Her Name (Part II)

Part II

I considered never dating for a long time, and didn’t notice the years silently pass. In fact, I started going to church, far from where Njoki would go. I joined the youth and started growing in Christ’s ministry. Sanctity was my third name; I only spoke to women while preaching. I rose to become the youth chairman and finally the assistant pastor of the church. But the devil is real guys, I am a witness. One of the female youth members, Nyambura, thought I was too handsome to be preserved for the son of God. She always had queer questions at the end of each bible study and followed me to the vestry every Saturday after 6 pm. Today she is dressed in a low cut black blouse and a pink miniskirt.

“How does God look like?”

I am tempted to refer her back to Sunday School.

“Like me.”

I reply, perusing through the pages of my bible.

“Then He must be very handsome.” She says smiling.

I smile back.

Big mistake.

The smile makes her feel comfortable to come closer. She leans over the table and her well manicured nails start reaching for my collar. I can see her full breasts bulge beneath her blouse. I get scared. I have to think and come up with a solution fast.

“You haven’t even closed the door yet.”

She turns and reaches for the door. I quickly stand up, straighten my suit and use the table to block her from reaching me. I lift the bible high, recalling how the earlier disciples had cast out demons.

She turns, lusty fire burning her eyes.

“God is seeing you, even if no one else is.”

The words don’t stop the devil from approaching.

“Abracadabra Haiti Ma Yesu Mininyichieko Shit.” I shake the bible violently, speaking in tongues. “Fire!!!! You shall be overcome, stupid devil. Go back to where you belong. Abracadabra Haiti Ma Yesu Mininyichieko Shit.”

She keeps coming.

She removes her high heels and begins climbing over her table. I can see her brown thighs shining in the darkness as her pink miniskirt peels back. They remind me of Njoki’s legs. There is no one to switch on the lights.

I lower my bible.

She holds me by my collar and throws me against the wall.

I pull her closer by her waist and my hands find heavenly rest on her massive chest. My mouth lands on hers, my tongue swiping off some of her lipstick. Tongue tied, I can no longer speak in heavenly tongues. Only the ‘mwah’ of kisses, sucking tongues and pleasure groans can be heard filling the heated air. I decide that it is not that sinful to enjoy the forbidden pleasures anyway. I had called on God and He had refused to answer. May be He is okay with it. Maybe the twinkle of the stars shining through the glass window pane is His laughter from the sky.

The door creaks, and the switch flicks on. The dark face of the senior pastor shines through the narrow opening.

“Didn’t you latch the door you fool?” I ask Nyambura, landing a hot slap squarely on her face.

She holds on to her cheek looking down with the innocent face of a lamb. You would have thought I was the one who has been sacrificing her.

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