It was a solemn day. Soon as the Prampram traffic was behind us, I picked up speed till the needle read 120km/h and decided to coast at that velocity. My boss, Ms. Evelyn Danku sat in the back looking out the window, clad in all black with her black-rimmed sunglasses.

Her father had passed two months prior. I often couldn’t tell what she was going through, but I admired how she kept it together. 

Allow me to give some history. I’d been driving Ms. Danku for over a year. I’d heard her telling my older cousin Martha about functioning on a higher level and needing to make the best use of her time within the work hours she had allocated herself. She therefore saw the need for a chauffeur to be able to use transit times to prepare for meetings and presentations as well as continue her work in commute during the rush hour.

I told Martha I’d love to drive Ms. Danku. I had just graduated at the time and spent my days working out and gaming. Martha wasn’t thrilled about the girls who’d come visit me in the evenings and thought the work arrangement would take me away from them. Truth is I’d been crushing on Ms. Danku since she first came to visit Martha during their high school vacations. There was a quiet allure to her. Her smile had soul, plus her physique and proportions stirred something in me in a way I’d never felt before.

She was considerably older and way out of my league. She was good to me and treated me like a friend when we were not in formal spaces. She occasionally teased me about the girls who came to my quarters and it crossed my mind a few times if she cared about me enough for it to bother her. I know. Silly me huh.

Not to brag or anything but the girls came for one of three things which I knew I had going for me – a physique that had people doing a double take (thanks to intense gym sessions with some gym rats I met after high school), a pretty impressive “package” which opened doors of c8xual adventures while in University, and my ability to hold great conversations. 

And now here I was, driving her on such a difficult day. We arrived in the village and at her family house. Ms. Danku informed me then that we were picking up her sister and heading to a guesthouse close by. Sister? She hadn’t spoken of a sister in the time I’d come to know her.

After settling into the guesthouse I was asked to run errands with Ms. Danku’s sister in preparation for the funeral the next day.

She was a sight to behold. A filled-out pageant figure with a certain confident air. She took the front passenger seat and uttered an emotionless hello.

After a few minutes driving through the countryside, I introduced myself. She mentioned her name, Ophelia. It was difficult under the circumstances to strike a conversation. I inserted a pod into my left ear and searched through my playlist and settled on alternative rock from the 90’s. 

I was surprised when she asked me what I was listening to. I told her I didn’t think she’d be interested and asked if there was something she’d like to listen to. She insisted she wanted to hear what I was listening to so I played it over the car radio.

She knew all the songs and we spoke about our uncommon love for alternative music. Soon we were chatting like old friends. I looked at her and I became curious. Ophelia, Ms. Danku’s sister. 

Beyond a football park was a stretched shed where ladies cooked in preparation for the funeral. I watched Ophelia walk from shed to shed. I felt that unfamiliar shift in my gut. Stronger this time. 

She soon returned and tapped on the passenger side glass. I rolled it down and she bent over to ask what I’d have for lunch from the options available.  I found myself initially staring at her cle^vage and then willing myself to look her in the face but found myself staring at her lips. She noticed, but said nothing.

The funeral had gone solemnly. The sisters had held it together till the reading of the tribute. I found myself wanting to hug them both.

At the cemetery Ms. Danku stood next to a Suave looking man. From the way he was comfortable in her space I deduced that he was more than a friend.

I stood next to Ophelia. As the casket was lowered she began to sob uncontrollably. My heart went out to her and I cautiously put an arm around her shoulder.  She leaned her head on mine and cried. Suddenly I felt her legs buckle and reflexively turned to hold her in an embrace. I felt her arms across the expanse of my back. She held me close and sobbed into my neck. 

I became acutely aware that her body was on me and in spite of myself my member responded by getting engorged. I began to pull away but she held me close. She loosened her grip when she felt the bulge against her. She looked at me and I embarrassingly excused myself. 

That evening, there was a knock on my door. I realized that I was hoping it would be Ophelia but it was Ms. Danku, coming to inform me that she was stepping out with her companion and would return to Accra with him. She smiled sheepishly.  I felt an inexplicable pang of jealousy which was confusing because not long before this I’d been hoping to see Ophelia at the door.

Twenty minutes later – another knock on my door and in walked Ophelia. I found my voice and begun to apologize for earlier. 

She only burst out laughing and thanked me for being there.

She threw her arms around me and lingered. Like magic my member began to rise and I attempted to pull away. Ophelia looked up into my face at that moment and kissed me. I pulled her in tighter and got our tongues in a fierce and hot duel.

Story Continues

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