Natasha is getting married tomorrow, April the first. But tonight, the last day in March, is going to be Girls’ Night Out. She had opted for a quiet, more or less, a secret traditional marriage, but agreed to an elaborate white wedding. Ken easily concurred with her and even praised her as a “virtuous” woman who knew how to cut cost. She’d even persuaded Pastor Ken to cancel the Bachelor’s Eve his friends had planned for him, saying, he should spend that night praying for a good foundation for their marriage. She said she would be with him all night for the prayers, but Ken had objected to their being together all night on their wedding eve. She knew he wouldn’t agree to that. So she assured him she would be praying on her own, all night.
So she joined her friends as they planned for a secret Girls Night Out, in a club owned by a Senator she‘d slept with a day earlier, the 40th on her list. It was much better than the 39th, she had confessed to herself. Ali Thunder, who fronts for the Senator and manages the club, ensures that it is not opened to the general public for the night. All drinks and eatables have been paid for….in kind by Natasha, and in cash by the Senator she was kind to.
The night is a Girls-only night, but a few men sneaked in and were ready to maintain quietness for more than half the time the show would last. The DJ is generous and the multi-colour disco lights beam on mostly half naked girls and high-class ladies. They dance, sing, shout and jump aimlessly as the assorted drinks begin to mix with their blood. There is no formal order of programme. The night is just allowed to flow “as the spirit leads.”
Natasha walks in with Cynthia and Vera, all in mini-skirts and sleeveless transparent tops. The girls hail Natasha and shout hysterically. A lady in skin haircut meanders through the congested hall to meet Natasha. Natasha screams in shock to find her. They kiss passionately until Cynthia gets angry and pulls Natasha away.
“You wanna be in prison on your wedding Day?” Cynthia says as she pulls Natasha to a corner while Natasha pulls her friend along. Vera follows too. They are all in one corner of the club, the VIP corner.
“Hey, hey, what’s the meaning of that?” asks Natasha’s friend who has just kissed her.
“Samantha,” whispers Natasha. “I will explain.”
“Explain what? Is that my rival?” Samantha asks, glaring at Cynthia as if to throw her a punch.
“Hey, stop there” responds an angry Cynthia. “You can call me a prostitute, but not what you are referring to.”
A waiter comes with a tray of drinks and Natasha picks one, smiling to both Samantha and Cynthia. The Dj plays a very familiar tune, and Natasha sings off-key along in voice so frog-like that everybody laughs and then joins her in dancing. They scream, jump dance and Cynthia opens a full Andrea and pours it on Natasha. Her silky top hugs her body tighter and all her breasts become so glaring to all. Samantha screams in jubilation and grabs Natasha’s breasts. Cynthia glares at her again and then holds Samantha’s butts, dancing in pretense. Samantha looks back and shows her teeth and then continues dancing with Natasha, still holding her breasts. Other girls go wild in partying, pouring drinks on their bodies and raising their tops to show their bra-less breasts. Vera gets two glasses of Vodka and goes to a corner where her boyfriend is sitting quietly. She gives him one and sits on his lap. He holds her tummy with the free hand and caresses it, moving gradually upward until he reaches her nipples and plays with it.
Cynthia also leaves the dancing floor to a corner where a man she had sneaked in had been waiting impatiently for her. That side of the club is demarcated and the club’s laser lights barely reach there. While the music blares, Cynthia opens her breasts for her man to suck; the man grabs them like a hungry suckling, with sounds that would have been very audible but for the reverberating music.
A light-skin lady with red wig dances vigorously and approaches Natasha and Samantha and tries to dance with them. Her smiles are very attractive and finds favour with Samantha who winds her waist and goes forward to dance with the lady. Natasha dances away to the console area, from where the DJ operates.
Samanta touches the lady on her chic and says, “Nice chic.”
“Nice lips,” the lady replies. “I am Katrine.” She smiles amiably again.
“Samantha,” says the august visitor.
“Are you based in Abuja?” Katrine asks, running her finger over Samantha’s smooth arms.
“Nah,” Samantha whispers in American accent, going closer to Katrine’s ear. “From LA, I flew in yesterday. All for Lady Bird’s wedding.”
“Oh, never mind,” Samantha says in low tone and licks Katrine’s neck with her tongue and then dances away, looking around for Natasha.
“Congratulations, madam” the DJ says as Natasha sits beside him on a couch he usually sits after setting up a playlist that could plays for several hours non-stop.
“Congratulations too, Jeff, nice work,” Says Natasha.
The DJ grins. “Congratulations for what, ma? You’re…” Then Natasha cuts in.
“For being the last man to make love to me before my marriage.”
“What?!” exclaims Jeff in a suppressed shout.
In a few minutes, DJ Jeff is thrusting his manhood into and out of Natasha from behind. No one sees them, except a waitress, whose mouth is known to be uncontrollable.
———————————To Be Cont’d——————————
Read Previous Edition, Click Sexcapade Of Natasha – 23
Emdee David – is the Director of Africa Entertainment Network. He is a Poet, Writer, Producer, Director and a media consultant. Emdee also represents in Africa, the Jah Put A Hand Movement, New York and The Caribbean Storytellers, Trinidad and Tobago. He is the renowned author of SHADOWS OF THE SUN (Heinemann Publishers Plc). His other works include GUYS ARE US, BAD TRIP, THE PACKAGE, and over sixty poems.
Poetry site: https://www.postpoems.org/authors/makezela/portfolio/