Chapitre 33: Chapter 32: The near past.
Clint Changed Into his blue check pyjamas. The cotton fabric hung loosely to his broad shoulder, the pants had a light grip on his waist, while the rest of the fabric hung loosely down to his ankle. He wore his ocean blue flip-flops and made his way out of the room, shutting the door gently after him.
A gentle breeze brushed through him as he opened the door to the spacious terrace, causing the fabric to stick to his body from the front.
His Father relaxed on a lounge seat by the left. He made his way towards him, acknowledging the full moon and taking in the surroundings.
The leaves of the trimmed almond tree about the height of the building before them casting shadows on earth's surface under the lamination of the full moon. They swayed at the direction of the breeze, staged a gentle resistance against it and returned to their normal positions as soon as the breeze stopped. He joined his father, taking up the empty lounge seat beside him. He cupped his hand over his mouth and yawned. "The moon is full."
"How time flies." The sexagenarian said after many seconds.
He hadn't grown over the full moon enthusiasm. Although he had become a busy man, he occasionally looked out for the full moon from his apartment and would come out to admire it from his balcony. He would occasionally spread a blanket at the balcony and lay down there, just to watch the moon.
Back in the day, he would ask his father when the full moon will make its monthly debut, so he could watch it. His father would always call him out on such days and tell him stories or answer his questions on the full moon. He could remember the werewolf movies and how they transformed at full moon. He made his father conscious of the Luna calendar because of his enthusiasm. It made him smile.
He folded his hands and used it prop his head. "Dad, I have a confession."
"Go on."
"It's about a secret," he paused, "Mum and I have been holding for long now."
"Why do you want to tell me now?"
"I want to be free."
"Go on."
"You remember Clara?"
"Which of them?"
"Mum's help."
"I remember."
"Mum once caught us together."
His father wasted a few seconds, "Oh, that!"
"You knew all along."
"Your mother told me about it one evening. I suppose that should be the day it happened and how you promised never to repeat that," he paused. "You didn't repeat that, did you?" He yawned. "I think your Mum registered some good changes with you or so then, because I never got any complaint afterwards."
Clint smiled. He couldn't believe she held him at ransom with that incident all the while. "You kept quiet about it?" He asked with dissatisfaction.
"There isn't much I would've done when you gave your mother your words. All that was left was to watch you," he answered conclusively.
"I did worse at school."
"I never thought you a saint." he paused, "You see, son. Whatever you do away from our watch is not our responsibility. What you do within our watch, is." He cleared his throat. "We didn't live with you in school, and we knew you wouldn't stay with us longer than you already had. All we could do was to counsel you and reprimanded you when possible, and hoped you were of your best behaviour out there."
"I never thought you knew about it all the while."
They went silent for a moment. Lost in his thoughts, he wandered to his sexcapades back in university.
During his final year, their travail long forgotten, but their friendship unbroken, Clara secured admission into the same institution as him. He made out time to pay her a visit out of his busy final year schedule. He stayed over, not prepared though.
While at her place, he lost track of time. After a little va-et-vient with Clara, he had to stay for the night according to her will. He stayed back oblivious that the fire still burned within her, one which he had almost forgotten, a loss he had counted. That night, while she bathed he took his shirt off, removed his belt, and laid on her bed with his only his pants still on. His bare chest and loose pants must have triggered her because she eyed them hungrily on her emergence from the bathroom.
Involuntarily, he fought himself from feeding on the exposed flesh above and beneath her short towel hanging a few inches above her breast and barely reaching her laps. She turned to the large mirror covering a third of her bathroom's door and left him to feed on her exposed butts.
She must have mistakenly dropped her towel while combing her hair.
Self-control was what he adored a lot, as he gave it a comfortable seat behind him. He would do what he loved best to do and would acquaint with it later.
He zombie-ed across the room towards her, with heavy breaths and excited muscles. He embraced her from behind and coiled his hands around her, a little beneath her breast. His nose was filled with her apple scented shampoo. He lowered his head further, breathing down on her neck.
He kissed and nibbled her neck. He brushed his nose against her neck in slow repeating motions which allowed his warm breath to caress her skin.
He was forced to stop and observe her in the mirror because of her silence. On looking at her in the mirror, he saw nothing but a perfect beauty in its natural state. Her eyes were lustfully shut before the mirror. Her head was leaned backwards and rested on his shoulder, a language he needed no interpretation to, and wouldn't mistake for anything.
His hands slowly left their positions. His right fingers paid a courtesy visit to her bellybutton, before travelling upwards, tracing an invisible line through her belly.
By the time his hands rubbed gently against her nipples, she held him tightly on his neck, pressing harder against his already excited below, with heavy breaths.
He flipped her, so they did face each other. He held her tightly to his body by her waist, locked lips with her and licked her large lips delightedly.
His hands held firmly to her butts, while hers travelled from his neck to his underwear. He swept her off her feet, supporting her weight from her smooth butts, while they locked hip. She grinded her hip against his sending exciting chills up his spine.
He crossed the room back to the bed, Clara in his arms. The night ended up a memorable one. He ended up adding two more days to his stay, and many more visits after that one.
"You said something over the phone," his father called his attention. "What did you want to tell me?"
"About that . . . ."
"Are You Sure about it?"
"I am," He paused, "Hassan, from the board told me himself this morning. I have been cleared. They dropped it," Clint assured the caller.
Iykes breathed out, "that's a relief man,"
Clint sighed and dropped his weight on the couch. He filled the following seconds with silence, his breaths heavy and slow. He crossed his left hand just below his thorax, above his abdomen, supporting his right hand from the elbow. Worry lines present crossed his face. "I don't feel different."
"I perceived as much," Iyke said.
"Tina doesn't deserve to be caught in my mess."
"She doesn't."
"I know."
"Now the dust has settled on the part of her father, you need to patch things up."
"You think I can do that?"
"You have to try."
"Her father . . ."
"You're probably an enemy of his by now."
"Exactly. I don't know how to face him again."
"You still have to try."
"I will."
"Extend my greetings to your parents."
"I will. Bye. Thanks a lot Bro."
"I'm very sure you don't need to thank me for that. Bye." Iyke ended the call.
Clint let out a breath and slid on the leather couch. He let his legs sprawl across the open space before him. He stared at the table, whereas nothing caught his fancy.
"Why don't you make up with her?" He heard his mother's words from behind.
"It's complicated, Mum," he replied, fixed to his position.
She leaned on the couch. "How complicated is it?"
"Very"
A short silence followed his response. She came to sit beside him on the couch.
"I heard you talking to your father the other night."
"I know. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you."
"I'm not offended. I know why. It's my fault you weren't able to."
Clint sighed and adjusted himself on the couch.
"It's a good thing you realized it yourself. It's not going to be easy making amends, but you have to try, at least, for the child."
Clint turned to her. He wore a warm look, intended to reassure her.
"And if you can," she paused, "after sorting out your complications, bring her home."
"Mum!" He was mildly angered, "really?". Was she even here to comfort him? He asked himself. "I have exceeded my limits for now. Could you please not add to my worries?"
He left the sitting room for his concerned mother.
*******
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