From His Arms to Yours (1)

By Emmeline Bisiikwa, Uganda:

So, today there was a lady whose former husband revealed he still fancied her and she jumped at the chance to get back with him, not out of love but out of a need to torture the new wife and remind her the man would always stray, even if it was to the previous woman.

It reminded me of us and our earlier days when we met. We were just friends, or rather pretending not to have feelings but friends. There must be a word for that somewhere. The first time we met I was hanging with my boyfriend’s friend and you passed by to visit him. You looked at me and in your eyes, I swear, I could see interest. It was a few seconds, so, maybe I imagined the interest.

I don’t know how many months later it was, or what possessed me to text you that time but I decided we had bumped into each other enough odd times to be friends. We agreed to hang out and that first time, you stood me up. Something came up and you said you would make it up to me.

The next time, we met, we decided to watch a movie at your place. For a while, you focused on the movie but I desperately wanted you to be interested in me, even though, I was seeing someone. Towards the end of the movie, you drew me close and we continued to watch.

My heart beat faster than usual and my skin tingled. My breath kept getting caught and I kept stealing glances at you to see if you were as affected as I was. At first you said nothing, and simply started stroking my arm. I made no outward reaction and your fingers grew bolder, running down my tights and back up again. Still, I made no sound and yet my heart rate trebled and my chest rose and fell in quick breaths. Finally you spoke, “What’s it going to take to turn you on?”

I blushed at hearing you speak so boldly. After a second, I responded, “Is that what you were going for?”

You whispered, “Yes.”

You leaned in and kissed me, and I felt the future whispered from your lips to mine. I felt the hope of wanting you, the fear that I was just a conquest to you, the strength of your passion meeting mine. Butterflies filled my stomach as I met you breath for breath, each touch of your lips assaulting my senses.

You held me close, and when you tried to go further, I held you back. “Not tonight,” I whispered.

I held my breath, watching you for the signs of interest to leave your eyes. You looked like a guy unaccustomed to hearing no, after all, you were handsome and smooth. You simply said, “Ok,” and kissed me once more.

I dared to hope, as I left your place. I didn’t feel guilty then, all I could think of was seeing you again.