And that’s when she walked in. The most beautiful creature on this earth or so I thought. For the next few minutes I was transfixed just watching this ethereal creature that just floated in confer with her friend. They were talking in whispers so I could barely hear what they were saying despite the fact that I was just a few feet from them. Not to mention that the room was noisy. Then she straightened up and looked directly at me. Our eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity and just when I was struggling to tear my eyes away from her compelling gaze, she smiled.
You see, I’ve seen thousands of people smile and that’s not an exaggeration. As a wedding photographer, I get paid to capture peoples’ smiles. But this smile, the one this fair-complexioned exotic beauty rewarded me with was different. Her eyes seemed to light up as she smiled and I caught a glimpse of mischief in the upturned corners of her full lips. And there was that dimple, a lone one. I ran my gaze over her and was pleased by what I saw: tall and slim with curves in all the right places. I let my gaze rest once again on her cherubic face.
Now let me tell you what usually happens to me when I see a beautiful woman, especially at events: the photographer in me takes over and I quickly approach her to have her picture taken. But with this Northern beauty, I didn’t just want to take her picture; I wanted to take her home with me. I quickly erased that thought from my mind and returned my attention to her friend, my client who by now was watching the wordless exchange between us with some amusement.
“George, meet my best friend and sister from another mother”, she proclaimed.
“Her name is Aisha”
I stretched out my arm for a handshake and was rewarded with her dainty, henna-painted right hand. My palms easily swallowed hers for she had the smallest hands I had seen on a woman.
“A pleasure to meet you”, I said, trying to give her my best professional smile and failing woefully because I was grinning from ear to ear
“Same here” she responded, flashing perfect white teeth as she smiled again
I heard my client say, “Aisha will help you arrange my different outfits so you can take pictures of them, just like the ones you put on Instagram” and with that she turned her attention to the makeup artist who was already getting impatient by the interruption.
So we went to work, Aisha and i. She brought out her friend’s dresses and shoes and jewelry and I took picture after picture. We laid the jewelry on the bed, hung a few dresses from the light fixtures and even had a shoe peeking out from under the bed. Trust me not to waste this opportunity to have a conversation with her while we worked. She told me she was a Graduate Assistant in the Department of History at the Ahmadu Bello University and had flown into Abuja the previous day for the wedding. From behind the camera I could see as her brow creased while she was trying to match two outfits. I longed to touch her face and smooth the creases with the pads of my thumbs. I clicked the shutter, capturing that moment and freezing it in time.
I asked her if we could meet for drinks later in the day and she agreed. The rest of the wedding went by in an exertion-filled haze and occasionally my thoughts strayed to Aisha.
My client had spared no expense in ensuring that I was comfortable. They had booked a posh hotel in one of the high-brow areas of town and that is where Aisha and I met later that evening for drinks. I was waiting in the lobby when she walked in and I guided her to the restaurant. While we waited for our order, I surreptitiously checked her out. Her wide set brown eyes shone in her fair-complexioned face. She had the straightest nose I had seen on an African. I imagined her heart-shaped, full lips on mine. She noticed me staring and I was rewarded with a shy smile revealing her lone dimple once again.
“Stop staring”, she chided
It was my turn to be embarrassed.
The evening flew too fast for my liking. Aisha was easily the most interesting person I had met in my entire life. Like me, she was a voracious reader and the conversation quickly drifted to books. She had this uncanny ability to be able to follow a thread of conversation even after we had departed from the subject which I thought was one of the hallmarks of a good news reporter and I told her so.
She was leaving Abuja the following day for Zaria and I was on my way to Lagos for another assignment. As we waited on the street in the balmy December evening for a cab I sneaked my hand behind her waist and held her close. She leaned into me and I caught a glimpse of her scent. It was heady and intoxicating. She lifted her head and smiled up at me and I seized the opportunity to do what I had been dreaming of all night. Kiss her. Her lips were even softer than I imagined them to be. As I slammed the cab door shut I knew I had to see her again.
Two weeks after I met Aisha for the first time, I found myself in Zaria. Of course in those two weeks I called her every single day not to mention our marathon bouts of texting. I checked into a hotel and called her to let her know I was in town. When she showed up at my door my last strand of self-control broke. I practically dragged her into the room. No words were needed at this point. With her back pressed against the closed door, I kissed her with all the longing in my being. She matched me thrust for thrust. With our lips still locked, I reached behind her and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor. When I unhooked her bra, her breasts bounced free, welcoming their new-found liberty. Everything about Aisha was perfect even her breasts. I tweaked one rock-hard nipple between my thumb and forefinger and she sighed with pleasure. When I placed my mouth on the other nipple she moaned loudly and grabbed my arms. She reached under my shirt and found my nipples. I thought to myself that if she continued what she was doing, we wouldn’t make it to the bed. While still pinning her against the door I slid off her panties and carried her to the bed. I slid one finger into her, she was warm and wet, and then I followed with two fingers while she panted loudly grabbing the sheets and thrusting her hips. She started fumbling with my belt buckle and that’s when I realized I was still in my clothes. I quickly got out of my shirt and shorts and lay beside her. She sat astride me and proceeded to guide me into her. The sight of her breasts as they bounced up and down drove me to the edge very quickly and watching her come was all I needed to send me tumbling down the brink.
We lay spent in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of our love-making. There was something on the TV about Boko Haram bombing somewhere in Borno. I asked her what life was like living in the North and in constant fear of being attacked by the insurgents. She assured me that Zaria was pretty safe. I kissed her and found myself growing hard. I reached for the remote control and switched off the TV and shutting out the depressing news. I surrendered myself to Aisha’s bewitching ministrations.
Aisha was my spot of sunshine. She brightened every one of my days. She was the first thing I thing I thought about every morning and the last thing before I went to bed at night. Of course my work took me to different locations across the country but I was comforted by the fact that she was just a phone call away. I lived for the moment I could be with her again and with Valentine’s Day around the corner; I knew it would be sooner than later.
“Hello George, my name is Abba and I would like to book your services as our wedding photographer”
“By the way, you come highly recommended and my fiancée would kill me if you said no”
I looked down at the phone and smiled. Most of my clients came based on referrals, which is why I never joked with giving my best to any particular client.
“We would like to have our pre-wedding shoot at Utako in Abuja”, Abba continued.
“What date I asked”?
“Valentine’s Day”. “Send me your email so I can forward the address and other details to you”
That was two weeks away, I mentally calculated.
“Thank you”, he said and ended the call before I could respond
I was amazed at how the powers that be had conspired to take me to the North once again and this time on Valentine’s Day. I called Aisha in excitement and told that I had a pre-wedding photo shoot for Valentine’s Day in Abuja and would be in Zaria later that day to spend our first Valentine together. She sounded enthusiastic and told me she couldn’t wait to see me.
Valentine’s Day was a Saturday and I showed up at the location for the pre-wedding shoot an hour before the agreed meeting time of 10 am. I walked around the park for a bit and found a stone bench that I thought would be good for the shoot. I set about unpacking my equipment after which I called Abba to tell him exactly where I was in the park.
I texted Aisha to let her know I was already at the location and waiting for the couple to show up. She told me to wrap up the shoot as quickly as possible and not keep her waiting. My blood boiled with need, my 4pm flight seemed like a life-time away. This woman would be the death of me, I thought
I looked up to see a silver-coloured Porsche Cayenne driving towards me. The driver killed the engine and got out. He looked in his early thirties, slightly built and averagely tall. When he spoke he had that unmistakable accent that Northern aristocrats boast of.
“George, nice to finally meet you”, he said
“Same here”, I returned.
“Aisha literally arm-wrestled me into hiring you and having this photo shoot, you know women” he winked conspiratorially.
I smiled
And that was when she got out of the car
There was ‘my’ Aisha. Abba’s fiancée
My smile froze.
Photo credit: http://www.wedvo.com
Dawan Speaking 