Mark Naked in Room 16

Mark Naked in Room 16

My Friday mood does not match the clothes that I am wearing. I have all my papers with me given the grants manager will be offering me a job today after many months of waiting.  The loud music inside Githurai bus has carried me away. Rihana’s Unfaithful is playing. Normally, they play that kind of music on the way back to Githurai 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 able to answer their questions. 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.

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

He asks how am dressed. 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.

I have to walk from OTC to Hazina Towers in my high heels. This journey takes my entire breakfast and a whole hour. After producing my ID and getting a visitors tag. I ask his secretary to direct me to ladies. 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 is not surprised by the transformation as she takes me into his office. It’s a living room; flowers, white leather seats, flat screen TV, refreshments and red carpet.. 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 wanted 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.”

A cup of white coffee helps us to enter into serious discussion on the current issues in the NGO world. The Greek he is speaking made the man in me shrink. I start smiling and nodding at everything he was saying and to his smiles 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 his earlier words,

“The Human Resource Manager asked me to take you to View Park for briefing on your new job.”

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 corner. It takes me a few ‘excuse me’ and as I emerged. Surely, I do not match the man I am with or the cars in the parking. 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.

Mark assures me that I will not regret anything. He guarantees me that the HRM was waiting for us at Hotel in View Park. According to Mark, who had been on the wheel, parking at View Park Towers 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 have heard stories about Ngara; a place to hang out with a married man. 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 a girl the way Mark was touching me. Rejection means more drinks until I forgets the HRM meeting. Finally, the man books 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.

When we get to the room 16, Mark reaches out to me with soothing words and romantic touches. 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.