Read From Chapter 1 here
I Played Myself
I think it’s cute that people think that they don’t have types, or as I would like to call them, ‘Target Markets’. We naturally gravitate towards people who exhibit similar traits. Therapists would probably call this an unhealthy pattern, and therein lays the reason I don’t have a therapist, yet. I definitely have a type. I like the quiet ones, smells good – a man who doesn’t feel the need to make his presence felt. He just straight up sits there looking all delicious and shit. Oh Lort!
I met Jabu Thirst Trap Nigga (TTN)* through an ex a few years ago. Truth be told, the minute I met him, I knew that I deserved some TTN, all of it even. He was irresistible AF, checked all my boxes and is the first person to turn me into a believer of beard gang. I lowkey hated bae the rest of that night shem. Because I was young and foolish [read as not yet a savage] I didn’t do anything about it, well expect have some solo happy times thinking about him.
* * *
A few weeks ago, as I made my post court drive by this coffee shop that feels like a little heaven, I ran into TTN. Before I continue, I feel like, for emphasis, I must tell you how my day/week was going. First all, I was ovulating like a mofo. Between [too many] meetings and dealing with the fact that my steady lay had moved out of town, I was a horny mess Googling stages of foetus development for no reason besides broodiness. Personally, I don’t function well without a steady supply of that good good. The random case of broody was just my body doing the things that make uteruses to function.
So I walk into the coffee shop, I place my order, to go, and wait for it in this quiet little nook corner they have. It’s littered with art on the wall, wire sculptures and a coffee table with an eclectic collection of miniature marimbas and mbiras. It’s a gem. I cosy myself on the couch and start lazily paging through a magazine I picked up at the counter. I hear my order called out, I get up and head to collect it. I notice that they now sell flowers. I decide I’m buying myself a dozen because I deserve to clap for myself. As I am fishing out my wallet from my handbag, I hear a voice calling me from behind. The voice is followed by a hand on my back, placed ever so elegantly.
I turned around. Good lord! This MF got even finer. I hadn’t seen TTN in maybe five years, because my ex got custody of him in the break up. He aged like wine I can’t yet afford. The wine God drank on his day of rest. Wine that was watered with the tears of a thousand cute babies. The man was delicious yo!
We exchanged pleasantries as I paid for my flowers. He turned to me excitedly after he handed the person at the counter her dues. “Chiedza, this is great! Running into you…” I was confused. “I’m actually looking for a lawyer to draw up partnership agreements for a friend and I. Trying to stay protected if the venture goes south,” he said.
I couldn’t decide if he was making excuses to see me or nah. I didn’t care because as far as I was concerned I was going to get to see him again, AND, collect a fucking cheque. We’ll talk about my mixing business with pleasure in a minute – at another time, with that therapist I’m yet to get. I digress. We traded numbers and parted a few minutes later. I suddenly felt that the hug I allowed him to give me before he left was a mistake. It went straight to my woman parts. Between how good he smelt, how good his arms felt around me and my thirst levels, it was intoxicating torture.
* * *
An hour later, I’m in the office, counting minutes until lunch, when I receive a text.
It was nice bumping into you today Chiedza. When can we set up a meeting? And maybe a better catch up drinks mission
Let the games begin!
I let out a hearty laugh. It came from deep within my soul. Because I saw every savage thing I may possibly do to him. The more I thought about how he had just shown up in my life all fine during a dry spell, the harder I laughed. My assistant, Melody* rushed into my office like a mad woman. “What’s so funny? You only laugh like that when you are about to savage somebody. Tell!” she said as she pulled a chair for herself, sat down and waited eagerly for a response.
What Melody and I have goes beyond an employer – employee relationship. She is honestly a godsend. Not because she’s good at her job, she is, but it has more to do with the fact that we have built a friendship over the three years she has worked for me. She is here for my black girl magic (and/or trouble). She is here for all my savage stories. The tears, the wine at the office at 2 am when the patriarchy gets much that working when they all sleep is better than sitting and looking at them while considering murder. I love her – she’s squad. She is my guardian angel. I tell her I ran into a guy. She was more excited than me. We finessed the perfect reply. It cannot be too thirsty, but at the same time, it cannot be too businessy.
Was great seeing you too. Life treating you well I see 🙂 Let’s link up next week. My assistant will call you and tell you when. We currently swamped right now.
That time Melody and I were sitting in the office doing nothing but going through our exes Instagram. Never be too available for a nigga, that how they end up feeling like they wana intrude on your time and shit. Ain’t anybody got time for that.
* * *
Melody set up a meeting for the following Thursday. In the meantime, TTN and I began a WhatsApp courtship. Nothing too much, just catching up, sending each other memes; you know, 21st century courting vibes. The sexual undertones were strong though never outright.
The day of the meeting arrived. As soon as I landed in the office, Melody gave me the most disapproving look. I gestured to ask why. She pointed to my office as she rushed behind me, slightly edging me to speed up my step.
“Iwe! Aren’t we meeting with sexy dude today. Why do you not look the part, be serious ka nhai,” she said as she unzipped the bright red bandage dress she was wearing.
“Gimme that pant suit, it’s cute, but we must wow,” she said as she tossed the dress my way, I happily obliged while giggling.
“Fam, remind me to give you raise” I said as we turned my office into a changing room. I told you Melody is the fucking truth.
The meeting was just lowkey flirting. I gave him the drafts of the contracts and we looked over them. Within an hour we were done. He invited me for drinks because the meeting was strategically placed at 3:30 so I was off the clock soon after the meeting. I agreed but told him I needed to wrap up at work before I linked up with him. “You niggas too easy!” I said to myself as he walked out.
* * *
Drinks was awesome. He chose a bar that was not too crowded but also classy. That balance is important; you don’t want a place with too many thirsty people. The flirting was on full blast now. I made no secret that I was into him. A bottle of wine in, there was no denying what this was any more. I suggested a movie at my place. Now, everybody knows this was not going to be watching no Netflix situation. We got another bottle of wine for the road, and headed to my place.
We got to my place. I literally just switched on the TV, didn’t even try look for no movie. We got cosy on the couch. He offered to gimme a massage, I obliged. Wine in hand, hands on me, I was living my best life. Booty rubs and kisses on my neck and everything! I had reached breaking point now. I needed him, now! I kissed him. And I didn’t stop kissing him, we made out like thirsty teenagers for a couple of minutes. Groping and all.
Imagine my annoyance when he announced he was leaving. “I need to leave before I do something that’s not me. We are moving too fast,” he said as he gently placed a now half-naked me on the couch before grabbing his keys.
I was mad as shit. Who the fuck flirts with you, buys you wine, then rubs the booty then leaves after. What did you think this was? Netflix and chill? Nigga please! Everybody knows that wine is a pussy shout out. It does the things that make horny to happen and this dude just going to leave me all high and dry. Well, the next day, I cashed my billable hours and going forth blue-tick the mofo. Don’t play like that!
My name is Chichi, and I got thirst trapped by a sexy savage nigga.
Art Work by Andrew Nichols (Sourced from Pinterest)