LIP’S TASTE

LIP’S TASTE: Story of a man in a Woman’s Body

One thing I like about Githu buses is the lighting inside and the music they play especially on Fridays. Today is a Furahi day for me too. I have all my papers with me given the grants manager of an International NGO will be offering me a job. I am convinced that among the many programs he is involved in, I cannot lack a job as it has been for the past six months. My Friday mood does not match the clothes that am wearing. In the view of the fact that I am not planning to go for rave tonight, I do not have any extra sexy clothing in my handbag as I am used to.

The music has carried me away but unexpectedly, I hear Rihana’s Unfaithful playing in the background. Normally, they play that kind of music on the way back to Githu and not while people are headed to town to catch up with  a great plan. My members’ day mood goes down a bit and I decide to go online and check for details so that I will be a man when they ask me question. I have always believed that I will get a job because of what I know and not because I am a woman.

I cannot explain how I end up on face book despite having started off at Google. Mark the Manger sends me a chat pap. Sometimes I wonder what such a senior resident is doing on FB from morning to morning. He says that he did not expect me on FB and I am supposed to go and meet him. My response is that am in a bus, which he does not believe. If can copy paste the chat,

 “4 rel, u in a bus? I thght u aint te typ tat ….anywei we kuja tu. Its an addd advtg….”

Since the time we started, his chats are always broken and he tells me it’s due to the huge workload that he has to complete and still afford time to chat with a beauty like me. For a while, I do not respond to the chat as I ponder on the kind of explain I will give in regards as to how I achieved a job in such a huge organization; boys of my age do not believe it was with pants on.

Being the gentleman that he is, Mark calls to confirm that I will be in town by noon and not earlier than that because he was in a meeting. He even asks how am dressed but in nice way. He says that I must be too hot and the person seated to me in a Githurai bus has to talk to me. In his own words, he expects me to be dressed sexy since it’s the first time we are meeting  from the time I accepted his friend request on FB. I am disappointed that he is disappointed in my dressing and am seated next to a gal of my age who is hotly dressed.

Despite being in high heels, I have to walk from OTC to Hazina Towers. This journey takes my entire breakfast and a whole hour. After producing my ID and getting a visitors tag, I realize that am thirty minutes early thanks to Zam Zam. With lots of humility, I ask the secretary to show me the washrooms. I have time to wipe dust on my feet, apply makeup, raise my skirt and lower my top in order to look the way he expects me to look while on 17^th floor.

The secretary did notice that but was not surprised by the transformation as she directs me into the office where he was ready and waiting.  The office was a like a living room; flowers ,white leather seats, flatscreen TV, refreshments, carpet just to name a few. It was heaven close to heaven. Mark the Manager is not as handsome as he looks on face book; he was sleek in a suit and courteous enough to welcome me into the International NGO with three fantabulous hugs. I could tell that he wants more but the office did not allow him. The lip-gloss I had applied made him to involuntarily say,

“I wonder how your lips taste.”

 He only apologized after realizing that he said it loud enough for my ears. A cup of white coffee helps us to enter into serious discussion on the current issues in the NGO world. The jargons in the Greek he is speaking made the man in me shrink. I start smiling and nodding at everything he was saying and to his deodorant too. As the discussion gets heated, he keeps on moving closer to me in order to prove his point. When he gets too close, I remind him that the Human Resource Manager had asked him to take me to View Park for briefing on my new job. Our discussion started with him telling me we should go and meet HRM at one and it ended with me telling him we should leave.

“Do not forget your papers in my office.” That is the last thing he tells me as we leave the office but he does something that assures me to sprint but I do not run away from the dream of working in this prestigious building. As we walk out of the office, I receive a peck on the forehead and I am given back my papers. The papers that depict me as a man in a woman’s body wherever I leave them. It is unfortunate that he gave them to me and I take it to mean that he does not the papers he needs my woman body.

The way he shows me around, uses the lift and he walks around makes me look and feel imprudent. He knew the parking was on fifth floor. Thus, he was at the door in the lift while I was in the furthest coner. It takes me a few excuse me and I emerged. Surely, I do not match the man I am with or the cars in the parking such as Mercedes Benz, Be My Wife, Prado, Audi and one Range Rover. I had no idea of his car or the reason we were to use a car from one building to the next one. However, the Range Rover was another heaven and the way he was spinning around and out of the building left me wanting for more.

Due to lack of a better thing to say, Mark assures me that I will not regret anything. He guarantees me that the HRM was waiting for us at Hotel in View Park. He asks me if am okay with the venue as the lunch hour traffic moves too slowly. We are stuck at the exit for around twenty minutes and the explanation he gives does not make sense. According to Mark, who has been on the wheel, parking at View Park is full. I did not have time to ask how he knew when he made a call and asked HRM to find us in Ngara.

I wish he asked  if Ngara was first rate for me, the stories I hear about Ngara revolve around getting a married man, going out with him whenever he wants to, renting a bedsitter for him to come whenever he wants to, getting a baby and you are dumped . If you know how to drink and eat without getting pregnant, you will hang around Ngara for longer times.  I have always known going out with a married man is like chewing a sandwich that has gravel inside. I also knew that this kind of dating starts with a call but is fuelled by sms and chats. Then a date, like the one I was on, followed by a drink like the ones I was taking. Then the man would check the level of drunkenness by touching like Mark was touching me. Rejection means more drinks until the girl forgets the HRM, starts kissing and finally caresses the man. Finally, they book a room behind the bar. Even as we stagger towards the room, my fear was how the Ngara stories ended. The man would be so caring until he cums severally and it follows that he goes back to his wife. The woman picks her papers until the next lucky person comes along.

When we get to the room 16, Mark the manager reaches out to me, his soothing words and romantic touches get’s me going. He removes his suit, too bad his body is uglier and older than his face. He insists on  us to taking a shower. Unlike me, he was not shy to remove his clothes while I was staring at him. I ask him to check if the water was hot. From the bathroom, he says the water is hot but not extremely hot like me. He excuses himself to use the toilet and I know it is time to pack his clothes inside the paper bag that has my papers. I smile and simply request him for the money I was already holding in order to buy Dasani at the reception.

Inside the taxi and even now, his nude picture is still in mind. I cannot get any sleep but I do not regret, knowing that if I were still with him, sleep would be the last thing in his mind. I am afraid to even touch his clothes.           

  END

I CANNOT TORELATE MARRIED MEN  TERROLIZE YOUNG LADIES