Linguere Untitled: A Mini-chronicle

   So I started writing this story but still haven’t found time to complete it. What did I decide to do then? I’ll post it up here in parts. You know, in a chronicle sorta way. It’s based, but not entirely, on a true story. I had to imagine some parts and fix it up with the actual story. Might get cheesy at some point, but then, it’s just my imagination at work. We might get up to five parts depending on how long I wanna keep it. I haven’t even found a title for it so we are just gonna call it ‘Linguere Untitled’. Et c’est parti pour PART 1
**********************************************************************************************************I met Masamba in University. I was in my third year, majoring in Development Studies and he was writing his thesis for graduation. He majored in Economics and Finance. From our very first meeting, there was a strong attraction. We eventually got round to seeing each other every day of the week. As such, our relationship was just spontaneous…no eternal courting, no official acceptance. Just spontaneous. We believed it was a relationship ‘made in heaven’. Everyone on campus knew we were an item and they called us the lovebirds. A common name, but we still loved it when people used it on us. When not in our respective classes, we would always be seen together holding hands,with broad smiles on our faces. We both lived far from the University so we opted for on-campus housing. In the evenings, we would meet in either of our rooms to study, eat, watch movies or just get ourselves engaged in some other ways. *wink*
We spent some weekends trying out restaurants and fast-food joints, as we both had a weakness for good food. Other times, we would go shopping or just visit the park. Either way, we always had something to do together. Each one was always there for the other, in good times and in bad. Now, isn’t that what love is supposed to be?  When schoolwork became unbearable, one could always count on the other for moral support. We were from different departments, but always found a way to table out solutions for each other’s problems.

The school year came to an end and Mas(as I fondly called him) graduated with honors. Boy, was I proud? He was over the moon and I was a little above that(lol). It felt like my own graduation and I resolved to live up to the standards he had set with his great results. We both believed I could do it; and do it, I shall. During the holidays, I got busy with research for my own thesis while Mas launched himself into the professional world. Finding a job was not very difficult for him, and soon he was working with one of the grand financial firms in town and found himself pocketing a handsome salary at the end of each month. He moved out of campus obviously into a small, but decent apartment nearby. Yes, we didn’t want him living far from the campus and thus making our meetings inconvenient. Thus I spent the bulk of my holidays in the apartment, studying, cooking our meals and keeping it clean(when he didn’t). I do not how how to explain this, but eventually, I ditched my campus accommodation and moved in with him when school started. He would drop me off in his new car. I tell you life was good for my man; even better than we expected for a fresh graduate. What joy I felt when he opened the door to let me out and then proceeded to plant a kiss on my forehead. Each day, he would wave me goodbye with this favorite phrase ‘Go get those grades and make us proud, my love’. Now who needs any more inspiration? Not me :-). With a slightly exaggerated smile on my face, I would walk off to my classes with so much grace, knowing he still had his eyes glued on me.

One night, he got back form work a little later than usual. When he got in, I was all set with the perfect words for a heated confrontation. I wasn’t having my man staying out late without me. Surprise! He walked in with a bunch of twelve white roses in one hand and a parcel in the other. I immediately forgot ‘the battle’ and flashed my wonder smile. He got on with his usual game of getting me to guess the content of the parcel. As usual, I got it wrong. I love it when he does that, as it adds a bit more excitement in our relationship. I pounced on the parcel, pulling at its strings like a hungry lioness. Inside was the most beautiful dress I had set my eyes on(I exaggerate). I rushed into the bedroom to try it on . Mas stood transfixed, staring at me. The dress fit like a glove. The bust hugged at my full breasts and showed just enough cleavage. The fine satin material clung to my skin, accentuating my curves in all the right places and finally letting the hemline drop off glamorously just above my knees. Its deep red color drew more attention to my smooth dark skin and equally red lips. I looked at my image in the mirror and twirled. I looked PERFECT! Well, almost. I released my hair from the tight knot above my head and let it fall lazily on my shoulders.

Mas walked in quietly and stood right behind me. I smiled at his reflection in the mirror. The twinkle in his eye told me he was pleased with what he saw. He fastened a silver chain with a heart pendant around my neck, letting his hands linger on my shoulders, rubbing them gently. My heart raced and I could feel the heat engulfing me. His hands traced the outline of my body, resting first on my bosom , then the curve of my waist and finally on my hips. I stepped back and spooned into his body. He turned me slowly and our gazes locked.  I could see the hunger I felt reflected in his eyes. I closed my eyes and felt him draw his face closer. His lips touched mine and I felt the pressure of his tongue trying to pry my mouth open. I let him in and could feel the heat in his body being transferred to his lips, which pressed hard against mine. A kiss so intense and yet ,so passionate. The world closed in on me and all that mattered at that moment was my Mas. With one hand, he pulled down the zipper of my dress, letting the rich material fall to my feet. Then he undid my brasserie and took my B-cups into his strong, yet gentle hands. We both fell upon the bed, me underneath him; and somewhere before that, his clothes had come off too. We lay there kissing and exploring each other’s bodies with a desire so strong, it could build bridges. A bridge, it did build. I felt him come into me with a gentleness that made me secure with him. His rhythmic thrusts sent us both into an unknown world…a world filled with moans of pleasure and grunts of delight. We were one for those moments and then we descended, together, intertwined, not letting go of each other. We lay still, me in his arms and the both of us breathing heavily. He stroke my hair and I played with the silky curls on his chest. At that point, nothing mattered to us than the bridge we had built together. A bridge that led us to our sleep, with smiles glued to our faces and hearts filled with lots of love. …

To be continued… 🙂

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8 thoughts on “Linguere Untitled: A Mini-chronicle

  1. Anonymous

    hey i don know jama it is ur o wat but dz piece s really BEAUTIFUL..
    my only fear s stories dat start lyk dz usually ve a sad ending n i hop dz1 won’t b lyk 1of dos..
    i lyk d energy put into to it n d way u kept us(readers) glued to every bit of line to d very end..
    i would lyk t c d oda side of it which talks abt d struggles n d lyk..
    gud1 keep it up but dias still mo room t exploit..

    Reply
  2. Anonymous

    Hmmm…Your language is crisp and clear,and I love the ending.But for honesty’s sake, I will point out that this piece is more like how one would orally report a romantic incident to a friend than a serious story written for the masses.But that could be because that’s how you want it.If not,I suggest you read up on a lot of famous romantic short stories and try to decipher what makes them so great, so you could apply those same techniques to your writing.Writers often say that they have become so good because they read,*studied* and imitated the works of the Masters of their chosen genre.And that, to me, is the secret to being a great writer.Am looking forward to your next piece.Love Yaa.Take care!

    Reply
  3. YaJama

    Thanks everyone for the comments.
    Anonymous, I really appreciate the honesty. In as much as I wanted the piece to come out as very informal and different from the usual writing styles used for romance, I can’t but agree with your observation. The development of the story-line might make you understand better why I chose to write in the narrative tone. Once again, I truly appreciate the criticism and look forward to more of them as the blog grows.
    XX
    Ya Jama

    Reply
  4. haddi

    Arrrgh! This is my worst nightmare…. a captivating story I can’t finish. Its beautifully written, tell you what, if Brenda Jackson wrote in the narrative…..this is what it would be like. Felicitations cherie, c’est incroyable!

    PS: Please post the next part soon lest I go crazy thinking up possible conclusions to the story 🙂

    Reply
    1. myzzdiamant Post author

      Lol, we can relate on that. I actually hate being left in suspense. Will definitely work on the second part and post soon.
      Your enthusiasm alone is enough encouragement for me 🙂

      Reply

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