ALEXANDER

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Touché!

That had to be his favorite word, I remember him saying it more times than he said any other singular word.

“Touché!”

He wrote to me when I accused him of being too direct in his texts.

That word and nothing else.

But that was Alexander; that was the way he communicated. He wasn’t a man to engage in many words, not when he didn’t think it was necessary.

He often used a singular word to respond to an entire sentence I wrote him, a singular word that encompassed a satisfying meaning. While others may have found that cocky, I got a bit irked by it; still, I thought it was drop-dead sexy. And boy! Did he know so many words!

He got me flipping my dictionary more times than I had done in the past year.

Alexander, what an uncommon name for a Nigerian.

…What an unusual man.

I met him at a game of words. There was a function organized at Abuja for its residents. The location was Jabi Lake, and I went there alone.

My boyfriend and I were having some trouble, and it just seemed like a good opportunity to distract myself from the situation.

I was already putting in extra hours at work to achieve that, but that was work. This was going to be something exciting. So I went, hoping to have a good time.

The lake was scattered with people. There was music, laughter, noise, food stands, people selling, people buying, some dancing, and others sitting in groups.

I sighted two men in the distance, playing a game of scrabble. It was my favorite game, so I quickened my steps to where they were seated.

“Touché!” I heard him say to his opponent as the man played a word that scored him 60 points.

Both men smiled, and I, too, instinctively smiled.

I stood with my shoulders high and said, “Good evening, can I please join you?”

Please, because these were not my twenty-seven-year-old peers, they looked older, even though the bald one could have easily passed for a thirty-five-year-old.

“Sure,” the bald one agreed, “There’s room.”

“I was just leaving anyway,” The other man said, holding his wrist to his eyes. “Business calls. Here,” he rose. “Have my seat.”

I darted eyes between both men, not wanting to be why he was leaving.

The bald one shrugged as he read my demeanor, smirked, and motioned to the seat encouragingly, “Go ahead.”

The man shook hands with the bald man, promising to catch up another time. And in minutes, he was gone.

“Have you played this game before?” the bald man asked, gathering the tiles from the board into the opaque bag for a new game.

“Yes. I have been playing for five years.”

“Ow! I Should be afraid,” he teased, handing me the bag of tiles.

I chuckled slightly and received the bag from him. “I’m sure you’re better,” I declared.

He smiled smugly, his eyes narrowing.

“Alexander,” he introduced himself. “And you are—”

“Krysten,” I interrupted, “Krysten Odia.”

“Alright, Krysten, let’s play!”

 

Alexander was a bald man – the most beautiful bald man I had seen.

He grew a beard that sat perfectly on his oval-shaped face.

His skin was dark, his body lean and fit.

He was tall, so tall he must have stood at 6ft.

His stomach was flatter than mine; I could tell through that black T-shirt he had when we met.

“41,” he wrote me when I asked how old he was.

I couldn’t believe it! How did a 41-year-old look that good?

I was inspired, but more than that, I was attracted to him. I had been from the lake when we started playing that game.

You see, I had always liked older men, especially the ones who didn’t talk too much.

They carried a deep understanding of life and experiences that would leave you with many life lessons.

They had wisdom and gracefulness that could only come with age, a sexiness without trying so hard.

Alexander was all this, something I got to find out with every text we exchanged.

He left for Lagos after that event at the lake, and we hadn’t stopped talking since.

We spent hours on the phone, sometimes very late into the night.

He made me laugh, got me pissed, and taught me new things, probably without even realizing it.

Deep conversations, care, rapid text replies… random texts.

I found myself telling him things, things I wouldn’t tell another so easily.

I vented to him about my boyfriend, and he told me about his not-so-recent separation.

There was a need to connect, and quite frankly, I couldn’t believe he liked someone like me.

Alexander was way out of my league. He had seen more days than I had. Gone through things I was yet to experience and traveled to places I could only dream about. He owned his business, whereas I worked tirelessly for my boss.

He was a boss himself; I wasn’t…not yet.

Still, every time I went erratic on him for something he didn’t do or wouldn’t say, he all so patiently explained himself out of the situation. Never making it obvious the difference in our status.

He wasn’t one to flatter you with words, fill your ears with sweet nothings; no, he didn’t do that. I was the effusive one.

“You haven’t told me I’m special,” I complained during one of our conversations.

“I’ve shown you in many ways,” he replied.

“Well, it still won’t hurt to hear the words. Words are sweet, makes for a good read.”

“Easily faked. I’m more of an action over words person.”

“But I would believe you.”

“I would urge you not to because that wouldn’t be Alexander speaking. I’m already aberrant as it is”

“You won’t just say the damn words would you?”

“I don’t mean to sound cocky but I don’t waste a lot of time chatting with people. Has it occurred to you that many times, I’m awake just to talk to you? Us having this conversation right now is me telling you that you are.”

I carried a lot of respect for him in my heart…and moistness between my thighs.

I enjoyed talking to him more than I enjoyed talking to anyone else. And when we weren’t texting because we were both so busy, I missed him a lot.

 

“You should come to Lagos,” he suggested, almost a month after the lake. “I would like to see you, again.”

I wasn’t going to turn down his invitation because I wanted to see him too. “Okay,” I obliged.

“When would it be convenient?” he inquired.

“Definitely weekend.” The day we had this exchange was on a Wednesday.

“Weekend it is then.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay,” he replied.

Less than thirty minutes later, I got a mail with my flight reservation information and then a similar text from him.

“Got it!” I wrote. “Thank you” I clicked send.

“You’re welcome,” he replied almost immediately.

The countdown began.

I had less than two days to get myself ready.

The next day, at the close of work, I dashed to the salon to get my nails retouched, and my hairstyle changed.

I got home afterward and shaved clean.

The next day, I dashed to the market to buy some new shirts and dresses: You have to understand, when you are in the presence of someone like Alexander – a self-made man who oozed nothing but prestige, there was an underlining need to level up.

He probably wouldn’t have cared what I wore – I don’t think men care so much about such things still; I was going to be on my A-game.

Refusing to engage in self-deceit, I bought matching sets of lingerie. I was a girl going to visit a man; I pretty much understood how that visit would pan out… I had been wanting the same thing myself.

 

 

His driver picked me up from the airport upon my arrival.

“Hey, I’m sorry I couldn’t come to get you myself,” he texted, “I’ve been held up in a meeting since 10.am.”

“That’s okay,” I replied. “Where am I staying?”

“My house”

I smiled to myself. “Okay,” and click send.

It was Lagos, which meant we had to sit in long minutes of traffic.

I had my earphones plugged in my ears, eyes staring out the window, listening to my songs while my mind sifted through different scenarios of how my weekend would go.

“Aunty sorry o” I overheard the driver say. “Na so this our Lagos dey be.”

We had been held up for over an hour.

I smiled dismissively, “It’s okay.”

And really, it was okay. The air conditioner in the car was cooling my skin, my favorite artists were singing in my ear, and Alexander was just a text away.

I was fine.

The car had been moving with the speed of a tortoise. After about two and a half hours, we were in the clear.

I heaved a sigh of relief and wrote Alexander. “Out of traffic now.”

“Good,” he replied. “I’m almost home myself.”

I dropped my phone and watched the life happening on the streets as we drove our way through.

Lagos was as busy as I remembered. I rarely visited the city, but the few times that I did, it was the same thing – hectic.

We got to the Island, and the driver looked at me through the rearview mirror. “We go soon reach o.”

That singular announcement activated terrible butterflies in my stomach. I had been fine before, but now shit was about to get real.

Alexander was moments away – I would see him – he would see me – I would be with him.

Why any of that made me nervous, I did not know.

“We are here!” the driver declared, adding salt to injury.

“Oh crap!” I muttered under my breath.

The gate swung open, and the driver drove into this bright and beautiful interlocked compound.

He brought the car to a halt, stepped down, and held my door open before I could get to it.

“Thank you,” I said and climbed down from the car.

Standing on my feet while the driver got my bag from the boot, I lifted my eyes to the building in front of me.

It was a tall house, beautiful to say the least. It could easily pass for a mansion, or maybe that is what it was – a mansion.

The outside walls were screeded and painted white with a touch of ash here and there; the roof itself was ash.

I was wowed.

“Aunty come inside,” the driver invited as he rolled my box past me.

I followed him to the entrance of the house.

The huge door swung open, and to my surprise, Alexander was standing there, wearing black joggers and a white tee shirt. I had expected a maid to answer the door.

“Hey!” he flashed a smile, obviously delighted to see me.

“Good afternoon Sir,” the driver made a bow and ducked past him with my box.

“Take the bag upstairs,” Alexander ordered without shifting his gaze and that oh so handsome smile from my face.

I smiled back at him, took two strides forward, and collapsed into him.

He let out a mild chuckle, tightening his arms around me.

I breathed in the masculine yet so sweet scent of his perfume. This was the first time I was standing in his embrace, touching him at all, and he felt so strong.

I felt his lips press into my hair when he said, “It’s good to have you here.”

“Thank you,” I responded, freeing my arms from his body.

The driver came walking back downstairs. He bowed, more at Alexander before stepping out of the building.

“Come on in,” Alexander invited and began to lead the way. “I was just in the kitchen.”

“Kitchen?” I commented behind him, roaming my eyes up and down the beautiful space, from the white POP ceiling to the brown leather chairs, back up at the chandelier and everything my eyes could take in.

“Yeah, it’s the cook’s day off.”

My eyes settled on a framed photograph of three little girls hung on the left side of the wall, “Are those your girls?”

He stopped walking and took back strides to stand beside me.

“Yeah,” he smiled proudly. “That’s Itohan, Kate, and Ivie,” he pointed out.

“They are beautiful,” I observed.

“Thank you.”

I glanced sideways at him. “Are they here?”

“Not today; their mother has them for the week. Come on, let’s head into the kitchen.”

I resumed walking behind him.

He pushed a door open, and we stepped into a very spacious, warm kitchen. He took fast strides to the counter, and I just took in the kitchen’s mint green walls and modern cabinets.

His ex-wife must have decorated this place.

There was a vast rectangular table placed in the center of the kitchen with accompanying chairs.

Three fridges, two of which were deep freezers, two air conditioners, flat-screen television, and endless minty green cabinets.

“I thought I’ll whoop something up,” He was saying.

I strode to his side, climbed on the countertop, and watched him turn a Juicer full of blended fruits into two glasses.

I knew it was fruits because the peels were sitting on the sink.

“Here you go,” he said, offering me a glass.

“Thank you” I received the tumbler and sipped from it. “Hmmmn,” I groaned as the sweet thick blend traveled down my throat.

“That good huh?”

I nodded, taking another sip.

“Is it chill enough? I added ice cubes and milk..”

I nodded fervently. “Alex this is really nice.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

Then jumped on the counter beside me, took a sip from his glass, and we just sat there in satisfying silence. Smoothies in hands, eyes watching the television.

I knew there and then that I would remember this moment for the rest of my life.

“You want something to eat?” He asked, breaking the silence. “I was thinking dinner at this really nice restaurant?”

My mind instantly went to the white lacy dress packed in my box and gold sandals.

“Okay, I’m in.”

He nodded and jumped down from the counter. “Come,” he said. “I’ll show you around.”

He took hold of my hand and waited for me to jump down.

As I did, he collected my glass, and we strolled out of the kitchen.

 

I liked watching him drive – one hand on the steering wheel, the other roaming free.

Black suit never looked so good on anyone before; he was dashing!

The scent of our perfumes dallied in the small atmosphere.

Avery Wilson’s album played steadily on the stereo and I sat, body tilted towards him, paying attention to the lyrics of ‘If I Had To’ as it currently jammed on the stereo.

He would shoot frequent glances my way, each of which I acknowledged with a smile.

When he reached out his hand to rest on my bare lap, I smiled approvingly.

And it became, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on my lap.

 

The restaurant was like any fancy restaurant would be; stylish atmosphere, great lighting, correct utensils, and waiters dressed in black and white uniforms.

A waiting staff approached our table minutes after we sat down.

“You’re welcome Sir, you’re welcome ma” He bobbed.

Alex nodded, “Good evening.”

He picked up the Menu and signaled me to do the same.

We placed our orders, and the waiter took them and bowed out of presence.

As we sat there, waiting for our food, we sipped on red wine and talked.

He asked me questions, and I answered.

I asked him questions, and he answered.

Engaging conversation – we talked about different things, covering several topics in minutes.

It was just like we did over the phone, but it was even better this time. I could look into his eyes and witness every inch of emotion.

He was forthright in everything he said, but I didn’t mind. I had been direct all my life, so it was a relief to meet someone who didn’t mince words either.

“You have very beautiful eyes,” he said to me just as our food arrived, and I grinned impulsively. “Thank you.”

“and lips…” he continued. “very sensual.”

His back was reclined into the chair as he said these words, with one arm stretched on the table, holding his glass by the stem.

“Your smile lightens everything up.”

“Aberrant,” I stated.

He chuckled. “Touché.”

 

It happened the way it happens in the movies; a couple gets home from an outing and starts to devour each other from the door. I guess you can say that we had built up emotions.

We had just stepped into the house from the restaurant, I was in front of him, and he was behind me, taking a second to lock the door.

The next thing I felt was his hand arresting my wrist.

I glanced over my shoulders, looked at his face, and stared at him.

It was right there in his eyes, that longing for me.

I stepped backward and stood face to face with him.

Then suddenly, like a timed blasting clock, he took my face in both hands and kissed me.

His lips felt soft against mine and his breath, lacing with the alcohol we had earlier.

My folds quivered.

I let my purse fall to the ground, wrapped my arms around his neck, and tipped my body upwards so that he could kiss me even deeper.

He swept me off the floor in his strong hands.

“Ah!” I chuckled.

Carrying me, he began to climb the stairs with his face staring down at mine.

He had this severe gleam, the type an actor wore in a movie scene when rescuing a girl. I could see the burn of desire in his eyes, and with every step he took, I welcomed his breath upon my face.

He kicked the door to his bedroom open, got in, and kicked it back close. Walked with me to the bed and carefully laid me down.

He stood at the foot of the bed, shrugged out of his jacket, and began to unbutton his shirt sleeves, all the while holding my gaze.

He shrugged out of his white shirt, and I gasped at his fit body.

His chest was taut, his abdomen chiseled. I could even see the V-shape of his torso.

How could a 41-year-old be this beautiful? I wondered. Who is this guy?!

He unbuckled his belt, and my heart started pounding in anticipation. It was like having my very own private strip show.

He stepped out of his trousers, and I noticed a protruding bulge, but like a parcel, I saved my excitement for when the wraps came undone.

“W-Wow!” was the word that escaped my lips when he stepped out of his grey briefs and his shaft greeted me.

“I’m not a small man,” he declared.

“No,” I managed to mutter through astonishment, “you’re not.”

There was no way my boyfriend would fit again, not after that burrito of a dick must have plunged into me!

He sank his knees to the edge of the bed and began to undo my shoes – first the right feet, then the left.

I sat upright, turned my back to him, and swept my curly hair to the side to allow him to unzip my dress.

In seconds, he was pulling the white lace over my head, exposing my matching red lingerie.

“Get naked with me,” he whispered.

The feel of his breath on the back of my neck sent chills down my spine.

He unclipped my bra, letting loose my full globes.

He brought his hands around to my chest, and as soon as his fingers touched my breasts, my eyes shut in pleasure.

He tweaked both nipples, and I let out a soft moan.

His tongue made a singular stroke up the back of my neck, and his lips began to nibble on its flesh while his hands worked simultaneously at my breasts.

“A-ale-xander…” I cried.

He softly pushed me back to the bed and slowly peeled my panties off my legs.

I was naked now- we both were.

I saw his jaw tighten as he stared down at my body

His breath heightening.

He lowered himself down to me and swam his tongue in between my lips

We kissed sloppily.

I let my hands rub his baldness, matching the rhythm of his oh-so-sweet tongue with mine.

His head felt really smooth to my touch.

His right hand slipped down to my left breast. He cupped it, and I went crazy kissing him.

He bit my lower lip before crawling down to suck at my right breast, his hand still rubbing the left.

I let out a moan, parting my lips… unable to close them back up.

He crawled lower, all the way down to my feet. He propped a pillow under my butt, and I spread those legs before he had to.

He buried his head in between my thighs. Ran a tongue over my moist clit…

“Oh crap!” I swore, rolling my eyes into the back of my head.

I lifted my legs and placed them lightly on his shoulders, giving him more room to eat the hell outta me.

He licked, stroked, licked…and licked again.

Loud moans kept escaping my throat.

My body was slithering as I felt myself nearing orgasm.

My fingers grabbed unto the sheets for dear life, and I cried, “A-a-a-ale-x-a-a-a-n-de-r-r-r-r!” convulsing against his face.

He withdrew from my thighs, crawled up to my face, and let me taste myself off his tongue.

He sat on the bed and shifted backward so that his back was leaning against the bed frame.

I straddled him and uneasily began to push down on him. A satisfied smirk shaped his lips as he watched me struggle to fit him through my tight walls.

He was enjoying this.

He placed his hands on my waist and steadily guided me downward. His eyes raged with passion as my wet walls gripped him, inch after inch until he was completely buried to the hilt.

“Urrggh,” he groaned, burying his head between my breasts.

I gasped at the weight of his size and dropped both arms over his shoulders.

He took my nipple into his mouth, rubbing his face over the flesh around it.

I began to move up and down of him, holding so firmly unto his body.

A sweetness that words cannot quantify enveloped me, all the way down to my toes.

My head rubbed against his, lips parted, moaning unsteadily.

He turned me over so that he was now on top of me.

He wrapped my legs around his waist and plunged into me, har-rd

And he didn’t stop.

He pounded seamlessly until I felt my walls begin to contract, and my folds lubricating twice as much.

Pleasure and more pleasure welled up inside of me.

I was going to explode…

I dug my fingers into the skin on his back, and my toes curled downwards.

“I’m c-cu-mi-ng!” I announced

And almost immediately, I cried, “B-a-a-a-a-bbb-b-yy!” as my body jerked uncontrollably.

His excitement went erratic seeing me climax like that.

It wasn’t long before he groaned into the crook of my neck and went limp on top of me!

 

I hated for Monday to come; that weekend had been too eventful to want to leave.

He had given me a really good time – showed me unbelievable beautiful places around Lagos. Before him, fun for me was movies and birthday parties, but even those were not frequent. With him, I got to see enough to give me sweet dreams for weeks on end.

As we sat in the VIP lounge at the airport, waiting for my flight to be announced, he took my hand into his, and my head rested against his shoulder.

I thought about how much I would miss him, the memorable weekend I just had, and everything I got to see.

I felt like my life would never be the same again…

“Krysten,” He called, breaking into my thoughts.

“Yes?” I responded without lifting my head.

“Are you happy?”

A smile carved my lips, and I nodded against his arm. “I am”

“Good.”

An announcement came through, calling on passengers of a particular flight, but it wasn’t mine. Still, I opened my palm to glance at the ticket in my hand, just to be sure.

The voice faded, and everyone relaxed.

“Alexander?”

“Yes?”

“Are you happy?”

“Ditto, dear.”

 

THE END.

 

38 thoughts on “ALEXANDER”

  1. To short nah😭😭😭. Joy girlie thank you for always making every read worth it.

  2. 😍😍😍😍❤❤❤💕💕💕.

    I felt every emotion that was expressed …..

    Alexander the great…. ahhhhhh!!!!

  3. Really nice piece. Easy flowing and well connected plots. And your ideas, really crazy but very imaginative. Keep it up gurl.

  4. This gat me tinking of how I met my hubby and our first time 🤪 EPIC !!! Great one Kylie ❤️

  5. OMG I wish there was no end to this story……
    Continuation please……

  6. Very very arousing. Your skills are as broad as they are deep. Great erotica

  7. ‘Burrito’
    I had to look that one up, and not being satisfied – I resorted to google images to get a grasp of the literary effect. You are crazy.

    You expanded the frontiers of my knowledge, your writing is both entertaining and enlightening. This is fantastic, I enjoyed reading it and hope it urshers in a beautiful start to a wonderful weekend for me.
    Enjoy yours too.

    1. 😂😂@I’m crazy

      Thank you, thank you! I hope it does too
      ☺️🙏🏾

  8. Quite steamy…just what the good doc prescribed for a Friday night….

  9. Damn gurl! E no do me, e no dey ever do me, can we get a part two? Great piece!

  10. Woooooooow!!! This is super!!! Am crying. I didnt want it to end!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭. Very very nice one from the best. For a moment i thot i was kristen.. So interesting. More grace darling!

  11. Wow why now, this is too short. I love this story, giving me dreams and wishes.

  12. Sigh. My heart is still beating fast. This is def a good read.

  13. Ditto?!…thats it?!… Are we not going to get a closure to this thrilling tale??😏😏….real good writing Kylie.. 👍👏

    1. … and they lived happily ever after. 🤣🤣🤣😄😄😄. Is that what you want? Shaking tables. Make una no mind me abeg.

  14. Hah! She still had the presence of mind to call out all four syllables of his name? Hahahahaha…

    You just created our very own Nigerian Christian Grey. 😀😉

  15. And???????? You always leave me wanting more. Can ur stories just go on without an end? Ice work,real enough to get me feeling……….

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