This week I'm bringing you a teaser from a brand new manuscript. Those of you waiting for the conclusion to the Challenge series will be glad I started writing Worth A Challenge. This series follows the exploits of 3 best friends Michael, Paul and Peter. We've seen Michael and Paul find love. Well it's now Peter's turn. And his is going to be the most difficult journey. Unlike his friends, he had everything growing up--the love of both parents, a close family, and more wealth than he could spend in a lifetime.
And who do I match him with. Tess is the exact opposite. But don't let that fool you. She's not helpless or looking for a rich man to sweep her off her feet. In fact I'll let her introduce herself.
This is a very rough first draft written this morning. So forgive my errors.
Worth A Challenge by Kiru Taye
Prologue
There's
only one thing a man really wants from a woman.
It
isn't the grey matter between the ears of a beautiful woman. Although the
ability to engage in a conversation about the impact of Occupy Nigeria on the
future of democracy or the war in Syria comes in handy as you're sitting with
his mates and their girlfriends at the dinner table.
It
isn't that you can exchange witty dialogue or take an interest in his favourite
football team, cheering with him when they win or consoling him with a beer
when they lose.
No.
All this is just foreplay. A prelude to what he really wants.
So
what is it a man really wants, you ask me.
All
a man wants is that when he crawls between a woman's legs and sinks into her,
she takes him to heaven and hell. Perhaps simultaneously. That's what he wants.
And
he'll pay any price to have a woman who can give him what he wants. Well, almost.
So
how do I know this?
Take
for example the man sitting at the table adjacent to mine. He is tall dark and
wealthy—the bespoke suit he's wearing costs a few thousand dollars from Noni
House of Fashion. The skinny brunette hanging on his every word is pretty.
Still his eyes have been glancing over to where I'm sitting since I walked into
the bar. There are no doubts in my mind he wants to get into my panties. Shame,
I'm not wearing any.
His
girlfriend has been staring daggers at me, looking down her nose at me. Why is
it that women feel the need to put down other women? I am tempted to teach her
a lesson but I'm here on a mission. I have another mark. A much bigger fish to
fry.
When
she goes off to the ladies, Mr TDW leans across to me. "You are beautiful,"
he says in a put-on American accent and I have to force myself not to roll my
eyes upwards.
Not another wannabe,
I mutter beneath my breath. "Thank you." I flash him a smile and
return my gaze to my glass of vodka and coke.
"Are
you on your own tonight?" he asks.
"No,
I'm waiting for my friend." I reply slightly amused.
"I'd
like to take you out to dinner." His eyes are fixed greedily at my chest
where my silk red dress flows over my generous breasts.
No. You'd like to have me
for dinner. Why is it that men never say
what they want directly?
"Dinner?
What about your girlfriend?" I ask as annoyance sets my teeth on edge that
he would dare to ask me out when he was out on a date with another woman. But
that's Nigerian men for you. Bold as brass.
"Don't
worry about her. If you agree to meet me, I'll dump her for you."
"You
will?" I hide my shock, feigning interest and smiling coquettishly.
"Give me your card and I'll call you."
He
digs into his pocket and hands me a white embossed card with Emmanuel Egbo
embossed on it. I run my manicured fingers over the raised lettering, the blood
red of my nails stark and corrupting against the innocent white surface.
Except
Mr Egbo isn't very innocent, is he?
He
is very much in need of a lesson on how to treat women. And I would've loved to
be the one to teach him. But a quick glance at my wrist watch says my mark will
be here any moment and I could ruin weeks of preparation.
So
I do the next best thing.
"Excuse
me a moment," I slide off the stool and head to the ladies. The pretty
skinny brunette is on her way back but I block her exit.
"I
need to talk to you," I say.
She
takes a step back. "What do you want?"
"Look.
I know you think I'm interested in your man. Well, I'm not. He's not my
type."
"And
why are you telling me this?" She eyes me suspiciously.
"Because
he just gave me his card and asked me to meet him." I flash the business
card.
"He
did?" She frowns. "Bastard." There's a catch in her voice and
when I meet her gaze, her eyes are watery.
"I'm
sorry." My voice softens. "Unfortunately, men are all like that. My
advice to you is to make sure he uses a condom and see about getting
tested."
"Tested?"
Her eyes widened.
"Yes.
You can never be sure of where he has been."
"Oh.
My. God." She covers her mouth with her hands.
From
her response I gather she might need the testing sooner rather than later.
I
put my hands on her shoulders. "Are you okay?"
She
looks up and nods. Then she straightens her shoulders. "I'm fine."
"Let
me give you my number. If you need to talk about it just call me any
time."
"Sure."
She pulls her iPhone from her bag and we exchange phone details.
"Thank
you," she says. "By the way, my name is Lydia."
"I'm
Tess," I reply as she nods and heads for the door. "Take care."
She
says goodbye before walking through the door.
I
do a quick check of my image in the mirror before heading back out. Mr Egbo's suit
has a sploggy dark patch on the shoulder and he dabs a white napkin on his shocked wet face. Lydia is
nowhere in sight. A girl with backbone. I liked her already.
With
a smile on my face, something catches my attention at the corner of the room.
Breath stalled and heart thumping, I stare at the specimen of masculinity striding
into the bar. He's here. My mark.
Taking
a deep breath, I sashay across the room towards him, my high heels tapping on
the hard floor like a ticking clock. The game is on.
Copyright © Kiru Taye
I hope you enjoyed it. Leave me a comment and check out these mid-week teasers.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I love to read your comments. Please share your thoughts.
If you're having problems using blogger to comment, please use the Facebook comment box at the bottom. Thank you.