Keys. Where were her keys? Her hand searched deep into her 10kg handbag. She remembered how he never let her call these big bags ‘cute’ and giggled a little. He was coming back tomorrow. Oh how she’d missed him! His laugh, his scent, his arm wrapped around her as they walked home from work, how it would snake under her blouse in the matatu when no one was looking and she’d have to keep talking, pretend nothing was happening when in fact she was dying from the feeling of his fingers on her flesh. Oh dear! She was wet and she hadn’t even found her keys yet! She finally had them, they’d been hiding in one of those holes that form in every bag, nkt! She reached out, unlocked the door and let herself in. Lord was she tired! All she needed was a bath and a glass of wine and she’d be fine. Her shoes came off first. Then her blouse and bra (moan) which she threw onto her sofa and as she went into her bathroom, her skirt and panties fell onto the floor. She spent a little time after scrubbing herself clean, thinking of him and his big…dreams. How he’d talk about saving the planet. How had she found someone so good? She missed him. So much. She was still lost in her memories of him when she got into her bedroom, rubbing herself down with her soft towel, fantasizing about what she’d do to him once he got here. After the first chaste kiss at the airport it’d be all nastiness. After 6 months of dryspell, it was the only way. Maybe she’d blow him in the cab in the jam on Mombasa Road on their way back home. Give the passengers in buses around them a spectacle…entertain Nairobi. She never saw it coming. The hand that grabbed her her braids, and half carried, half dragged her to her bed. Her scream was cut off by a sock that had been stuffed into her mouth just before he begun to move her. He was big. Huge in fact! And dressed from head to toe in black. Take anything! Everything! She pleaded with her eyes. She’d struggled at first then realized her towel wasn’t struggle-proof and her bits were beginning to show. She shouldn’t encourage him. Or tempt him beyond…oh! She hadn’t found him in her living room. He wasn’t a thief. He’d been in here, waiting. For her. Fear reverberated through her. Penetrating her to her very core. He wouldn’t, would he? Her question was answered when he took climbed onto her bed, took her arms roughly and handcuffed them to the posts on her bed. Next was the legs. Spread wide on her 6×6, she lay spreadeagled, exposed, naked but for the towel that barely covered her. She shivered. He leaned in, pulled up his mask to nose level and sniffed her. What? Why was he smelling her? Animal!!! His nose traveled the length of her, taking down the towel as it went. He smelled her everywhere! Under her breasts, in her armpits, the crease at her elbow, her navel, lower. He lingered there, breathing her in, absorbing her musk. Was he enjoying it? He must be! Why else would he do it? The beast! Her heart was beating a mile an hour. It was all fear! It had to be. It could be nothing else! She couldn’t possibly be reacting to this intruder in any other way…could she? She’d fight! To prove that it was just fear. Adrenaline and not testosterone. She begun to thrash around. Fighting the cuffs that held her captive, one with the bed. This bed, hers, she loved it! Didn’t she struggle to get up from it everyday? Reluctant to relinquish it’s warmth and protection? Why did it hold her now? Why was it obeying this man now? Holding her prisoner in her own home? She vowed to burn it into charcoal once she was free. No wood left unburnt. Traitor. He placed an arm on her stomach, holding her down onto her mattress. He wasn’t done. One finger was all it took to calm her down. One finger trailing along her swollen outer lips. One finger caressing her slippery, sensitive button. One finger and she moaned! To be continued….