Ebun floated on a cloud, weightless. The back of her hand tingled where Kamali had kissed her.
Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed their mouths together. He seemed surprised at her gesture although he let her brush her tongue against his luscious firm rims.
He tasted of her and his masculinity.
Warmth spread through her chest that he carried her essence on him. She sucked in a deep breath, hoping he smelled like her.
A primal emotion swept through her. Like an animal marking its territory, she wanted to mark him as hers so that every other woman would keep away.
At least for the next few days.
Forever, if she could help it.
But she wouldn’t worry about forever.
He’d promised her the next few days and Kamali was a man of his words, if nothing else.
She pulled back a little and looked up at his smouldering dark gaze. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything,” he said with a smile that made him look dangerously handsome.
“Oh, you don’t know how much you’ve already done.” For the first time since her father left, she glimpsed hope and possibilities. “Well, I guess you better go before someone thinks I’m hugging you all to myself. Although, I’d love to hug you all to myself.”
He chuckled. “True. That’s the fun of families. You have to find time to fit everyone in. Otherwise, you get accused of favouring one over another. It’s like politics sometimes. You have to learn the art of diplomacy.”
“Yeah, I’m getting a crash course on families. I grew up as an only child of my parents. My father gave me all his attention for the years that he was with us. I guess I was spoilt. So I don’t know how your grandfather paid all his eleven children attention. And you have over forty cousins.”
“Honestly, growing up with so many cousins had its good and bad moments. We were, still are, very competitive when it came to winning accolades and recognition. But the fun part was that I never felt left out or alone. I certainly never felt neglected. I guess my problem was finding a quiet moment sometimes.” He tilted his head as he studied her. “Didn’t you ever feel lonely being an only child?”
Her throat constricted as his question brought up painful memories. She swallowed and looked at the wall. “Not until my father left and I suddenly didn’t have him as part of my daily routine. It was then that I knew loneliness.”
“I’m sorry.” He cradled her cheek. “It must have been hard for you. Did he keep in touch?”
“For a little while. Then, the communication petered out and I gave up on him ever coming back—” A ringing tone distracted her.
“Sorry.” Kamali pulled out his phone from his trouser pocket and swiped to connect the call. “Musa, yaya kake?”
Ebun used the opportunity and sashayed into the bathroom to wash up as well as to give Kamali some privacy to take the call.
The clean and sparkling bathroom called to her. She was hot and sticky from the travelling and sex so she needed the refreshment of the shower.
She returned to the bedroom and unzipped her travel case, pulling out her toiletries bag.
Kamali was still on the phone, speaking in Hausa.
She indicated with gestures that she would be taking a shower and he nodded at her.
She returned to the bathroom, turned on the faucet and stripped off the remaining clothes. She covered her hair with a shower cap and stepped into the cubicle. The water was just at the right temperature and she sighed with pleasure as the needle pricks of the spray massaged her muscles.
She let the spray work its magic before she reached for the shower gel. Ten minutes later, she was out of the shower and towelling her body with the fresh white sheet she grabbed from the counter.
In the bedroom, Kamali sat in the armchair fiddling with his phone.
“I thought you’d gone,” Ebun said with as she grabbed her body cream and sat on the bed.
“I didn’t want to leave while you were in the shower.” He stood and strode across to her. “Fahima stopped by to mention that dinner will be in an hour.”
“Oh. You could have come into the bathroom, if you’d wanted.”
“I’d wanted. But you wouldn’t have come out of there already, if I’d come in.”
She understood his implications and her body reacted instantly. The buzz of attraction she’d always felt around him remained, even after their intimacy. She wanted him again and again.
“I wouldn’t have minded,” she said.
“I know.” He leaned down and kissed her. “But I have to shower too and change my clothes before dinner.”
“Okay. I’ll see you at dinner?”
He straightened. “Of course. I’ll see you there.”
He strode to the door and turned when he reached it. “My room is the one at the end of the hall. Just next door. They put you in what’s meant to be the men’s wing because they thought my guest would be male. The women’s quarters are actually on the other side of the landing. Would you like to be moved to a different room in the women’s wing?”
She tilted her head. Sure she would’ve liked to hang out with the women. But the proximity to Kamali’s room appealed to her. “No. I’d like to stay here. Perhaps you can sneak into my room in the middle of the night.”
“Midnight trysts. I look forward to those.” He winked at her and then he was gone.
It took a while for her racing heart to pipe down at the thought of him coming to her room in the middle of the night.
But the smile on her face remained as she got dressed and finally went downstairs. She wore a loose-fitting Adire maxi dress and strappy leather sandals. Seeing Fahima and Yasmin both dressed in long modest outfits made her glad she’d gone shopping and bought new outfits for this week. This wasn’t the place for jeans, not if she wanted the women around here to take her seriously.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Fari and the other two girls ran across the hall and stopped when they saw her.
“Hi, Aunty.” They greeted with smiles.
“Hi. Fari, you didn’t tell me your cousins’ names,” Ebun said in a cheerful tone and sat on the armchair in the corner which provided a secluded sitting area from the living room.
“Sorry, Aunty. This is Veda.” Fari indicated the taller hickory-shaded girl with natural hair bunched in a puff. “And this is Rashi.”
The other girl was smaller, prettier with coffee-shade skin and cornrows similar to Fari.
“Nice to meet you, Veda and Rashi. Are you sisters?”
“Yes, we are,” Veda replied.
“Is Fahima your mum?”
“Yes.” They both nodded.
Ebun smiled. She’d guessed right. Rashi looked like her mother.
If the two girls were Fahima’s children, then didn’t Yasmin have any? She didn’t want to ask the girl. She’d have to ask Kamali later.
“Veda, could you get me a glass of water, please?”
“Sure, Aunty.” The girl rushed off to do her bidding.
“Fari, how is school?” Ebun asked. She knew the girl had just started high school and was boarding. “Are you enjoying it?”
“Yes. I miss home sometimes but I have my cousins in school too. So it’s fun. And Daddy comes on visiting days.”
“That’s great. So you’re in the same school as your cousins?”
“We’re not in the same class but we get to see each other after lessons and in the dormitories.”
“I’m glad you’re happy in school,” Ebun said.
Ebun had been raised in a single parent household after her father left, same as Fari was being raised in a single parent home after her mother's death.
Yet, the difference between Ebun and Fari at the same age was stark. And it wasn't the money or their family status that made the difference. It was the network of family and support.
Fari had aunties and uncles and grandparents and cousins who cared about her. Even if she couldn't rely on her father, she could always count on the support of her extended family.
Ebun had never had that kind of family support.
Veda returned with a bottle of ice water and a glass. She placed them on the side table and poured the water into the glass.
“Mum said we have to help out in the kitchen,” Veda said.
“Of course, you can go,” Ebun waved the girls off.
As Ebun drank she recalled her time in secondary school. She didn’t have the support of siblings or cousins or any kind of relatives. She’d struggled to fit it. She’d been the only black child in her primary school and the same in her secondary school when she’d started.
She had been taunted for her dark skin. Many times she’d been asked if she didn’t have proper soap to wash off the dirt from her skin. Other times she’d been asked if she’d lived in trees in Africa. Never mind that she’d been born in the UK and hadn’t been to Africa at that point.
The other children hadn’t cared. All they’d seen was her dark skin and her nappy hair that couldn't be tamed with ‘Wash and Go’ shampoo.
As she’d grown older and blossomed with boobs, the boys had shown interest in her. And needing validation, she’d succumbed. Her emotional and mental health had spiralled downwards from there.