The Sexcapade Of Natasha (25)
By Emdee David
The D-day is here. April the first, Natasha’s wedding day with Pastor Ken, has sluggishly come, and soon it would be 10 A.M. when the Bishop would pronounce the overdue bachelor a husband, and the light-skinned, busty sexy diva, a wife.
The “I do” moment is fast approaching. Members of the bridal train are lodged in Agura Hotel, in Abuja. A white Hummer limousine is waiting downstairs to convey the well selected pretty models to the church, to serve as bride’s maids. None of Natasha’s friends is in the train, even though some had lobbied to be there.
The grooms’ men are almost ready, some already at the park where a navy-blue Limousine, is waiting for them. But the girls are still roaming up and down in the name of dressing up and making up. They make a lot of noise as they put on their Make-up, some for the third time in one hour. One is looking for her Brazilian hair and really making an issue out of it. Someone offers her an Indian hair but she refuses, that it has to be Brazilian, as if the wedding is taking place in Rio De Janeiro.
And the time is ticking; they are getting late.
The church hall, venue of the wedding ceremony is set with massive decoration. The choir is ready to match in. The Praise and Worship Team is doing a final sound check, with a clear “Testing the Microphone…1,2,3…” repeatedly echoing in the large hall. Soon, they would start singing and more audience would flood in.
Ken is smiling from ear to ear as he stares for the 20th and hopefully, the last time at his hotel’s large mirror. His bow-tie is adjusted by his Best man, who had come to his room early that morning. They’d prayed for about 30 minutes committing the wedding programme to God’s hand.
“Congratulations, Ken,” says the best man.
“Thanks, Ugo,” replies Ken. “And I hope you are next.”
“Next year, early though,” answers Ugo, a tall brown skin banker who takes care of Ken’s financial issues.
“Why next year? Do it this year nah, there is still time, it’s just April,” says Ken.
“My woman is in America, she can only come home in December. So we will do the traditional marriage in December, then the church wedding in February, on Valentine ’s Day. That’s her birthday too, and that’s how she wants it.”
“Wow, that’s nice,” says Ken as he looks at his wrist watch. “It’s past nine. Is the car ready?”
Ken looks around the room to check if anything is forgotten. His eyes reach the pile of boxes belonging to his wife to-be. She had moved them to his room a day before. He smiles, with the confidence of a man who has finally gotten what he has long longed for. They step out and board the black Prado jeep decorated for the GROOM with the “About to Wed” sign. The ride is smooth and the limousine follows with loud music blasting in the air-conditioned interior.
Natasha is accompanied by Samantha, Cynthia and another friend in her room as she completes her dressing. The hair stylist has done a good job on her and Natasha is really looking different. Her gown fits her so well and her cleavage appears just as she wants it. Her phone rings but she ignores it.
“Can I get a last kiss, a goodbye kiss, maybe?” asks Samantha.
“If I hear….?” Cynthia responds and quickly blocks Samantha’s way to Natasha.
“Common, Samantha. Didn’t I give you enough yesterday?” responds Natasha. “Don’t be greedy.”
“So, truly, you are getting married” asks Samantha, shedding tears.
“As you can see,” says Natasha, just before she notices her friend’s tears. “Oh, baby, so sorry, but you will surely find someone else…I can’t do all we did in US here in Nigeria, you know.”
Samantha goes to sit at some corner, sobbing.
“See me see wahala o, Oyibo dey cry!” says Cynthia. “Sorry, baby. Eve prefers Adam.”
The other friend of Natasha’s now speaks “She is not oyibo, she is black American.”
They all laugh and joke the more about Samantha.
Natasha’s phone rings again and she picks. “The General,” she says
into the phone, and then listens for a while with eyes dilating.
“Oh my God!” she says in a suppressed scream. Then silence, followed by tears from both eyes.
“I am sorry, I can’t,” she whispers, and keeps listening.
“What is it?” inquires Cynthia first, then the others. She answers
none of them.
“I can’t,” whispers Natasha. “But for the sake of Peace and Human Right, I will come.”
Natasha stands, grabs a car key.
“Who was that, and where to?” Cynthia questions but only gets silence in response.
“The Vice President has got a gift he wants to personally hand to me,” says Natasha with the best smile she has ever faked. “You all get into the Limo, drive slowly. I will meet you at the junction before the church. The other driver would drive me with the wedding car.”
“But can’t it wait until after the wedding?” asks Cynthia. No response.
Natasha Peters steps out, answering no further questions.
The church is full, praise and worship at its peak. All expected guests are seated and Ken keeps checking his wrist watch and also the windows for any sign of his bride. By past 10 a.m., the bridal train arrives and lines up to match in.
Natasha drives into a Hotel in Asokoro in her wedding gown. She enters through a VIP entrance where very few could see her. In his room, the Army General welcomes her with a kiss that wipes off all the lipsticks and part of the pancake on her face. She responds well to him. Her crown and veil go off her head.
“But why today, my darling?” Natasha asks the army man in boxers.
“It just has to be,” the soldier says and brings out passports and tickets he has processed for Natasha for a trip to Geneva.
“Promise kept, right?” he says to her. She nods, tears in eyes, smile on her lips.
“Can we have one round before you change for the trip?”
“I need a drink, Vodka would be good,” Natasha says as she turns
her back on the General and point to her back zip. He helps her zip down and
goes to the fridge.
Natasha slips out of her wedding gown and puts off her phone. She
drinks in fast gulps and then lays her back on the bed, opening her thighs wide
enough and then points to her clitoris. The General licks it tenderly before
penetrating her with his manhood. It lasts almost twenty minutes and very very pleasurable to both parties. She
and the Army man are almost at the airport when the Bishop announces the
postponement of Pastor Ken’s wedding. In the vestry, where the Bishop has
called Ken and his Best man aside to deliberate, the panic has crescendoed and the man is trying to be
man enough, but the tears refuse to respect his manliness.
“Ah, Adesuwa,” Ken cries. “You have killed me. I have never seen April Fool so real.”
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.