© Aaron Ansah-Agyeman
Baaba lives in a secluded residential area within Achimota.
She lives on the tenth floor of a beautiful apartment block, and as Chris rides in the elevator with her he feels a little uneasy because the whole place reeks of the aura of wealth.
He wonders how a prison officer can afford such a place, but he refrains from asking her.
The elevator doors dings open, and he follows her out unto a lush corridor that has paintings on the walls and red carpeting on the floor.
There are artificial plants in exquisite glass pots along the corridor.
As they begin to walk towards a door at the end of the corridor Baaba links her arm through his.
There is an inscription on her door; it is black cursive writing on a gold plate.
She takes a card out of her bag and swipes the security gadget beside the door.
There is a beep, and its red beeping light turns to green and the door clicks open.
Chris follows her into the spacious and exquisitely-furnished interior.
The curtains are of the highest quality.
The living-room area is a show of sheer wealth from the imported rug to the bar area to the gadget systems.
He can see tall glass that forms French Windows opening out unto a lovely balcony.
She puts on the lights as he stands looking around him with obvious discomfort.
She gives a little laugh as she stands gazing up at him.
My father is rich, Chris. He bought this apartment for me. I’m an only child, and my mother died when I was seven. Daddy remarried, and now lives in Germany. I’m all alone here. He wanted me to join him, but I chose to stay in Ghana. He comes down twice a year to visit me, and I have the option of visiting him twice a year, but I rarely do.
He looks at her and smiles wanly.
I see. Beautiful apartment.
Please make yourself comfortable. Will be with you in a jiffy.
She puts on the gigantic Samsung Curve HD television, and then she disappears through another door.
With the air-condition providing a cool atmosphere, Chris sinks into a comfortable seat and tries to watch a Premier League game.
He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he remembers is Baaba standing over him and shaking his arm gently.
He opens his eyes and looks at her.
She has changed into a short white dress, and bent like the way she now as she shakes him awake, he can see the creamy tops of her breasts, and he sits up quickly.
She steps back with a smile, and he notices that the dress stops just short of her panty line, and that her well-formed thighs and legs are bare.
Wake up, sleepy head. Lunch is ready.
Wow. Did I sleep that long?
She chuckles gently, sexily, and takes his hand, and begins to walk, dragging him behind her, and his eyes feasts on her astounding figure and her gently-undulating mounds.
No. Had some food on the cold. Warmed it for you. Hope you don’t mind.
Chris takes his eyes off her with an effort.
Five years without a woman, and finding his best friend now almost married to the love of his life has done something to him, and he fights down the desire that is ripping through him.
Her dining-room is an offshoot from the living-room area, and once again he is struck afresh by its beauty.
She makes him sit at the head of an oval-shaped glass table, and serves him the best banku and okro stew he has tasted in years.
The goat meat in the stew is a delectable edible delight that makes love to his taste buds.
He eats two balls of banku whilst she sits near him with her chin in her palm gazing at him with her eyes glazed over with a mixture of happiness and sadness.
Finally, he sits back and belches so loudly that both of them burst out laughing.
That is the best food I’ve tasted in years, Baaba.
Thanks. And I love the way you’ve eaten everything. When a woman’s food is destroyed like that by her man, it brings great happiness.
Her man? Chris raises his eyebrows at her, but she just chuckles and begins to clear the table.
He helps her, and later he dries the plates as she washes them in the beautiful kitchen.
They return to the living-room, and she asks him if he wants a drink.
He declines because he is very full. He accepts a glass of water as she mixes quinine water and Baron de Campos wine.
He sits in the chair and watches the football match. She stands at the hall looking at him, sipping her drink quietly.
Her face is without expression, and she barely speaks to him.
After a while she drains her cup and moves slowly towards him.
She stands just in front of him, blocking his view of the television.
He slowly puts down his glass of water, and looks up warily at her.
He sees that her lips are slightly parted and wet, and she is breathing quicker, her breasts moving gently with the depths of the passion she is feeling.
He notices that she might not be wearing any brassiere beneath that dress, because her nipples are taut and sticking out of the dress.
Her eyes are glazed with passion, and he sees that she is trembling slightly.
And then she begins to sway slowly in a sort of sexy dance, moving her hands first through her hair, mussing it up, and gently down to cup her firm breasts.
Her eyes are half-closed as she sways with her hips, turning round slowly, and then placing her hands on her knees, her buttocks now outlined by her dress, seductive and pliant, and then she begins a slow twerking grind that takes his breath away.
Chris feels himself going almost breathless.
Five years of hard labour in prison, without a visit from the woman he loves… and now this!
And she is a very beautiful woman.
The front of his trousers is distended as he struggles to breath.
She straightens slowly, and still with her back to him she pulls the straps of the dress off her shoulders, and slowly she pulls it down, and it settles around her feet.
She is wearing a furious G-String that exposes the twin mounds of her derriere, and then she turns slowly and faces him.
She looks into his tortured eyes, and slowly she pulls down the panties and kicks it off her right foot.
She stands there, bronzed, beautiful, delectable, irresistible!
Her breasts are proud, her figure straight out of a fantasy, her curves electric.
With a grunt he blasts off the seat, and she meets him halfway.
Their lips grind together in a kiss so fierce that she tastes a dint of blood in her mouth.
She moans as his lips blaze a trail down her throat and his hands maul her pliant breasts.
She takes his right hand and plants it between her legs.
He feels her heat and moistness.
His huge body trembles as he squeezes her buttocks with his free hand.
His top comes off, and her hands feverishly work at his zipper, ripping it down and dragging out his engorged member.
She pulls it between her legs and it caresses her jade gate.
His lips sear down on her taut nipples, and she grunts with pleasure deep in her throat.
She grabs his angry shaft and rubs it against her moist heavenly entrance.
She pushes him hard, and he falls on the seat.
She straddles him, planting hungry lips on his, gripping him and hoisting herself up slowly as she prepares to settle her diamond slit on his pin.
The realization hits him that in a second he will be inside her, and there will be no turning back.
Chris grips her shoulders and suddenly flips her first to his left, and then he pulls himself from under her.
He gets off the seat and sits dejectedly on the floor.
He is still trembling as he reaches for his glass of water and drinks hungrily, thirstily.
She sits up in the seat, her eyes searing into him.
She is still aroused, still unfulfilled and greatly in need of him.
Chris? What’s this? What’re doing?
He gets to his feet and stands with his back to her.
Sorry, Baaba. I can’t.
(in a tearful whisper)
Why? Is it because of Effe?
Chris shakes his head.
No, Baaba. I’m not the same man anymore. Five years ago I would’ve made love to you gladly. I was a bad boy, Baaba, before I went to prison. I cheated on Effe, and I had no scruples. Five years ago I would’ve made love to you without a shred of guilt.
Please. Don’t do this to me. Love me. Make love to me, Chris, please.
He turns then.
She is still lying on the seat, nipples still taut, legs still enticingly spread open.
I promised myself, Baaba, that the next time I made love it will be with meaning. When we make love it will be because I want to spend the rest of my life making love to only you, and no other woman. When I make love it is going to have a meaning, not just using a woman’s body to slake off a lustful thirst! I’ll never do that to any woman again.
(in a taut whisper)
Chris, please. Stop this. I need you. My body needs you. I’ve waited a long time for this moment, to feel you in me. I fell in love with you, Chris. Please, don’t spurn me.
He takes her hands.
Baaba, forgive me. I’m a jailbird, and I’m so confused right now. My life has taken a nosedive, and I don’t know what is going to happen. I won’t make love to you simply because you’re there and available, or that we both feel like it. I want it to have a meaning. I want to make love more than you, but I’m putting that part of my life behind me. If I make love to you in the future, it’ll be because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please, understand me.
She snatches her hands away from him and sits up.
She reaches for him desperately, draping her arms around his neck, crushing her lips blindly at him.
He grunts and pushes her away, stepping back and getting up quickly.
She stands up with a cry and runs desperately away from him.
Oh, Lord! He spurned me! He spurned me, oh dear Lord!
Baaba, no, please wait! Baaba!
She disappears into the kitchen.
For a moment he contemplates going after her, and then he thinks it is best to leave her to cool down and get over it.
He slips into his shirt, pours himself more water, and as drinks it she comes back from the kitchen.
She is holding a broad-blade knife with a sharp tip in her right hand.
She is glaring at him, and her face is a grimace.
He sees that her eyes are very red, and her hair is standing straight like hackles.
She speaks, and spittle flies out of her mouth.
(seething with fury)
You bas***d! You f***ing bas***d! Spurn me, would you? You f***ing stupid bas***d!
Chris is so shocked that for a moment he cannot move as he stares at the girl who had been so tender and so loving a minute ago, now looking like a character from a horror movie.
(foaming around the mouth)
You bas***d! You f***ing bas***d! Spurn me, would you?
Suddenly she comes tearing across the room at him at incredible speed, screaming shrilly, the knife raised.
She is like a woman possessed. She gyrates and slashes at Chris with the knife viciously, screaming all the while!
She tries to cut open his throat and chest and stomach!
Chris only survives because he is an expert in GojuFist, and knows how to defend himself.
However, he is completely shocked by the changed Baaba so much that his movements are slow, and a downswing strike Baaba has launched almost buries the tip of the knife in Chris’ eye, but he brings up his arm just in the nick of time, and the knife buries itself deeply in Chris’ arm.
He screams with pain, and pushes Baaba.
She falls back, and the knife gets stuck in Chris’ arm.
He pulls it free and holds it as blood spurts from his arm in bursts.
It is a deep horrible cut, and he stares at it in horror.
Damn it, Baaba! What’s wrong with you? You could’ve killed me!
Baaba’s lips are drawn back from her teeth in a snarl, her eyes red and wild, her hands bent like claws.
There is nothing sexy and alluring about her now, even though she is still naked.
She looks like a wild animal as thick spit drools off her mouth and falls down on her breasts.
(in an animal growl)
Spurn me, would you? bas***d! f***ing bas***d!
She picks up a glass flower pot by the armchair, rushes forward, and crashes it down on Chris’ head.
Chris shouts with pain as glass shards rain on him, and blood spurts from a cut on his forehead.
Suddenly she turns and runs straight at the glass that forms the French Windows that lead to the balcony.
She crashes into the glass with a growl, and she falls unto the balcony in a shower of broken glass!
Chris screams with fear.
Baaba is lying lifeless in a shower of fragmented glass.
Her face and body are cut in a million places, and she is bleeding all over her naked body!
Oh, God! No, no, no!
She is lying still as if she is dead, and she is bleeding all over!
Fresh Trouble For Chris! What do you think?