Chapter 2 Untitled

'My name is Sylvia,' she extended a fist to him and he

bumped it. 'I'm Darsh.'

She smiled at him. 'You look foreign.'

n.'

He chuckled. I am a little foreign. My grandfather isn't from here.

East Africa.' 'That's nice. East Africa has beautiful people. Ethiopia,

especially.'

'My grandfather is Ethiopian. Does that make me beautiful?' He gave her a

teasing smile and a wink.

She laughed and gulped more wine. He's so hot, she thought. Liquid

warmth rushed through her body.

He got up, brought out his wallet from his back pocket, flipped it open,

riffled out a snapshot and showed her. She got her phone from her handbag and

switched on the phone torch. The elderly man in the picture looked more like a

crossbreed between an exotic canine and a human. His dark brown face has a

long golden beard covering the entire lower half part of his face. His thick brows and deep set eyes were startlingly clear and had a set of piercing golden pupils.

The man was wearing a grey suit and white shirt and held a cane.

'That's him. My grandfather.'

'Wow! He's remarkable.' She looked at the photo longer.

' He is a remarkable man. I grew up under him and he taught me a lot.' He

put back the photo in the wallet and slipped the wallet behind him.

'Do you want to dance?' She asked him. He shrugged. 'I'm not good at it?'

She grinned at him. 'I'll manage what you have. What's a party without

dancing?

He gave her a slight shrug and followed her to the dance floor teeming

with dancers, so she held onto him with one hand and the other clutching her

bottle, and still managed to sling it around his shoulders, he put his arms around

her waist. She liked the warmth from his body, his skin felt good on hers as they

moved slowly to the loud beat. Her body was comfortable with his maleness.

She held him closer, her breasts cushy against his chest. He wasn't that taller

than her because she was on high heels. She suddenly wanted him to touch her

intimately. She longed for it. It was a crazy yearn beyond her natural self. It was

so strong.

Overpowering. And he reacted to that need too as if by telepathy. He

seemed to have felt her vibe and splayed his fingers on the small of her back,

nudging her close and tight to his frame, his leg shoved in between her legs.

They couldn't get closer than that on the dance floor. Her body trembled, she

brushed her face against his face, her mouth close to his mouth, seeking a kiss,

shocking her normally reserved self. He brushed his lips on her chin and cheek,

avoiding her mouth. She sighed and sagged on him, he held her. Right then the

light and the music went off completely in the entire hall. There was total

darkness. People gasped. Some whooped.

Darsh's mouth took Sylvia's in a hurried but passion-racked kiss. She

yielded at once. Her fingers buried in his thick hair. His hand toured her body,

his mouth ravished her mouth and neck, her cleavage. She loved his scent and

his taste in her mouth. He intoxicated her more than the wine.

Sylvia's eyes were shut in the darkness but seeing fireworks. Darsh

touched her intimately without seeming vulgar. She loved it and wanted more.

She wanted to go to bed with him that instant. To completely give herself to him.

She held on to him tight, believing that she had completely gone mad because of

a man.

The light and the music came back on. The drunk guy had returned again

and was now standing close to them, staring open-mouthed. Darsh stopped

feeling her and stepped away. Sylvia reluctantly let him go.

'You said you didn't want to dance,' the drunk said accusingly, pointing at

Sylvia. 'I asked you first. We are together.'

We are not together,' Sylvia replied. 'I don't even know you.'

That's harsh,' he slurred, then glared at Darsh. 'You don't come to our

party and steal our women. Not done.' He stomped away like a spoilt child.

Darsh led Sylvia back to their seats at the bar, which was luckily still

vacant. Sylvia was trembling and breathless. Her head buzzed. She needed more

of what she just tasted on the dance floor. She drank instead. She didn't want to

be clear-headed yet and lose the magic. The alcohol had helped her lose her

inhibition making it possible for her to get what she wanted that night. If she lost

that boldness now, she wouldn't go further with her chase. She would likely

slunk back to her self-pitying and keening for that jerk ex of hers. She emptied

the bottle.

'More drink?' he asked her.

'Just a little.' She got up and returned with a full glass of brandy. She took

two quick swallows and endured the burn.

It's like you are trying to forget everything tonight,' he observed. 'Or do

something drastic.' 'Just want to enjoy myself.' She pointed a thumb to the dance

floor. 'Should we go back there?

He shook his head. 'I don't want to have you on the floor. I almost did.'

She shivered. 'Can we go elsewhere then?' That surprised her, wondering

where that came from. She had gone crazier than she intended; the man was like

a new drug to her.

He looked at his watch and said he had to go. 'I have an important meeting.'

'Oh!' Sylvia was disappointed. She really enjoyed their short time together

and anticipated more. It was something she never experienced before. She

expected him to ask for her number but he didn't. He got up and left just like that,

melting into the body of dancing people as if he intentionally wanted to lose her

fast. He didn't even glance back. She sighed, the booze didn't let her feel too

disappointed. She looked at the stool he vacated and at the floor. And there was his wallet lying there. It must have dropped out of his pocket when he slid off the

stool.

On impulse, she picked up the wallet and went after him. She couldn't even

believe what she was doing. She could have waited to locate him later but she

had to see him again now. She thanked God for this wallet. Yes, the party won't

be interesting for her without him. Darsh had done something to her within

those few minutes that no man had ever given her all her life. He was all that

mattered then. It was like he robbed her of her heart.

Outside the hall, she looked around and among the cars parked outside,

only a couple were leaning on a car and in a tight embrace. They were young and

trendy like most people at the party. She asked the smooching couple if they saw

a man in a leather jacket. 'He went that way,' the lady told Sylvia in a smoky

voice, the man smiled dreamily at Sylvia, and they both pointed Sylvia out the

gate. Sylvia thought they were weird. Everybody in the party was weird.

Everybody, either dancing, smooching or smiling dreamily. Not much talking.

And they were all dressed in similar fashion; dark casuals and lots of eyeliner

both in men and women.