcome changes.

My feet hit lukewarm tiles as I stumble the short distance to the window, hanking the brown open to reveal the the mosque the colour of sand.  In the distance it's soft lights are alluring against a dark sky.
The call to prayer begins as I stand silently staring out at University City Road. No screeching tyres, honking horns, or irate drivers to disturb the peace. Only an ocassional early morning traveller making his way along the quiet streets of sleepy Sharjah.
The adhan is soothing and I am instantly alert, a sense of urgency gu…