Expensive Gifts.


11:58 pm.

She was not in a good mood. The melancholic feeling that was her constant companion, now threatened to overwhelm her. The feeling just sat heavily in the pit of her stomach, and she suddenly wanted to vomit. She rushed into the bathroom and knelt against the toilet basin, heaving. After almost 10 minutes of dry retching, she leaned her head against the cool toilet seat. Tears tolled down her cheeks, as she stood shakily and moved to the sink, and examined her face in the mirror. Her once plump, beautiful face was now lean and gaunt, with dark, shallow circles were her eyes used to be. Her hair hung limp around her face, her skin almost as white as flour. She reached up to the medicine cabinet and opened it. There they were. The pills. He’d said they’d make her feel better. And they always did. Her slim hands closed around the little white bottle and she popped 2 little white pills into her mouth, swallowing them dry.

“One should be enough,” he’d said.

Suddenly, she felt better. Her face seemed to change before her very eyes. A smile crept up her face, lifting the corners of her mouth into the smallest smile. She remembered her gift, that she so loved to share. She giggled as she banged the medicine cabinet shut.

12:47 am.

Her well-manicured fingers circled the rim of the glass, her eyes scanning the crowd. It was a full house tonight. She downed her drink in one go, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and moved out onto the dance floor. The smell of sweat, cigarette smoke and stale perfume lingered heavy in the air. Sweaty bodies jostled for space, bumping into each other, in a drunken revelry. She moved, slowly and confidently to the middle of the floor and then stopped. And then, lifting her head slowly, letting her hair fall back, she began to move slowly in time with the music. She moved, increasing in tempo with the music, her hips gyrating as the music took over her senses. She ran her hands over her body, paying attention to her breasts and hips. Her eyes closed, her mouth slightly open, she made love to herself with the music. Before long, there was a small circle around her as everyone watched her, swaying side to side in time with the music. She opened her eyes and there he was. He was watching her over the top of his glass, his eyes running over her body ever so slowly. Yes, he was perfect.

1:27 am.

They stumbled drunkenly into the dark, cheap motel room, kissing deeply, his hand fumbling around the wall for a light switch.

“No lights,” she said, in between kisses.

She moved her hands down to his belt buckle and began to undo it very deftly. His hands worked feverishly to unbutton her blouse. They were naked very quickly. She pushed him unto the bed, the springs squeaking very loudly as he landed. She was all over him, touching, feeling, groping. He returned her passion with equal fervour, biting, squeezing, kneading. He took her breast in his mouth, his tongue flicked against her nipple. She threw her head back, moaning loudly. And suddenly, he was on top, his fingers, his mouth, working through her entire body. When his stubble grazed her vaginal lips, she thought she would die of pleasure. His tongue went in and out, stroking, pleasing her. She returned the pleasure, taking him in her mouth, his entire length, her head, moving up and down as she worked her magic. And then, they couldn’t wait any more. He entered her with one swift thrust, cutting out her scream with a heavy kiss. They moved, creating rhythm with their bodies, holding on to each other, slick with sweat. And finally, they came together in a wonderful eruption of body fluids and feelings. She was holding on to him as he spilled into her, his body rocking with the intensity of his release.

“Oh shit! I didn’t wear a condom.”

“That’s OK, I’m on the pill.”

“Oh, thank God.” As he drifted to sleep, he smiled and thought how this was the best sex he’d ever had. Ever.

2:06 am.

She packed her clothes and stealthily crept out of the room. Wearing only her jacket and shoes, she walked down the street, whistling a happy tune. The drug was still in effect. Perhaps, she could find some other lucky guy to share her gift with before the night ended. The drug would only last for so long, before her dark demons came to her again. Better to make good use of the time she had now.

Spreading AIDS isn’t easy business, she thought to herself.

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45 thoughts on “Expensive Gifts.

  1. Its funny how some people only think about condoms when it comes to prostitutes. Most young people dont use condoms when having sex especially with the ones they “love”, they kinda have this trust for the partner but STDs are not written on the faces of people who have them…Pleasure should never come before personal security or health.

  2. WHOA!!!! Guys take condoms with you wherever you’re going to, you never know when you’ll meet some action. Even if the gal feels insulted, you’d have saved yourself a truck load of STDs and even AIDS. Gals, if there’s no condom, don’t do it! Pills won’t save you from HIV. HIV/AIDS is real, those spreading it are even more real.

  3. This babe is very evil. The best thing is to abstain from sexual intercourse cos even the condoms don’t work. There’s no such thing as safe sex people. I’m with Nate on this one…
    Join #TeamSellABate today.
    I’ve been selling bates since 1900.

  4. You’re a really wonderful Storyteller. I was so in tune with everything…and unlike most other stories,I actually remember the first line as I’m typing this.

    The number of people who have unprotected sex just because the other person is cool/rich/clean/educated/well-spoken/fine as hell though….
    HIV/AIDS stories can never become banal. Never ever.

  5. I’m really tempted to say something like ‘nice’ or ‘lol’
    So… Lol! Nice one.

    Kidding! I loved reading it,tho I had to close my eyes during the sex scene *adjusts halo*. You should write more often jare,only God knows when next we’ll see anything else from you.

  6. I honestly cannot remember the last time I thought about this HIV/AIDS issue. Seems like everyone has gotten complacent. His ‘oh shit! I didn’t wear a condom’ didn’t even think in that direction. Sad.
    Love the story. I kept trying to guess what the gift was. Lol.

  7. ..And she claims to be a virgin…*spits*
    Ah well, the truth is this..Esse here is subbing all of you boys that are living in her DMs, calling her phone, skyping and shiii…take heed. A word is enough for the wise.
    Catch your sub today.

  8. Well, I just stumbled into this blog. Nice story telling. From my perspective, in tempestuous moments many people are guilty of getting lost in the moment. Moreso if the sex partner is sophisticated, educated and polished. It is as if they are too fine to have AIDS. Even doctors who should know better have unprotected sex regularly. It behooves everybody to be careful and to trust no one. There is also a condom for women but girls seldom use it. Nice post anyway. I think I will subscribe.

  9. Oh dear..she must have had it bad b4 spreading it doe.I think she got aids from someone almost d same way and decided to do the same..

    But I’m very impressed with this, its very creative.

    Keep it up πŸ™‚

  10. Very good write up
    I think our generation takes AIDS/HIV for granted.
    Its good we have reminders like this once in awhile, Aids no dey show for face o.

    But the girl is very wicked o. And the boy very horny and stupid!

  11. i wouldn’t start cussing her…i don’t know how she got her own gift…she might have been raped or something…one fact which still remains is that, this kind of stuff would continue to happen…gift or no gift, cheap or expensive…

  12. Where is innocent esse of high school!…lol I like how she keeps calling it her gift, and as they say when people write in this genre “elegantly executed” which i think is code for “thank goodness she didn’t cross the line between romance and porn!”

  13. Hian.
    Melancholy is not a noun…so melancholic ain’t an adjective for it.
    The correct thing is ‘ the melancholy that was her constant companion’.

    Nice story. Suddenly seemed a bit stilted when I saw the AIDS part. The main story kinda didn’t flow into the end since I saw no justification,even if subtle, for her wickedness. Cool sexual description. I feel your thirst. Hehe.

    • Melancholy is a noun. Even the way you used it there shows it as a noun.
      And melancholic is the adjective.
      I guess the move to suddenly spreading AIDS was pretty abrupt. In my head she was just a disturbed lady who blamed the world for her disease. I should have passed that across.
      Thanks!!!
      πŸ™‚

  14. “That devil is a liar!” Was my thought after reading the last line. For a second there, I was like “Is this porn?” Then I thought, “Esse doesn’t write porn. There’s gotta be a moral to this story. And then I get to the end… Lord have mercy. People are evil o. Wow.

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